Author's Note : I had to look it up, but I don't think so? Sonya's not aromantic. Or at least I think she's not aromantic… or she's on the scale of it to the point everyone is? Those more in the know than I can make their own judgement, but I do not intentionally write her any specific way asides the whole 'demi- bordering on asexual tendencies and a sheer lack of fucks to give for other opinions'.

She's just naturally comfortable with herself and her body, it being her second time around means she's a lot less self-conscious about her body image or how she appears to others that really don't matter to her at all, and due to her siblings' antics trying to get her used to their gestures of affection by basically overdoing it… she's equally as comfortable with the physical person of others once they've indicated she's allowed to touch them.

Verde just hadn't indicated it was a short-lived thing, the 'invitation' to share a bed he didn't really give. Sonya, like any good thief, is taking all due advantage because she feels… uh, lonely. Ish. Unsettled since Renato was declared 'dead', a tad bit paranoid about the safety of her random people being put under pressure, in need of human company that isn't… people she doesn't know. Or a smart but still dumb dog. Verde failed to say no, there's no reason for you to sleep with me anymore. So… Fong hasn't had a chance to spend the same night near her when he's not sleeping in a men-only dorm.

She is demi-sexual, although it really appears asexual. There was that childhood crush on her foster-father to account for, so she has a sexual preference… -ism. Basically, Sonya's going to make herself comfortable whether you like it or not… and she could care less if not but if you don't mind she'd rather sleep on you, thanks.

She's been mainly… doing this to Shamal and Valera so far in-story. She also did it to Renato and Fong a few single times each.


Russian Roulette : Second Chamber

Chapter 39


(Wednesday the 9th of December, 1970. Mafia Land.)

"Odds are she's completely forgot about you again." Bjǫrn shrugged it off, aware of his patron's unintentional if enduring shortcomings as a figurehead of a boss. "Say… another three to six months at the earliest? If she ever has another task she doesn't have a hand to help with already, she'll recall you're a thing and ask for you again."

Garett McCarthy grunted sourly, annoyed and with the leverage to show it fully since he was the Lackey and not the power in this conversation. He did rake his hands down that chemical burn on half his face, which the Icelander was trying rather hard not to stare at and get the man even more irritable. "Is that… usual for her? Or her 'type', as I've been informed she is?"

"For a Cloud Flame user of Dying Will… I can't say. I've only met two. One is the type of person to get along with and remember names, the other you kind of have to get in the face of before she'll actually look at you." He shrugged half of the question off, then had to immediately fix the lay of his business suit jacket before Viper popped out of the shadows to scold him about appropriate appearances while on the job… or had a chance to lay on more fees. "For her? Yes, yes it's excessively hard to get her to value your worth if you only let her hire you occasionally or don't' see her for a while. As it is, you are an alternative she doesn't mind… but still just an alternative she doesn't have to court a good opinion of."

"…don't suppose you're willing to directly discuss if it's worth it to poke harder?"

"Depending." Pocketing the fifty, in American dollars which meant it didn't come from what he paid the man for completing Sonya's busywork for Hawk interestingly enough, Bjǫrn gave the man a thin smirk. "Only if you're looking for permanency. You invite a Cloud to look to you, rely on your efforts… you're inviting them to basically micro-manage your life for maximum efficiency. I started out just her contacting agent, Lackey-wise. She then decided since I was already here I might as well manage her finances… and now I have lucrative side-businesses in my own right. Selling information, selling her random assets, managing several bank accounts, doing taxes, money laundering…"

Another hundred dollars was dug out of the older man's pockets, two bills of fifties, and he took that too. Even if he had to guess what question he wanted answered for the bribe.

"Either keep your distance or get in her face until she notices you right away. One will let this be an occasional thing, a nice bonus or two every other year or twice a year depending on what's going on. The other… you'll find yourself adopted before long, with access to a patron that doesn't have a damn issue financing your life here with only a few caveats that it be something useful to her as well as yourself." Bjǫrn waved a hand at himself. "I did the hardest part, in getting her to accept other people might help her aims and are worth the investment. Took half a year of following her around the Continent, basically almost killed myself when I look back."

Garett stared at him hard for a couple seconds longer than the rules for polite society allowed for, then just tilted his head backwards slightly and sniffed. "Are they… all so damn direct? I suspected there'd be something lethal in the job from how it was given to me, not basically a kiddy-league of crooks trying to snatch her man out of a civilian-run conference."

"It's more typical for her, again I've only met two and that's not really a wide enough pool to judge by." For the rest of that… he just had to shrug it off again even if he again had to pull the back of his suit jacket down. "As for the situation… in the end she said it looked like the better groups knew what she was and backed off. Not that they weren't going to try too, if no one else did."

"That's what I got too, once I tapped into the networks out there." McCarthy allowed, tonelessly in a way Bjǫrn was very impressed by since it didn't showcase his opinion on the matter at all. "So I was just hired to pad out the numbers."

"She can, has, and probably will take on just about anything tossed in her direction." There was that three-day-long burning hole in Moscow to take into account, and now from the rumors circulating it seemed as if she wasn't the only Storm in the world willing and able to do large-scale demolition works on a spur of the moment… and from said rumors the cause was the same man that stole her out of the guildhall on some kind of Sky-rescue mission. "But when it comes to softer targets… one woman is still just one woman. She can only handle so many at one time, and if she's not positioned or has too many on her that leaves what she's trying to protect out in the cold."

"See… you should've started with that. I wouldn't have gotten so damn wound-up on the job had I known I was needed to make an 'impressive' image to discourage any strikes at Greenie."

"I'll be sure to give that detail over next time… although may I point out that's exactly what we hired you for?" Besides which, no one started out tentative business relationships by waving around a vulnerability under the noses of those with unknown qualities. He was calling bullshit. "Well, that and training Hawk up to do it when she's risking assets in public again."

