Author's Note : Ha, okay… I think, maybe, I should put up warnings before posting something like Sonya's epic fail in human/adult interactions last chapter? I think I might have killed someone with laughter.
000000matt? You still good? Because it would really suck if I did kill you or something.
For all those whose cover I've blown by posting that epic mess of Sonya fail and you ended up laughing yourself sick/to tears in front of confused/weirded out people… sorry? But it was worth it, right?
Yes actually, Tatiana did in fact sabotage Sonya's ice cream cone to drip melted cream everywhere. She is a former thief herself with the Flames of Sun, a bit of Activation with the intent to hasten the soggy bottom tip's erosion ended up causing the bulk of Fong's distress. That's why she claimed she was going to hell, but she would enjoy every moment of it.
No, Fong's eye coloring is naturally red. If I write in 'glowing' then he's ticked off and looking for something violent, but as it seems he's a bit of a control freak somehow that might be a once in a blue moon kind of thing.
And no, Kappel isn't Verde. Alas, I know.
Going diving this weekend, corrections will be done later. Just didn't want to leave you all hanging for the next bit.
Edited (4/29/2017) - Minor grammar and story corrections.
Edit (3/22/2018) - Final formatting and minor corrections.
Edited (9/8/2018) - Minor corrections.
Russian Roulette : Reloaded
Chapter 26
(Friday the 2nd of August, 1968. Saint Julian's Hospital, Mafia Land.)
Renato waited for Doctor Kappel in a waiting room to get done with Shamal, fully aware he was scowling hard enough to disturb the nurses and other patients but not really caring too much.
Two hot, gorgeous Russian sisters asked him along to a month of near or fully nude beach time and possibly a very different sort of exercise one shouldn't do on a public beach… and he was stuck taking care of baby Mist brat instead. Shamal had no idea of the things he had to put up with in order to keep him safe and healthy.
Some days, he really hated his luck.
On the other hand, he knew one of those sisters since she was twelve. That can of worms was… wiggly.
Sonya should not have grown up to be that hot. It was not fair.
She was a thief, they were supposed to be nasty and backstabbing but mostly greedy creatures. Entirely willing to steal anything and everything not nailed down, just to make a bit more money.
It had only been the fact she had been a Cloud that made him interested in her at first, he really had expected her to go violent like all Clouds in the end and scorn the thief's life for a hitwoman's lot instead in a few mere years.
The worst she had stolen from him was a shirt… and it wasn't even off his back. More like out of his closet. All to keep his own damn ward safe and secured for him, so she had more than earned the right to that shirt she stole.
While he was entirely appreciative she wasn't much like her fellow thieves of Mafia Land, he also had no idea why she was sticking it out as a thief and not showing any interest or inclination to wander to something a bit more violent. The Russian Storm-Cloud could wreck some decent carnage if she wanted to, but oddly didn't seem too inclined at all.
One of these days he'd actually get around to trying to tempt her with something violent and possibly bloody. Maybe she just needed an excuse?
She didn't tend to be violent unless you touched her without permission or someone was specifically pissing her off, at least according to some brand-new rumors floating about.
Renato really did miss out on some of the best things when dealing with Shamal's needs.
Different hall or not, he would've paid to see that incident happen when Sonya bitch-slapped some no-named paper pusher hard enough to crack a wall on the far side of the room.
Now the hitman had to figure out if perving on the closest thing he had left to a childhood friend was something he could live with.
He had been what?
A handful of years younger than Sonya was now when they met?
…and what kind of useless excuse of a man turned that kind of invitation down?
He had to let that offer pass by. Even with his mixed feelings about one of those sisters, he probably would've taken them up on that offer had he been alone. Tatiana was beautiful redheaded spitfire of a pin-up girl herself, if a little too bouncy and conniving for his taste with a genuine unholy glee in messing with a man's head.
Pale and a bit drawn looking lately, but she had selected for herself a very demanding job and had fully earned a month of rest and relaxation on France's beaches for having stuck it out. A decent credit to Sun Flame users in and of herself for that alone.
Aiding her in whatever she needed to destress was the least a gentleman could do, for her dedication to learning the healing arts if not because she was a lady in her own right. Since it was a joint offer ignoring one sister in favor of the other was just rude and not something a gentleman should do, but…
Sonya herself was… a near perfect cross between a leggy blonde and a dancer without a care to high-maintenance behavior that made her seem more real than just plastic. Entirely willing to scorn uncomfortable fashions for personal comfort but donning them if needed and possessing an endlessly amusing habit of weaponizing her jewelry.
Renato had also known her when she was a gawky pre-teen girl, mostly elbow and knees and very little else to her.
…and now he felt like a pervert again.
Damn it all, this should not be that hard of an issue. He appreciated beautiful women, they were certainly that and then some.
Active mafia women. Actually useful as well as pretty, and a side order of deadly when it was called for. One was a highly valuable contact he actually trusted, entirely willing to help him out if he needed a small favor or two or provide the womanly touch he didn't have when it came to his own damn ward. The other was a professional mafia nurse.
Why did Shamal have to be with him when they gave that invitation?
Seriously, who the hell did the sisters give that offer to before him?
There could not be that many candidates. Sonya was not sociable in the least, unless she already knew or someone she knew indicated they knew whoever she was dealing with. She was barely polite to Timoteo, and only because Renato actually respected the Don of Vongola.
Tatiana spent most of her time around battered and bleeding mafia men, with the occasional mafia wife and kids chipped in now and again.
If they had needed a man for anything, why hadn't he had been their first choice?
"Mister Sinclair, are you quite done glaring the walls into submission?"
He shot the entirely suspicious German doctor a nasty look, straightening up from his slouched sprawl into something a bit more attentive seeming. "For now."
Said doctor had some balls, he didn't even bat an eyelash over the surly Italian's behavior. "Your child-"
"Ward."
"Whatever. Young Shamal is perfectly healthy, he just needs his vaccinations done then he will be set for public schooling. I'll have his records fabricated, birth certificate included, to be perfectly near-legal." Kappel sounded entirely disgusted with the very idea, or just scornful in general at the fact he would be doing so for a young child. The box in the man's hands was held out for the hitman. "They will be sent on to your current registered address when completed and hospital agents are able to insert Shamal's new records into the civilian system."
Renato accepted the box gingerly, curiously cracking it open carefully and eyeballing the vials of various liquids and the few needles provided suspiciously. "…aren't vaccinations done here?"
