Chapter 1
The loud noises of the seedy nightclub could make lost souls come back from the dead.
A pensive, striking figure in the far back couldn't care less. With how well built the figure looked from afar and two gorgeous women fawning all over on either side, you could easily mistake that person for a man. A very confident, dangerous man. Someone to never mess with.
The family symbol dangling down the sharp neck was proof enough.
But Fareeha Amari, the figure in question, was anything but.
The ladies kept pressing themselves against her, begging for the gangster's attention. But her mind was elsewhere. Staring at the empty dance floor in front of them, there was only one person on Fareeha's mind, despite all efforts.
It's been almost a month since she last saw her.
A memory from awhile ago flickered into her mind.
"Sit down, Fareeha."
Her tone was not as harsh as she thought it would be. Fareeha had to ask Angela if she was off the hook for the earlier fuck up that happened before. "Am I forgiven for the police chase? No punishment...?"
The crime boss kept looking at the moon, her back turned towards her, a light jacket hanging on one shoulder.
Fareeha sighed. It was not usual for Mercy to behave like this. She said down on the chair as she was told to, without soft protests or teasing this time. There was a time in their... contract agreements that the mere thought of teasing her boss was out of the question.
Good thing those days are over.
In return, Angela took a puff from her expensive Cuban cigar. She asked Pharah what date it was today very casually.
"January 23rd?" Mercy's right hand woman asked curiously. Then she remembered the importance of the date. "Isn't that..."
"Yes," Angela said, the uncharacteristic waiver in her voice catching Fareeha's attention. "Today, exactly twelve years ago, the Shimada clan ceased to exist." An old newspaper rag was thrown towards Fareeha. She picked it up, reading the front article.
It was hard to miss.
"NOTORIOUS CRIME GANG SHIMADA DRAGONS... Yakuza bosses... kidnap youngest Nobel Prize winner..."
Pharah looked up to Mercy. No response.
"Dr Angela Ziegler was last seen..."
Mercy took another draw from her cigar. The tension around them could be cut with a knife.
Pharah patiently waited for the boss to continue, a reprimand concerning the chase practically forgotten.
"The networks grew bored of me and my disappearance after six months. As far as the mainstream is concerned, that Angela is dead."
Whenever Dr Ziegler recalled her life before she became a mafia boss, it was like seeing a film reel. No way she was that person back then. It cannot be. "I was a different person. I was... normal? Perhaps. I did not come from an established cosca like you. But that was a long time ago."
Angela saw her younger self climb the steps up in order to receive her Nobel Prize. She had essentially created immortality with her extensive research on nano-machines. She had achieved a miracle in science. With that project being successful, it was only a matter of time cancer would've become part of the history books.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.
Until they came.
They killed everyone in sight. Including her beloved parents, who were in the front row for that special event.
The Shimadas took her hostage, and, eventually, kidnapped her to their headquarters for their own use. She will never forget the blood of her parents on her hands. How powerless she felt during that horrible night.
Fareeha gritted her teeth in response. This did not go unnoticed by the boss.
They locked her up into a colourless cell, she continued. The only connection she had with the outside world was an unreachable window, with the moon clearly in sight. Every night, she carved a roman line on the walls of her prison.
One.
Five.
Fifteen.
One hundred and eight.
Until she stopped, giving up on her freedom completely.
She attempted to kill herself on that particular night. But the Shimadas brought her back through her own technology.
It couldn't have been more ironic.
They never bothered to give her anything that she could use to harm herself from that day forth.
But they never knew were to search her properly for concealed items. As they say, women have more hiding places than men.
Fareeha raised an eyebrow in that regard. Mercy let a small smile slip through her mask of ice, placing a slender finger on her lips.
"It's not where you first thought, Fareeha."
After seeing the proud Amari hide a blush from her, Angela looked back to the full moon, the small smile disappearing as she recalled past events.
Where the only trace of life she had beyond the four corners of her cell was the moon and nothing else.
"They had told me the media and scientists weren't the only ones interested in my research. That I would achieve great things through them."
They only let Angela outside her cell to 'continue' on her research.
The Shimadas wanted to profit from Dr Ziegler's research. In order to achieve profit, Angela had to produce a huge quantity of her once proudest achievement.
Through many. Many. Countless subjects.
