Mafia
Chapter One
Lady Relena
Being a hot young celebrity isn't easy for anyone. Why should it be easier for Relena? It should be harder. It has to be harder. Otherwise, there would be no real point to narrating with a strong voice, excellent diction, and/or brute honesty, when necessary.
That would make a fine introduction in my autobiography, Relena decided, closing tight her Louis Vitton file folder. She slid the cap onto her calligraphy pen and ink well and tossed them in, blindly trusting them not to tar and feather the introduction to her autobiography. She batted her heavy, sweet-smelling quilt aside and jumped down to the deep, lustrous carpet, sinking her soft, well-kept feet into the dozens of upward reaching spirals. Clasping her file folder underneath her arm, she reached under her bed and dragged a black safe from behind the floral bed-skirt. She placed her fingers on the lock. The safe made a few tiny noises as it read her prints and accepted her secret code. Of all the things in the world, keeping a diary was her chosen covert operation. She had a few friends, no confidants, and one person she felt she could trust: herself. A hard knock shuttered her authentic French door. She looked laxly to it.
"I'm awake, Péggin," she said. The old man entered and looked around.
"Lady Relena, I've been sent to tell you that your new ensemble has been placed—"
"Bottom level of my closet in front of the full length mirrors. I know, Péggin."
Old Péggin smiled sweetly. "Breakfast this morning is fresh fruit, hot cereal, and eggs. We'll be waiting for you."
"You know better," Relena returned with a half-smile. Péggin smiled sweetly again and closed her door. Relena sighed and pushed her safe back underneath her bed. Her personal butler had never seen it; this time her pink CK original gown hid it. She tossed her bed together and entered her Italian marble bathroom.
A shower, tooth-brushing, and perfume application later, she entered her closet and found her new ensemble. A slinky brown Louis Vitton dress with frills lining a plunging neckline, and matching frills around her lower thigh, where the dress ended. Her back was out, and she felt sexy as she posed this way and that in front of her three mirrors. She blew herself a kiss and skipped down to her vanity room, going out her French door and closing it gently.
She stopped at a mirror with a knob and turned the knob. Relena's vanity room was shaped like a beauty stand. The wall opposite the door was a huge, heart shaped mirror with pink trim and pinker light bulbs on top of that trim. The majority of the room was propped up on a stage-sized version of the desk itself, bureau-sized drawers held Relena's beauty essentials. She hopped up the stage into her stylist's arms.
"Good morning Nancy!"
"Good Morning Lady Relena! You're in a feisty mood today, aren't you?"
"Just have lots to do today, and I want to start the day off right."
"That's a fantastic attitude to have. You're better than I am. When I have a long day ahead, I usually get all tired and groggy just thinking about it!" Nancy guided Relena's hair this way and that. "What's on your agenda today, anyway?"
"Photo shoot first thing, lunch with Daddy, shopping for my new clothes, shopping for something for Mother, perfume commercial rehearsal, and a meeting with Max Factor."
"Good God, woman!" Nancy exclaimed, "and I thought I was busy today!"
"What about you?"
"Well, I have to head out to get you another butt load of hair and make up stuff, then People Magazine wants an interview. And listen to this, Relena: they only have fifteen minutes to squeeze me in, and the title of the article is "How We Managed to catch up to Relena Darlian's Stylist! You won't believe the deep secrets she shares!"
Relena laughed. "They crack me up. They're such idiots, all of them. Creative, but stupid idiots. I wonder how much truth there is to that last article they wrote about that hunk Quatre Winner?"
"Doesn't matter. I'd fuck him anyway, just to be real."
Relena laughed hysterically. "Oh, I'm shocked and offended!"
"Shut-up. You'd fuck him, too."
Relena nodded seriously. Nancy smiled and chuckled. Nancy laid down a bottle of spray and a comb and quickly painted up Relena's eyes and smile. She then put down those tools and spun the chair around so Relena could see herself in the wall.
"Thanks a boodle!" Relena said to Nancy's reflection, smiling charismatically and jumping up. Her shoes and handbag waited patiently beside her styling chair, waiting for their mistress. She took them both up, slipping into her shoes, and hustled down stairs.