The older crook tisked irritably, his lazy and chemically burned eye glaring at his tuna-steak more than the man he was talking to. "Kid, go through Mafia Land next time you hire outside of your associating circles. They might charge you more, but they also will phrase shit the right way for who you're hiring. Now we can do things directly, but for new agents that don't know your… your outfit, doing the hiring yourself always means either you're getting drafted into a syndicate or the jobs so deadly Mafia Land doesn't want the headache of doing the death paperwork for kicking the bucket on their dime."

"I hired you before!"

"Years ago, through the exact 'proper' method of posting a job to a pool of men. Yeah. That's not recent enough for me to have felt my work was decent enough the boss remembered me."

…there might be a point in there, but Bjǫrn was going to ignore it like his patron would in favor of a present and real subject that required attending. "Well, if that solved your headache? Can we finally eat and get this meeting over with?"

Garett glanced down, meaning the man's lazy eye was now inspecting his stupidly expensive steak rather than the Lackey's fish. "I don't think I'm the guy you're looking for. Old dog, doesn't want to learn new tricks for a new master and all that jazz. That all being said… I know the boys you're looking for."

"For a cut of the hiring fee, I'm sure."

"Of course." A half-amused grin on his scarred face wasn't for the queasy, but Bjǫrn was trying to ignore that. "Business and all that, you understand… but these guys? If you can trust me, to a limit admittedly, then I can guarantee you can trust them. To a financial limit, admittedly…"

"We might not have that much business for a mercenary group." He pointed out back, a bit dryly because that was the last offer he'd thought he get from this whole lunch-affair of a meeting. "Well… not yet."

The other man snorted harshly. "You're going to sit there and tell me your Hawk boy isn't a mercenary? Sure, kid. Pull the other one, it's got bells on it. I don't care what he did before that made him switch to a boss with that kind of a reputation and throw himself on her mercy, not a bit. What matters is that I've had a hand in training other such boys up to competent levels, and like recognizes like no matter what you're trying to pass off."

…an interesting observation. "Before you freak out again and demand another of these 'I've lived and I'm scared witless' meetings, the boss shows her appreciation through random and unexpected donations of hard currencies. If she thinks about it, and she's in the area, you might find a random pile of cash somewhere."

"I'm not 'scared witless', just… concerned. And like that's not terrifying." Grumbled McCarthy pithily, with a ferocious scowl to go with. "I'm going to guess you mean in ways I can clearly tell it's for me and no one else will just pick up."

"I could try mentioning you might not appreciate it." Bjǫrn offered fairly, because then he wouldn't have to account for his boss' generosity-

"I wouldn't go that far."

"…I'm sure."

Without any actual information on McCarthy's history, more than what he apparently allowed to float in the island's rumor mill as a well-established crook that lived here longer than his patron had been alive, the Lackey couldn't actually say he was surprised they hired an older mercenary-type who just so happened to recognize Hawk as another one.

Why Sonya hadn't taken the Storm to her father to see what kind of quality she had to work with in the man was a question to pose, but the answer could be anything from 'I don't care' to 'I wanted to find out myself' when it came to her. If things came down to it, it was likely she knew she could… but unless Hawk mentioned wanting to know she just wouldn't volunteer the possibility.

His patron was weirdly contentious about them doing things by their own free-will, even when she expected a lot from those that volunteered themselves. Bjǫrn volunteered his entire life, Sonya saw fit to modify his lifestyle and experiences to fit her needs. Scruffy ended up begging for his life from her, he was going to get a job offer rather than have his professional life ordered for him. Galina offered her time and effort to get what she wanted, ended up hip-deep in their boss' work as an author in exchange while living somewhere sunny and near the sea… while Verde bargained for what he wanted and ended up researching her scientific needs quite contentedly while documenting everything properly.

He wasn't exactly sure what Anna and Usov did to gain their inclusions, but with Hawk on one hand and McCarthy aiming to distance himself on the other… Sonya likely would let it happen without a blink. If she thought about it in the future, the Lightning-Storm suspected she'd default to the man she had rather than the one she had to hire outside of her immediate circle of influence. If the old mercenary wanted to send others in when they had a need greater than the manpower they had available… Bjǫrn could help out.

It was really the least he could do for the man coming back like this and not only dropping a hint on Hawk's mysterious background but letting him know what the Lackey did wrong to disturb the old vet in the hiring process.


(Sunday the 13th of December, 1970. Oratory of the Disciplinary, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Zinaida managed a pained grimace, and studied her hands in lieu of checking yet again if Sonya was still a few benches back.

The younger woman had not started getting annoyed with her so far, and the good pastor was somehow equally as understanding at this late-night visitation… but that really didn't make her feel any better.

"I still don't… well. The other couple that followed Miss Bazanova out of the Soviet Union did exactly this, hiding behind her for their own protection. I feel rather terrible needing to do the same thing… but I can't bring myself to leave the estate's grounds without her or another person at the very least. It's just… I know these men aren't KGB, they're Italian military police… but just what if one might be something more?"

"The moment I received the grace of your attendance at this house of God, I reached back through my superiors back in the Vatican to inquire about anything I might need to know as your shepherd." Father Castiglione allowed peacefully, ordering his podium and cleaning it either in habit for post-Mass or for something to do while she sought his advice. "I was informed of the problems with KGB other escapees from the Soviet Union had encountered, and that your Miss Bazanova had already had an almost-lethal encounter with them."

"Twice. First time was just a spy setup I didn't stick around for after arranging for it to be discovered. About a year ago or so… might be two now."

The priest blinked at the younger woman, inclined his head to acknowledge the point, then carried on while refocusing on her.