"Hospital policy is to allow the parents… or guardians, to do a child's vaccinations wherever they feel most comfortable." The doctor informed him flatly. "Cuts down on the damage panicky, overprotective parents cause when accusing the staff of trying to slip poisons or incurable viruses to their sprogs."
He gave the man a skeptical look from under the brim of his fedora.
"Of course it doesn't prevent it, we just won't have such parents smack dab in the middle of the hospital goring berserk. Now they try it at the reception desk, which has its own enforcers around to ensure no one does manage to harass the ones on duty."
Getting to his feet, the hitman nodded once to show he understood and tucked the box under one arm. "Is that all then?"
"My temporary nurse is getting him dressed now." Kappel agreed with a tiny sniff, using one long forefinger to press his half-moon spectacles higher up the bridge of his prominent nose. "I feel I should warn you not to use Sun Flames on him after administering your ward's vaccinations. At least until he's fully healthy again on his own."
"Ho?"
"Nurse Primakova found that Sun Flames have a slim chance to re-Activate the almost dead viruses in any vaccination. Instead of merely enabling young Shamal's own immune system to recognize and fight off a severely weakened virus, you will chance actually infecting him with a fully viable one instead."
…well, he owed Tatiana a drink or something at the very least. "How?"
"Personally. Thankfully it was a booster shot and not a new vaccination."
A very damn good drink. "Understood."
The German gave him a long, level look. "And when was the last time you had a checkup of your own, Mister Sinclair?"
Never. "I, doctor, am a Sun Flame user. I do not require a medical check, ever."
There was another very long moment of silence, when the ballsy doctor gave him an entirely unimpressed stare over his spectacles. "For your young ward's sake, I dearly hope that is true and not just more of these 'rumors' that turn out to be not so true after all. Like how all Clouds are violent psychopaths or Lightnings having no sense of self-preservation."
Renato scowled at the man, irked that nothing he did intimidated the spindly looking physician. If he went any further than just glares or scowls, Sonya might just throw a damn fit at him. She had specifically told him not to scare or break her doctor.
"I treat the only Cloud that calls this island home. When you watch a woman kick a wall in with a bare foot and regard the broken bones she suffered as irritating as a papercut, then finish giving her a physical? Glares are not that intimidating anymore."
The doctor might have a point with that, but it didn't mean the hitman was happy with it.
"Mister Renato! Can we go see Miss Sonya now?"
"She already left, brat. Yesterday." He did not need a reminder of what kind of offer he had to let pass him in favor of taking care of said brat.
…and whoever it was that the sisters had offered it to first.
Shamal looked entirely unconcerned by that fact as he scurried over to the two men, a little ruffled but now with the medical records to allow public schooling. "Miss Sonya and her sister went by boat, didn't they? You said flying was faster. So, we can go fly and then see Miss Sonya."
…right, baby Mist had wanted to fly out here and pouted when the hitman decided to take it safer with the brat with him. This way, he would get both a chance to fly and get himself pampered by a Russian Storm-Cloud… likely her sister too. While the women were half or fully naked and on a beach.
Conniving little shit. He wasn't even old enough to fully appreciate that view yet.
Renato had yet to figure out if he wanted to see Sonya in any other way than the thief who sometimes spoiled his damn ward to hell and back and allowed him a few precious liberties with herself.
God damn it.
As a young woman who stole things and could pop weaponry out of the strangest places, who let Shamal use her as a comfort object with minimal flinching and cleaned up really nicely with mile-long legs…
…mother of fuck.
The hitman gave up, slamming a hand down on the top of his fedora to push his hat over his eyes as he took a deep breath. Then he tried not to think about it anymore. "We are going back to Italy, Shamal. The girls are on vacation and aren't expecting us."
"I happen to know which hotel they intend to stay at."
"Not. Helping. Doctor."
"I wasn't aware I was supposed to." Kappel informed him bluntly. "Frankly, I'd prefer it if you gave those vaccines to Nurse Primakova or even another nurse entirely to administer. I do hate the policy that forces me to give over such things to people that barely have any idea how to use them correctly."
He shot the man a seething look under the brim of his hat, already irritated and rapidly approaching ticked off. "…give me the damn address."
He'd figure it out later. When irritating doctors or tetchy brats weren't around to interrupt or confuse his thought process.
(Saturday the 3rd of August, 1968. A hotel, Marseille, French Republic.)
"So, I have a question."
"Hmm?"
"Why do you occasionally break your own bones sometimes, but not others?" Tatiana questioned idly, waving a forkful of pasta around in a little circle as she attempted to find a way to phrase her inquiry better. "Like with Doctor Kappel's wall, you broke your foot. Then again that one heist for Cartier, you broke your hand getting us out of there. But… only then? If you think about it, the force you exert should end up doing you a lot of internal damage when it impacts something and that force ricochet off back into you… but I've seen you shatter things without a mark on you afterwards when you really should've at least cracked a knuckle if this 'I can hurt myself' thing is true."
They had swept their hotel suite for bugs just after checking in, then ordered room service for dinner instead of wander outside Marseille proper to see if they could find a decent restaurant of if they wanted to just go with the kabab vendors near the beachside of the city.
Sonya was perched crossed-legged on her bed, since her sister had claimed her desk to eat on.
Now the thief put a piece of her grilled chicken breast into her mouth to chew while she thought.
"I think you expect to hurt yourself, so you do." The Sun user continued, pointing her now cleaned fork tines at her foster sister. "But if you don't think about it, you don't hurt yourself."
It made some sense, in a way. What was Dying Will Flame use other than an extreme exercise of one's will over reality?
If she wasn't willing herself to be uninjured after some of her riskier acts, then was that all that really stood between her and more broken or cracked bones?
"That needs experimentation… in a month."
"In a month." Agreed Tatiana brightly, deciding she was done with her seafood and white wine sauce covered pasta and abandoning it to bounce onto the thief's temporary bed gleefully.
Sonya picked up her plate almost too late to save the rest of her dinner, fork stuck in her mouth, so she would have the hands to do said saving of good food.
Her older sister was entirely unapologetic in the face of her glare. "Don't be such a stick in the mud, Sonya. We're in France, about to spend a whole month doing nothing more taxing than putting on suntan lotion or eating. Make a mess, sleep in for half a day, let loose woman."
"Don't you have your own bed to jump on?" She inquired blandly after taking her eating utensil from her mouth, setting her food down again. "Why must you mess up mine?"
"Because I want to."