Her breakfast patrol (as she called them) waited at the table for her behind several tasty-looking dishes. Péggin, her agent Freud, her governess Murielle, and her Chihuahua Teddy all looked at her and smiled. Then Freud disappeared behind his paper, Murielle started talking on her cellular satellite phone, Teddy stared pigging out, and Péggin said his grace. Relena prayed with Péggin and began to nibble on her fruit. Murielle jabbered on and on to her cousin in Ontario about some nasty old man that flipped her skirt recently. Freud ignored the world in favor of both Nasdaq and Nascar. Relena didn't really care for them in the least. There was nothing really wrong with them, except that she found them inhumanely dull. Péggin was a slight exception, but a man of his years could only do so much to keep Relena happy. She was proud of his decision to recruit Nancy, and orphan Relena's age that Relena could talk to, for the simple purpose of Relena's not feeling alone in her own house. The girl just happened to be a hair and make up whiz, so she found herself a job. Nancy and Péggin were two of Relena's only friends, with that Romefeller girl Dorothy rounding out the list. Her lack of friends never bothered her. She had far greater things to worry about.
After the usual dull breakfast, Relena escaped the paparazzi to a huge photo studio downtown from where she lived. The place wasn't anything pretty or special, and her breakfast patrol was nearby, noisy, quiet, and old. She spent an eternity in hair and make up (ruining her style from Nancy) for three outfits. She admitted to herself that the proofs were very good, whoever this guy was, even without the digital touch-ups. She especially liked the black leather suit and motorcycle. She breathed a sigh of relief when no one asked her why she was so comfortable in such a dark outfit.
She might as well have had lunch with the table itself. Her father didn't say anything meaningful or important. He just asked absentmindedly about school and how she's handling being famous and if there are any young male friends she's interested in now and blah, blah, blah. This was the very reason Relena was ecstatic when her father bought her a house for her eighteenth birthday. She'd taken good care of it for it first two years, and was proud of herself. The Vice Foreign Minister's daughter should have the finest everything, he'd told her mother, who first feared for her daughter's safety. Relena didn't live alone because of her mother. Her mother was the only person in history she'd ever cared to please, and now she didn't even care about that anymore. But when she did care, she called up Murielle, her governess since birth, her agent Freud, her dear Péggin, of course, and her live-in stylist, a good friend. She wished she'd had lunch with Nancy. Then they could talk about fucking Quatre Winner. These boring lunches were her father's lame attempt to keep them in a father-daughter relationship. Her mother would have been a good medium, at least.
Shopping was Relena's only pleasure that day, and she savored its four hours' brevity. The perfume commercial was run by a bunch of idiots who hadn't even bothered calling in a lighting specialist, and it ended with Relena politely ripping her contract in about forty thousand separate pieces. With the exception of talking to Nancy and shopping, the whole day had been a royal pain in the ass, so much so, Relena didn't even go to the Max Factor meeting. They called seven times (seven desperate times), but to no avail. Relena took a short, dreamless nap. When she woke up, it was time to get ready for work.
Lady Relena Darlian had been an espionage agent since she was seventeen. Behind her three-way mirror, protected by voice-activated password, were her work clothes: a black leather body suit with matching boots. She had also a matching backpack that could survive a trip to the hot side of Mercury, the cold side of Pluto, and remain submerged in water for two hundred years without leaking in one drop. Her suit was quite high tech and held a variety of different functions, most importantly having the same versatility as her back pack, a heating system, a cooling system, a hood to cover every inch of her head and shatter-proof goggles, the ability to filter through smoke and noxious vapors, and convert water to breathable air. It was truly a thing of beauty for such an important member of the crime world. Janelle Radnor was the name she chose to be called while on duty, and her loyalty existed nowhere. Within her pack was important information needing to be delivered to her employer, as well as a large jar of chewable nutrient pills that could sustain a large man for one or one and a half years. When Relena was fully dressed, she peeked out of her French door. No one was around. The house was eight o'clock dark. Murielle could be heard in the main living room, still talking her cousin's ear off, and the swish of a newspaper's page turning could be heard over Péggin's 'sit' and 'stay' commands. Relena crept across the hall as quickly as she could in her cushioned heels to her vanity room. She slipped through the door and closed it quietly. She turned to the mirror.
"Nancy!" she cried.
Nancy laid a hand over her heart. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't know you were going out tonight."
"You know I go out every night, girl."
"Yeah, I know. Be careful."
"I will. I know you've got my back."
Nancy nodded and opened one of the drawers at the stage, pulling it completely out. A control panel stood where the drawer was. Nancy switched this and pushed that and typed in her own code. The wall-sized mirror flipped around to the side. In its place was a momentous switch board and three gigantic screens. Nancy took a seat at the switchboard and typed in her access code, then the starting code.
"Online." The three screens flashed on, the middle one after a burble. Relena slapped on her watch and typed in her access code. Her face appeared on the middle screen.
"Online."
