Chapter One: The Mancunian Candidate

Warning: This fanfic contains both violent and (later on) sexual content, so read at your own discretion.

It was six in the evening on Christmas Eve, 1978. Sydney Airport was teeming with life, and the throngs ebbed and flowed with people flying in for Christmas with their relatives. Amongst this writhing morass was a deceptively young, confident woman. She was garbed in a long, black fur coat which harboured a red dress, with grey stockings and black boots emerging from underneath it. Her dark auburn hair was cut short, in a manner that struck a balance between punk sensibility and femininity. Arguably, the woman's most remarkable features were her eyes; they were a shade of grey so striking as to appear silver.

As the young woman departed Terminal 1, a yellow 1974 Holden Torana was waiting for her in the parking lot. Having exchanged letters with the car's owner about meeting up here, the young woman approached it. As she got close, a burly blonde woman in brown overalls, sneakers and a white shirt exited the car and turned to face her.

"Are you Ruby Rose?", she drawled.

"That I am," Ruby replied chipperly.

The blonde relaxed somewhat. "Well that's good; I'm your half-sister, Yang Xiao Long."

Ruby ran forward and hugged her, and Yang warmly reciprocated by ruffling the Mancunian girl's hair. "It's so good to meet you after so long!"

"I know, right?"

"Well, shall we head back home?"

"Not just yet," Yang advised. "There's a couple of other people I'm supposed to be picking up here".

"Okay," Ruby said with a lower tone. "By the way, I'm also here for you-know-what."

Yang gave off the most startled expression humanly possible, and sounded haunted at the idea of this girl getting involved in the business. "Are you absolutely sure that you want in on this? You seem too young and innocent to be getting mixed up with these guys I'm with. I only ever got involved because single mothers like mine earned jack shit, and being an apprentice mechanic only earns me so much."

Ruby smiled devilishly. "Well, I've served in the Special Forces as a sniper, and found it boring. So the minute you told me on the phone that you'd been boosting cars for an up-and-coming mafioso, I felt that I'd join in after getting to know you."

Yang shuddered internally as she reflected on this. What sort of girl gets into the Special fucking Forces as a sniper at the age of twenty, and calls it boring?! Yang didn't have long to ruminate however, as the two people she was sent to pick up for her boss had arrived. A pale, white-haired girl in a light blue suit, looking as though she'd foregone sleep for a few weeks, was trailing behind a Vietnamese man in Australian military dress. Clearly, Yang observed sympathetically, he served with our boys in the war. Too bad that won't earn him a lick of respect from the average Joe.

"Yang Xiao Long?" the girl asked, speaking with a thick German accent.

"That's me," Yang replied with a smile and an extended hand.

The girl shook it. "I'm Weiss Schnee, and he's Lie Ren."

Ren nodded. "It's good to be here in the lucky country, I must say".

"And who's the girl in the red dress?", Weiss asked.

"That's Ruby Rose, my half-sister and former army sniper, who's also opted to join our venture."

"Pleased to meet you both," Ruby said happily.

Weiss and Ren, baffled for an instant at the Mancunian's warmth, smiled and shook hands with the girl.

"Shall we load in our gear and head to yours, sister?"

"Load in the car by all means; I've got to make a call before we leave."

Ruby nodded, and the three new arrivals hauled their bags into the car. Yang, meanwhile, had found a payphone and dialled a certain number.

"Hello boss, it's Yang here. I've picked up the two recruits you asked for, as well as a third recruit we weren't expecting ... Yes, an ex-Special Forces sniper ... What the – how did you know about my sister? … I've asked before for you not to read my post like that ... Ugh, never mind. We're all coming up now. See you within the hour."

As Yang drove west down the crowded M5 in the blazing Australian heat, Ruby stared out the window with some wonder at the city her father and sister came from. Looking towards the rear of the car, Ruby noticed that Weiss and Ren were doing the same. Everything's so big, Ren realised, having never known much asides from crowded shanty towns and the fields of war. Weiss, meanwhile, was marvelling at the prosperity and lack of soldiers walking around the streets. All the hell I endured when escaping East Berlin was truly worth it, she reflected.

