Author's Note : I wonder, exactly, what is a normal update schedule for me?
Edited (4/30/2017) - Minor story corrections and additions.
Edit (3/23/2018) - Final formatting and minor corrections.
Edited (9/10/2018) - Minor corrections.
Russian Roulette : Reloaded
Chapter 35
(Friday the 28th of February, 1969 continued. The Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)
"Where the hell are you people coming from, anyways?" Sonya snapped at the woman hastening along in her wake down one of the Iron Fort's halls.
"Problem?" Nilda Guerra asked wickedly and just a bit breathless, finally succeeding in coming up to walk next to the Russian Storm-Cloud.
"I've never been… sought out before." She admitted tartly, still trying to put even more space between herself and the retired Vongola Sky's parlor. "Most people avoid me. Rather sensible of them, I'm coming to find."
"Are you truly annoyed we appreciate a strong female Flame user?" The Rain asked in amusement, smirking at the deadpan expression aimed at her before they turned another corner. "You'll find more Italian women with enough steel in their spines to appreciate you fully than most other countries can boast of."
With a heavy sigh, the thief came to a sudden stop and glared full out at her tagalong. "That sounds rather elitist of you."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I have no reason to answer." She dismissed sharply, suspicious of all the unwanted attention suddenly aimed her way.
Sonya didn't appreciate the change, mostly due to the fact she didn't know what caused it. As it was entirely possible said change was actually rather sinister than benign, she had chosen to try and make herself enough of a pain to be avoided until she could find out more. Daniella… did not react as expected.
There was something entirely unfair about the fact she could barely make friends normally but ended up possibly doubling the number she had before when she decided to truly be a bitch for once.
Cherep was going to bust a rib.
"Since I did volunteer information for you, it's really only polite to give a little back." Nilda instructed amusedly.
The Russian shot the woman a disgusted look for treating her like some green newbie to mafia life. "I have no intention of getting pulled into a verbal trade-off. You have no real information I want or need, merely the obvious answers to a few wonders."
"Do I not?" The grin twisting her lips suggested she thought otherwise. "I have had a few general meetings with Daniella Vongola before, and could probably gain more if I wanted to get that deep. Is there really no reason to avoid courting my aid?"
"So, you're basing your use off of being an informant? Trite and not needed." It was entirely possible that wouldn't be the only way that exchange of information could go. "I can as easily get it by allowing Ottavia to pull me into whatever it was she wanted. Since I did not conform, does that not suggest I can do without such?"
"And how long do you expect that to last?" Nilda countered quickly, darting along in the Storm-Cloud's wake when she suddenly started moving again. "Daniella is a Sky-"
"And I am not one of those raised to believe a Sky can do no wrong or is always right."
"-that is exactly why she likes you and why her Guardians, all of them, will put an insane amount of effort to draw you back to her." Insisted the silver-haired Rain, scowling as a rather surprised servant cut her off.
Skirting past the man with his arms full of cleaning supplies, she actually flat out sprinted to catch up with the mildly annoyed Russian.
"You have basically two choices, either fight or play along with her whims. If you fight it, she'll get exactly what she wants. If you don't, just a few meetings not sniping at her will probably ensure she'll lose interest."
"There's a third option." Sonya informed her unwanted tag along sardonically as they descended the foyer stairs probably quicker than was recommended, nodding to the footman who yanked the front door open for her and the other woman. "Not being here and ignoring her."
"Little lady Sonya… did you specifically leave out your lingerie just for me or did you forget about it?" Renato Sinclair snapped irritably at the sound of her voice, blinking once at the extra she really rather wished had left her alone. "Miss… Guerra?"
He had fetched her luggage for her, especially since she promised him the next week to mainly help with his little mind-reading issue rather than fence with words against the Vongola Skies. There would be other things done during that time, but she really did need to get on with knocking out what she had left pending in favor for less interesting but more hazardous tasks.
"The maids probably left it there, since I did start packing my things this morning and removed the stuff I left in the drawers. Besides, it's not like you haven't seen that before."
The man scowled at her for that, flicking a glance to the Rain still gawking near the front steps of the manor. "I find this a very unscrupulous use of our friendship, just so you know."
"Thank you for collecting my things for me, Renato." The thief informed him brightly, ignoring his complaint. "Did you-"
The card he flicked to her from a breast pocket was easily snatched out of the air.
"And thanks again."
"Wait, you're leaving?"
Sonya slotted the other woman a dry look. "I do believe that is what I meant."
Nilda's expression was… interesting.
"Sonya."
"I'll make it up to you." The thief informed her hitman friend swiftly, smirking slightly at the very irritated air about the man as her taxi made its ponderous way up the drive. "Rather soon, too."
Renato gave a very disgusted sounding scoff, twisting on his heels to stalk back inside the Iron Fort like a greatly offended panther.
"Miss Silver-White, it wasn't… entirely painful to see you again."
"That… probably was because Velia didn't faint this time."
"Was she there?" The only person the woman would assuredly know had fainted upon meeting the Storm-Cloud was that one weak Sun user from the last Christmas Ball. Sonya would admit she didn't really recall much, other than she was very pathetic and fainted again at Tyr's feet.
"Well… yes, but she was hyperventilating as you took your leave." She admitted slowly, with only a touch of something tart and wry lacing under her words.
(Saturday the 29th of February, 1969. A hotel, Reggio Calabria, Italian Republic.)
"They're going to know."
"Renato, stop trying to distract me and go back to learning how to shut off that annoying little trick of yours."
The hitman lasted all of another five minutes of silence before he rather irritably ripped the history text out of her hands and violently pitched it at the far wall. "That is disgustingly white-washed make-believe that has only a passing acquaintance with what really happened."
Sonya didn't immediately kick him in the shin for mistreating her book, because for one he had bought her it and two she was also pretty sure that text was a mass-produced sort which had little real value in a historic sense. Renato probably did know a lot better than any civilian published book did about Italy's involvement with the Mafia Wars during World War Two, and frankly she had been meaning to ask him about it.
However, she also wasn't going to let him get away with being an asshole to her since she was putting in the effort to help him. Crossing her arms, the thief gave the man seated across from her at her little hotel room table a flat look.
The older Italian native in the room looked pretty unrepentant for a long moment, then very slowly and reluctantly grimaced. "I have a migraine."
"That is the point."
They already knew her reading when he was close enough to mentally pick it up gave him such, it was the whole reason she was reading while the Mafioso was right next to her. There was no teacher quite like pain, and Sonya was perfectly okay with causing him it.
"You dented the wall." Shamal piped up from the thief's hotel bed, where he had sprawled out to do his homework for the start of his next week of schooling.
Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose as the hitman glowered at the brat irritably just for something to glare at that wouldn't take offense. "We may as well stop for the day, not that you managed to do much. Shamal? Are you done?"
"Yes!" The little Mist scrambled off her bed, bringing with him several sheets of lined paper for her perusal. "All finished!"