The right screen became a map of Relena's house, and two green dots were across from her room. The country, state/province, city, address, and level of the building were listed in the far right corner of the screen.
"Tracking system, online and functional." Nancy said.
The left screen flashed into a bar graph with a text background.
"Vitals and information, online and functional." Nancy confirmed. "We're good to go."
"Excellent. I'm off." Relena said, pushing a red button on her watch. The screen with Relena's face flashed to a set of high bushes below the window in Relena's room. Her motorcycle was ejected from the ground. Nancy stood up and hugged her.
"See ya."
"Hope so."
Relena about-faced and left the vanity room. She snuck back across to her room and locked the door behind her. Nancy would know if she was alive or not if she didn't return by morning, and she didn't want anyone barging into her room at all hours (whether she was there asleep or not), crying out "Oh, no! Relena! RELENA! Where are you? Answer! Call the press!" and so on. She opened the window, swung one leg out, then the other, closing the window behind her, and pushed herself down. She landed on a soft spot of sunken ground on her feet and peeked up, taking a quick look around, then mounting her ride.
Nancy watched her shoot out and away from a hidden hole in the hedges and out of view. Relena's vital signs, taken by her suit, flashed back up on the left screen, and the right screen melted into a map of the state and pinpointed Relena's position. The middle screen showed the passing scenery. There was a shift in the middle screen. Relena set the armband communicator on a special holder on the bike. Nancy got ready.
"Preparing to engage Flying Eagle Mode."
"All systems are go."
Relena's bike swerved this way and that until she reached a wide clearing. Wings grew slowly from either side. Relena clenched her inner thigh and abdominal muscles and brought her knees to her chest as the cockpit grew around her. Her handlebars folded down the middle and formed a joystick. Relena took hold of the driving tool and pulled it back. The small flyer left the ground, and the wheels contracted.
She only flew for about forty-five minutes before she needed to land. The motion sensors on the bottom of the craft caught the rushing ground and lowered the hidden all-terrain wheels. The landing was as smooth and graceful as a motorcycle-mini-jet-snow mobile's landing could be, and Relena unfolded herself from the cockpit position.
"Preparing to engage Cheetah Mode."
"All systems are go."
The wings contracted as the cockpit melted from around her. Relena replaced her armband communicator on her wrist and divided her joystick into handlebars. She was going to have to get Noin to fix that to be automatic.
"Okay, Navigator, how are we?"
"Twelve miles northeast. You can hop the freeway, then take Ferry Bend."
"Roger."
Relena took her suggestion, veering out of the clearing into a small forest, then to a highway. She came upon the residence of destination in no time flat, parking outside of huge iron gates. She switched channels on her communicator to call her employer's private line. The line rang twice.
"Hello?"
"Sylvia, it's Janelle. I'm coming in."
"Do you want me to open the gates?"
"Don't worry. I can get in, thanks." Relena was still the daughter of an official. No need to be rude to anyone outside the family, especially someone she'd grown to like. Relena punched in a locking code into her communicator for her bike, and it took off elsewhere to hide. She checked her ammunition and proceeded to climb over the gates.
The moon wasn't out, and neither was her hair, so she was completely invisible to the few guards sprinkled here and there at Noventa House. Relena sprinted across the lawn, dodging the reach of the security lights, and powered around the side of the house. She was happy to see a trail of vines that led up to Sylvia's room, and took advantage of them. She pulled herself up to the open window, and did a half-flip in.
Sylvia lifted her head as if there was nothing unusual about an espionage agent jumping through her window. She sat at her desk near the door, scribbling on some document. She smiled at Relena.
"Got it?"
"Of course. I wouldn't show up without it."
"Fabulous." Sylvia stood and met Relena half way to her desk. Relena jogged her pack down from her shoulder and opened the flap. She extracted a thin manila folder and placed it in Sylvia's hands. Sylvia Noventa opened it and scanned over the offered information. She nodded in approval as she scanned over it.
"Exactly what I asked for. Not one thing missing. You did a fabulous job." Sylvia closed the folder and turned her back to Relena to lay the folder on her desk and collect Relena's money. "Please, sit, have some tea."
"No, thanks, I don't want to stay for too long. I have some other work to do tonight." Relena refused politely. Sylvia smiled.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you and I are in the same league. You speak so well, and are polite. I do hope I'll need another favor from you. You're a pleasure to work with."
Relena sighed, and smiled. She let out her hair. Sylvia's face dropped.
"I know you!"
"Yes, I'm Relena Darlian."
"My God!" Sylvia put down her tea and held her face in amazement. "You ARE in my league! But why?"