After turning south into an area between Heathcote and Campbelltown known as the Vale, Yang pulled into a four-bedroom, two-storey home which lay on the southern edge of town.

"Weiss and Ren, this place is where you two will be staying. I live next door, so Ruby will join me there."

As the quartet unloaded their luggage, the front door opened. Ruby found herself staring down a sight for sore eyes; a raven-haired Italian woman wearing a purple kimono. Hazel eyes met silver, and a slight smile formed on the Italian's lips.

"Welcome, all of you," said the newcomer with an exotic, vibrant accent that evenly blended Australian and Italian. "I'll help you two load in. Yang, feel free to load your sister's things into your house."

As Yang set to work, Ruby followed Weiss and Ren into the woman's house. The first thing she noticed was a level of opulence which seemed out of place for the area they found themselves in. Second was an ostentatious wardrobe which stood in place on the far wall of the lounge; Ruby guessed that it had a false wall and passageway within it, ostensibly to a room where either guns or drugs were being stored. Ruby opted to wait while her enigmatic host led Weiss and Ren into the two upstairs bedrooms. As they set to work unpacking their bags and settling down, the Italian girl decided to get to know her latest prospect. She quickly dressed herself in a white dress shirt with matching jeans and a black belt, then adorned herself further with a purple scarf, black trenchcoat, and thigh-high black boots. After examining herself in her mirror, she descended into the lounge.

"I believe an introduction is in order. My name is Blake Belladonna, and I'm your prospective boss."

Ruby nodded. "Honoured to meet you, Blake. My name is Ruby Rose, and I'm here to cause hell."

Blake smirked slightly; here was a young woman after her own heart. Blake sat down, motioning Ruby to do the same.

"Well, tesoro, I may as well tell you what I'm here to do. My father was a mafioso, and he was the sort that commanded respect from everyone and never needed to use violence against rivals or innocents, such was his skill at negotiation and diplomacy. However, things got ugly after he dared suggest that working with non-Italians was good for the business. The other mafiosi smoked him and his associates at their quarterly business meeting, which happened five years ago to this day. I was still in school then, and decided that instead of bawling my eyes out, I would exact revenge when I was old enough."

Ruby nodded, feeling a rush of empathy for Blake. "I'm sorry to hear that, Blake, and I know exactly what you're going through. Last year, I lost my mother when she was abducted and murdered by the IRA in Belfast, and if I hadn't been discharged I'd have taken the bastards out".

Blake nodded, her expression softening at Ruby's response. "Well, you might be interested in what I'm set to do tonight." Ruby snapped to attention. "The remaining mafiosi are meeting again this evening to be reimbursed for exporting half a ton of heroin to New Zealand last month, and I want to wreak vengeance. I've already got a plan for taking them out, but I'll need help picking off anyone who escapes. Yang's already told me of your service as a sniper in the Special Forces, so I'll have you keeping watch from a safe vantage point while I handle the main business."

Ruby smiled slightly. "Sounds good. Are we getting any other help on this?"

Right on cue, the front door opened, and Ruby found herself resisting the urge to shag the daylights out of the goddess who now dominated her vision. This woman, tanned and tall, was everything Ruby could have wanted in a partner. Light auburn hair, green eyes, luscious curves … Ruby felt like drooling at the sight of her. However, with great presence of mind, Blake had decided to snap her newest employee's trance painfully short (and prevent said drooling), by means of pinching Ruby's shoulder with the strength of a scorpion's pincer.

"As a matter of fact," Blake continued as Ruby's attention reasserted itself, "we do have help. Ruby, meet our driver, Pyrrha Nikos. And Pyrrha, this is our latest recruit, Ruby Rose."

"Pleased to meet you, Ruby," said Pyrrha maternally.

Ruby stood up to shake her hand, and did so with a twinkle in her eye. "Likewise, Pyrrha," she said, with a sultry tone that outranked her age.

Pyrrha, to her credit, managed to retain her composure – though Blake spotted the slight blush that manifested on Pyrrha's cheeks. "Well, now we're acquainted, shall we get started on our mission, Blake?"