Renato probably did check over his homework when he had the time, the man was an irritating perfectionist. She'd seen him glower at his contract work at Mafia Land enough to know. The thief plucked the papers out of the brat's hand and glanced at it before the hitman with a headache could, but her attention got rooted to the fact it was written in perfect Cyrillic.
"Shamal? Remove the Mist Flames, kid."
There was no way in hell he was this fluent in written Russian.
Not with biyearly instructions and only occasional help with it. It had to be a Constructed illusion, one that makes whoever look at it think the work had been done… but since she had no idea what his homework was about it looked like the written explanation for lock picking she did around his age.
"Um…"
"You didn't do the work, you just have Mist Flames imbued in it making others think you did."
"…but mamma, it works!"
As long as Shamal could get away with it, Sonya really didn't care that much. Against a person, a teacher, that assigned a classroom full of kids the same work it would work as intended and had little risk to it other than a civilian's psychotic breakdown.
However, he probably still should at least attempt to do the work to prove he knew it. Even if what he did and what he turned in were different things.
"Works or not, try doing the work first before you turn in something so…"
"Uninspired." Renato chipped in for her, leaving the chair next to her in favor for taking up her bed. "You had better not have given me something like that and passed it off as your homework, brat."
"I only figured it out recently." Shamal admitted, disgruntled and shooting his guardian a dirty look.
The hitman probably would appreciate the sneakiness more if he didn't have a headache the size of his home country, so she ignored him. Then again, if it had been used against him…
"What did you really do for the last hour and a half?"
"Wrote the questions out."
She arched an eyebrow at the homework when the brat lifted his Mist Flames from it, and all the doodles edging the neat list of problems assigned from his textbook. "How long does that last?"
"Until I get it back."
Which… anywhere from a few days to a week of time?
She had no clue how long a teacher would take to grade a full classes' worth of homework, and if Shamal was doing this for all of his assignments?
"Right… well…" Eyeing the hitman currently sprawled out on her bed, and all over the brat's books, the thief instead tossed the paper to the tabletop and looked back at the young Mist. "I think we should go find something for dinner. You can make a crack at answering the questions after."
Renato had snuck the brat out of the Iron Fort and would be ferrying the kid to and from his school for the next week. In exchange, Sonya would remain otherwise free this week to expressly help him with the mind-reading issue in the safety of her hotel room instead of somewhere else that might not be as easily secured.
Like Mafia Land, or one of the Iron Fort's various little parlors.
Right now, they were figuring out the limitations and the trick. How far he had to be for what kind of thoughts, helping the hitman figure out how to either turn it off or intentionally ignore another, and they would either sort out the basics so the Sun wouldn't tip anyone off figuring it out on his own or until he got a good grip on the skill.
She did not believe for a moment that Renato would ignore his trick, it was way too useful in a lifestyle where most lied to others as a matter of fact. Her helping him also helped her, in figuring out if there was anything she could do to stop it if she didn't want him reading her mind aside giving the ass a migraine or two if she caught him at it.
"There's a small restaurant down the street, if you take a left after going out the hotel's lobby." Started the hitman, moving his fedora to shade his eyes and shifting a bit more. "Three doors from the next intersection, right-hand side, called Sotto Sotto. Get me the dinner special."
…worked for her.
(Sunday the 1st of March, 1969. A hotel, Reggio Calabria, Italian Republic.)
"They know."
Sonya snorted at him, trying to figure out what to pacify Shamal with so they could get on with the reason she was stalling yet another week in Italy instead of getting things done so she could return to Moscow. "I'm not doing this in some kind of protest of Vongola, Renato. I'm doing this so I'll be bothered less, and because it's cheaper than bribing Nono for a week's worth of safe passage."
Being ignored was something she could deal with. The thief wasn't a very influential person here, she really had little to no reason to interact with the Vongola Skies, and therefore being left alone to amuse herself was a pretty decent deal for all involved.
Little effort on her side, little effort on Don Timoteo's side, and still things got done at a respectable rate. Maybe he even got a laugh or something to think about as a bonus.
She didn't appreciate that status quo tipping.
Tyr was different, someone she wanted to forge a connection to because she wanted to, but Daniella's interest in her for much the same reason wasn't appreciated. The only reason she brought Cherep was because she was pretty much left alone, not because she wanted more attention.
Yet she was getting more attention, and even if her passage could be bought with the elder Sky's interests… it would also mean more effort on her end to keep that relationship up.
Cheaper did not always mean easier.
She also had little reason to get involved with the Eighth or Ninth Generations of Vongola. They were Italian, she was Russian, and their respective interests didn't mesh very much. Yes, they were all Flame users and criminals.
Beyond that…?
Thankfully today was Sunday, the little brat had school tomorrow. The Sun user could dump Shamal at school for most the day, they could put in more effort in his mind-reading trick, then the hitman could go recollect his ward and dump him off on her for the rest of the night while he did…
She was pretty sure the man was trying the riskier mental probing on people he had to kill anyways.
"I am, actually." Renato admitted willingly enough as if that didn't imply that he wanted to spare her the worst effects of his tricks, didn't think she could take it, or that he didn't want her irritated at him again. "Frankly, you're in enough of a contrary mood that anything I do will have negative motives behind it for you that I don't see the point in trying to avoid them."
Was she?
Sonya brought her thoughts up short, wondering if she was doing exactly what he was accusing her of.
"I'm not accusing anything. You are, and you're also probably entitled to it."
The man had the audacity to laugh at her for the probably skeptical look she gave him.
"Sonya, Nono isn't perfect. No one is." Renato informed her of airily as he moved to check what Shamal was really doing with his books and if he was done so they could get on with the plan for the day. "A reminder that non-Vongola assets need different handling than the rest of the Famiglia is probably an overdue prompt he needed for a while now. You're such a good guest, self-contained and not interested in prying for rumors or gossip. I'm willing to bet a lot of people forgot you are a Cloud and are perfectly capable of acting like it."
Which didn't excuse the fact her brother had gotten injured on Vongola grounds. Even if they didn't know that because Cherep's ability healed or bullshitted a fix, it was hard to tell sometimes, himself before medical aid could be given. It also didn't excuse the fact that she was not informed of anything regarding the people that managed the injuring.
Sonya would've accepted being informed that whoever did it were all dead, or just mostly dead, or the famiglia responsible were slotted to die the moment Tyr had a moment free. Hell, she would've settled for being informed of the name of whoever it was. She'd kill them then, or more likely hire Renato or the Sword Emperor to do it for her.
The hitman would get preference, but if he didn't want to be known for taking out whole famiglia she'd offer it next to the master assassin before taking the commission to Mafia Land or even to Ziven if he still was looking for something to do.
…probably not. The thief still had enough morals to know mass murder wasn't an answer. One or two hits then, for the idiots that carried out the attempted car-bombing of the Vongola Lightning Guardian and probably wouldn't see her brother as anything but collateral damage.