"I don't know. I'm just tired of being rich and famous and allegedly care-free. I want to work."
"That was an interesting career choice." Sylvia chuckled. Relena smiled. Sylvia sighed. "I envy you. What a luxury to be able to go out, have an adventure, and such a scandalous secret."
"Hey, I said I wanted to work. I'm working now. It's a blast sometimes, but Sylvia, I'm an espionage agent. Every time I touch a computer, my life is on the line."
Sylvia bit her lip. "That didn't immediately occur to me."
Relena shook her head. "Don't be sympathetic. I don't regret this life. I'm making my way in the world…or rather, the underworld."
They shared a smile. A sudden parade of exploding bullets stunned them both. It came from some other part of the house, but it sounded loud and clear as it would have if it had been just down the hall.
"What the hell…" Sylvia moved toward the door, but Relena stopped her. The look in Relena's eyes made Sylvia want to run away.
"Sylvia," Relena finally said, holding a semi automatic in her hand, "do you know how to use this?"
"Pull the trigger?"
"Good enough. Take this and hide under your desk." Sylvia positioned herself underneath the desk. The gunshots paraded on, closer now. Relena slid Sylvia's chair partially under to provide Sylvia with an extra layer of protection. "Look, don't be scared, and for God's sake, don't scream. Lock the door behind me. When, or if I come back, I'll knock three, turn the handle twice, and knock four times. Knock three, handle two, knock four. Got it?"
Sylvia nodded, truly fearful now. "Why are you helping me?"
Relena smiled warmly, though it seemed meaningless in the foreground of gunshots. "You're one of the few that's just been nice to me just to be nice. You know, instead of wanting to sleep with me or kill me."
Sylvia smiled nervously, and Relena whirled around and out the door. Sylvia bolted up to lock it.
"Sylvia!"
Relena's voice surprised her. "What?"
"Turn the lights out! Hide now!"
Sylvia obeyed, and was under her desk, behind her chair, in a dark room, shivering and holding tight to Relena's semi automatic.
Relena looked up and down the hall. There weren't very many lights on, and this old house echoed the gunshots from all over. Relena unbelted a gun identical to the one she'd given Sylvia, and raced down the hall as quietly as she could. She debated internally whether to injure whoever this was, simply lead him away by letting him chase her, call the police, or get into a fight with him, steal his own gun, and kill him with it. She could pull that off; her gloves didn't leave prints. She reached the end of the hall, which turned out to be the middle of another hall, and proceeded to race down that one to the left, clearing her mind just a bit. She decided to see if she could scare whoever it was away, and resort to gunfire only if they refused to leave. She groaned at the thought of firing a gun. She hated guns. She hated knives. If the world were her oyster, it would be a peaceful oyster. She wasn't by any measure a conformist, and her family strived to be different from the rest of the world. But something about finally being on her own, doing what the hell she wanted to do…she could deal with guns and knives and violence.
This hall was somewhat more lit than the last, and she felt insecure about staying in this light. She saw the switch ahead of her, and reached for it. A servant ran past the mouth of the hallway, surprising Relena, and was brutally gunned down. Relena dropped her peaceable plan. Whoever this was would not be frightened away with a little semi, and was carrying an automatic rifle. Relena flattened herself against the wall, covering herself in shadows. She could hear slow, bold footsteps approaching. Relena gripped the handle of her weapon and waited for the perpetrator to reveal himself.
Like a snake the gun-wielding intruder crept into view, immediately aiming the mouth of the rifle down the hall in reasonable paranoia, totally missing Relena, and aimed it back to his walking path. This is impossible, Relena decided, I'm just going to have to do him in. Relena raised her semi to level with the black mask and pulled the trigger.
The intruder must have heard the click just in time, and just in time to be grazed on the side of his head, he whirled around and de-gunned Relena, who promptly kicked his gun with everything her leg had. The rifle spun around, clocking the intruder in his jaw, and fell to the floor. The intruder dove at Relena, who tucked and rolled and went for the lower back, but was dodged. He threw three punches, Relena blocked them, faked a crotch blow, and dealt him a vicious uppercut to his nose. The intruder groaned, heaving his fist at Relena's stomach. Relena mistakenly used both hands to guard, and was hit on the cheek. The intruder followed up with three more immediate impacts to the side of her face, and took a skip back. Relena shook her head and cautiously stepped to her enemy, both of her arms ready to offend and defend. The intruder gritted his teeth.
"Move, woman. This doesn't concern you."
"You're in my employer's house two days before I collect my wages. It concerns me."