"I fail to see why I should behave in any manner than the one I want to, even if I am on vacation." Insisted the thief, sticking her own fork on the last of her chicken to give more of her attention to her sister. "I am going to raid bookstores for something to read on the beach, hire a private investigator tomorrow, and generally be lazy in not stealing or thinking about how to steal something for a month. Cherep will be so proud of us."
Snorting, the nurse stretched out on her bed and hooked her hands behind her head. "Yay for our dorky foster brother. What are you looking for here, anyways?"
"An Arcobaleno. Well… a dead one."
"A what?"
…that's really what worried Sonya. No one knew of them, or at least talked about them, anymore. "An Arcobaleno. A member of I Prescelti Sette about three hundred years ago."
"…again, a what?"
Sighing and giving up on her dinner the younger sister toed her elder to shift over, so she could lay down too. "One of the strongest seven of an era, strongest Flame user of each generation. They were… they used to exist. I have mentions of them in one of my books. But no one seems to know who or what they were anymore. I've been through France twice now, and even knowing the full name of this one Arcobaleno and that this was his country of origin…? I have never found mention of him."
Tatiana aimed a frown at her. "Strongest Flame user, huh? If he was so strong, why isn't this guy remembered for it? I mean, we all have heard of Primo of Vongola and his Guardians. They're like… the mafia's heroes of old, or what every Flame user wanted to be like themselves. Italy still churns out grunts in certain molds in hopes to recapture that generation."
She crossed her arms and set them and her chin on her sister's abs, frowning thoughtfully out the window with a damn good view of the darkened beachfront they would be frequenting soon. "I know, which worries me. I understand we're mafia, and Omertà would've covered just about anything about his life… but even birth records? No family survived him? He predates Mafia Land, actually I think the Arcobalenos stopped assembling shortly before the island's first concept came into existence, so I understand why I hear nothing there. But if France once had the strongest Storm Flame user of any generation, why isn't he held up like the original Vongola Sky and Guardians? What about the other six Arcobalenos of his generation? The ones before them? After?"
"…if they don't exist anymore, why wonder?"
…because they would exist again in only a few short years, and the strongest Cloud of their generation was that dorky foster brother of theirs. To defy death itself… indefinitely?
Cherep might not be able to do much else with his Cloud Flames, but he was also highly unwilling to incase it might hurt someone. He'd copy her strength, but only if he could apply it to practical things like frozen tent poles, a stubborn screw or bolt, or the lid of a jar of whatever preserves he was trying to eat. He'd make Cloud Flame copies of needed extra machine parts or tools, but those normally only lasted a few minutes for the tools to a few days until he could replace them for the parts.
Even so, he was still stronger than Sonya was.
She couldn't, or likely wouldn't be able to, take the Cloud Pacifier from him even if she could in the first place. Cherep, Skull, had been the weakest of the next Arcobalenos… and if she couldn't even touch on how strong he was...
Next plan, to find out as much information as she could to arm him with enough to make an informed decision about it.
Even if he was more Skull de Mort and less Cherep Bazanov, the stuntman was still a pacifist. Unwilling to harm another, even if in the name of his own survival.
He'd live through just about anything, anyways. Why hurt someone unnecessarily?
Sonya could understand that, if not like it very much, so she never had tried to press him into learning more than just ways how to escape a nasty situation if needed.
That pacifistic nature probably meant he would likely go along with the 'corner of the universe anchoring' the Pacifiers were supposed to be. Even if it killed him. Because he was nice like that, and if the consequences were really that dire he'd do his goody-two-shoes thing.
She might know it wouldn't, because Vongola Decimo would end the curse chain of Pacifier Bearers for good barring two or three Skies between now and then, but she still didn't want her brother to even contemplate needing to die.
Willpower over reality enabled him to live in spite of everything, and if she had it her way that would never be a wonder he'd have.
"No." Tatiana poked her little sister's forehead repeatedly, harshly. "No worrying. Next month you can worry. Hire the damn investigators if it's that important to you but put it aside. We're on vacation. My personal mission is to get you laid and get a line-free tan. Worry later."
"…really? Your personal mission for the month is that?"
"Objections?"
She seriously thought about the suggestion, and anything that might be relevant. "Actually? I'm not really sure what I'm attracted to."
"You're sexually active, we know that. That cute little childhood crush on our foster father proved it." Teased the nurse wickedly, snickering as her finger was finally batted away from the thief's face. "So, we just need to figure out what turns your motor on."
"I get veto rights." She insisted firmly. "No matter what."
"Well of course. I want you to be both comfortable and screwed silly for once. I think it will do wonders for you." Assured the older Russian cheerfully. "We'll find you something, don't worry."
…should she be scared of that promise?
(Wednesday the 7th of August, 1968. A hotel, Marseille, French Republic.)
Tatiana had a horrible taste in men.
Sonya was now fully dreading of what else the redhead would try dumping off on her. The man from last night had been a little too eager to see what a Russian girl was like in bed, and way too crass and upfront about it.
Maybe she was just too picky?
The thief's already hesitant motions preparing for a night out slowed even more as she considered it.
Their first day in France, while the blonde went to find and hire a semi-respectable private investigator who was only slightly curious why she wanted to find a dead man, her foster sister made a few arrangements she likely knew her little sister would've flatly refused had she known.
Not even as Rachel had she ever gotten a pedicure or a manicure, and while it wasn't bad… the touching made the Storm-Cloud uncomfortable all over the place.
The resulting nail color was pretty, she supposed. Easily chipped and cracked, so not something she'd do again.
On her minimally scarred up, slightly crooked fingers from once shattering her right hand.
Pretty, useless, and why did people shell out money for something they could do at home themselves?
After that afternoon on a beach they had planned on, the Sun had surprised her sister with the suggestion of a night out.
Sonya, at least willing to try something once if her siblings wanted to, went along innocently enough like sheep to the slaughter.
Nightclubs she could deal with, she preferred bars but she could deal. Dancing, as a casual social activity?
The thief preferred things with choreographed steps. Preferably. She had a sense of rhythm, but it didn't mesh with unstructured dancing. Tatiana pulling her out onto a club's dancefloor merely made her uncomfortable and awkward.
She couldn't dance like that.
Ironic, given she was trained in ballet.
However, she had promised her sister a week trial of the 'night-scene'. Three days into it, she was dearly regretting promising her foster sister that.
The men that the older Russian kept finding were alright. They were handsome men, for sure, but… Sonya didn't particularly care for them. Not enough to try and put aside her dislike for being touched to see if there was any chemistry or attraction on her end, and a few of them…?