Boss told Pharah everything that night. How she tortured innocent lives in the Shimada's name. How she had felt useless during their countless cries for help. How she felt trapped within those metal walls that kept her imprisoned.
Minute after minute.
Hour after hour.
She still doesn't know how for long she had stayed there.
Mercy, they'd cry. Have mercy on us all! Their screams would never stop.
Mercy!
Mercy!
Please!
Until something inside her snapped.
And Angela Ziegler was no more.
Her bodyguard stayed silent.
Everyone knew how Angela had destroyed the Shimada brothers from within. But she had never heard this part of the story. The part were Angela was a mere mortal, struggling to keep her sanity intact despite the harshness around her, day after day, without an end in sight. If the hold on the chair was any tighter, you'd think Pharah was choking someone to death.
But Fareeha kept her anger towards the deceased members of the Shimada clan to herself.
Angela started euthanizing the innocent without her kidnapper's permission. Experiment without limits on the captured criminals.
Learn how the Shimadas operated, how to kill, how to negotiate.
In a way, her tormentors became her invaluable teacher.
It couldn't have been more ironic.
Mercy started talking about the manner she orchestrated the demise of one of the most notorious criminal gangs in the city from within with precise detail. Poisoning the two leaders with untraceable venom in their system, making them paranoid of each other. How she carefully planted two valuable artefacts to be found in each other's compound, to frame one another. How that helped the brothers declare civil war, both sides of the clan shelling each other like frenzied ants, within the compound and in the streets.
Mafia historians called it the 'Battle of the Dragons'.
The people who lived through those times called that bloody war the Shimada Massacre.
No one ever suspected the poor, traumatised, broken little doctor, not even the leaders themselves.
Especially the older brother. He seemed to have taken a liking for the vulnerable image she had created around her at the time.
She took advantage, but was no fool. Angela always carried a scalpel on her whenever he was around.
Just in case.
He never would've seen it coming anyway, had he tried anything.
Mercy took another drag from her cigar, pausing for a long minute. Pharah let her continue, even though every respectable mobster knew what was coming next.
There was only one winner out of that bloodbath that night. The night the two brothers tore each other apart, it gave birth to one of the most feared criminal masterminds of the entire city. After killing two pretenders with only a broken piece of glass and her carried scalpel, the remaining members all swore their loyalty to her. She built her own empire from the Shimada's ashes. Mercy didn't even lift a single finger on either brother, but she still took their lives.
After what they took away from her, it was only fair.
The crime boss still showed her bare back to her bodyguard. Leaning towards the opened window, she kept staring at the full moon.
"It's funny... I used to want to shoot down that blasted thing whenever it was in the sky. I didn't want a reminder of those days."
She finished her cigar, leaving it in the ashtray. Angela finally turned back into the room, slowly walking towards Pharah. With a new cigar in mouth, she leaned towards the Amari heiress. She didn't wait long. Pharah's zippo was already in the air to use. Angela inhaled once, and exhaled all over her protector in an immodest manner.
Fareeha never flinched when she did that. Not once. Perhaps she didn't mind.
"Now, whenever I look at the moon, I no longer think of that cell."
Fareeha stayed silent.
"It looked just like this... when you came here."
The silence between them continued. Fareeha let a little, but just a little, concern show on her stoic face.
Mercy came in front of Pharah, cigar still in hand. She stared straight into Fareeha's eyes, as if she couldn't break eye contact from them.
"It looked exactly like this."
Until Pharah asked. She had to, especially after...
"Why are you telling me this? All of this? You don't need to tell me any of this."
That seemed to stun Mercy a little. But she recovered soon enough. "Why, indeed..."
The smile that formed on her face was unlike anything that Fareeha saw before. It was a mix between a calm demeanour and a ravenous vulture. Mercy calmly walked towards Pharah, making her wonder if this was the last day of her life.
She instantly started conjuring up what she could do to escape-
"Because I swore on that day, Fareeha Amari... I swore from that day onward, that no one would ever make me beg for anything ever again."
The manner she spoke was low, soft and creamy. Almost like she wanted to place Pharah under her spell. All thoughts of escape vanished in an instant. As her bodyguard got distracted by her voice alone, Angela drew closer.
The slow sound of Angela's heels echoing in the moon lit room brought the attention of the one person she ever cared about.
True.