Sighing, the Russian rubbed the bridge of her nose and gave up worrying about it. Tyr probably would likely inform her of what she wanted to know if she asked politely, as long as it was termed in a query for 'who hurt my brother' than 'who hurt Vongola', so the issue would be dealt with then. For the current issue she really should be thinking of…
"Shamal… aside my presence for the rest of the week? What else would you like for your birthday?"
The brat then proved he had been spending way too much time with Renato by looking her in the eye and asking, "Besides you showing up on time next year?"
"…besides that, yes."
The young Mist left his work in his guardian's hands, ducking the man's arm to come around her temporary bed in order to face her fully. "I don't know, what can I get?"
"Again, brat, I am a thief. What can't I get?" Sonya held up a hand to stop him before the spark of something mischievous in his brown eyes translated into words. "Aside a baby sibling again, because I am way too young to actually get myself pregnant for no real reason other than that and you have yet to actually meet mine."
"Aww…" Shamal even let himself bat suspiciously overblown teary eyes at her but dropped the illusion of wounded innocence when she gave him an unimpressed stare back. "…can I get a dog?"
"No." Renato answered for her flatly, glancing over to pin the brat with a no-nonsense look before catching what was probably a questioning look on her face. "Vongola's child wing has a no large pet policy. A few of the other brats have allergies, as do the housekeeping staff. If it can't be caged and contained to one room, it's not allowed."
"So smaller pets like birds, rodents, and amphibians? A dog is a lot of work, Shamal. If you can take care of a smaller pet until your time in the Iron Fort is done, I'll consider getting a house in this country for the rest of your preteen and maybe teenage years, as long as Renato agrees you can handle yourself and your Flames, where you can have a dog."
Mist brat's excited 'really?' was echoed a bit more dubiously from the hitman.
Sonya shrugged. "Obviously I'm not living in Vongola territory, so it'll be a lot more north than here. Maybe near the border of France. But I am eventually going to need a house, Cherep even agreed to hold onto the deed for me as long as he gets to crash there now and again. I have little concerns for where said house will be, so long as it is secure."
Renato kept eyeing her strangely, but that was practically a given. Shamal was his ward, and she was still a mostly missing presence the brat knew of and could get along with.
She might want to do more than visit every now and again, but he had little to no idea of that or why she'd want to. The Vongola Guardians had probably spent more time with the brat than she could.
Nothing said she couldn't sell the house and move the very moment the Mist brat didn't need the location anymore.
(Wednesday the 5th of March, 1969. A pet shop, Reggio Calabria, Italian Republic.)
A near full week of work, with a subject that was perfectly willing to be helpful, Renato had a fairly good grasp on his mind reading trick. How far he could pull on that before others could become aware of it, a method that might pan out to help him ignore the more useless aspects, and a working range.
Sonya was, mostly internally, torn between thinking it was a Sun Activation skill and wondering how much she would have to bribe someone named Viper for information about Espers and seeing if the trick matched up to that skill set. It was still mostly a thought she was playing with and not something she had brought up to him, so he wasn't sure if she would really do that for him or not. She didn't seem to like the person very much.
As for the hitman himself, he was just happy the woman had finally put aside more time to help him.
Not so happy that the damn Storm-Cloud had actually gone through with the idea of getting his brat a pet, and they were both watching the kid flirt around a pet store looking at all of his possible animals he could get.
"I swear, if I end up with whatever it is…"
"That's more than likely, actually." Came the entirely unrepentant reply. Sonya looked, for her, highly amused as the tiny Mist got distracted pestering the poor clerk about the snake tanks. "Three, four at most, years then I can probably get him a dog. Which means you should probably put some effort into steering him to an animal you don't mind, or you'll end up stuck with something small, fuzzy, and cute."
Renato glared at her, the thief batted her lashes once then waltzed off to tempt Shamal with a hamster.
Oh hell no. Trailing them both down a line of fish aquariums, the hitman ignored everything fuzzy in hopes the brat would get the hint.
He didn't really have anything against rodents, so long as they weren't sharing his living space. It baffled him why some people considered them pets, his less than sanitary upbringing half on and half off the streets made him less than appreciative of the small furry menaces.
If Sonya really wanted the brat to live with her, and deal with inevitably caring for whatever mutt, that was on her. Ten might be a few years too early for Mafia School, but Shamal being eleven or twelve could be overlooked as long as he was good enough.
Since the only other option was bargaining with Nono for another few years more of sanctuary for Shamal until he was old enough or becoming a bit more stationary than recommended for someone like him, the thief stepping in instead would work fantastically for him. As Sonya's involvement was Shamal's effort of changing his living situation, the young Mist would probably greatly appreciate the change.
He wasn't blind to his ward's dissatisfaction with living in the Iron Fort without him, but Vongola territory was a lot more stable than just about anywhere else in Italy. The Russian Storm-Cloud seemed aware enough of that and being a Cloud would enable her to secure a small area for Shamal to finish growing up in a lot better than he could do until he got a slight more… murderous in reputation.
A week of days also let him know the woman was near utterly disinterested in being flirted with.
He held the suspicion for a while, which ended in Mafia Land when his attempts to figure it out ended with him being bodily removed from her personal space. Twice.
A week of merely observing her interact with a few petty Mafiosi and the housekeeping staff clued him into the rest.
If you were direct enough, Sonya could recognize it as actual attempts but regularly shot down anyone trying something with her. Anything else, flattery to suggestive quips, earned another of various responses from flat glares to bemused little snorts. Not even the brat could get away with it without skepticism.
Renato himself got an annoying little lift of her eyebrow when he tried flattery, before the damn woman overlooked his flirting for what they were really talking about. Anything further, mainly getting into her personal space, ended up with him being kicked out or her stalking off after she did a bit of forceful rearrangement.
In the end, the results were pretty much mostly the same thing.
Sonya was not interested in any kind of relationship beyond friendship. Either she was too much a Cloud to pay much attention just yet or, like her brother said, she had lingering issues with personal contact. She'd probably have to start anything, or someone would have to spend an obscene amount of effort to get her to pay attention to them.
Continuing to test her limits would only turn her wary, violent, or violently wary, so the hitman was going to stop pressing his luck.
Some other idiot could end up a bloody splat on the ground first from a highly embarrassed or frustrated Storm-Cloud.
That conclusion didn't quite mesh with the offer Tatiana gave on the sisters' behalf, but it was entirely possible the bubbly Sun with a wicked streak had been playing with the more straightforward little sister in some way and he just happened to get caught up in it. The humor of that possibility did appeal to him, but since that little incident started his wondering over the younger Russian's outlook on sex he didn't fully appreciate it either.
Tapping a finger on a tank earned him the beady stare of some lizard, Renato glanced at the handwritten placard that declared the species as a Graceful Chameleon.
"That's pretty neat." Shamal gave his opinion, ducking under the Sun user's slightly bent form to gawp at the same lizard. "Don't chameleons also change colors?"
He glanced at the animal Sonya was carefully returning to its tank with aid of a young teen clerk, which was a tiny corn snake from the banding colors. "…yes. Much more interesting than any old snake, right?"