Tatiana went for eye-candy first, manners second. A few of those men were outright sleazy but could hide it for all of five or ten minutes.
The phone ringing jostled the thief out of her sour musings on her sister's deplorable taste in men, and she went to answer it curiously.
It had been less than two days. Her PI couldn't have gotten results this fast and no one else should have a number to reach either sister.
"Bonjour?"
"Miss Sonya!"
"…Shamal? How did you… wait, let me guess. Renato gave you this number?"
"…erm… no?" Sheepish sounding Mist brat answered, then hastened to tack on what he thought was an acceptable answer. "He got an address from the doctor person, when we were at Mafia Land, and put it in his wallet. He wasn't going to call you though, which was stupid. Why get it and not do anything with it? So, I got it out of his wallet when he left it on the table and now I'm calling you!"
"I… see. Shamal, did you happen to talk to a nice operator lady before me?"
"Um… two nice ladies."
The operator and likely the person on duty at the front desk. Shamal likely didn't know what name they were registered under, even if it was her legal one, so he likely described them in order to get this extension.
Hopefully Nono wouldn't mind a long-distance call from Italy to France being made.
With a wry little laugh, Sonya pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright brat, what did you want to say to me?"
"I'm sick!" Shamal informed her way too cheerfully for the subject matter. "I got shots, today. Mister Renato said it would make me sick, so now I'm sick."
Shots that would make one sick would be vaccinations. Poor kid, he probably wasn't feeling it yet. "Is that why Renato left you alone in a room with both a phone and his wallet?"
"…no? He's been really… mean, lately. And forgetful. And shooting a lot. And… very… glare-y."
She had no clue what that was supposed to mean. Renato was a bit of an asshole, glared a lot when he was irritated, but forgetful?
Was there something serious distracting him?
"Mean… and shooting a lot. Indoors?"
"No, there's a fiery-ing range outside. He goes there a lot. Which is where he went just now."
"A firing range, brat. And if he's already irritated, it's not going to help that you took something out of his wallet."
"I put it back!"
Yes, because that made it perfectly alright. If Sonya returned the Pabst Theater's chandelier surely she'd be forgiven for stealing it too, right?
There was another voice, one too far away from the phone for it to pick up with any audibility, and suddenly Shamal wasn't the one she was speaking to anymore.
"May I ask who this is?"
"Master Tyr, nice to hear you too." Baby Mist brat got busted. "Shamal made a long-distance call, unfortunately. He might have placed it collect, and if so I'll pay for it, but if he didn't then I'm sure Renato wouldn't mind picking up the tab."
"Miss Sonya, surprising."
"Renato apparently somehow has the address for my hotel. If said hitman would stop leaving his wallet in strange places, the brat wouldn't be able to fumble his way to me."
"…I'll be sure to inform him so."
She wished she could hear what Shamal would try to keep out of trouble for this stunt, but she had probably tied up the Iron Fort's lines too long as it was. "Can I say goodnight to the brat?"
"Of course. Good evening, Miss Sonya."
"Goodbye, Master Tyr."
A moment's pause, and baby Mist brat was babbling quickly in her ear.
"Kid, slow down."
"…sorry? I didn't mean to get in trouble, Miss Sonya."
"Mean to or not, you still probably should've asked before placing a call like this. Or not have gotten caught in the first place. I'll talk to you later, Shamal, but I really do need to go."
"Aww… but-"
"Goodnight, brat."
"…night, Miss Sonya." Sulky Mist brat echoed back to her, probably what was a nearly audible pout aimed down the phone line at her.
Sonya hung up, rolling her eyes at ridiculous Mists.
A vastly amused Tatiana was standing behind her. "So… now that the Italian side-feature is over with, who's Tyr?"
"Tyr the Sword Emperor, an assassin of Vongola's." She answered absently, wondering how the hell she was going to dodge out of another night of matchmaking attempts. "Why?"
There was a slow nod. "I've heard of him… he's hot too, isn't he?"
Blindsided, the thief blankly blinked at her sister a few times. "…I suppose? If you're into older men. He's… distinguished looking?"
There was yet another pout aimed at her, but Tatiana's expression didn't have a patch on Shamal's kicked puppy looks or Cherep's offended cat-ness. "What is with you and hot guys? Hot, older guys?"
"…I'm sorry?" The sheer exasperation in the expression aimed her way made the thief feel a bit sheepish for whatever it was she had done wrong now.
"Sonya, you're not comfortable with going clubbing."
"Well, no." Not even remotely.
Tatiana sighed heavily, throwing her hands up in the air. "Alright, I give up. We won't have to go out for the rest of the week."
Thank GOD.
"Next week, though, we're going to try something else."
…damn it to hell. "Tats, I don't think I'm cut out for something as quick as a one-night stand. I don't do casual, at all."
"So, what? Are you waiting for 'Mister Right'?"
Snorting at that ridiculous thought, the thief shook her head. "No, that would be stupid. Just… I need something more than just 'he's cute' or... whatever."
Rachel had died without ever meeting her 'Mister Right', and Sonya wasn't holding her breath for it either. She wasn't a good person and in this life?
With mostly civilians around to pick from, that would mean she'd have to hide most if not all of her life from them to do anything within the month.
What would be the point of trying to establish a relationship if it had no longevity?
That would be a lot of effort for very little reward.
Tatiana sighed gustily, looking vaguely irritated. "Of course, you would. You barely let me or Cherep touch you as it is. It's mostly you touching us if it happens at all. Well… I'm not giving up. I'm going to get you laid, one way or another."
…that kind of sounded like a threat. She wasn't sure if she should be worried or not. More importantly… "Can I get out of this dress now?"
"Yes, fine. Ruin my hard work in making you sexy." Complained the redhead. "I suppose you also want to stay in a read a book or something."
"Yes. Actually." The thief informed her flatly, already unzipping the almost too tight black dress in order to wiggle out of it.
"…do you have no body shyness at all?" Tatiana questioned curiously, taking off her own jewelry since they wouldn't be going out tonight. "This is the second time you've undressed yourself in front of someone without even hesitating."
"You're my sister, you've seen me naked before. Like this afternoon before. Doctor Kappel has likely seen better, too."
"Not the point, little sis." She replied, following her into their hotel suite's bedroom. "Would you undress in front of… say, Cherep?"
"Sure? I mean, he's our brother. Pretty sure he wouldn't look, and if he did I'd expect him to feel awkward about it, but if I had to I would."