Mercy had considered her attraction to the Amari heiress a weakness at one point. Her powerful family were both her strongest business partner and closest rivals. But when you are involved in the mob, everything you want is a weakness that can be traced back, if you're not careful enough. After testing Fareeha many times, Angela decided it was time she wanted to... improve what was between them.
What is the point of having everything, if you cannot enjoy your riches with someone forever?
She'll spare Pharah the second thought for now. Now she had... other things in mind.
"Not for my freedom. Not for my life. Nothing. I would never beg again for anything."
Mercy switched her cigar off.
Suddenly, she was all over Pharah, long legs parting to straddle the Egyptian on top of the chair, surprising the Amari heiress completely.
She essentially trapped Fareeha with no promise of escape.
This time, her smile was not inviting any sort of danger. It was... vulnerable.
Mercy placed her hand delicately on Pharah's tattooed eye, which led the hired hitman not hiding surprise towards her boss. The angelic crime boss was pleased that she had broken through the Amari heiress' stoic facade. It made her look even more beautiful than the first time she had laid eyes on her a few years before. The arrangement agreed between her and Ana Amari simply... hastened Angela's plans to lure her daughter to her side. In a very convenient manner too.
"I swore to myself..." as the Angel of Death herself started stroking Pharah's tattoo with her perfectly manicured thumb, every movement was distracting. Not that you could tell, with Pharah's perfect poker face swiftly returning between her and her emotions.
Somehow, Angela could see right through it.
Her voice dropped to an even lower pitch. "That anything that I wanted... I would have the power to take with my own two hands..."
She stopped, her hand still cupping Fareeha's stoic face.
"And that no one would ever stop me."
Fareeha was still in the nightclub.
She grew bored of the two floozies clinging around her. The more she drank, the more the vision she had of Angela grew stronger.
Almost like she was right in front of her. Dancing in the background. Waiting for Fareeha to join her.
Pharah glared at whoever she was seeing as Mercy, as Fareeha knew her boss wasn't there. The fake Angela smiled back at her.
The song in the background matched her heartbeat and thoughts instantly.
You just want attention, you don't want my heart
Maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new
She hated that beautiful smile. Was it fake? Was it real?
What did she want from her?
Yeah, you just want attention, I knew from the start
Did she just want a warm body in her bed?
Did she just see her as a voiceless bodyguard who would do anything she pleased? Like a good dog?
Fareeha unconsciously bared her teeth at the thought. No way would she ever submit to anyone like that. Not even to Mercy, the Angel of Death, herself. When did she let Angela get under her guard?
Was it that night, when they were by the pool? Or their first night together?
The night when she held both Angela Ziegler and the Angel of Death in her arms?
You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you
Or... did she want something else from her? Something more than just a cheap, sexual thrill?
That thought made Fareeha Amari pause.
The possibility of Mercy wanting her to be her equal was electrifying.
One of the women squeezed her bicep, finally getting her attention. Now that she realises it... both of the ladies surrounding Pharah looked just like her boss. Yes. One of them had their hair tied up, but she undeniably resembled her. The other looked like her a lot, but with short hair...
She narrows her eyes at the Mercy only she can see on the dance floor. She looked satisfied at Fareeha's conclusions.
So that's what's gonna be like from now on. She won't ever get Mercy out of her head, no matter how far away from her she went.
Not that she planned to stay away for long.
She just needed a break from everything. The failed operation with Zayra and the Russians. Her cherished mother returning from the grave.
Angela being...
Your job... is to do whatever the hell I tell you to do.
Angela.
Well. She lit a Cuban cigar that devil loved to smoke, the scent cruelly reminding Fareeha of her lover. It's time for me to return.
Fareeha was not like her mother, after all. She faced her problems, not ran away from them.
She looked at her now completely healed chest. She had rested enough.
The younger Amari placed her whiskey on the table. Now, the big question. Will Mercy welcome her with open arms? Or will she shoot her the second she returned to her head quarters?
There was one way to find out.
She noticed a drunk teenager next to the bar who had a specific set of keys hanging outside of his trousers carelessly. Keys that belonged to a unique type of sports car.
A car a boy like him should definitely not own at his age.
Fareeha set her mind up. She will return to Mercy. The projection of her boss blew a kiss towards her.
But on her terms.
Even though Angela was still her boss.
In more ways than one.
Mercy looked straight into her bodyguard's eyes. The ice in her eyes seemed to have melted a little.
Perhaps Fareeha was just being a sap.