"You carried your faith through a rather distressing lifestyle, sometimes alone and always under clear threat. That threat, though further from you now you are here in Italia, has not gone away or is unable to reach you. As much as I might learn and theoretically understand the risks you faced, I will likely never fully understand." The older of the two men of faith that called the church home gave a simple shrug. "Therefore, given your experiences keeping your faith and life at the same time under extreme prejudice and the clear risks I can easily see your chosen leader still faces… I do not believe you avoiding Mass is in fact a mortal sin. You did so for your own protection, and possibly for the protection of my flock from the same threat. So long as all this remains true, I will absolve you for missing Mass when the risks outweigh what you feel is acceptable to take. You carried your faith this far, alone for the most part."

"…I still feel like a coward." She had to admit to, even if her son's adored 'boss' was in the church to hear it and she really honestly didn't know what the young woman really thought of all the 'adults' she gathered up simply to protect their kids for them.

Usually, Zinaida was pretty good about reading body language and just simply knowing who she could trust and who to just smile at while holding at arm's length. Usually. Then she and her husband had to scramble around Moscow trying to figure out how to even help Usov when his imagination suddenly came to life and ended up smack dab in the middle of a den of actual thieves who were the only ones to identify and do something about her baby boy's nightmarish problem.

Who all could disguise and hide their real feelings even better than she could read them.

When she had been younger, Sonya hadn't really bothered hiding herself. She had been completely annoyed, through and through, the entire week she dedicated to helping Usov figure out how to undo what he created and talking to her and Max about how to coach their fantastically gifted son through any future panic attacks to being able to control his imagination again.

Given a couple more years, and the younger woman had not changed much. Would clearly show it when she was annoyed or exasperated, when she had her own son in her arms and just how much she really cared for him, but not much else. Which helped, but that occasional glimpse only helped so much.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear. Not the lack of such but choosing to do something despite it. You have chosen to remain faithful when the 'easy' way through your life's troubles would have been to renounce God and our Savior, Jesus Christ." Countered the priest, picking up his copy of the Holy Bible and bringing it with him down to where she sat in the pews. "Take heart in the protections you are offered and focus more on improving your situation until you are freed from even the specter of oppression, my child. God and glory will wait for us all at the end of our journeys, so long as you remain dutifully faithful through the trials and tribulations in your way."

Zinaida just bowed her head, trying to take comfort in the pastor's words but feeling a bit like a delinquent anyways.

Into the semi-serene silence, her boss spoke up. "…wasn't that a quote? The 'courage is not the absence of' bit. Sounds kind of familiar…"

"The thirty-second President of the United States said it, Franklin D. Roosevelt. Yes, it is a quote."

"Why quote a man from another country?"

"FDR was the man in power when Pearl Harbor happened… and helped sound the death knell for World War Two. History would like to gloss his military response over and focus on the man's work on social-political success in his home country and focus upon Truman's Marshal Plan instead, but I was a young man when the US finally mounted their offensive against the Nazi war-machine. There are things in this life that will forever remain imprinted on those that witnessed them, when the Allied Forced finally stabilized our government… the Church made it's own investigation into what paralyzed us for an entire war by reaching out to several US Army pastors who were attached to some of those regiments helping us straighten things out. I have some experience with this crippling fear of a government entity that does not have your best interests at heart and what most do in the face of it, most from speaking with them in the Church's name, and I merely thank God Mrs. Samuilova survived her very similar experience. I know some men who never had a drop of her strength of faith."

"That's an interesting bit of history to have." Sonya commented neutrally, when Zinaida risked a glance backwards to the pew two benches behind her and a little on her right the young thief actually did look somewhat interested… for her, anyways. "I wonder then… what your advice would be for ex-prisoners of hostile forces."

"…I beg your pardon?"

"Miss Bazanova… you don't mean-"

"He's not gotten his own ass out here, and I'm starting to suspect he never will alone." Narrowing her eyes on the man of the cloth and without so much as glancing at her, the younger Russian finally straightened up instead of remain lounging on the hard wooden benches. "As a matter of fact, for the number of hermits I seem to have… he's the worst of them all. He has never left the grounds since we got him here. So, Father?"

Father Castiglione drew himself upright, facing down the thief without a flinch. "How bad of an experience are we speaking of?"

"A decade, he cannot reconcile his experiences with God's plan for His faithful. Not alone, anyways… and while he mostly freed himself from his situation and it did not take place during the war you spoke of, I did assist him with the last few steps of getting out of there."

"Interesting that the only detail I do have to work from is the individual is male and has seen at least more than a decade of life." He muttered, mainly to himself but in the nave of the church was easily heard by probably both women. "Your care for 'your' people is… singular, Miss Bazanova. Admirable… but in this case… would you be protecting this individual from themselves and their growth as both an individual and a child of God?"

"I'm not equipped in the aspect he might just need help for, Father. I'll be the first to admit that. But, where should my care stop? If their actions do no harm, or when they do not recover from their experiences?"

"A fine line to draw… without knowing the man you speak of, I cannot assist. I would like to, but without knowing the details you likely hid for his protection… I do not know how to advise you do help more than harm."

The Russian thief huffed mostly soundlessly, leaning back against the back of her pew again and tipping her head back to stare up at the ceiling. "So I'm just going to have to talk to him…"

"That sounds like the best plan." The priest waited a moment, likely to be sure the woman was now more interested in the fresco painted into the vaulted ceiling, then glanced over at her. "Mrs. Samuilova, as long as you remain faithful I will work with you… never fear you'll fail this close to the end of these trials in your way as long as you at least try to brave your fears."

Zinaida bit her lower lip as he walked off, likely leaving the main part of the church for the night as most reasonable Catholics were probably abed.

'Try'. Right. She was totally 'trying to brave her fears' by hiding behind a bigger target that at least had a chance at hitting back if attacked.

Jesus wept, but she had gotten through almost thirty years of living in Moscow. Thirty years of being a faithful Catholic girl in a society that didn't value religious views at all, getting married in one of the few Catholic churches by a priest two minutes before his place of worship was shut down on him, getting Usov baptized in the middle of one night by the same priest hiding out in a little enclave of other exiled Catholic faithful. It wasn't any of that, no it was her moving because Sonya asked with the temptations of getting back into brewing that might just end up killing her…

"So… not entirely what you were expecting?"