Blake nodded and rose from her seat, leading the other two towards the wardrobe. "Yes, we shall. Now that we've got a trained sniper in our midst, the plan needs to be slightly different. Drop me off at the corner of Menagerie and Kuokuana, then take Ruby into the parking building on the other side of the corner. She'll be responsible for sniping off anyone who dares escape. Once I walk towards the parking building, pick me up and drive away without arousing suspicion. Any questions?"

The two subordinates shook their heads in near-perfect synchronisation. "Very well. Let's head to the basement."

Opening the wardrobe, Blake slid back the false panel, and led Pyrrha and Ruby into the basement. Ruby had to contain herself, such was the amount of weaponry on offer. Blake had clearly taken full advantage of the lax gun laws in New South Wales, having stocked her basement with pistols, sub-machine guns, and tons of ammunition. Still, Ruby had something in her possession which she alone opted to use for this field of work. She'd carried this to Australia without fear of detection. And even if it had been discovered, the authorities would have been shown her honourable discharge and let it slip through. Reaching inside the small of her jacket, Ruby produced the lone memento of her life in England – a 7.62mm L42A1 sniper rifle which she had painted red, with black accents and silencer.

"Would this little baby do the job any service, Blake?"

After taking in just how prepared Ruby was for this task, Blake responded with dangerous enthusiasm. "Oh, hell yes. That's perfect for our purposes here. I'll just retrieve my little friend and we'll be off."

Blake selected her deep purple 5.56mm M16-A1 and its silencer, and picked out two magazines for herself and one for Ruby. "Efficiency is the key, ladies. Let's not waste a bullet more than we need."

As the three budding mafiosi clambered up from the basement and out of the house, the balmy summer evening provided a nice backdrop to Blake's revenge. "Just so you know, rookie," informed Pyrrha, "it's a short drive to the place, and we won't be engaging until it's dark. Also, I'm sure that Blake's already told you this, but please leave the main business to her. Don't go rushing in to help if you hear screaming or anything."

Ruby nodded. Blake picked up three sets of plastic gloves and some earmuffs, giving Ruby one pair of the former as they entered Pyrrha's car. It was a majestic 1975 Ford Mustang II, painted metallic red with a black decal on the hood, as well as a functioning hood-scoop. Ruby, as the junior partner, sat in the back seat, while Pyrrha drove and Blake rode shotgun to their destination.

The sky was just starting to darken when the trio rolled up at the corner of Menagerie Street and Kuokuana Avenue, at the edge of Vale's industrial sector in the south east. The neighbouring factories were all shut at this time of year and night, making it perfect for some quiet mayhem. Pyrrha parked inside the bottom of the three storey parking building, waiting for a quarter of an hour before total darkness settled upon Sydney. Blake exited the vehicle with her father's M16 concealed in her trenchcoat, and waited to cross the corner as Pyrrha drove up to the top floor, which was open-air with a metre-high concrete wall around its edge. Pyrrha parked the Mustang at the closest corner to the club, and Ruby exited with her L42A1 in hand.

She moved over a few rather full bins and lined them up to form an L-shape with Pyrrha's car, giving Ruby a level of shielding from the street if her nest was discovered. Peeking over the top, she made eye contact with Blake. They nodded at each other, and Blake strode briskly across the street. The building she approached was one of a large number of gentleman's clubs in Sydney, but Blake knew the clientele it truly catered to. It was closed to the public on Christmas Eve, though the black mini-bus parked near the street corner suggested a private function was taking place. Thinking quickly, Blake slashed the rear tires with her combat knife, and decided to avoid the half-dozen guards at the front.

Skipping through a crack in the wire fence and leaning hard along the Menagerie Street wall, Blake took a breath and quickly skulked between two thick hedges, which protected her from prying eyes. She peeked at the rear wall, noting that there were two scrawny guards keeping an eye on a van, which had been parked along the massive retaining wall that ran parallel to Kuokuana Avenue. That van must be where the cash is stored, Blake quickly realised, and the feckless Albain twins are on guard duty. All too easy. Blake smirked as she aimed, and inflicted two fatal headshots before the guards had the time to gasp.

