Author's Note : What part of my antics makes any idiot think passive-aggressive comments help anyone? I will update when I have a chapter, end of story. That's how my writing process happens. Asking for updates or whining that I haven't recently will do nothing but make me spend the next few days on something else. Speaking of, anyone else get suckered into Cookie Clicker?

That's a disgustingly addictive clicker game.

Cornello Grillo is indeed an (barely) active Rain Flame user… sure. So is Lal Mirch. You can't tell a Flame user from a regular non-Flame user by just looking at them, especially if they don't know either. There's a mystical (and stupidly easy) way Italians have figured out to find someone's Flames when they're not in the mood to talk, sure. Sonya doesn't know it, nor did she notice Cornello beyond Lal's temper-flared Flames while in her apartment. Lal's the Arcobaleno candidate for a reason.

Is that enough to keep the Vindice off the thief's case, or even Lal's, about him and his against the Laws job when/if he gets found out?

No. Not sure why anyone thought that might be the case either. We've gone over that subject a lot.

Noah Ward's situation, with accepting a hit for Sonya when she's on two long-term contracts for the island?

Meaning, if he does succeed in killing her, if Fon, Natalina, Reborn, Bjǫrn, or even Shamal don't get him, there'll be a contractual hit placed on him.

Yeah, it's fucked up no matter who lives/dies. Does Mafia Land care?

Nope. Mafia Land's very good when certain, specific things happen. When those specific, certain things happen then the consequences are very selective if uncompromising. Sonya killed Destina, so she got a hit placed on her in revenge. It has nothing to do with her thief-work for the island, doesn't take anything like Flamelight Industrial into account, the situation that it happened in or the thief's worth at all. Those that have to carry out those orders are trying to mitigate the shit-show, but even they can't delay/stop it.

Is it stupidly wasteful and heavy-handed?

Yeah. So?

Mafia Land is run by six syndicates that put in some rules/regulations then left it to generate them a stupid amount of money, who the hell expected their internal bureaucracy to be consistent?

Russian Roulette : Second Chamber

Chapter 61

(Thursday the 14th of October, 1971. Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"Why did you bring me up here?"

"Whatever you're thinking, no." Deadpanned Sonya shortly to her student's suspicious question, packing a new bowl of tobacco to use to feed her addiction while leaning against the railing on this curve of the main mountain road out of her commune. "I'll be dealing with the ongoing police investigation on my household this winter, myself. I have a rather important and pressing question for you to answer, Lal… how much is your revenge worth?"

The Rain jerked backwards, almost losing grip on the pair of binoculars and having to lunge forward again to catch them before they clattered down onto someone's tiled roof down the mountain. Pulling away from the railing on the little mountain road they were halfway up once she had a good grip on her property again, Lal Mirch gave her a flat glare. "You want to explain that a little better?"

"Long ago I decided that if I had to murder someone in the process of any job of mine, I should retire on the spot. I steal, I do not murder, for a paycheck. I will murder in self-defense. I will murder another specifically targeting my various idiots or trying to harm me. I will kill another, but not for any damn price." Obliged the thief, trying to poke an unruly shred of tobacco down only to encounter the small twig that was defying her. By it lodging under her fingernail, annoyingly enough. "How much is your revenge worth it to you, Lal?"

"…I would like a more direct explanation, if you would. Not just a catty question."

"Where is the bottom line for you?" Now her pipe tobacco was set, and the twig discarded, she lit it and stuck the stem between her lips for a good inhale. "This, 'deal with law enforcement suspicions' you're going to watch me do, won't be uncommon to what you'll need to do to get an 'in' with any decent syndicate you want to investigate in any depth. If they're remotely smart, bridge-burning 'favors' and ensuring your hands are as bloody as theirs is the initial price of getting a straight answer out of anyone influential enough to tell you what you might be interested in learning about them. Things that would put you in conflict to another syndicate, to any group you might be tangentially connected to that hate them, to ensure you're left relying on them alone for information or work or what have you, to earn you an even greater rap sheet with the police than you arrived with… all to trap you into relying on them for money or your own life."

Lal's expression went hard and flat, and she glanced to the still lit window in the gathering dusk where the police had set up their semi-permeant local investigation on the de Mort castle staff.

They were out here after sunset to double-check they weren't up to anything objectionable, not that police-established spy posts got up to anything interesting when they weren't provoked to it. Her kids had started their rumormongering around their little village nice and early, meaning the poor idiots had to weather both the natural suspicions their unexplained and unexpected presence in the commune with a healthy dose of extra suspicions on top due to their possible xenophobia.

When Sonya invested a massive amount of money into the local infrastructure in the process of moving in, it armored her a little in the opinions of the locals. Nothing really stable, money being transitory in nature and already long since spent by this point, but the maids collecting a tidy paycheck and their chef personally pursuing the local fair instead of having their food imported from a bigger city extended it a small amount.