"Will you swear your loyalty to me?" she asked softly, as Angela resumed stroking her face, tracing Pharah's jawline seductively. "Or will you try to stop me?"
Pharah gave that question one long minute, her perfume and cigar aroma invading all senses. Finally, she spoke.
"Are you giving me a choice, doctor?"
Angela leaned into Pharah's face, just a few inches away from her lips. "Only you."
Fareeha left a chuckle escape from her lips, the look on Angela's face became unreadable. "What an honour."
She felt Mercy place a kiss on her jaw, stopping her playful mood. Her boss moved towards the nearest ear, the timber of her voice sending shivers all over Pharah's body. "Now. Answer me. Or I'll do it for you."
This captured the Egyptian's curiosity. She could answer for her. In what manner would she see Fareeha as...?
"Tell me how you would answer for me."
It wasn't a statement. It wasn't even a question.
It was an invitation.
Mercy's smile curled upwards at Fareeha's boldness. She was now used to it. In fact, she cherished whenever Fareeha challenged her methods.
She was the only one in her entire compound to have the guts to do so. And lived to tell the tale.
The boss pushed the bodyguard slowly into the chair, letting the jacket she had on her shoulders fall on the floor.
"You are mine, Fareeha Amari. You belong to me. Only me." She started to untie the piece of striped cloth around the loosened collar, Pharah let her do so. Mercy started tracing the tattoos on her body, as if seeing them for the first time. "As long as you breathe, you must always return to me."
She slid a sharp nail on top of an inked patch of her neck. Pharah hissed at the sudden sensation, but not out of pain.
"Have a tattoo that shows you belong to me. I want everyone to know that."
The sheer possessiveness in Angela's voice made the former solider feel warmth all over her body.
Amongst other things.
In return, Fareeha resumed stroking the back of the sultry woman above her. Both the vulnerable, lost doctor and the ruthless, invincible crime boss looked back, staring very intensely. The Egyptian silently hoped she was the only one to see this side of her... boss?
What can she call her now?
"I believe it's high time you have a mark on your body, boss."
For now, she played it safe.
Mercy stayed silent to that. Fareeha wasn't going to press on. She knew her limits, even with the... possibilities now available.
Until she replied.
"Perhaps..." as she leaned to kiss her guard's neck, on the same spot she had hurt her moments earlier. "I can see the appeal of it now."
Whilst Mercy was occupied... elsewhere, Pharah started to remove her dress. Neither breaking eye contact, both watching what the other was doing.
When one became as exposed as the other, Mercy inclined towards Fareeha, her intent clear for the night.
The same goes for the many other stolen moments between them in the future.
Angela whispered tenderly towards her guard, almost like she had returned to her former self just for Pharah to see.
"Yours."
Their first kiss was full and passionate. Not once did they clash, fitting each other so well. Like they were made for each other.
They stopped for breath, both feeling like they were about to cross a line.
This would make each other more vulnerable in the cruel world they live in.
Then, Fareeha spoke.
"Mine."
No more words were needed.
She tossed a high amount of money towards the two ladies who kept her company earlier.
"Distract him," pointing towards the unsuspecting frat boy. Pharah walked towards the exit, where the daddy's pet happened to be hanging towards, as the bar was next to it. She bumped into him straight on, giving the spoilt brat one hell of a glare as he tried to look tough in front of the girls who were now walking towards him. He was surprised to see that they surrounded him like he was a celebrity.
Perhaps one of them finally found out who his father was.
One gave Pharah a look that begged for a reward afterwards. Anyone who was weak would've indulged that. They think I'm coming back. Fareeha smiled, looking at her newly acquired set of keys. She didn't need them anymore. She never did.
Unsurprisingly, the drunkard took the bait immediately. He was too occupied thinking with his third leg to realise his precious set of keys were missing. By the time he did, his priceless Aventator was nowhere to be found. His whining practically invited pity from no one.
"My dad is gonna be so pissed! Fuck!"
Said SuperVeloce was being used by Fareeha in order to reach Angela as fast as possible.
Not that she asked for more than this car as transportation, wincing at how maltreated the poor Lamborghini was.
"Asshole never bothered to wash you, apparently... fuck. What is this bad smell? It's coming from..."
It was coming from the back.
"Urrrrrgh..." Poor Fareeha did the good old two plus two solution in her head. "Makes me almost regret picking you up."