Even though no silencer eliminated the noise completely, the murmur that emanated from behind the closed basement door masked the remainder perfectly, along with the birdsong from the eucalyptus trees surrounding the club. Skulking over to the guards, Blake dragged their corpses behind the van and frisked the two. Finding a set of keys, Blake opened the van and beheld four rather full duffel bags of money. Easily ninety thousand in here, the mobster thought as she checked their weight. Hiding the cash between the hedges, Blake donned the smaller guard's bullet-proof vest and walked into the service entrance next to the basement entrance.

As soon as Blake walked from the van, Pyrrha, with great presence of mind, retrieved the money bags and hauled them out of the rear grounds. She hurriedly scrawled an explanation on the back of an old receipt and left it there, and managed to cross the street with the bags just before Blake's carnage started.

As she entered the kitchen, Blake noticed straight away that it was totally vacant. Of course, Blake remembered; their wives would've given them a basket each to share out for this little Christmas function. Stepping into the dumbwaiter, Blake lowered herself down into the basement canteen area. From this vantage point, she noticed that the food wasn't placed within said area, meaning that the mafiosi were dining at the present moment. The corrugated sheetmetal roller door was deployed in front of the serving counter, meaning that Blake's movements were unseen. The only door to the dining room stood locked, mercifully, and Blake felt safe getting out of the cramped dumbwaiter. Rolling quietly to the floor, Blake drew her loaded weapon and waited for the exchange to start.

The two most feared mob bosses in the Vale were seated around either side of a conference table in the basement bar. On the left side sat Sienna Sovrano, and the right side featured Alessandro de Toro. Each of them had brought their consigliere, underboss, and their two must trusted captains, with their foot soldiers guarding the front of the premises. All of Sovrano's White Tiger gang and all of de Toro's Black Fang group were in attendance.

Joining the to-be-amalgamated gang was their client and his associates, who'd flown in from New Zealand in their own private plane, with exactly $100,000 AU in notes. As the eating finished, the formality started. Sovrano and de Toro, though loathing each other's presence, had opted to let the other's gang control all crime in one half of Vale – with Sovrano governing the eastern crew and de Toro leading the western crew. They stood up together, and walked towards the importer, who hadn't revealed his name to avoid incrimination.

"Gentlemen," the importer drawled in the typical Auckland accent, "the heroin shipment was a complete success. Our coffers are full with product that we can give our countrymen at cost for the next three years. Have you two agreed on how the shares are being split?"

The two mafiosi nodded. "We're dividing ninety-percent of it between the White Fang coalition evenly," Alessandro confirmed.

"The other ten percent will go to paying off the cooks who made the merchandise," Sienna added.

"Very good. Now, we've had the Albain twins guard the cash outside for most of the meeting," the client stated, "but by now, they should have put the dough in the dumbwaiter, right behind this roller door. Let's open it."

Blake steeled herself as footsteps grew ever closer to her position, then slid on her earmuffs as they stopped and the roller door was gripped. As soon as the roller door moved half an inch above the countertop, Blake's rampage of vengeance began … by shooting the two volunteers in their groins. As they bent double, a pair of headshots put the men to rest. Blake ducked down, however, as the mobster on her left used the last of his strength to send the roller door flying up to the ceiling. As far as Sovrano and de Toro were concerned, their underbosses seemed to have been murdered by the Invisible Man.

With the mobsters seated in shock, the clients called in the guards as they ran for the stairs to the front door. Before anyone of them recovered enough to draw a weapon, a voice brimming with primal fury yelled out to them.

"GHIRA BELLADONNA ERA UN UOMO D'ONORE, E TU TAGLIARE LUI GIÚ IN SANGUE FREDDO. VENDETTA HA VENUTO PER VOI, TU MADRE-FOTTUTI FIGHE!"

Sienna could only whisper a horrified "J-jesus Fuck!" before he deep-throated two bullets.

Blake felt only one thing when conducting her first (and only) mass murder; duty. Neither pleasure nor remorse, neither happiness nor bitterness. Just grave, metronomic duty, as her father would always say. In stark contrast to her mental space, Blake's physical body moved like a ghost around the room, having trained herself into becoming a veritable blossom of death and misdirection when she acted. Having taken out the underbosses and Sovrano first, she opened by picking off the soldiers, who fired wildly with silenced Bushmaster pistols as they dropped to the ground.

