The latest blow struck him two inches from his left eye, just above his brow. Matt winced but didn't really mind so much. In his very experienced opinion, these guys hit like whusy, pretend sexual sadists. And he had hoped New York had more to offer than these closet drag queens. Apparently the Italian Mafia had lost it's touch since Don Corleone. Matt smiled picturing the look on Marlin Brando's face. Then, smack, another blow to the jaw. The red head cracked his neck.
"Yup just keep it up, the worse the bruises the more likely you're going to wake up sodomized with a white hot aluminum base ball bat, but hey, maybe you're into that." Boom, once more on the nose. Damn it, Matt thought. He liked his nose the way it was, NOT somewhere near his ear. The large man who was beating him paused and looked over at the skinny Italian guy that sat on top of some kind of cargo. Matt couldn't tell what it was since his eye was beginning to swell shut.
"'Want me to keep it up?" The Italian mafia guy smoked thoughtfully. Or what ever counts for thoughtfully for him, Matt thought. He rolled his good eye at all the indecisive shit they were pulling. Clearly Matt had been captured far more than these guys had done the capturing. The skinny Italian took his cigarette out of his mouth.
"Nah, let me talk to him for a sec." He strolled over to Matt like he had all the time in the world. Matt wondered if he even realized how fucked he was going to be in less than five minutes. "So you work with Micheal Youngblood eh? Well that's just great. Impersonation, not bad." And now the intimidation? Matt exhaled with irritation.
"Listen I don't know who you think you are but, whoever you're pretending to be isn't even close to powerful enough to count for shit. That makes you about a hundred times less important than 'counting for shit', so why don't we just all relax until the horses of the apocalypse show up okay?" The Italian fumed. Why are they always so easy to get going. What ever happened to all those cool headed bad asses from movies? It shouldn't be this easy to insult someone.
"Shut the fuck up you fucking grunt!" L always said, the average number of times a person swears in a sentence is inversely correlated with their intelligence. The Italian kicked Matt over in his chair so he could kick him a few times in the stomach. The concrete rubbed the skin on his back a little raw but other than that, it still hurt like 'fuck' anyway. Damn it Mello where are you, Matt thought.
"I don't care what shit comes out of your mouth you fucking fag!" An accurate statement, first one all night Matt chuckled. " If you and your boss are going to fuck with my boss and his sons then you had best just roll out and cut your own throats now because once I find out where you put those wiretaps, you're dead!" Matt continued to chuckle at the Italians unknowing miss use of 'fuck' to describe his relationship with the 'boss and his sons'.
"Really Micheal isn't so much my boss, we like to think of ourselves in more of a 'Domestic Partnership'!" The guy looked at him with that same stupid look, he really was missing the sub text here. "And as for those wiretaps, I guess I'll be enjoying a long life then!" The Italian was raging. He grabbed the front of Matt's hair and stuck a knife against his throat.
"Don't tempt me!" Just then a thump sounded off in the distance, then the big guy fell over dead with a bullet between his eyes. The skinny Italian shot up and began shooting at the window the bullet had come from. The line of guards who had been standing by the wall ran over and all began firing at the window aswell. Matt watched them discharge over a hundred shots before they were all satisfied the shooter was dead. Then two more thumps this time from the east and the west sides of the building. Two more of the hired guns flopped over dead. The men began to panic. Matt rolled his eyes. The guards began indiscriminately firing at all side of the building. In their haste two men actually shot each other. Three more thumps sounded from undistinguishable directions. The remainder of the guards fell over dead. The skinny Italian gaped at his dead comrades. Without even thinking about his hostage he booked it to the warehouse doors. He pushed the big rolling doors open and bolted into the deserted street. Matt smiled as he heard the sound that human bodies make when they collide with motorcycles. Mello parked his bike where it sat with the skinny Italian partially underneath it. He took off his helmet. The detective drew his gun from the front of his pants and fired two shots into the Italians face. Without pause he walked into the warehouse. Matt smiled at the familiar sound of Mello's boots.
"Hey." Matt said from his position flat on his back. Mello paused by his side. The blonde said nothing as he cut the ropes that bound Matt to the chair. Matt's bruised face prevented him from seeing Mello clearly. "How did the arrest go? Did they get everyone?" Mello didn't respond. Matt grumbled. "Come on Mello for all my pain and suffering can't you at least tell me how it turned out?"
"Shut up!" Mello spat. As Matt expected Mello was pissed.