Zinaida didn't bother looking up from her lap, rubbing her face with both hands and absently noting she probably needed to track down lotion for her hands or invest in work gloves to reduce how many callouses she had. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do when you leave again, Miss Bazanova…"

There was a sigh from behind her. "Maybe trust a little more in your baby boy? I believe he made himself more time for a reason, not just simply because he couldn't be bothered to attend school with the other children. Trust Adrik a little more? He's the one keeping an eye out for you guys… or, you know… you could trust the Italian government a little." The younger woman sounded so dubious over the last option she gave that she just had to laugh a little, because she actually did even if the thief obviously didn't. "Invest into your own personal protection? Get yourself a bulletproof vest and a gun, or something… learn self-defense from old man Yaozu. Create your own little spy network out of the ladies around here you like to trade cooking-tips with."

She snorted, but… despite her suggesting everything in a descending order of what she obviously thought were more likely, a couple of those sounded pretty good to her. "Would you mind if I… ah, invested in personal protection?"

"If you think it might help, not a fucking bit." A slightly muffled thunk made her look up, and to the thoughtful frown aimed at her as Sonya knelt on the pew in front of her to see her. "If you let them control your actions and thoughts, even now so 'far' from their area of control… they win and you lose. Fuck them. If they were at all 'right' in the shit they do, they wouldn't need 'force' to get anyone to obey them."

"I might know that, but believing they're not that petty to use my death to inconvenience you…"

"No, they'd totally do that." Sonya admitted bitterly, crossing her arms on top of the back of the back bench she was leaning against. "But at some point, Zinaida, you just have to decide enough is enough. You could live in fear of them for the rest of your life, or you could not panic about things outside of your control. I'm not going to lie and say picking to do that is easy, but what you're doing isn't really living. If you're not, what was the point of coming out here?"

"…for the mead." Zinaida confessed sheepishly, a slow grin growing at the completely nonplussed look on the younger woman's usually blank or mildly curious at best features. "I came for the liquor, Sonya. Staying for access to the church. The money isn't anything to dismiss, either. Just, it's an irrational-"

"No, it's an entirely legitimate fear. They shot me, I'd know. But it's crippling you, and that's distressing quite a number of people we also live with." She slid off the bench backwards, rising to her full height and stretching out her spine. "How about… if you're not going to trust me or your son, then trust in the Church? They seem to have fingers everywhere, it's entirely possible they've got 'people' working on the issue of keeping the KGB out of their enclaves."

She laughed, she couldn't really help it. The last option, a throwaway idea probably, and it actually made her feel somewhat better. More than her previous suggestions had, anyway.

(ooo000ooo)

(Sunday the 13th of December, 1970 continued. Varia Headquarters, Sestri Levante, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"You are late."

"Something a bit more important overran." Sonya confessed to without much care, slinking into the cheap temporary 'head engineer's' office that had been shipped to be made use of until the walls were finished being erected to Tyr's specifications. She laid down the tightly curled paper rolls she carried on the closest flat surface, a half-sized small table tucked under an equally as cheap windowsill. "This is the general hiking routes we've planed around the mountain, which we're not putting restrictions on. Since I am late, you can keep them."

Tyr nodded, but didn't reach for those likely topographic maps she was supplying him. He was a little more interested in what his thin Mist Guardian made of the Storm-Cloud, so he focused on finishing his limited and encrypted paperwork.

One did not appear as if they were all that threatening, the other was simply dressed casually as one might when they had no plans to meet with business associates. Interestingly, both descriptions could be applied to them both.

Tito Costa was a man that specialized in murder while working as an event planner, mainly for famiglias that simply needed one or two of any specific group to 'disappear' before making a deal or taking over something. Unassuming and nondescript from coloring to clothes was everything about him, and being one of the ones that came into his Flames later in life… able to waltz around the 'known' traits of Mists when it suited him.

Whereas Sonya embraced the whole 'single mother' lifestyle at least in appearance if not fact, in a light mid-thigh cardigan almost slipping off her shoulders paired with a tank top and a pair of jeans. Her tattoos ruined the impression somewhat, the vibrant colors showing mutedly through the semi-translucent pale peach cloth a luridly eye-catching sign that not all was as it seemed with her.

Then there were the boots he knew for a fact went to either knee or mid-calf on her feet that a homemaker or moral Catholic mother would not always wear.

"So, that assassin you've got in your kitchen… interesting skills there."

The thief shifted her center of attention to Tito rather than waiting to see if Tyr had anything to comment upon for her reason for arranging this meetup, silently staring at the Mist using assassin.

Never one to heed to caution or bother with not pissing off anyone around him, as long as he wasn't working, his man smiled politely back at her as if she had responded. "Fascinating. And you've haven't fired him for bringing the police down on us?"

Sonya again shifted slightly, to include Tyr into the conversation without simply dismissing the Mist. "It's interesting he believes Cesare was the one to start it…"

The Sword Emperor reached for one of the maps, discarding that sheet of paperwork to work on when he wasn't involved in a possibly tricky conversation. "Was he not?"

"If one is only looking in from the outside, you could assume such easily." Allowed the thief wryly, hitching a colorful shoulder. "Isn't this man a Mist? Assuming the obvious… how embarrassing."

"Oh? Claws, pussycat. Very nice claws you've got there."

"You'd think, being a Flame user attached to a Sky, you'd be a little more aware of the situations that occur nearby to his interests." Drawled the Russian fearlessly, even if her taunting was finally getting a displeased reaction from Tyr's Mist Guardian. "Regardless of what or who lured them to our little bit of coast… the fact of the matter is that Cesare took care of the problem. Almost the same second it occurred. And yet here you are… being an asshole to the Mafioso behind his back. So rude of you, sir… and just what have you done to secure out little corner of Italy out here that gives you this right? I'm absolutely dying to know…"

Given the flat, toneless way she spoke, Tyr highly doubted it.