Being the kid was a Mist, he was entirely unsurprised by his next comment. "I thought girls didn't like snakes, frogs, and creepy crawlies? Mamma didn't even blink when I showed her a snake. She even helped me feed it a few crickets."
"Well… Sonya's not a normal lady." Frankly, he didn't know if any Cloud would allow themselves to be frightened by things which would creep out anyone else. Not without a large amount of collateral damage at least. "What about one of these?"
Giving a considering look to the tank's occupants, the kid trailed down the aisle of tanks farther to see what kinds of four legged lizards were available.
"What, no snakes?" The thief asked with a smirk, finally divested of the small one she had helped Shamal see better.
"At least they're not fuzzy."
Bratty Mist suddenly trotted back to them, hands cupped around a rather small lizard. "What about this one?"
It was still a chameleon, but one rather reduced in size than the nearly arm-length versions Renato had been eyeing. The lizard was actually fit for the brat's hands than something that would take the hitman to move for him.
"Cute. Where did you find him?" Sonya asked before he could, following the kid back down the lane.
Following along, if only out of sheer curiosity, Renato eyed the sign taking up the lower left-hand corner of the tank.
Cape Dwarf Chameleons read the plaque.
"Well… at least he will stay small."
"I think it's a her, mamma."
The thief eyed the lizard in the Mist's hands, then the others stalking around their glass enclosure. "How can you tell?"
Shamal shrugged, petting the probably scared docile chameleon in his palms. "She's not as spiky."
"She's really small compared to a few of the others, though. Might get her spikes in a bit when she grows a little." She eyed him, the tank of little lizards, and the prospective pet in the kid's grasp. Finally, the thief smirked up at the hitman. "I think we found your pet."
"…is it a he or a she?" Asked the young Mist, looking up at his self-claimed mamma then at his guardian. When both shrugged at him, he peered around the hitman's form at the clerk who had been helping him investigate the animals.
"Um… male? There's no real easy way to tell until they're fully grown."
Renato was going to end up stuck with the dwarf chameleon of indeterminate gender. Fantastic.
Sonya did pay for the glass tank and bedding, as well as a few plastic fake-tree branches and the food to feed the brat's new pet for at least a month. Shamal looked entirely less enthusiastic when he learned the lizard ate mostly bugs, and that hand-feeding was one of the better ways to get a chameleon accustomed to being handled. Renato bought the warming light and water dish, and since he was going to be stuck paying for some poor maid or footman to keep buying bugs for the little lizard's natural lifespan only bought a bit of other creepy crawlies that were used as treats for the breed.
He took possession of the tank and the bulkier packages, leaving her with the bugs. The Mist brat ended up with a cardboard box holding his new pet.
Sonya still looked highly amused at the whole situation.
At least the damn thing was only going to live three to five years.
(ooo000ooo)
(Wednesday 5th of March, 1969 continued. The Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)
Sonya was only mildly surprised Tyr melted out of nowhere while she waited for Renato and Shamal to finish installing the brat's new pet in his room.
The children's wing of the Vongola's Iron Fort was apparently located somewhere on the second floor. She didn't know exactly where. The hitman had gestured to the second landing's little seating area for her to wait in and she took the suggestion even if she was curious.
It made some sense. The ground floor would then be as 'public' as any criminal syndicate could get, and that was a bad location for any half-trained or too young brat to live on.
It was only half a possibility the young Vongolas didn't live on the floor too. The thief was pretty sure they didn't… but she had been surprisingly wrong a few times before about where things were located here and was disinclined to make a solid assumption about it.
Either way, she was going to remain exactly where she was in hopes of preventing any more Vongola interest in her direction.
"Did you really need to leave?"
"It was less bothersome. And I could keep my own weaponry on me."
She didn't bother trying to keep a wary eye on Tyr, the master assassin was a threat she was pretty sure she'd fail in trying to counter if he wanted to kill her. Depressing but true, the Russian had actually very little pure combat experience to date.
She cheated greatly through it anyways.
Most often, people were just afraid of her temper and tended to freeze up when she got irate. Not so much in Moscow, but she was pretty sure that was only a matter of time and when her temper did slip her control.
A particularly annoying Chinese Storm had been the only one that didn't flounder in any conflict with her, which helped counter the times when he was being irritating.
"Lady Vongola was most put out."
Giving the Head of the Varia a dirty look probably wasn't a great idea, but Sonya did it anyways. "Really? Why do I care?"
"She does have a large amount of influence still." Tyr's expression was bland as always, but if she didn't know better she would swear the Italian was teasing her for running from a retired old woman.
Sonya wrinkled her nose up in disgust. Even if the impression was wrong, that didn't mean the idea she found behind it was. "The current situation mostly worked for me. Complicating it, even in aims for a better one in the future, is not something I am prepared to deal with."
"If you were? You now do know Daniella is interested in you."
"Tyr, what ever happened to the idiots that tried blowing up Ganauche and almost got my brother?"
Yes, it was a painfully obvious subject change. No, she did not care it was so transparent.
A few lines around the assassin's mouth deepened, but he accepted the switch with grace. "I, and a few of my… subordinates, removed them from the genepool."
Well, she probably would've loved to help out if anyone had told her which moron flavor of the month was a valid target. Even if anyone had just suggested the situation was going to be taken care of, she might not have left the Fort.
Might. Ottavia was still damn annoying.
The master assassin waited a beat, then prompted her with a very flat, "Well?"
"I will reconsider the situation, when I am less annoyed in general." Sonya promised him, as that seemed to be the exchange he wanted. "My brother is not trained for combat, and I had thought this place secure enough to not worry about it. The fact he came to harm anyways is not appreciated, nor was the fact I was told nothing about the situation being handled."
Tyr gave her a long stare, which seemed more contemplative than simply to unnerve. "Most seemed to think you had gone out to hunt for the individuals that did it."
"This isn't my territory, I am not Italian. I would have caused more harm than good for both Vongola and I." Not to say she hadn't been tempted, but Renato and Shamal still trumped hunting for idiots that only had a short while to live anyways. "I left it up to Visconti and you."
Of course, had they not finally given her a bit of news on this end… she might have just asked Renato about it then missed her flight for an hour or three in favor of something quick and violent. She could be patient, but not that much.
"…I see."
Sonya doubted it. She didn't understand her own Cloud instincts very much, where her own personality ended and where Flame induced impulses began. "Cherep is not combative."
That earned her a near-violently suppressed twitch, which just might be Tyr's reaction when surprised.
The Russian wondered why he was surprised at all, as it was the second time she had made that point. "He's a pacifist, which I support. Even if I do think he's being needlessly complicated about it. Since my brother will not be proactive in his own defense, I will be even if it is passive-aggressive."
The older man gave a short, tight nod to show he heard her.
"She did explain what we were?"
"I was sorry to hear it."
"Cherep would never be interested, even if I wanted to try and be stubborn about it." Mostly out of sheer curiosity.