"Mels it's alright we got-"
"I SAID SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH! Don't ever do that again, ever! Do you hear me! I'd rather let the case go bust then have you do that! Don't ever, ever, ever do anything like that again! Fuck Matt!" Mello pulled him up. Matt stayed silent. "Where's your car?" Mello fumed as he helped Matt out of the building.
"In the alley, the keys are in my pocket." Mello snatched the keys and hurried him along into the car. Mello practically threw him into the back seat. Mello slammed the door and slid a crossed the hood of the car. He slammed his own door as he turned the mustang on and peeled out of the alleyway. Matt adjusted himself so he lay comfortably on his back.
" It was the right decision. If I hadn't cooperated and pretended to be you the guys guarding the Bosses never would have relaxed enough to mess up."
" I don't care it was a idiotic decision!" Mello yelled back at him. Matt cringed as Mello whipped the car around a street corner at seventy miles an hour. If every police officer in the city wasn't occupied with the Mafia arrest, they might have gotten a ticket. Matt smiled, as if that was ever one of their worries.
"Mels, slow down or else I'll get whiplash." Mello growled.
"You probably already have whiplash and it's all your fault!" Mello barked back at him. Matt figured Mello wasn't in the mood for jokes. To pass the time he mapped their position in the city based on the turns they made. He'd lost track of the first few while they were arguing which made the sport much more fun. Now in order to discern where they were he'd have to use an algorithm to figure out where they were based on all the possible matches for turn combinations. He'd memorized the map of New York two weeks ago when they'd taken this job. Matt was uniquely good at memorizing data. Some people think he has an eidetic memory, Matt doesn't think so, he just likes numbers.
They spun into a parking space in front of the dive apartment they were squatting in. Matt was pleased to see he was correct in his pathway analysis. Mello opened and slammed his car door then flung the door open to retrieve Matt. Mello paused as he looked down at his injured friend. Matt extended a hand for Mello to grab onto. The blond hesitated before taking it. Matt fumbled up the stairs with Mello under his arm. Mello really just dragged him more or less until they got to their nest on the fifth floor. Mello preferred upper stories when it came to housing, it took longer for enemies to climb the stairs, and it made for easy targeting with long range riffles. Mello kicked open the door without ever really stopping. Matt grunted as Mello pulled him into the apartment. Before he could protest Mello threw him into his bed and slammed the door. Matt whined face down in his bed sheets. His tech gear blinked and flashed at him from the walls. Matt got his own room for no other reason then the fact that Mello hates all those lights.
Mello opened the refrigerator and grabbed a chocolate bar. The blond stormed into his own bedroom and closed the door. Matt slept for a few hours then woke up to pee. In the bathroom he finally got a good look at himself. As he suspected he looked like he'd just been beaten up by the Italian mafia, surprise. His face was grayish blue with lots of marks that reminded him of how dye looks on tissue paper. His eyes were yellow and black with chips of dried blood where he'd been hit with a belt buckle. He opened his mouth to take stalk of his teeth. To his delight he still had them all. Well aside from one of his molars that Mello had 'removed' when they were eight that is. Matt pealed off his shirt which was filthy. Long streaks of blood from his nose covered the woven fabric. His pants, and consequently legs, had remained almost untouched. They really were armatures, he thought. Nah, more likely the skinny one had been close family. That was why he was entrusted with 'Michael Youngblood'; the man who'd destroyed their empire in two weeks flat with a complicated string of tech failures, stolen money, arrests, misunderstandings, and one of the most elaborate set-ups he and Mello had come up with to date.
Matt pushed off his jeans and boots before treading over to Mello's room. He pushed the unlocked door open with his shoulder. Mello was curled up in a ball of blankets. Matt fell onto the bed next to him. The red head carefully unwrapped Mello until he exposed his head from under the comforter. Mello scowled at him. Matt didn't even want to think about what a mess the blond was. He just figured they matched. He was covered with blood, Mello was covered with eyeliner and dried snot.
"What?" Mello choked. Matt ignored how disgusting his friend was and kissed him. Mello closed his eyes and tensed for a moment.
"I'm sorry I scared you." Matt didn't want to be any sappier than necessary with Mello, or else suffer a much harder beating than he'd already experienced.
"Fuck you, I don't know why I care." Matt smiled at the genius who 'didn't know why he cared'. More like 'didn't want to gush'. That was more accurate for the inadvertent diva. Matt wrapped his arms around his friend and sighed.
"Fine, you can pick the next job." Mello smirked.
"Yay." He said almost sarcastically. Matt set his chin on Mello's shoulder and went back to sleep.