He was also, from reading the reports his Rain made on everything he could learn locally so his leader would at least be informed if not knowledgeable of the goings on while he was working, relatively certain her cook was in fact the reason why the police attempted to insert a mole in her household. That Mafioso Cesare took care of his own tail was not really much of a point for Tito to pick over… that might in fact be his Mist's whole angle on attempting to build acceptable connections with the Cloud who possessed this territory.

He wasn't certain, hence his abstaining from redirecting the conversation or interjecting again himself.

Tito smirked broadly in her face, amused at her using a tactic most didn't in the face of Mists of redirecting and deflecting any questioning of 'her' people. "Defensive, kitten? I know you might be a little fishy out of your puddle here, has to be higher profile than your old homeland… you'll learn, eventually."

Sonya heaved a tired sigh, digging through a pocket for two parts of a tobacco pipe. Two seconds to twist the parts back into a whole, another second spent checking the bowl to be sure the packed plant matter had remained, and she lit it with a tiny flare of Storm Flames.

"I know this must be so unusual for you, a thief of all creatures…" An inhale on her pipe, and the Russian blew out a smoky trail right in Tito's not remotely impressed face. "…but stop being a complete moron."

She snapped her fingers, and another spark of Storm Flames burned lacy traces through the ashy cloud and very nearly reaching his alarmed Mist's face. Who had stood there, and let her trap him in that.

Tyr had to immediately look down, or risk laughing in his alarmed Guardian's face.

"You're not all that 'better', or 'impressive', then the men I worked with back in Moscow. I ran a Flame user's school for all of Russia, dumbass. I rubbed elbows with everyone who's anything in Moscow. Wasn't fucking impressed then, still am not now."

"Ouch." A moment to rearrange the interior of the flimsy temporary office building, mainly to vent the woman's tobacco smoke harmlessly elsewhere, and the Mist gave the visible effort to at least reevaluated something about her. "One more thing. I promise."

"Bullshit, but whatever. Not like you'd fuck off if I asked you to nicely."

"I might, you never know." Tito lied through his teeth thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his lips mock thoughtfully. "So you won't turn on easy targets if it'll ingrate you, seem to want to imply you don't need Tyr's reputation or influence… might have a bit of skills I need to respect and all that… so what are you doing here?"

Sonya turned to him wordlessly, gesturing to his Mist Guardian with a raised eyebrow.

"Tito has been regretfully overworked these last two years, I put him in charge of all southern Italia contracts while I sought a new place for the Varia… then heaped more upon him when Nono had us north protecting his wife this summer." Likely, Timoteo's… unfortunate relationship with the Storm-Cloud had tainted the Mist's opinion no small amount.

"…huh. Okay," turning back to the assassin still watching her every moment, "I respect you're trying to figure out the truth, instead of believing the party line. You're an annoying asshole, but I get that's just how Mists are. I've got three of them, I know."

"Well, so glad I have your appreciation." Mused his man sourly. "You 'have' Mists?"

"Three. I'd rather you contact Anna as a source of information, who holds down the night-shift by preference. Usov's mom hasn't… adjusted too well to a local happening and he seems a bit off his usual game. I hope you aren't afraid of massive, nightmarish spiders."

His most unassuming Guardian took another moment to study the impassive Cloud, who merely withstood it boredly. Then, on some unspoken signal the two of them now suddenly agreed upon, they decided to ignore each other.

Tyr, not remotely surprised by this outcome given her reactions when she met at least decently well-behaved others she needed to occasionally interact with and that Tito was really just disgusted entirely with only gold-digging 'leeches' he tended to be forced into playing nice with during his jobs, tipped a nod to the woman. "I appreciate the plans for your hiking trails."

"While the plan is for them to only be 'open' in the winter and summer tourist seasons, we're not going to be able to prevent anyone from walking them year-round if they want. Especially the locals. If we need to 'arrange' any reason civilians will get a damn clue and avoid them at certain times in the year… I'll let you know."

Just giving structure to the possible future incursions and law enforcement attempts at espionage made it a decent project to dedicate time to, that he didn't have to dictate someone to do for him. Likely for yet another price… "Would you mind if I extended my financial relationship with your Lackey? At least, until he can appoint an appropriate manager for my needs?"

"Bjǫrn's unspoken for time is his own. You'll have to ask him."

All as expected, then. "Appreciated."

The thief blinked at him, glanced at Tito, then simply left the flimsy temporary building Tyr was forced to use as an office while the planned estate was still being built. Without her maps, so likely these were intended for Tyr to have on record.

"Hmm… interesting." Allowed the Mist thoughtfully after the door closed behind her. "What is our stance on the little group just south of us?"

"Live and let live, at all of our own risk. She will likely respond to some specific Vongola-centric issues, involving certain members if need be, and possibly will not interfere with our own business. We don't have a Cloud of her caliber yet, and she's maintaining the territory." A lethal asset, but then again they were a company of assassins.

Who better to be neighbors than each other?


(Thursday the 17th of December, 1970. Sonya's Bedroom, De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"Okay, so," Sonya informed Shamal while she was upside down, stretching out her hamstrings over her head in two different directions and simply letting gravity do the work in ensuring she kept the ability to do the splits on demand, "who the hell is Palaemon Superbi?"

"Mr. Superbi's cousin, by blood. Mrs. Superbi said he couldn't lie, and brought him over to fill in a hole until you decided to get him trained up as the butler we need or you kick him out. So of course we've been poking him to see if that's true." He tried for a handstand, getting rather shakily but upright for all of two seconds. He fell eventually, to be rescued from banging his head off the floor by Marco's expertly positioned fluffy butt shifted to catch him in something that looked pretty practiced.

"Do you like him?" She hadn't formally met the kid yet, and he was being either smarter than average in letting her come to him or ignorant as hell… and either way it couldn't last. "What has he been doing lately?"