Skies and their Harmony was something she still didn't understand, and it seemed as if that knowledge could only be gained through experience. A thief and an assassin might work together well, but not a stuntman.
Tyr gave a rolling motion of a shoulder that might have been a shrug. "I do not mind talking with you."
The Storm-Cloud wondered if that was a warning or a clarification.
(Thursday the 6th of March, 1969. Mafia Land.)
Given how wildly popular she had somehow become, the Russian was almost unsurprised when Fong managed to track her down after she had been on Mafia Land for a few short hours.
"I do not have the time right now. If it is that important, take it to Moscow and wait for me there at the end of the month."
Eerily like how events had played out in Shanghai, the martial artist dodged and weaved around the island's foot traffic easily enough to keep up with her. At least they weren't running flat out, nor was he dripping wet this time.
"Even for a possible personal commission?"
"Even then." The thief tossed his way, ignoring the possibility for a fat payoff and aiming for the general location of the arrival hall in order to not give Galina a coronary by how late she was becoming. Another month was going to be unavoidable as it was. "I do not have the extra time to go out of my way, and my current goals require short and sweet right now. As many as I can safely manage."
"That sounds… slightly alarming."
Spinning around to open the free-swinging doors with her back and face the Triad member at the same time, she gave him a wry smile. "It is more for a personal goal than anything, one I made with my sister. Besides, I do not wish to return to China."
"What if we were to go through the client services here? Would you consent to visit then?" Fong asked as he continued to dog her heels into the massive sea/airport complex. "It is highly unlikely you could avoid everything connected to China for the rest of your life, why not allow us to fix this misstep?"
"At the moment, it is not that I am unwilling." Corrected Sonya, only a touch exasperated with the man's stubbornness over sparing him more than a few words for the moment. "Although I will admit there is some of that. I do not have the time. I am, frankly, overdue as it is."
"Ah…?"
"Syndicate related."
Fong's braid tipped to the side with the motion of his head, then the man shrugged. "Moscow, then?"
"End of the month. I actually had something I wanted to ask of you as well, but again…"
The entirely too stubborn Storm actually started to consider her repeated protests finally, and Sonya was going to take that as a win. If her next contract didn't have such a damn tight deadline, she would've spared the time to fully hear the man out if only for the prospect of another spar.
Right now, she really should've been on a flight to Sierra Leone. It was another region she also really should've barred Bjǫrn from taking contracts from, but she hadn't thought of it until the teen brought her next contract to her.
Conflict diamonds. Much of the continent was embroiled in civil wars or armed conflicts, and while her Lightning Storm Lackey was doing very well keeping on top of some subjects he didn't have her understanding of mostly broad world events to come.
It was her fault for not thinking about it, not his, so she would suck it up and deal.
A very worrying start to a string of heists she greatly cared about not being identified doing, these were… a lot more dangerous. Given the situations she was heading into, at least knowingly, murder might not be something she could avoid again.
However, as she had told Fong, it was short and sweet. Fly in, maybe a day spent checking the information Mafia Land had on hand, steal something, get the hell out of the country. Her Lackey would meet her at the underworld friendly airport with both her next contract and to take charge of the old, which was how she intended to spend the rest of the month.
Three weeks, most of the travel handled by plane. It might not be possible to cram the next nineteen heists she needed to do in order to realize Tatiana's goal in so short of a time, but Sonya would damn well try.
"I will see you in Russia, then."
She heaved a sigh, finally coming to a stop in line for the ticket booth. Fong considerately ensured it was obvious he wasn't in the same line and was merely talking to her. "I am not certain if I should be worried or what."
"I would not be worried… but then again, I am not you." With that little pearl of wisdom, the Chinese man gave her a respectful incline of his head and a little wry smile. "I can at least ensure you will not be too upset by what I am to request."
"Aside the visiting China aspect."
"…aside that, yes."
(Saturday the 8th of March, 1969. Freetown, Republic of Sierra Leone)
The tricky thing about mafia life was that it existed as a confusing mass of layers.
There was the very most top, containing all the petty criminals that never truly realized they were being used as disposable pawns or easy distractions. The part law enforcement the world over knew and handled as a matter of fact, crimes of passion and those who allowed their greed to overcome their senses. The easiest part to get into, the less controlled and mostly ignored level.
Those petty crooks were handled, guided, nudged, maneuvered, and pushed around as need be by the next most visible layer. The old hands, the retired, the cowards that didn't dare go deeper or had no way to enable it, pawn shop brokers, money launderers, drug runners, smugglers, informants, petty thugs that worked small territories. They held the gateway though Omertà, only sometimes just this side of respectable and yet completely shameless criminals enabling the trade of violence.
It was possible they might be arrested if anything too bad happened, so they only held bits and pieces and generally preferred not to know.
Under that, was where things got… sticky and messy.
Free agents, the grunts of any syndicate, assassins working without direct oversight, loose thieves. It entirely depended on where in the world you were and what kind of situation you were looking at to tell what set of murderers and crooks were dominant, who was on top as 'less respectable' and therefore 'disposable' and who was at the bottom and 'priceless' to the local syndicate in charge.
The pillars shafted through that mired muck and held up the structure of everything were the mob families, the more ruthless gangs, and tight knit clans of criminals. Again, depending on where and who, they might be only shallow enough to barely dip into the heavier trades or deeply rooted enough to go so far down they were up. Vongola and the Zolotovs were part of that, her clan was still mostly shallow but starting to sink and the Italian Famiglia was in so deep it was almost legal.
Laced between them were the conglomerations, networked syndicates that banned together for whatever reason. The American Mob Families, Vongola's Allied Famiglias, Mafia Land, China's Triads. They gave the underworld even more structure to rely upon, but also turned large stretches of territory into even worse patchworks of which criminal type was favored.
At the very bottom was a slurry of near diamond hard mud, the Dons and Pahkan and the mafia legends. Chess masters and puppeteers, who you might or might not hear anything about, mixed with a sprinkle of crooks so damn good their exploits were still told to the green newbies. A tiny handful of people that kept pulling strings and orchestrating events to enable their existence.
Like the Vindice, who were fearsome enough no one broke Omertà unless they had a death wish. The First Generation of Vongola, pioneers of criminal Flame users still gossiped about to this very day. A man she only knew as Semion Mogilevich, the boss of bosses in Russia that she had heard tiny bits about, but it seemed to be all true.
Sonya's main issue with Africa was that in some places, there was next to no upper crust to the underworld. She wasn't sure what that said about her, if the thin veneer of civilized crime settled her when it was less transparent to armed thugs walking about any old civilian town like they had no reason not to.
However, it was probably the best look at what the hell happened to a country after their underworld boiled to the surface she'd find. It didn't mean the situation was pretty, or remotely civilized.
The thief seriously wondered if she was spoiled or something.