Good, she thought, the illusion of a wild firefight will be useful here. Of course, I'm using the same calibre of bullet as the White Fang, so this will be easy for me to mask later. She managed to kill half of them before de Toro kicked down the door with his old carbine gun in hand, and ran around the corner. However, Blake ducked under his gun, punched him in the nuts and knocked him out with the butt of her rifle, picking up his antique and clasping it into her jacket's velcro holster as she reloaded her rifle.

She fired upon the remaining soldiers in the room, dropping de Toro's pair of captains first. After taking down the other half of the soldiers as she reached for the Sovranos, she impaled one of Sovrano's captains with the other one's bayonet-tipped shotgun. Quickly headshotting them both, Blake next picked up two steak knives and expertly flung them at the cowering consiglieres. One got hit through his left eye as he fell, while the other one suffered a deep stab wound a centimetre above his heart.

Taking stock of the corpses, Blake turned to see the writhing form of Alessandro de Toro scrambling off of the floor right behind her. Without flinching, she kneecapped him twice, and muffled him as he tried to scream. When he'd finished, she let go and trained her rifle at his head.

"You filthy puttana," he groaned contemptuously, struggling to hold himself in a dignified position with two shattered knees. "Your dickheaded father paid his price for breaking Mafia law. You had no legitimate reason to do what you just did."

Blake scowled testily, and retorted with a level of venom that outranked Stan Zemanek. "You're one to talk; you're the figa-mangiatore that got the White Fang into drug-dealing, even though both Sovrano and my father detested that line of work. Your argument is as invalid as you are, Sandy de Toro … or, as anyone with half a brain called you, Sandra Bullshit."

The old maifoso growled; no-one who valued their life ever dared call him that.

"And as far as my old man was concerned, he was trying to make sure everyone profited from this line of work – and not just the elitist stronzi who could barely stand each other's company, let alone work with others outside their racist bubble. So on his behalf, I will make organised crime inclusive to all who would swear fealty to me. However, you're the pezzo di merda who led him to his doom and shot him first. And your presence is no longer tolerated."

With that, Blake kicked him onto the ground, reached for his carbine, and literally tore the old traitor a new arsehole with it.

Having managed to flee the sudden carnage, the importer and his associates ran outside the building. After waiting until the bullets stopped, they got through the front gate and wedged themselves between the fence and the black minibus – landing right in Ruby's line of fire.

"Shit," their second-in-command cursed between breaths, "that got close. Let's hope that madwoman didn't get a sniper involved."

"That's bollocks," the leader said haughtily. "The parking building is too obvious for the standard mob sniper to take an undetectable shot, and the next high ground is two blocks away. You wouldn't be able to hit a beached whale at that dist-".

The four watched in abject horror as their boss became a scatter-brained man. As it turned out, the importer actually had been right about the difficulty of the untrackable shot, but his assailant wasn't a standard mob sniper. Ruby, who'd picked up the conversation at the edge of her hearing, found this to be juicily ironic.

"Well," the newly-minted delegation leader stated shakily, "best not to tempt fate". He earned a perforated brain cavity for his trouble.

"Let's just live and run," advised the next new leader, as he turned to run before Ruby dropped him.

"Let's stop talking and - " said the next piece of sniper fodder, pausing as he became sniper fodder.

"AND WHAT?!", whispered the last man with extreme panic. As he started to crouch behind a thick tree next to the minibus, he adopted a pant-shitting expression that seared itself in Ruby's memory; it would give her delight aplenty in the following years.

"Don your brown pants, arsehole!", the red reaper called out.

Unwisely, her target stood up indignantly. "These are brown pants, you bit–" "Pew!"

And Ruby's mind-blowing performance was complete, just in time for Blake to get out of the club and approve of the carnage. Mercifully, the importers had fallen all around a storm drain, with their wounds oozing blood into said drain. Blake then dragged the five inside the basement with her second, clean set of disposable gloves.

After painting the scene to appear like a shootout, the hit woman removed her earmuffs and gloves. Throwing the gloves into a garbage bag which Pyrrha provided, Blake reached for a towel behind her seat while Ruby smiled calmly as Pyrrha drove them home.

"Ruby, I must admit that your skills are better than even I surmised."