"Helping Mrs. Tolmachyova out, mainly. He's also been making that little sailboat you took from the Todd assassin is seaworthy and taking it out in the afternoon when she's got nothing in need of another set of hands." Getting himself upright again, and apparently deciding anything upside-down was not quite for him yet, Shamal sunk to his own butt and worked on his tendons in a more sedate manner by bending over his little legs. "Beyond that… he's kind of really boring."

"Boring is nice." Boring meant the kid was exactly what he claimed he was, or was described as, and Sonya could actually fucking work with that instead of police moles or wasted space. "Does he want to be a butler?"

"I don't know, I'm not Palaemon."

"Good answer." Pulling her legs back together, she bent backwards to get upright again herself via the process of a backflip. A pause to stretch out her spine, and a couple really satisfying pops in her vertebra, and she turned around while rubbing her lower back to be sure they had all popped back into place correctly. "He's just being a busybody? Not slinking around Verde's place, or trying to get higher than the first two floors?"

"So far, no. Anna seems to like him, and Usov keeps track of what he does while I'm at school so you'll need to talk to him for anything more specific. Palaemon has picked a different church to attend, though."

"Good for him. I think Father Castiglione might have his hands full with our problems."

Shamal sat up with a little funny face and accepted her help to get back to his feet. He moved a tiny bit stiffly for a couple seconds, but not nearly as stiffly as he had moved when they started stretching together two summers ago.

"You've got the choice of going for a run or dancing lessons, today."

"Running." Her brat all but leapt upon, even if running with a pair of dogs trying to run usually ended up in 'chasing the damn dogs as they bolted down the beach without them'. "Not that you're not graceful or I'm trying to avoid dancing lessons, momma."

"Uh huh, sure." They'd do dancing Saturday instead, then. "So… second to last major issue for the year."

"Ho?"

"Christmas shopping we kind of need to get it all done early for… reasons." She could get to know her 'new' person and frankly ask him what the fuck herself in a bit, if only to know what he'd say to her face in return. Eventually. However there were still a few issues overall before she'd take him in fully. "Have you gotten anything for your zia and zio yet?"

"No…" Shamal drew out sheepishly, obviously thinking about something related now she brought the topic up. "Did you get me anything yet?"

"Of course I did, silly." Like she'd shop for a Mist with said Mist. She also had the parts for Cherep's present, had Tatiana's already ordered and likely two or three days away by mail, and picked up Arseniy's bottle of liquor already safely stashed away. "Wait a week, and you'll get yours. But… well, did you get Usov's mom or Larion's mom anything yet? Mingxia and old man Yaozu?"

He looked at her funny.

"The 'usual' things bosses gift workers or employees is money, I believe. So while I do that I need you, who kind of knows these people better than I, to gift the 'small but reasonable' actual item-gift for… a less impersonal touches."

"So… we're going shopping?"

"Before the shops close for Christmas, yes. We can either do it tomorrow, or next week Monday."

Shamal thought about it first, ruffling Marco's ruff as his big friendly dog got to his paws and shook out his fur. Alek slinked to the floor like a puddle of a cloud instead of his brother's friendly shadow behavior, stretching out his long legs with a yawn.

Apparently the dogs thought morning stretches were done, and while they were there were still a couple things to get done still they were right in that most of the physical side was done. Aside the whole 'going for a run thing'.

It'd be nice to run around somewhere she knew, instead of yet another new place to just see what was around. She'd have to go the kid's pace for the first few rounds, or the round, but that wasn't much of an imposition.

"Next Monday." Decided her brat firmly, giving her a grin when she glanced back down to him. "I want the extra time to be sure of what to get everyone. You don't mind gag-gifts, right?"

"Depends on who it's for, and why. So have both in mind before we go." She beckoned him to get a move on out of her bedroom. "Come on, time to chase the dogs up and down the beach."

How much was she supposed to buy into Marco's apparently helpful nature demonstrating how often Shamal kept up with her exercise routine?

She suspected little, because the brat hadn't said anything and technically that wasn't a lie… but she also really didn't mind all that much if he was. Two seconds asking Adrik later tonight, and she'd know for sure.

Although not ideal, one couldn't always maintain a routine. Even her own ballet lessons when she was his age had not been daily thing, there were occasional interruptions and some days/weeks she just didn't attend because she was on the road or had other things to do.

If Shamal decided he didn't need a dancer's flexibility… well, he might just be right. Sonya didn't mind him abstaining, it was really unlikely he'd become a thief like her and not either an assassin or hitman like his male role-models in life, but she'd rather he just admit it and figure something else out than just not do it.

The deception was just… well, fantastic. Implied, without him having to address the situation either head on or obliquely. Very good work, finely thought out and implemented, so she also wouldn't directly talk to him about the situation other than letting him know later how she knew he had tried to deceive her.

She did wonder if he had a favored sports team or something… while he apparently wasn't a fan of dancers there was always famous football players or sports stars to encourage young children into getting adequate exercise.


(Sunday the 20th of December, 1970. A pub, Ipswitch, Suffolk, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.)

Skull very manfully didn't say 'I told you so' to Mauricio, the magician that had lived in his pocket for the whole last year and so very pointedly didn't even glance his way as he eagerly compared notes with his old freak-show fellows about what they had gotten up to in the past year.

Who all, from the magician he brought back to even Lothar who apparent took a hiatus from the carney life for a bit, showed back up like he told the portly Spaniard.

Instead, the stuntman ended up sharing a pint with both the witchdoctor and the snake charmer again, while the bearded lady and the little person bitched and moaned at their own to tolerantly listening magician and Glen the gunslinger. "So we're currently hearing all about Nojan's near-miss with the Barnum and Bailey circus and their shady as fuck contracts, and you heard all about our world-tour… what've you two been up to?"