Two hours into her first ever visit to the Freetown of Sierra Leone, she already wanted out. The streets were cramped, pedestrians were either suicidal or blind and were fully willing to walk mere inches from fast moving traffic, and motorcycles could and did go off the roads and onto the pathetic excuse for a sidewalk. Most if not all the men wandering the streets were armed with rifles, giving the city a very nervous air even as it prepared for their very first elections as a free republic.
Thankfully, Freetown was merely the biggest port city and she got the hell out of there quickly.
Since she didn't speak a local dialect, she opted out of questioning anyone. English was a common language, but not a widespread one in the middle class or lower-class working districts. She did take the time to buy a very wide straw hat, to protect her pale skin from the sun this close to the equator.
There was little she could do about the insects, other than wait until she had the freedom to utilize her Storm Flames internally. It wasn't a half bad trick, for all that it made it impossible for her to get drunk anymore it also kept her clear of unwanted drugs or viruses. Beating that back the next time she needed vaccinations was going to be a pain.
Damn Fong for giving her the idea.
Sonya took the pain of buying several expensive bottles of water, having known coming into the country that their water sanitation wasn't the best. Then, with her traveling pack stocked with said water and a floppy hat on her head, found herself a way out of the city.
A very slow, careful way out of the city. She was being followed.
Not surprising really, Russians weren't wildly popular down here.
In fact, anyone with white skin were treated with a healthy amount of suspicion. The thief didn't really mind, Freetown was built by ex-slaves and some of that disgruntlement had to have carried over through the generations. It didn't exactly help her, but she could deal.
Mainly by heavily abusing Cloud Flame speed the moment she was visibly alone. It took an hour of walking down the busier streets to lose the less stubborn tails, another hour to round the small peninsula the capital city was built on, and a handful more minutes to find a mostly abandoned area free of civilians.
The reason she refrained from hitching a ride was because she was down here to steal diamonds. She wanted no links to this job to linger on her, and to do that she was actually going to use her Flames on this one.
For her, running wasn't a bad method to exercise by. There just wasn't any long enough stretch she could run down, not with her Cloud Flames lending her legs more strength than her muscles could. Even with her Flame trick they were still moving, which was a semi-decent alternative to a spar or three.
Rachel had hated it, strangely.
Sierra Leone's geography was at least south enough to not be pure desert, but from the grit and sand seeping into cleared sections they also weren't far enough to escape all of it. Equally it was north enough to not be rainforest but still enough, so it was more than a bit dangerous. Mostly scrubland with fringes of forested jungle creeping up here and there, and still hot enough that if she wasn't wary the thief would end up with several bad sunburns.
It was also a wet heat, which helped nothing.
At least her speed, when not reduced going through the little villages or in sight of the various farm fields, generated a bit of wind that kept her moderately comfortable. Stopping would be a bitch.
Sonya wasn't nearly as fast as an automobile, but in a less developed country that was good enough.
She wasn't really going very far, which let her risk getting lost in favor of keeping her presence mostly overlooked. Out of the peninsula Freetown was situated on, down the coast on the southernmost end of Yawri Bay. The forested areas were the worst parts, even crossing the few rivers weren't nearly as bad as the tangled mass of vegetation proved to be.
As interesting as the near-tropical assortment of wildlife was, she strove to avoid most of it. They returned the favor, aside a few monkeys eyeing her suspiciously and a lone roving hippo, the most she had to personally deal with were the thick swarms of insects.
They did not like her Storm Flames. Sonya felt the exchange was fair enough, she didn't like being bitten by a possible malaria carrier.
Taking great pains to avoid the little coastal town of Kata, by skirting the entire section of forest almost south enough to hit the outskirts of Shenge, cost her another hour. The Russian could also not go as fast as she could in emptier stretches of beach, and by the time she reached the jutting tip of the southern bay she felt disgustingly sticky and overheated.
Almost wishing for another river to cross, lukewarm though they might be it was still a mostly clean wet, she lingered at the edges of the southern forest line treating her blisters.
As she hadn't wanted to ruin her boots for this, she had bought herself a cheap pair of running shoes. The mass-produced things hadn't liked her feet, and from the looks of it would need to be discarded the moment she got back to Freetown.
Her position did include a stretch of beach, which made a pretty picture to stare at aimlessly as she waited for full dark. Stare at and not explore because it was pretty visible to the houses on this unnamed jut of land and she was trying for discrete.
Finding somewhere to sit or relax on that wasn't bug infested or serving for a bird perch was another.
Sonya had a, rather unpleasant, four hours to wait. By the time dark had truly fallen, evading three chances of discovery by the local children and two by old fishermen, she was disgustedly bored and rather irritated overall.
The flash of headlights as a convoy of jeeps passed her little copse of trees signaled that she hadn't missed the date or overshot where she had to be.
Slipping her feet back into the still wet and unraveling running shoes, the thief snuck off into the beach to swim for the next bit.
They were smuggling their diamonds off the one lone pier at the edge of the seaside village, the small motor boat that she would be stealing from would linger for half an hour after the jeeps left under local guard. She was sorry the locals would probably suffer for this, but they did enable the trade of blood diamonds by allowing the handoff to happen a stone's throw from them.
However, this was the point her contract demanded the stones go missing from. As sorry as she was, she also didn't feel like getting hunted down and murdered for refusing to do the job after accepting it by proxy.
Sonya slipped into the waves silently enough, the crash of the sea covered most of the sloshing about she had to do to keep moving in the right direction.
At least she won't have to smuggle the damn rocks herself. It was going to be a drop off in-country, her paperwork would get signed at the same time, so all Bjǫrn would have to do is turn it in.
Swimming in the ocean was different than a river or a pool, and the irritation she experienced over the day made corroding a few key wires with her Storm Flames easy enough. Hiding herself under the pier for said tampering at least helped her keep the flair of red light from being noticed, and once that was done she slipped underwater again to get on the other side of the boat.
It was a really, really good thing one's Flames of willpower were waterproof.
It took another two hours of treading water, mainly helped along by holding onto the side of the small boat, for her to finish silently Disintegrating a hole into the bottom of it. She was going completely off reported information, and it seemed true enough when she broke through the thin fiberglass to only come up against a wooden crate. A bit more Storm Flames, and she had broken through that as well.
From there, it was a simple matter of feeling out then taking the velvet pouch of high-quality diamonds and putting them into her pack. Everything else she also tried to take, the possibility the obvious quality pouch being a decoy was high.
The thief did managed most of it, before shouts started up as the slowly rising water level was noted. Before anyone took attention off trying to find and plug the leak, Sonya slunk backwards under the pier again. The dark and murky mud would conceal her from sight, so long as she didn't flail about and cause plumes of the silt to float around.
A check to ensure everything she had was secured, a moment to be sure no one was looking in her direction, and then she pushed off underwater. Swimming as fast as she could.
Getting out of the area before they noticed the hole in the bottom of the crate was a necessity, checking to ensure she had her target before leaving entirely was just as much.