The supercar seemed to growl in protest.
Fareeha patted on the steering wheel, like she was actually talking to the car. "I did say almost. You've got a new owner now."
The purr coming from the engine was good enough as a response.
Still, the smell was too much to bear. Fareeha opened the window next to her, despite the black tinted glass being an advantage for her.
Who was going to bother to see who was driving fast this late at night?
She knew the answer to that. But they'd have to reach Pharah first before they could dream of chasing her.
She laughed at the idea.
Pharah shifted gear, taking advantage of the empty road due to the late hour. She will reach her destination soon enough.
Fareeha glanced at the dashboard. Fucker even left his mobile here. She laughed at the teenager's ineptitude. Hah, what an id-
Hold on a second.
She can phone Angela through his phone.
Tell her she is okay.
That she was coming home.
...
No. Giving her a surprise was far more exciting.
Two officers were doing the dull work of patrolling the border as beat cops.
"This suuuucks, Winston," the girl with a fresh face whined adorably towards her partner. "Who knew when movies said being a beat cop is the worst part of police work, they actually meant it?! I want some action, goddammit all!"
Winston, the sentient gorilla who was patiently doing his job, tried to keep his hyperactive partner (and friend) happy from going insane with boredom. "Why don't you try calling your lady friend, Lena? I'm sure she misses you too."
"Winston, it's three am in the morning! Poor Emily needs to sleep too... I can't phone her again. I did that an hour ago!"
Winston nodded understandably. "True, true. But I thought... with the way she talks to you during this hour, she misses you too."
Lena's pout was adorable. Winston was almost tempted to hug her just because. The little Brit had that effect on people.
"Poor Emily. Almost everyday we have to go through this. She's probably in her bed now. In the cold. All alone."
Lena's eyes widened in a manner that said it all.
"All alone!"
Crap. Somehow he made Lena feel worse. He hated when that happened. "Oh god Winston! I can lost her if I don't get a promotion soon! This is how it works in movies! If couples are separated for too long, it's game over! Emilyyyy~ no! I love you, wait, come baaaaack! Don't leave me! Noooooo-!"
She's daymaring again. There goes the hug coupon number seventy three, punched in. "There, there," Winston said almost amused as his friend bawwed on his shoulder like a baby. "I'm sure you'll reach an understanding, the both of you..."
Their distraction proved to be a big help for Fareeha.
Crap. Cops! I gotta slow down a bit.
She does effectively. The beeper on Lena's radar signalled the supercar did not go over the limit.
Fareeha takes time to look at the two beat cops. They look oddly familiar.
The fact that no profile of them automatically showed up in Fareeha's mind proved their identity was irrelevant.
Fareeha never forgot a face, after all. That was a distinctive Amari trait that has been passed down the family line for generations.
She pressed on, focusing on returning to her boss for the remaining trip.
"Wow!" Lena looked at the on going Lambourgini from Winston's shoulder. "That's a brand new Lamb! And a SuperVeloce to booth!" She whistles in admiration. "Phew. To own one of those beauties... although a classic Alfa Romeo Spider would be good enough for me. I can see me and Emily now..." The aspiring detective sighed as she looked into the scene only imagination can provide. "Ah, look at that sunset~"
"You don't need that car, Lena," Winston said, ever the wiser. "Never wish for items that don't belong to you. You'll lead a happier life like that."
Fantasy mode. Gone. "Yes, muuuuuuum."
Winston let go of the British squirrel. Lena wiped the tears out of her eyes in order to act tough.
"Good girl. Now, lovely car aside, that's in the past now. Let's get back to work."
"Right!"
It's a good thing Lena had technically distracted Winston when she did.
Otherwise he would've recognised the heir to the Amari Empire the second she had passed by them.
Fareeha did say that she won't phone Angela.
In fact, she isn't.
She is using someone else's phone.
Third call. Fourth call. Sevent-
"Who the fuck are you. And how did you get a hold of this number."
Ah, her royal bitchiness herself. Dammit, she did miss her. Who knew.
"...Is this some sort of joke? Be careful, I can trace your call if I wanted to. Do not challenge me, whoever you are."
Fareeha stayed silent. This was too good to ruin.
"Fine."
A snap of fingers was clearly audible from the smartphone. A small smile escaped Fareeha's lips, but still stayed silent.