"What about your two hotties?"
"…my two what now?"
"Tall, dark, and snarky for one. And Muscles makes two." The redhead explained, smirking slyly over at her sister as she dug out something comfortable to wear for the night. "…and isn't that a man's shirt?"
Sonya glanced down, at Renato's old button up silk shirt, then pulled it on. "Yes."
Tatiana's eyebrows flew upward. "…and yet, somehow, you're still a virgin. Anyways. Yes to both questions, or just the one?"
"To both. I'm pretty sure Renato's seen better too, and there's no way I would be their first naked woman. Not entirely certain why I would want to, and it would have to be a damn good reason to get me to undress in front of Fong, but again if I had to I would." The thief shrugged and snagged her latest book. "Don't really see why I would ever want to, though."
"It should not be this hard to get someone like you laid." Declared her older sister irritably, hands on her hips and almost glaring as the thief happily curled up in bed. "Enjoy your reprieve, little sis. Next week though…?"
"I await with dread."
"Ha, ha, very funny."
(Friday the 16th of August, 1968. Sartre Detective Agency, Marseille, French Republic.)
"De Mort? Any relation to-?"
"Skull de Mort? Yes." Sonya interrupted her PI shortly, wondering if using her brother's stage name for civilian things had been really as much of a good idea as it seemed at the time. She took a seat across his cluttered desk, carefully because it looked a bit grimy to begin with. "You said you had something?"
The man's office/study room was a bit messy, but as it had been neat when she hired him she supposed it was just a sign of how busy he was being on her behalf. A few phone books, a few notepads of scribbled upon paper, and a whole lot of coffee mug stains littered the cramped space.
A flick of something sheepish crossed the detective's face, and he dug out a manila folder from his desk drawer. "Yes, although I have no idea why this man was ever mentioned in your books. Pierre-Antoine Carpentier was born three hundred and twelve years ago in Bordeaux, to Marie and Joseph Carpentier. Was a mason by trade, journeyman level, never attained a mastery. Until about sixteen-eighty-one, when any reports or mentions of him vanish."
A Storm mason?
That was… interesting.
Dockyards and ports were havens for criminals, though that much she probably should've guessed on her own. "One of my books mentions him as a friend of my own country's Regnant Sophia Alekseyevna, in sixteen-eighty-five."
The man could only shrug. "Then he wasn't here for those years, or if he was I have yet to find anything about it. I can tell you he didn't remain in Bordeaux for those years."
Well, the vacation was only just barely half over with. Sonya was happy enough she had a beginning point at least, and she knew where her next heist would take place if at all possible. "I will continue to pay you to check into it, at least for another two weeks. Even if you find nothing else, I am well satisfied with what you've found for me already."
It wasn't likely there was more to find on the civilian side, but it was possible there might be something else.
"Looking for anything in particular? So I know what to focus on?"
Valid questions, she supposed. Sonya wouldn't be telling him anything really interesting, but…
"Foreign friends of his, preferably those he met or was noted for dealing with after this disappearing point. Carpentier was part of a highly secretive group of individuals I am interested in, but I only have his name to work from."
"I have to admit this is probably the strangest assignment I've ever taken, Mrs. de Mort." Rémy Sartre, the name of her private detective she probably should remember, admitted as he marked down her interests for later review. "Locating a long-dead man? Wouldn't this be more of a historian's field?"
"I could go hire one of those, if you prefer?"
Sartre gave a wry little chuckle. "Please no, I rather like the easy casework you want to pay for. Much easier than most of my usual."
"I'm on vacation, you can do the footwork for me while I am." Sonya admitted blandly with a shrug.
"Happy to do so."
(Tuesday the 20th of August, 1968. Marseille, French Republic.)
Sonya tiredly glanced up at the next visitor to her little café table, getting rapidly fed up with Tatiana's drive to find her a man, and was pleasantly surprised.
"I don't know if you knew about this or not but thank you for being male this time."
A remarkably manly appearing Viper looked highly amused as he slipped into the seat across from her, using French just as fluidly as she could. "Mou… you're welcome, I suppose. I didn't expect to see you around these parts."
"We're on vacation, don't worry about it." The thief sighed, flipping a page in her book. "Me and Tats, our elder foster sister."
"The redhead." The Mist asked, or more like commented, with a tilt of his head to where the woman in question was.
"Mmm."
No wonder Viper didn't have to scare or unnerve yet another guy in order to do whatever this was supposed to be, Tatiana had gotten distracted from trying to set her little sister up on a semi-decent date by the latest arrivals to the café.
She looked entirely too happy to flirt with the newest visitor to the little coffee shop, and he looked perfectly willing to flirt back.
Sonya wished her the joy of it, but she would just like a few minutes of uninterrupted reading time.
"I think I am going to continue to associate with your brother." Viper informed her bluntly, the liquid in his teacup making lazy circles without any obvious reason for it. "It's rare enough I find someone that isn't bothered by me switching between genders at will, and one that amuses me is even rarer."
She gave him a blank look.
"No objection?"
"You probably know full well he's a pacifist by now. With him you'll never have a 'monster' in your pocket to intimidate or cow others with."
"I am aware, thank you." Was the short reply, and the Mist inspected her for a long moment. "Is that it? No threats, warnings, attempts to intimidate?"
"He's his own person. If he wants you as a friend, then so be it." Sonya remarked idly, waving the semi-accusation off. "The only warning I am ever giving you was already given, there is no point to go back over old ground again."
It was actually good news for her, that Cherep might be getting another criminal as a friend. If he really had a serious problem with criminal types like or worse than her that he had been biting his tongue about for whatever reason, then he wouldn't be amenable to Viper's friendship.
Not a worry she had held for years, but reassurance was always nice.
Viper snorted, harsher than the thief could make the same sound as even with her slightly husky voice. "I think I like those of your type, so straightforward and unfussy. You and your brother are spoiling me for normal social conventions, mou."
"And to think, everything you've probably read or heard about us warned you to stay very far away."
"Very true. I will admit to a moment of anxiety when I realized you both were being honest about what you were."
It was the thief's turn to snort. "Your brain broke."
"It was surprising." The Mist defended himself pointedly, and with a touch of irritation. "I had never before met any of your type, and those old warnings are very specific about what would happen between those like you and those like me."
"I suppose that's reasonable." Sonya was forced to admit after a moment. "I feel I should warn you both my brother and I are unusual for our type. He's even rarer than I am, and I am enough of another to be less… violent, than the norm."