Luck was with her, when she reached the tip of the jutting land she had the space to double check. The velvet pouch had been a decoy full of simple limestone rocks, as were two of the four other packets of lumps she also took. Of the other two, one held a jumble of rough-cut stones clear enough she guessed they were uncut diamonds and the other had color tinted ones just as rough.
Sonya did not need more diamonds, especially not these ones, so all of it was going for the drop off. The real point of the contract was something had to be stolen, the amount or how left up to the thief contracted.
Repacking away her find, she slipped back into the ocean to make it across Yawri Bay without risking being seen by the Kata villagers. She had to get up to Tumbu on the north side of the bay before dawn, but at least she had no smuggling to do on this contract.
There was no way in hell she'd make it by purely swimming, so skirting shore until the first major river it was going to be.
She had to leave her straw hat behind, since this part of her heist was aquatic, but she could buy a new one if she really wanted. Swimming in salt-water had her blisters burning, and the walk back to the airport was going to be excruciating.
With just a bit more luck, she'd be out of Sierra Leone by dawn's break and able to put her feet up for a few days.
(Sunday the 9th of March, 1969. Freetown, Republic of Sierra Leone)
"Wait, what?"
"You are under arrest."
Oh… goodie.
"I just wanted a hat." Sonya even helpfully pointed at the rack of them she had been perusing while she waited for her Lackey to find her. It was still before dawn's break, so she supposed it was kind of suspicious she was wandering the flea market browsing.
The uniformed man looked unimpressed with her defense, gesturing again with the rifle. "Hands up, white girl."
Dutifully doing so slowly, the Storm-Cloud really did wonder why she was getting arrested while also being thankful she had no conflict rocks stored in her possessions.
Frankly, she didn't have time to be arrested. Not in some third-world country. It was appealing in a lazy way if one took out the location she was being arrested in, frankly no one in Moscow would really blame her. Be annoyed, yes.
Sonya, personally, also couldn't afford it. Shamal would throw a goddamned bitch fit if she missed yet another visit for any reason, and Galina did not deserve to be stuck with all that work on her lonesome.
Near instant jailbreak it was.
Her personal effects were confiscated, annoyingly. The tungsten Bec de Corbin keeping her hair up in a knot, the Thor's Hammer pendant and red tourmaline skeleton key chains around her neck, and her chain of mini-weapons irked her more than her fake passport and paperwork she came into the country for.
She actually didn't need anything but the paperwork, which had the signature of the man stationed to accept the stolen diamonds, but her weapons were something she wasn't going to leave without.
The thief was forced to change clothing, which wasn't too much of a loss. Having known she'd be in the water for a bit she had worn things she wouldn't mind losing, and given the blisters she had on her feet sandals weren't a bad idea. The rags, on the other hand, she intended to ditch as soon as possible.
Since it was so early, Sonya got stuffed in a holding cell for processing later when someone more important came around.
She didn't intend to be here for that.
It took her a second to realize that yes, she did just get thrown into a communal cell with a mixed group of what appeared to be thugs and civilians.
Entirely unimpressed was probably her expression.
Ignoring the chatter that started up behind her, Sonya took two steps back to the cell door in order to wrench it open. To her surprise, someone else was already fiddling with it. "Move."
Scruffy blond and near skeletal shot her a wide eye look, then scrambled out of her way before she could grab him. Reaching through the bars and around to the locking mechanism, the thief pressed a finger to the keyhole mostly to cover up her Storm Flames eating through it.
"How?" Scruffy spluttered, wide eyed and dumbfounded as she wrenched the cell door open with little resistance.
The Mafia Land agent ignored him even if he did speak English, already turning to examine the gate separating the holding cells from the rest of the provincial jail. It was rusty enough she wouldn't have to risk a second Disintegration, her Propagation was a lot less showy anyways.
Digging around the bolts holding the door in place was the work of a few moments and prying them out of the concrete walls was simple. She pocketed the bolts, so no one would notice they were more screws than just large nails.
Removing the entire door and doorway proved harder, as she didn't know how many guards would be left behind to ensure no one escaped nor where they might be. She worked the entire frame back and forth slowly, to prevent any screeching groans from giving her away.
By the time she had finished that, Scruffy had stupidly managed to open the rest of the holding cell doors.
After thinking about it, the Russian figured they could work as a distraction well enough and didn't say anything as several of the bigger prisoners bolted past her like bats out of hell.
Waiting a few more moments, when that was all that decided to risk encountering armed police, the thief checked the rest of her fellow prisoners and became curious. Scruffy was doing something at the far back wall, and from the flickers of light… it was something Sun Flame related.
…even civilians now?
The man had a ragged air about him, a long-term prisoner if she had to guess. Entirely possible that was more than enough to ignite his Dying Will, and Suns were one of the hardier types that would let him live through what others wouldn't.
Scruffy also seemed to know what he was doing, quite possibly not his first jailbreak.
If Sonya didn't need her stuff, she would've gone through the back too.
What was the proper procedure for this kind of situation?
A civilian Sun Flame user, using his Flames in front of even more civilians?
She really hoped Dying Will Flame use wasn't covered by Omertà, or at least civilian Flame use wasn't.
From the fitful sputters of his Flames he was trying to channel through a clear but rough rock, she had some time before he successfully cut through the concrete. Stalking their less patient cellmates and ignoring the dead guard who seemed to have had his head bashed in before he could react, she followed the semi-obvious path to where her things had been tossed.
It was all still there, midway through being inspected. There was a very nervous girl still picking through her things, who blanched a pasty ash color under her dark skin at the sight of the highly unamused thief.
Obviously, no one else had brought anything too important in with them but her.
The girl scrambled to her feet and lunged for a pistol on the counter, which just put her head in range for Sonya to smash her forehead into the wooden counter she had been working on.
Picking up her stuff was fairly simple from there, except the girl was wearing her hammer pendant. Said girl also got stripped to her underwear, to replace the rags the Russian was wearing.
Donning the colorful skirt and sleeveless blouse then repacking her stuff sans the water bottles she had left over, Sonya retraced her steps. Every now and again dropping a handful of Storm Flames to set the place on fire.
The girl would maybe live, if she woke up quick enough. Dead guard number one, and any others she failed to check for, would just end up fuel for her Flames.
Scruffy had barely managed to make a decent dent into the wall, and while Sonya's Storm Flames would prevent anyone coming down the hallway to try re-securing the prisoners he was a bit too slow for her taste.
Nothing really could be done without exposing her own use of it. Her Storm would eventually turn into pure fire, and she intended to drop a bit on the wooden flooring here to aid muddying the trails.
"Shit…"
"What?"
Scruffy twitched violently, whirling around then flattening himself to the wall when he realized how many people were crowded around him. His wide eyes flicked from person to person until he reached her, then while nervously fingering the stone in his hand gave her a grim twitch of his face.
It might have been a try for a smile, but it failed horribly.
"There's… uh, rebar. In the way, I mean." Still fiddling, the man cast around desperately until it reached the smoke curling in lazily from the other hall. Flinching, his eyes skipped to the cells then whipped around to the one she had opened. "Can-! Um… can you do…?"