"Well, Blake, I'm confident that the so-called White Fang will never rise again. Not a single one escaped you or me tonight. We'll have a toast to that once we get back."

However, Blake and Ruby both missed one man. Specifically, a young, red-haired teenager was running ridiculously late to the meeting when he chanced upon the scene of the murders, arriving a full hour after what got dubbed the Menagerie Street Massacre by the Daily Telegraph next morning.

Adamo de Toro, who was set to be the newest member of the White Fang, gasped in abject horror at the blood-drenched scene. Whoever killed his father and his colleagues clearly meant business. Shedding tears for the first and only time in his life, Adamo ran over to the nearest payphone and alerted the cops to the scene.

Only one person I know of could've had reason for doing this, Adamo reflected as he waited, and she was little more than a kid when it happened. She wouldn't have known about the meeting, let alone the place. Perhaps one of the captains had an unresolved beef with another and the rest got caught in the crossfire. He sat in the phone booth, sobbing into his hands at the loss of the family.

As Hell's swimming pool was discovered by the police seven blocks over, the three mobsters had returned and hidden their weapons back in the basement. As they removed their earplugs and emerged from the wardrobe, Yang was standing to attention along with Weiss and Ren.

"What's going on, Yang?", enquired Blake with the faintest edge of anxiety.

"I've gone and gotten some kebabs for the completion of the job, as well as celebrating the formation of the gang!"

Weiss and Ren each handed out a kebab to Pyrrha and Blake, while Yang handed two to Ruby. "Head next door with some beer, Ruby, and let the other member of our gang know what's happening. I've got a business proposition to take care of."

"No worries, sis! I'll grab that six-pack on the table and lure them over."

As Ruby walked over to her new home with the kebabs and a six-pack of Cooper's Light Dinner Ale to Yang's bungalow, she beheld a sight that defied all logical thought. A short, ginger-haired girl was unicycling nude on Yang's front porch. Clearly, Ruby observed, this girl's as high as a kite on some real good dope. After she fell off, the ginger stumbled towards the wall and propped herself up with it, only noticing a startled Ruby when she spun around suddenly with a dressing gown in her hand.

"Oh, hello there, schat," greeted the newcomer with what Ruby figured was a slight Dutch accent. "I'm Nora Valkyrie, supplier and accountant to Blake, and the girlfriend to Yang."

"Well, I'm Ruby, and I'm Yang's younger sister. Pleased to meet you, Nora. So, er … how come you were unicycling with nothing on?"

Nora smiled toothily as she donned the gown. "Well, Yang accused me of being unbalanced; I was just making sure I wasn't!"

Ruby smirked. "Very well. Blake wanted you to come to hers for the official formation of the gang – kebab and beer provided".

"Okie-dokie. Let's go!"

With her smirk even more pronounced, Ruby watched Nora giggle her head off as she staggered on to Blake's house. This is going to be a good place to live, she realised.

Returning to Blake's house, Ruby opened the door and led an unsteady Nora through. Upon seeing Nora's state, Yang and Pyrrha were slightly peeved, while Ren and Weiss seemed baffled and Blake looked drily dismissive. Handing Nora her kebab and beer, Ruby turned to face her new-found friends and colleagues as Blake delivered a toast after closing the door.

"Tonight, we raise our glass to the end of the White Fang, and to the rise of the Bellas. We will be the beautiful angels who will protect Vale's streets from any and all who don't swear fealty to us. We will commit lesser crimes, but only to prevent worse tragedies. To the Bellas!"

"To the Bellas!", the gang chorused, raising their drinks.

"The only people missing are a lawyer and an organiser," Yang continued, "but I've got a good idea of who I can draft in."

"Good call, Yang," Blake responded. "Now, let's eat and get pissed."

"AMEN!"

A/N: I'm back, and with a better fanfic this time. Due to the length of the chapters, I'll only be uploading this at the start of each month.

By the way, I hope I translated this sentence correctly: "Ghira Belladonna was a made man, and you felled him in cold blood. Vengeance has come for you, you motherf**king c**ts!". If it wasn't, please let me know.

Feel free to follow the story or leave a review. Hope you enjoyed this!