"If you value living, you'd best collect your wages before I collect your life."
"Oh, my, any more threats and I'll have to consider the possibility of you having actual balls!"
The intruder threw a quick one, and Relena dodged, knuckling his throat. His surprise prevented him from blocking a kick to the ribs, then one to the side of his head. He jumped up and back, but not before Relena grabbed hold of his mask. He cried out, but landed, and was exposed.
"Gah!" he cried out, shielding his face with the back of his hand. He crouched into ready position with the other hand.
Relena, however, did not immediately prepare herself. She had mistakenly looked into his eyes, and was entranced. She'd never in her life hoped to see such orbs. The color was unreal, wild, new. They themselves were a shrewd annexation of his body, but they were more his thoughts and secrets than his strength. His tangled tuft of chocolate brown mane swished and washed over his exotic, deadly eyes. Everything about him was so pristinely savage.
"What are you gawking at?" he demanded with a gesture, sacrificing his glove-mask.
"I…uh…" Relena was at a loss. His handsomeness was way off of any conceivable scale. Devilishly handsome, obviously dangerous, athletic, strong, and hopefully single…
"Relena Darlian," he muttered, taming his eyes for one second. Relena gasped, remembering that her hair was out. The handsome young man stood to his own height. "What in the seven circles of hell is Relena Darlian doing here, defending the Noventas?"
"That's none of your business."
The young man smirked. "I know you rich girls have your wild streaks, but I think this is a new record: Body guarding."
Police sirens caught both attentions, and they looked to the stairs. Relena looked back to the intruder.
"Did you kill everyone?"
The intruder didn't answer, just looked at her like the answer should be obvious.
"Why?"
"It's what I do." Some part of that statement was sadness, or discontentment. He turned to go down a hallway.
"Wait! The cops are coming from that way!"
The intruder stopped, looked half way over his shoulder, and said, "I'm covered." He picked up his rifle. "You, however, might need to be on your way."
Official-sounding voices bounced around the bottom of the nearby stairs. The intruder sank into the voices and flashing lights below. Relena stood there for a moment, still holding the great-looking man's mask. The pat of feet rushing toward her brought her back down to earth, and she powered back to Sylvia's room, performing the knock-turn combination. The door was snatched open.
"Oh, thank God!" Sylvia cried. Relena came right in and closed the door. "You called the police?"
"No, but I really must be going. I don't need to be caught."
"I'm sorry I put you in danger."
"Don't you worry about it. I volunteered."
"How are my folks?"
Relena didn't answer. She looked down and sighed. Sylvia trembled.
"You mean…somebody killed them? All of them?"
Relena nodded somberly. Sylvia looked down. Relena hugged her.
"I'm so sorry. I'll catch that bastard, and I'll do him in."
Sylvia nodded in Relena's embrace. The door shuddered.
"Anyone in there? This is the police! We're coming in!"
Relena dropped her hold on Sylvia and ran to throw herself out the window, her last hair out of sight as the door swing open.
"Miss Noventa! Are you injured? Anyone else in here?"
Sylvia was the only one that heard a motorcycle start, and zoom off.
Inside Cheetah Mode, Relena's heart beat passionately. That assassin-guy, the god-damned good-looking thing, was playing in her eyes. His bestial handsomeness dug itself in her mind, and she smiled. God, he was fine! He even put Quatre Winner to shame! God-damn! God-DAMN! He was ridiculous! I didn't know they even came that fucking fine!
"Relena!" Nancy's voice shook Relena's concentrated infatuation. Her insistence wasn't minimal. "What the hell is going on? Why haven't you confirmed to engage?"
"Nancy," Relena responded, "You will not believe this. I think I've found the father of my seventeen children."
"Oh, God, please don't tell me he was a Noventa. They're politicians, for God's sake. They don't know how to keep it in one bed."
"Nope, I'm positive he wasn't a Noventa, seeing as he was going through wiping them out."
"Say what?"
"Check the footage."
"Processing."
Relena waited a few minutes. After those few minutes, she heard a disembodied, "Holy shit, forget Quatre Winner!"
A/N: Hey y'all! I've returned with some more shizz-nit for you to read and review, so please do! Arigato!
Let me go on and say this: This story is not about Relena and her career as a spy. What is going on now (and will be going on for the next several chapters) is the backdrop for all of the parties involved. The couples are non-yaoi, the usual 1R, 2H, 3C, 4D, and 5M for this story. Thank you to everyone that reviewed Urbania, and I seriously promise to get the prequel Fireball out soon. Also, review 02. Come on, y'all! I worked hard on that one ;;