"Obviously." Viper intoned dryly with a wickedly sharp looking smirk. "I understood that not five seconds after you were finished 'bothering' with me."
Waving that off, because for one it was true and another she didn't really care if it had offended him or not, the thief silently turned back to her book.
With Viper in the seat across from her, Tatiana would likely assume either she had a really girly taste in men or finally met someone she didn't mind being near her. Either way, the nurse would leave her alone for however long the Mist decided to hang about.
"…nothing to say?"
"I fail to understand why people must insist on making conversation with statements that have no real answer or reply for them. So, no."
"Mou… having a full conversation with you must be annoying."
"Thankfully, you're not trying to be my friend. Just my brother's. Lucky you, hmm?"
Viper gave a prissy little sniff, raising his cooling tea to his touch too full looking lips. "Lucky me, indeed."
Sonya probably would never come to like him much, but as long as Cherep was happy with it she'd at least try for being non-hostile to the Mist user. If he could be useful, she might even go so far as to be mildly friendly.
Viper seemed to have as little interest in her in return, so it balanced out.
(Friday the 23rd of August, 1968. A hotel, Marseille, French Republic.)
"This should not be this hard."
"Tats… maybe I'm just happier this way?"
Tatiana glared over at her, visibly disgruntled. "But you never look very happy, little sis. I want to see you blissed out, or sappy sighing I can tease you over, or just even just willing to smile more often than… that."
"'That' what?" Sonya asked in confusion, because all the redhead was waving at was her entire upper body.
"Your blank face. Or I suppose it could be called 'I can't care less' face. The expression you normally have on when doing whatever." The nurse gave a frustrated gesture, then shoved her hands through her heavy mass of loose red hair. "Why aren't you happy with this?"
"Because I don't like people?" The thief suggested honestly. "Most of them are… eh."
"You have to go through some coal to find a diamond, Sonya."
"While that's nice and all, I'm seventeen Tats. I have time to look, in a broader pool than just whoever is close by at any one time." As long as she didn't die shortly after she turned twenty again.
She didn't intend to die anytime soon, but that hadn't really mattered much in that first ending.
Flouncing onto her bed, Tatiana took Sonya down with her into a pile of limbs and hair. "Le sigh, fine. Be the old spinster in a young body. If you get a whole houseful of cats, though, I'm going to bribe one of your hotties to screw you a couple times."
"I don't really like cats much. Maybe a dog." The thief suggested idly, picking strands of red hair out of her mouth and trying to shift away.
Cherep had been adorkable and all as a kid, but Shamal's puppy looks still beat him out by a bit.
The nurse wasn't letting go, however. "That's not reassuring, Sonya. I want you to be happy."
"I am happy. I get to spend time with you. The manhunt thing is irritating, but it's still time with you."
"…that's sappy. And awesome." Tatiana commented slowly, squeezing her squirming sister.
"You know, the more you try to foist a man off on me the less time we have together."
"It's amazing you think that way, but not getting you off this hook." She informed her cheerfully with another squeeze. "Now, what do you like to see in a man? Not just for kinky fun, I mean in someone you wouldn't mind maybe interacting with."
"…not a wimp." She decided on solidly, trying to make herself comfortable now that her sister wasn't in the mood to let her go without a fight She could maybe put up with it for a little while. "Not someone who would be scared of me either, once they know about the Cloud thing or that I can crush bones with either hand. I've had more than enough of that as it is."
"Tough one…"
"Yeah… I know. Someone I can talk to, not just because of Omertà but if I want advice or to share something I don't need to think of different ways to sanitize my life in order to do so."
"…that nearly completely takes any and all civilians out of the question, you realize. Maybe a few rare ones on the edge, but…" Tatiana sighed gustily into Sonya's hair, pressing her face into the back of the thief's neck. "Yeah, okay. I can see that one too. Anything else?"
"Not really, no. I don't care much in the first place, Tats. And making myself get over it in order to actually bother caring takes too much effort for short flings with no-named men I'll never see again."
"Why do you have to be so logical about this? It's lust, it's not supposed to be logical."
"That's nice." She suddenly slipped out of her hold, ignoring her sister's yelp of surprise and bolted for her own room. "Not the point, though!"
She got halfway across their suite before the nurse recovered enough to give chase, and she did managed to close and lock her door before her elder sister crashed into her.
Sonya forgot her bathroom was connected to both her bedroom and the main living room though, and the redhead darted through before she could remember that. "Got ya!"
The thief huffed a wry laugh as they hit the floor, which wasn't nearly as comfortable as Tatiana's bed. "Ow… really?"
"But I love you, Sonya. I want to show that love, isn't it wonderful?"
"You know, Cherep tried nearly the same line a few months before this. Want to know what I told him?"
"I think I can guess." She admitted with a laugh, even so not letting her go. "But Cherep's a dork and you love me best, right?"
"…well, Cherep's not the one holding me hostage on my own bedroom floor."
"I see how it is. Fine then, we'll have to see if you're ticklish."
Sonya blinked up at her sister. "I actually don't know. I flinch too much from someone else touching me as it is to find out."
"…well, this just got depressing in a fast hurry."
"But it was fun, right? Why would we need a man for this kind of fun?"
Tatiana pursed her lips to try and hide a smile. "You really are adorably sappy sometimes, Sonya. Fine, we don't need a man for you. We're still finding out if you're ticklish or not."
"Um…"
"Not a good response. Let's start with the feet, shall we?"
"If I kick you, it's your own damn fault."
"…damn it."
(Saturday the 31st of August, 1968. A Mafia Land Ferry.)
Rémy Sartre, her PI, couldn't find much else as interesting or as helpful as what he had managed halfway through the month Sonya and Tatiana were spending in France.
Frankly, the thief didn't really care too much about the lack of things he was able to supply her with beyond the basics.
Birthplace and his parents were more than enough to start with. She even had Pierre-Antoine Carpentier's civilian occupation, his master in masonry, and some of the projects he had worked on officially. It was twice the amount she had figured he'd be able to give her.
She made a note about the detective to give to Bjǫrn, if they needed anything out of France a civilian could help with in the future.
Sartre did good work for so little available information. Too bad he was a former law enforcement officer.
"I owe you an apology, by the way."
Sonya blinked, and jerked her head up from the folder of scant few details Sartre had given over when she paid him. "What?"