"You may not be pleased to hear of it, but… ah." Aziz scratched sheepishly at a cheek when Narhum kicked him under their table. "Right. There are some legalities ongoing, I am not suppose to speak of it."

"And I take it you've been helping him?"

"However did you guess?"

Skull grinned at them over his beer, mildly interested if only because the two couldn't speak on the topic. "Anything you can hint at?"

"I am merely attempting to go home." Admitted the soft-spoken snake charmer wryly, tugging at the bill of his worker's cap. "There are a few hurdles in the way…"

"Merely." Echoed the ebony skinned witchdoctor darkly, catching his concerned look and shrugging over his bitter dark beer. "What about you, Cherep? Do you intend to continue on from here as you have, or will you seek respite for a short time yourself?"

That was the clumsiest topic-switch anyone had ever tried on him. Skull didn't mind, but it should at least be said. "Eh… I'm going home for a couple weeks. I've been practically working all year, I miss my family. And I need a new bike, or three. Kind of put my Indian motorcycle through the wringer this year."

"…are you sure it's wise to return to your homeland, Cherep?" Narhum inquired slowly with audible concern in his rich bass voice. "There sounds to be some… unpleasant happenings in Poland from all reports. And such likely means what we do not hear from your homeland could in fact be as bad or worse."

"Yeah, no. I'm not that stupid. I've probably gone back there for the last time, publicly anyways." There were ways to privately visit, running messages for Arseniy all those years ago let him know the best and worst methods to do such at least on a general basis if not exactly how… but just like Viper, any patterns to future returns would be the death of him.

For his perfectly legal day-job, caused by the perfectly legal government in power, depressingly enough.

He was a stuntman, he didn't have a death-wish. He was a professional about his risks.

"No, my little sister's got a place in Italy. She's letting me store things there, I should probably go and clear out all that promotional junk out of her garage and relax for a few days." And maybe mope a day or two that he wouldn't be able to see their foster parents or little Valera until they decided the kid was safe enough traveling, but he knew Lisa knew he'd always miss her.

Arseniy not so much… but the old man was more distantly fond on him due to how fond Sonya and Lisa were of him. Likewise, he appreciated the old vor for his protection and because his sister and foster mother loved him.

The other thing he needed a bit of time to do would be getting himself a trailer truck and at least three motorcycles of the same build painted the same way, which would be easier to do in a capitalist country than in the middle of Moscow. There was only so much leeway lying about the height of his ramps and his overall speed did for him, and now he had the money to spend on expensive shell-games for his own protection.

Actually, most of the funds he got 'awarded' for finishing out the world-tour as the headline act would be put to his show. Either scheduling it or buying the tools he really couldn't borrow anymore, figuring how much hardware he would need on hand to make his own props in the 'field', and… figuring out how to 'negotiate' on something approaching Viper's level.

The extra cash the miserly Mist weaseled out of the deal for just in case clauses, even with the 'negotiation fees' heaped on top, let him plan for more that he belatedly realized he absolutely needed post-haste. Like a more 'reasonable' excuse to have at hand for dodging medical personnel, perfectly undamaged or unscuffed bikes to showcase himself using after a nasty spill and his own property he could refuse visitation in.

He had to pay Viper a massive chunk the next time the Mist came around, but if it amused/entertained his friend to get it then who cared?

Bit of a steep learning curve, but if Skull could just keep on top of it…

"You might see us then. We had to go to the southern end of Italy to get a bit of assistance… just to possibly hire the correct help in the northern bit that Aziz required for his issue." Narhum offered, apparently just to keep the conversation going.

Skull eyed him oddly. "Really? Small world, isn't it?"

That sounded… kind of leading. What didn't help the twosome was Aziz's shoulders hunching under his workman's linen shirt and vest even if the witchdoctor sounded perfectly banal.

"…what did you do?"

"Nothing." Insisted the snake charmer hastily, drowning his sheepish frown behind his pale ale. "Yet. We only went to sound out what help we might find so far."

Okay. That was… kind of suspiciously leading and innocent at the same time. He'd really like to just take them at their words, just… he knew sometimes things just weren't at all so innocent. "Dudes, we don't even know if what I did for Mauricio is going to stick. Let's just have… one major life-threatening issue at a time."

"If things work out, and while there seems to be some obstacles in the way there's a possible way forward, perhaps we might be able to assist." Even if the ebony skinned man had sounded somewhat skeptical of whatever mysterious thing they did for the last year, that… was also suggestive in many ways.

Skull… really hoped he was reading too much into this.


(Tuesday the 22nd of December, 1970. Verde's Home, De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Six fifteen in the morning, Verde's bedroom door opened since the other man likely couldn't find him in the usual places. "Hey, Verde my man. What's-"

Sonya flung his pillow directly into Adrik's rather comically surprised face, groggily scowling at the other thief from her half-sprawl over his bare chest. Unfortunately, the woman then sat up on top of his left thigh. "Fuck. Off."

As she slept in a pair of flimsy shorts and whichever of his button-down shirts she could easily steal… and the stolen garment had come unbuttoned sometime in the night which now hung open right in front of the Lightning's nose, Verde just simply resigned himself to waiting this out.

Her state of dress paired with her position hiding the book in his hands and the other man's position at the doorway, he suspected this did not look at all as innocent as it really was.

"…fucking off." Allowed the other Russian, snatching the pillow before it could fall to the floor and softly lobbing the fabric back to the scientist that actually owned it before mostly turning around to give them 'privacy'. "Maybe, you know… don't avoid my security next time so I know you're here?"

"You didn't fix your security after I broke through them the first time?" She countered sarcastically, having snatched the pillow for him and tossing it dismissively to the bedspread, swinging a mostly bare leg up and over Verde's hips to sit up enough to stretch out her spine and 'dismiss' the other thief by giving her back to him. "So sloppy, Adrik."

"Right. I'm sloppy. I wasn't caught in someone else's bed." Adrik shot behind him as he firmly shut the door again without even a glance back at her state of undress she did not deem worth the effort of correcting.