…someone save her from stupid civilians. "Does that not work on metal?"
"Not… not well, no."
Risk Vindice attention and finish breaking them all out, or leave them all to die even if she wanted to know what Scruffy Sun was doing with that stone?
Sonya twitched, swore viciously under her breath, and stalked forward as the remainder of the prisoners scattered out of her way. As irritable and impatient as she was, her Storm gouged deep into the concrete and made a sticky mess of the steel rods reinforcing the walls. With an ear splitting crack, she managed to wrench the hole the Sun had painstakingly carved out in near enough one piece.
With how she angled things, their fellows managed to dart on through before Scruffy could since she had to put down the slab of torn wall somewhere and passed it in front of him first.
Which really only meant the two of them weren't the ones the guards outside opened fire on.
Sonya had expected it, given the amount of time that had passed, Scruffy hadn't. His horrified forward lunge ended up short when the Russian gripped his greasy beard and yanked him around gently. "Enough of them will escape to make it worth it. Ignore it."
"But! But they weren't-! They didn't do anything!"
"In a country like this, they existed. Sometimes, that is all it takes." Pushing the stick of a man forward, away from the hole they had made, she bodily blocked him from following after the rest. "Now shut up. I need to concentrate."
Another toss of Storm Flames blocked the hole to both prevent Scruffy from trying to get by her again as well as anyone from trying to enter to ensure everything was cleared out. Then Sonya turned her speculation to the flooring.
Sierra Leone had an underground rail system and if she had any luck at all, that would be what she'd break into. If bad luck was all she had, the sewers. If she had none at all, she'd be stuck carving a hole through dirt all the way to the coast.
Depending on which direction she went in, at least.
Her Storm might be controlled, after years upon years of trying, but she really never did figure out how much of it she could use before exhausting herself. Burning through the ground for any amount of distance would be hard, especially as smoke continued to creep into the cell block they were in. When she broke through to whatever she might hit, it would even make the fire behind them worse.
"Right… stay behind me and for fuck's sake, do not be stupid."
Scruffy didn't have time to question her, or even do more than blink as she regained his attention. Sonya planted a hand on the floor and willed.
With the volume of dirt in the way, this was going to take a while. She lost her sandals, and a large chunk of fabric from her skirt, but eventually ended up with a six-foot-deep hole.
Hoisting herself out, she probably rudely pushed Scruffy into it and snagged hold of the plug of concrete and rebar she ripped out of the wall.
Slipping back into the hole she made was a tight fit with another body however scrawny he was, and in the sudden dark he seemed to have a panic attack. When she lit up her hands with Storm Flames, the Sun snagged a desperate hold on her.
Sonya did not appreciate that. "Let go."
The close quarters were just something she had to deal with, but she heartily disliked people touching her.
"You… you could've done this before." All she was really concerned with was him releasing her, which he did with suitable speed.
"I could have." There was no sound to Disintegration, not here.
When she cut into the bottom of a boat the water would hiss the longer she was at it, but dirt gave away without even a whisper.
The heat, on the other hand, made her wish she hadn't discarded her last two bottles of water. Uncomfortably warm seemed to be the theme of her entire visit here.
Scruffy shuffled slightly behind her, now that she was working on opening up more room for them. "Why didn't you?"
Sonya pressed further after checking to ensure she wasn't angled downward, even if that was hard to check in the red light her Flames gave off. "Because there are things that scare even me, and had I done so I would be in a massive violation of certain things and bring me to the attention of those I would rather be ignored by."
She might still be in violation. The Vindice might just be waiting for more room to arrest her, meaning the moment they got out of the underground she would end up arrested again. This time without the possibility of breaking herself out.
Pleasant thoughts.
How far did she have to go?
The holding cells had been part of a corner affair jail/police station, and while the part they had been held within had be at the back of the ugly building it was still close to a street.
Gritting her teeth against the strain calling up so much Storm was giving her, she paused for a break after a musty chunk of time she was assuming amounted to fifteen minutes and punched the dirt a few times. A faint and muffled tinkle of pottery and brick informed her it was likely there was a sewer closer than she thought.
Fantastic.
Sonya hauled back and punched the wall of dirt in front of her again, busting out a masonry wall of brickwork into the nasty sewage system. Scruffy choked on the loose dirt that flew backwards, then gagged as the smell hit him.
She didn't really see why he was so offended, he smelt worse.
A pause was in order, because she had popped blisters on her feet and she really wanted nothing to do with this next part. There was at least lighter than the murky dark lit by Storm Flames, from the grates dotted here and there.
It seemed to also serve as a storm drain.
"So now what?" Asked Scruffy nasally, pinching his nose against the reek of sewer water. "Are you going to kill me?"
"For?" It would be way too much work for her, dragging him along. If she had wanted him dead she would've let him run off like an idiot into a firing line. "I am going to get you to a doctor, then you are on your own."
Ripping off strips of her ruined skirt and removing the remains of the sandals, Sonya wrapped them around the worst of her blisters in hopes of keeping them clean. It was a faint hope, especially since they had to go a ways in order to not be obviously escapees.
"Why?"
"I would like to know what kind of stone that is." Doctor Kappel had also wanted more Flame users to study, so she was pretty sure the man wouldn't mind fixing the Sun's health in the process.
Sonya ended up in a mini-skirt. She needed new clothes, some halfway decent shoes, and a bath. Hopefully the next contract her Lackey was to give her had a bit of time free between to enable that, or she was going to irritate the hell out of an entire plane's worth of people.
"It's a diamond."
She froze, then swore viciously. "No, no I do not believe that. We never got a diamond to work for any Flame user."
"…Flame what?"
Dmitriy had burned himself on one, though. Was it just effort needed, or was there something wrong with the stones they had tried?
The thief swiped the rock in question from his fist easily enough, examining it closely even as the Sun swore himself and tried grabbing it back. It was a raw gem, vaguely pyramid in shape. The long tip was broken, leaving a jagged edge she was pretty sure the man had used in his attempts to cut into a concrete wall.
Did rough work better than cut stones?
Galina would know now, after another month of work there should be enough data to make or discard more theories. Sonya absently gave the rock back, scowling as she considered the implications.
Were they wrong yet again?
"Well… I suppose it's safe to say you were arrested for stealing." Scruffy snapped at her irritably.
No, she wasn't. "I was arrested for buying a hat."
There was a long pause. "Really?"
"As far as I am aware, yes."
"…you do know someone murdered the usurped Prime Minister before he could retake office, right?" At her blank blink, the man scuffed his own rag wrapped feet against the dirt they were loitering within. "That's why they're rounding up the people out early enough to be possible suspects."
Well… that made more sense. She wondered who did it, it couldn't be someone else from Mafia Land because they did ensure these kinds of crossovers didn't happen. "How do you know that?"
"I speak Krio."
The local language, Sonya assumed. He probably got the details from the few of their more informed cellmates before they got themselves killed. "Good for you. We should… probably go."