"You are being traced at this very moment. Sooner or later, I will know who you are. Speak, before it gets worse for you."
There goes Angela. Always giving obstacles a chance. Never a second one though. She does need to fix that problem, otherwise she'd have less minions following her than Junkrat-
"Speak. Now."
Anyone else would've, after peeing a little. But that voice just makes Fareeha press the pedal harder.
She must see the route Pharah was taking if she was really tracing her. She takes a shortcut only mafiosi and getaway drivers knew about.
"The tunnel of-!" That made her pause. "You're one of us, then."
There was a little silence between them. Perhaps Fareeha could dare to think that Angela had missed her a little...?
"If you dare come here again, I will gut your whole being and feed your remains to the local cats!"
That made Fareeha slow down a little, the winds in her sails disappearing a bit.
Was she that mad at her? Perhaps she did think their relationship was something-
"That's right Gerard. Crawl back from the hole you came! If you keep going to my clinic I'm going to personally strangle you for the fuck up you made!"
Was that right? She's pissed at Gerard.
!
She's pissed at Gerard! Good, good. She got worried there for a second.
Pharah started the engine as loudly as possible. It's not like she'll suffer her angel's wrath for it.
"GERARD!"
Boy she's mighty pissed. Fareeha was almost tempted to ask. What did Gerard do this time?
Maybe later. This was getting fun.
"Close the gate! Close it! I don't want to see that stupid French fucker ever again in my life!"
You'd think that voice would be a shrill one. No, not Mercy. Her imposing voice alone would make people go into the fire in order to serve her.
Allah, she loved that woman.
She'd better hurry up, or she won't see her again.
By the time the gate closed, Fareeha could have made Drive (the video game) tricks all over it, reversed and started all over again.
Hmm. If Angie didn't love this amazing car, who she'd have to choose?
...Now that was a tough question.
The baby blue eyed angel in question was no longer on the phone with her. Apparently she decided to shot down Gerard the second he got out of the car. As a sniper or directly? Hmm... decisions.
"Gerard, I have no idea what is in your system right now, but you've got balls man. Balls, I tell you. No matter what happens, this will be legendary."
She couldn't help but agree with one of Mercy's servants, not recognising his voice. Must be new. Fareeha drove straight into the parking lot of Mercy's HQ. She could swear she saw a flicker of light from the window the local sniper usually hangs about. It was hard to see with all windows pulled up after her chance encounter with the cops.
Must be her. Gerard must've fucked up big tim- is that her parking spot, all empty and alone?
Holy fuck, it is!
Unknowingly to Fareeha, Mercy had prepared an anti tank rifle to aim straight to Gerard for two simple reasons.
Yes. An anti tank rifle. You read that right the first time.
Mercy was doing this because:
One. He had fucked up big time. Again. And this time, there was no Fareeha to save his ass once again.
Two. There was no Fareeha. She was actually losing hope now. Surely she would've called by now if she were okay-
Oh no.
She did not just see that happen.
That filthy, slimy, arrogant FROG EATING PIECE OF SHI- PARKING IN THE SPACE OF HER FAREEHA?!
Loudly, might she add.
"Oh, that's it!" Mercy started charging the rifle. "You've got another thing coming to mess with Angela Zie-"
"Hey sweetie."
The headpiece she had on her ear filled up with a very familiar voice. Enough that the so called Angel of Death was stopped on her tracks.
"Sorry I'm late. Traffic."
The underworld boss (who is technically Ana, but don't tell Mercy that) stayed frozen for a few seconds.
"But I'm here now, so... hello?"
No response.
"...Hello?"
Author's Notes
The original note got lost in the mail. Bummer. I hope to find it soon.
2018 EDIT: Google Cache is now off limits? Dammit, I had liked the original enthusiastic note. Anyhows, this story is based on SuperRisu's awesome (still are!) Mafia AU Sketches, which all started with this Tumblr post: tinyurl+com+/y7p4hrgb.
I highly recommend you check out LogosMinusPity's Pocket Full of Shells (PFOS - tinyurl+com+/ybqkx8cu), Orenjikitty's Swing of Things/VOTSOD (tinyurl+com+/y9xj8ryb) and Smoke on the Water by Lost Giraffe (tinyurl+com+/y8g5angt) if you liked this story.
Here's hoping I'll get inspired soon to continue this. See ya, whoever you are.