Verde, having been completely ignored and not greatly bothered by such as the two most influential criminals of his current lifestyle snipped at each other in ill-humor for the other's intrusion into his personal space, returned most of his attention to the slim volume she had supplied him for her insisted 'two more hours' beyond his preferred time to wake.

It would be pointless to insist the situation was not what the other man likely had a suspicion of, for she really was only coming over to sleep in truth. Verde's 'borrowed' book, likely out of her library as he vaguely recognize the volume as one of the texts Hawk purchased for it he checked for accuracy, would likely to be taken as a prop instead of what he was actually doing within the time Sonya preferred to sleep in on certain days when he was used to being up and working already.

"…can I inquire as to why you are returning again? I do not mean to protest your company, but I must admit to some measure of insatiable curiosity as to why you've deemed me an acceptable bed partner."

She smothered her face into the lone pillow Verde purchased to go with his bedroom furniture and linens as she slumped back to the bedspread next to him, remaining silent for long enough he eventually assumed she didn't intend to answer.

"I've been able to get in one- or two-hour naps just about everywhere, since I was about nine or ten." She surprised him with, speaking factually and without inflection to her tone. It was also spoken more to his side than him directly, but due to how quiet it was and their closeness he heard somewhat clearly. "That means… some nights I only get a couple one or two hours of napping in. Even if I'm 'safe', I just don't sleep very well occasionally. Well, Tatiana visited this summer… we didn't have enough beds so we shared. Figured out a short-cut to my sleeping issue about a week in with her company and a bit of thinking about past patterns with a handful of others, if there's someone else I can sleep easier. Might be a leftover thing from when Shamal slept in my bed and Renato was around to guard us, or just something sympathetic triggered with the heat from another human, or whatever. I don't care. I have trouble sleeping deeply enough for rest, Verde. You, and a couple others I refuse to mention because one is an unmitigated useless lout, help."

Interesting. Not just simply because she added in more information than was strictly necessary by social conventions for him to understand her identified issue, the process by which she came to understand what helped, and the method by which she concluded her solution was in fact company. Which was, as he understood her, not actually something she did regularly when questioned but had made a point of offering solely for his benefit.

There were any number of others she might've used for ease of rest, her godson in particular if the child was indeed part of how she deduced the solution to an issue. Instead, she had deemed to him adequate to assist her in her problem without demanding his assistance or placing pressure on him to volunteer himself or his time for her benefit.

Once, when he had been a child, he suffered from curiosity-induced insomnia. Verde had not 'noticed' how tired he was often enough, and ended up studying through the night repeatedly until the very act of readying himself for bed became rather pointless.

His mother, exasperated at his self-inflicted inability to sleep and the failure of the traditional remedies of such he eventually stopped responding to, consulted with some number of professionals and doctors. Eventually, she gave him a weighted blanket.

Which triggered the false but very insistent sensation of being held or given a hug. In short order the weighted fabric had solved Verde's early sleeping problems through something very similar to the solution Sonya had arrived at for her own problem, perhaps the same could be given to her?

If only to assist while he remained in her home and she was out around the world working, he would not object if she brought it to share with him on occasional nights.

Verde… thought… his blanket had been between five and seven pounds of pure fabric. His childhood memories were quite dim, as he did not frequently look back upon them often. However, he could likely puzzle out with whom she had conversed with to arrive at the eventual solution to his own sleeping issues to identify what weight an adult's blanket should be for a similar or the same problem aside 'double or more'.

Regardless, there was more than enough of the Flame-resistant spider silk to create a duvet for a queen-sized mattress. Likely, without a scrap more so there will only be one attempt at the creation of. Furthermore, he was certainly more than creative enough to find an alterative to just 'more fabric' to increase the weight of any one item.

…he was not creative enough to make it look appealing, furthermore he did not in fact know how to sew.

Did Adrik?

Better idea, did Anna?

The young woman was the one to weave the bolt of cloth in question, and likely might have sewing primers or know the skill.

Conveniently, in three days it would be Christmas. Gift-giving would not be out of the question, nor very noticeable, even if the gift was intended for health-related reasons…

Adrik barged right back into Verde's bedroom in enough haste Sonya bolted upright in alarm not aggravation and he fumbled the book he wasn't really reading anymore. "Did you know your sister and your damn foster parents were visiting?"

"…yeah?"

"Well. They are here. They're in the drive."

Sonya blinked slowly, glanced between Adrik and Verde. Then she tilted her head to the side. "And, what? Lisa's got something to do with Vongola's Christmas Ball thing as Fiorella's Home Tutor, Tats is going as Ganauche the Defective's date. What about it, and why the fuck am I not allowed to sleep in today because of it?"

Her fellow Russian stared at her hard. "Did you inform anyone, much less your FOSTER FATHER, you're sleeping with Verde?"

"…well, no. Not yet, anyways…"

"Vor Arseniy. The guy who taught us to be the crooks we are. The man you lived with even after you left Moscow that first time? Who's outside right now?"

"Okay, I asked for a month in exchange for free childcare. It was a trade, not favoritism."

"Bull. Fucking. Shit. Woman." Pausing to hack out some of the fluid in his lungs, since both excessive strain on his respiratory system via exercise and emotional upheaval was not in fact healthy for Adrik, the man waved a dismissive hand to keep Verde from scrambling up to get his medication for him. "If vor Arseniy kills Verde, I'm holding you responsible."

"Um… okay?" Sonya sounded quite honestly confused, which Verde was going to hesitantly take confidence from. If she did not believe her father, foster or not, would object to his presence or her presence in his bed then hopefully this would not be an uncomfortable few days or week. "Can I go back to sleep now? Just… let Lisa know where I am if she wants to know and get Arseniy a bottle of booze. They won't care where I am as long as I'm informed… and they know I know they're here. It's… well, Lisa's rules for staying over."