Tatiana looked highly amused, and a touch regretful. "I… uh, forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"That you didn't share much of your preferred leisure activities with me. Like back when we were kids, Sonya. You didn't really like playing with me, because I always wanted to play dress up or tea party and you would've rather read quietly for a couple hours." The nurse admitted sheepishly, sinking onto the bench next to her on the ferry taking them back to Mafia Land. "It's been a couple years, and I had forgotten to remember you are a lot more self-contained than I am."
"It's fine, Tats. It was interesting, if slightly irritating occasionally. I got a few things done I've been meaning to for years, you got a healthy amount of weight finally, and we got our line-less tan, right? Goal reached."
Her elder sister smirked wryly. "And got to spend uninterrupted time together."
"…mostly." She snickered as the other woman playfully knocked their shoulders together, jostling what she was trying to read over. "Doing things that were weird, and strange, and I have no idea why you would pay someone to do your nails… still. Why do people do that?"
"To be fussed over, or pampered. You get your haircut at a salon, don't you? Same principle."
Running a hand through her now shoulder-length hair, the thief snorted softly. "That's different. A hair cut will last months, nails only last a night or two."
Slouching into her and ignoring the pinch to her side in retaliation, the nurse huffed back. "Then for the pampering aspect."
"Why pay someone else when I can do it better?"
"…really?"
Sonya took her sister's hand into her own, inspecting her nails. "Yeah. I'd charge you less, too."
Tatiana's flat look was confusing. "…if you do pedicures as well, I will declare you the best little sister ever."
The thief looked down at their feet. "…we wear boots. Mostly. Why…?"
"Don't worry about it. Well?"
"…I can learn, if it means that much to you."
Throwing her arms around her, the nurse smashed their cheeks together. "Bestest little sister ever. I'm so sorry I ever used your social incompetence for a laugh. Or three… or seven."
"…wait, you did what?"
"Yeah… about that offer I told you we gave to Fong, and you brought up in front of Renato…? Uh… I should probably tell you something about that…"
(Monday the 2nd of September, 1968. Mafia Land.)
"Do I need to formally invite you to Vongola's Christmas Ball this year, or what?"
Sonya blinked up at Renato in bemusement, lowering the history text she had been reading in order to give him more of her attention. "Do you think Nono Vongola would mind if I did not attend the party but was there anyways?"
The flat look the hitman aimed in her direction told her nothing about whatever he was thinking. "…yes. Yes, he would mind. Well?"
"…I suppose I will go with you this year too." At least until she could get that permission to skip the festivities somehow. If she could.
All Christmases ever, bratty Mist had demanded. Not likely going to happen, because all of them ever would be a lot of years to cover and physically impossible aside.
He'd probably forget about it in a few years, and she could maybe go back to sending him presents instead of attending social events she didn't want to attend.
"Thank you for not jumping for joy, or anything."
"You are welcome? Why thank me for that?"
He huffed at her, sulking in his chair.
She was utterly confused. What was eating at him now?
He had been weirdly irked the whole five minutes they had been here, either glaring at her or the direction of the café's kitchen. Shamal had said something about this… but it was very odd to witness for herself.
She made a mental note to tip their waitress very well, she was at least not cowering under the pissed off hitman's glare. That kind of dedication to her job deserved a reward.
Sudden movement made the thief return her attention to her tablemate, who had straighten up in his chair and was looking a touch apologetic until he noticed her stare. "What?"
"…nothing."
Ignoring the new hole being stared into her, she returned her attention to her book.
Miss Iron-guts delicately placed a cup of Spiced Black Russian Tea and a cup of espresso down before them, giving the two of them a timid smile before leaving them to it.
Maybe not iron guts, but a steel spine?
Some brass ones, for sure.
Renato snorted into his drink, putting it down quickly before he burned himself. "Sonya…"
"Yes?"
"…did you have fun?"
"With Tats? Sure. Even better when she stopped trying to set me up on dates for random one-night stands." She also got information for her research and something to replace her bracers with.
All in all, a good little mini-break for Bjǫrn to calm down within.
"She… you…? …I have to see this. Give me your arm."
The thief gave him a flat look. "I did not say that aloud either."
A queer expression crossed his face, half suspicion and half incredulous. "…I will deal with that in a moment. Give me your damn arm, woman."
Sighing, the thief held out her left arm.
Renato carefully pushed up her loose sleeve to see the thin steel chains linking from a bracelet to a clasp on her bicep, which had several mini weapons of war stuck on the strong magnets linked into the chains.
All in neat little rows, from a further reduced in size set of Bec de Corbins to a series of hammers and a couple axes and halberds.
The hitman burst out laughing.
With another sigh, she tugged one of her new Bec de Corbins off the magnet that kept them secured to the chain and nearly effortlessly enlarged it. It originally was about the size of the tip to the first joint of her thumb and making that into a six-foot long polearm was surprisingly easy.
She had thought the smaller they were, the harder it would be to make them full-sized. In actuality, since there was less mass to deal with it was just more of her Flames in nature instead of metal and more Flames imbuing that as well as the needed Flames. A third less difficult, in other words.
Tatiana challenged her to prove if it was harder or not, and so she had extra mini-weapons now.
As well as her original seven miniaturized Bec de Corbins she still had tucked into her pockets.
Sonya wasn't sure where she would ever use the axes, other than intimidation or for cutting things in her way, but since she could throw a hammer with the force of a speeding car?
It wasn't like blades made her deadlier. It was actually just more useful.
The halberds were Tatiana's suggestion, since she had hammers on a pole already. Pointing out a Bec de Corbin was a pick, not a hammer, didn't gain her a lot of understanding.
She got the axes on a pole as well.
All she needed was a maul, and she'd have most everything that could be stuck on a pike.
…except for a spear, and a gun.
Again, she could throw a hammer with more force. As for the dagger on a pike… no.
There were sharp ends on her Bec de Corbins, more than enough for her.
Sonya really did wonder how Cloud Flame copies actually hit something. Her new weapons, once resized, were basically barely a fraction of metal. The rest was what?
Will-fire?
…if Tatiana's suggestion on her hurting/not hurting herself dilemma proved true, that was very… interesting.
"Sonya, stop admiring your arsenal of jewelry."
"Really? We are still calling it my arsenal?"
The hitman snorted dryly, a lingering stubborn smirk on his face. "You have more than enough weapons to wage a small-scale war, in close-quarters no less. What else could we call it?"
"But they're not jeweled." The thief protested, showing him the sides of her Bec de Corbin's head. "And I am not limited by the reach of my weapons, I throw some too."
"…and that's terrifying," Renato commented slowly, eyeing where he likely marked out her hammers were, "but beside the point. I bet you plan on bejeweling them."
Well… "…yes, and?"
"That's my point. It's an arsenal of jewelry."
She considered it for a long moment. "…I have more points than you do, and I do not wish to call it that."
"…touché, little lady Sonya." He admitted wickedly, unbothered by her claim. "But I can assure you it will still be called so even if you don't want it to be."
At this rate, everyone on Mafia Land will end up afraid of her damn jewelry box as much as the thief herself.
…there was irony in there she did not appreciate.
He almost choked on his air, slamming a fist into their table and almost upsetting their cooled drinks as he hacked out a rather painful sounding laugh.
Sonya was alarmed enough to let go of her weapon's Propagation and look around for Miss Brass Ones, for a glass of water or something.
Well, he had espresso still. It was likely cold now, it was edging into fall and Mafia Land itself was far enough south it was rather nippy outside.
That, unfortunately, made her remember the last week of sunbathing in France. When it had rained suddenly with a weird cold-snap that chilled the skin. Tatiana had not appreciated it and plastered her front to her sister's back for the warmth.
Which was stupid, because as a Sun she had a higher body-temp than the Storm-Cloud did.
The hitman almost choked on what little air he had again.
…what the ever-loving fuck was wrong with him now?
She hadn't even said anything… oh.
Renato went weirdly still, holding his breath to stop the jerking his diaphragm was trying to do.
"…huh."
He gave her a wary look.
"…you need more practice not reacting to what you lift out of someone else's head. I was not aware you could do that with memories just as much as random questions or thoughts that popped into my mind."
The hitman stared at her for another long moment. "…that's it?"
"Should there be more?"
"In my defense, you are a very blunt woman." He pointed out without a trace of sheepishness for getting caught picking up her thoughts. "Like most Clouds, really."
Did he have to keep comparing her to a pure Cloud Flame user?
She wasn't, she was pretty sure that was a solidly well-known fact by now.
"I didn't know it bothered you."
"I rather intensely dislike the 'all Flames of this type must be…' junk. It is not true, and yet it keeps being repeated to my face as if it is fact. Like I am deformed or a freak for not being a true Cloud."
He looked thoughtful at her protest.
"Like saying all Suns must be healers. It works for Tats, but I do not think you would like to be one yourself."
"Point." Renato admitted sourly. "I've heard that one a few times myself."
Sonya would just appreciate it if people would stop repeating propaganda to her face and actually consider why it was 'widely-known' that certain Flame types did certain things.
Almost everyone in Mafia Land avoided even brushing up against her now, and while she did appreciate the no longer being jostled thing… she hated the fact people flinched from her. If she hated that they did so, she was irritable and not happy if they had to interact with her.
An unhappy Cloud meant one unwilling to behave or compromise, meaning they were stubborn and rude back to the cowards flinching from them.
Thus 'all Clouds were violent and abrasive'.
How was she any different than a year ago?
Two?
Had she snapped and murdered someone for being rude to her then?
"I didn't quite catch all that… but what I did makes sense." He informed her with a thoughtful frown. "But you're going to be fighting against popular opinion to try and change that… and humans all hate being proven wrong."
"I am not going to." She was a Cloud, even if only partially. She couldn't get the motivation or energy to try and re-educate someone or lots of some ones without violence being added to the mix somehow. They were being ignorant and stupid, so she couldn't bother herself over them.
Vicious circle, that.
"Speaking of, try staying out of my head. Please." Sonya informed him tartly. "I do not mind the occasional answer or such, but that is a little rude."
"…I'm trying. But I need practice, and the only way to do so is reading a mind or two and figuring it out from there." Renato admitted with an absent kind of shrug. "Since you are so blunt, it's easier with you to try gauging how well I'm doing. Shamal works too, but he's… childish. And all over the place."
The thief flatly stared at him. "You could have just asked."
"And you would let me poke about your thoughts just like that?"
She raised an eyebrow, and he held up a finger.
"Point."
"Just do not try for any fishing expeditions about me or my family. Do so, and I do not care."
The Sun snorted at her. "Like asking how you ended up with Tatiana and purple boy…? Oh… fuck. Sonya, I'm-"
"Shut. Up."
He did so, and she really was only half surprised by that.
She breathed in heavily through her nose, then pushed herself to her feet when that didn't help at all. "I need a moment. Excuse me."
"Sonya-"
The still sharp end of her very tiny Bec de Corbin punctured flesh when her fist clamped down on it in a rather desperate strive for control. "Excuse me, Renato."
"I… sure." The hitman settled on finally, pressing the fedora down further on his head as she walked away. "…shit."
(ooo000ooo)
(Monday the 2nd of September, 1968 continued. Mafia Land.)
"You are bleeding."
"I am aware of that, Fong."
The martial artist easily kept up with the strangely stilted behaving Russian Storm-Cloud, wondering what had set her off.
Not that he had much to go on about her 'normal' behavior, other than rumors he was certain barely had a glancing contact with truth.
What little he did know, using his own childhood behavior before he learned to control himself, was that she was likely heading away from the more populate parts of the island in order to reduce the likelihood of collateral damage.
Fong was a little impressed. It had taken him years to learn how to do it when enraged, and he only had one Flame type.
Sonya had Cloud as well, which should've made her uncaring of anyone that got in her way if angry enough.
…and yet she was still heading to a hopefully unpopulated area.
There was little of that on a manmade island, but there were the training fields and a whole stretch of island forest that would be suitably out of the way. He really did wonder if she would make it.
From the cracks that were starting to spider web out on the asphalt from her footfalls, he doubted it.
Thankfully this was at least much different than their last few meetings. He wasn't sure if not meeting her eyes was because he didn't want to suddenly be a target for her or if because of what he had not been able to avoid thinking about when…
"I believe I owe you a spar." He blurted out possibly a touch too quickly.
She came to a jerky halt and shifted grey eyes to him. "…now?"
"Why not?"
"…then I really hope you were not overly optimistic about your chances to dodge."
Fong blinked, then sharply dove out of the way when a couple pounds of metal whistled through the air where his head had been.
It, whatever it had been, hit a semi-dilapidated building a few meters down the lane and caused it to cave in on itself with an ear-splitting crash before he got a decent look at it.
…that was new.
Maybe he should've gotten a better, fuller, estimation of what she could do before challenging a violently pissed off Storm-Cloud to a spar.
Well… this would be interesting.