Galina's wedding, to a 'proper Catholic' and everything, was what currently armored her household's reputation from the natural suspicions they deserved for mostly being so 'outsider' and 'foreign' to this land. Peter's very obviously impacted health, now he was attending mass with Zinaida and Shamal, gave them more dubiously natured benefits of doubt.

It was very obvious something incredibly nasty happened to both adults, and Father Castiglione knew what and was protecting them from their fellow churchgoers well-intentioned or otherwise curiosity. That one of their 'recognizable' moral authorities was in on it made the unexplained nature less counterproductive… in reputational matters.

According to Usov, the general assumption was that if there was a police investigation then it was maybe dragging on too long for whatever reason the castle earned it. The apartment block that knew for sure there was a police investigation weren't too bothered by the presence, the landlord a little annoyed he wasn't getting compensated. There were a few handfuls that didn't believe anyone in the castle deserved to be investigated, her Beast Mistress' best local friend and mother to one of the maids to a large group of old man Yaozu's new local students.

…and Cesare's favorite shopgirl he liked to gossip with while browsing the wine selection.

"I've done this a couple times, I always never permanently harm the men and women assigned to investigate me or whomever or who are guarding my targets. I don't find the price worth it, it's no fault of their own we're on opposite sides. It's mine." Continued Sonya after a few moments, while she waited on the Rain to decide her own lines in the sand before she was forced to cross them. "I destroy their notes, I remove their suspicions, evade and embarrass them entirely, might remove them from being contentious by non-lethal means… now I'll have Mists to reinforce the 'impossibility' of their tactics working to any gain. I will not kill them for doing their jobs as they know best."

Tying the straps of her military issued binoculars to her belt, made of black woven fabric rather than leather, the former military intelligence officer gave her a flat stare down. "I appreciate the necessity of your question, and that you got me space to think on it without outside influences. Sure. I don't appreciate you asking me that."

"I'd rather you be annoyed with me than realize too late you don't find a life worth so little. That eternal regret can be avoided by just a little fucking forethought now."

"…okay." Accepted the Rain after a few more moments of thought, glancing over a shoulder only once more at the rented apartment pointed out to her. "No. My revenge isn't worth a human life."

"Not worth the life of a civilian, not worth the life of a criminal piece of shit. A rapist, a wanton murder? Not worth what, Lal?" It was entirely too easy to make broad declarations like that, discounting the nitty-gritty situations that could happen. An unfortunately timed police raid, a revenge hit placed on you for 'consorting' with the 'wrong' syndicates, some poor sap that ended up in the wrong place at just the right time. "I don't want a snappy answer, I want you to think about it long and hard. Decide what isn't worth it, decide what you would begrudgingly do if need be, decide at what point you should back off to reassess or just give up. Refine it as you go when you need to, or new upsets happen. Without that hard limit, what keeps you from becoming just as much of a fuck as the assholes that screwed you over?"

Lal regarded her with disgruntled appreciation, an expression she earned more from influential criminals more than her arguable contemporaries. And Reborn, back when they didn't have to hide that they knew one another. "That's going to take more than a couple minutes."

"Then take the time and nail it down." She had about a week or so before it'd become a pressing matter to answer, but that wasn't really anything of Sonya's business with the woman. It was Lal's choice, in the end. Busying herself with her pipe while a car came down the switchback road they were on, the thief changed the subject once they were arguably alone again. "Otherwise, I know Skull invited you along to our scuba diving lessons next week… do you need a set of gear rented for you to dive with?"

"…yes. I returned the equipment I learned on when I left COMSUBIN." Still obviously disgruntled, Lal took three steps away from the railing to face Sonya on the dirt strip masquerading as a path next to the pavement. "I don't mean to impose or anything, but I am working on my dive mastery."

The thief blinked slowly.

"You need forty logged dives and fifty hours underwater to qualify to start becoming a divemaster."

"Can't you get that in a few weeks?"

The Rain barked a somewhat harsh laugh, then shrugged the previous conversation off and started making her way back down the road. "Fuck, I wish. No, you'll end up dying from nitrogen necrosis if you don't space out your dives. Your instructor will go over it and the dive tables with you, so you won't end up killing yourself underwater."

"Is that common?"

"Not that common, and why we dive with either another or in a group. But you'll get maybe four or five dives in a weekend, really pressing it with maybe an hour of surface time between maybe an hour or two long dives."

"…well shit then."

Lal glanced backwards in an obvious nonverbal question, and the thief sighed in resignation as she started to follow the other woman back home. "That won't be enough to distract Skull for very long. And since we have to leave the first weekend of next month open… he's going to be restless if we can't think of something else for him to go totally overboard in experiencing or doing."

"How bad can that be?"

"…depends on what you consider bad." Her brother got touchy when he felt restless.

Not in the way she did, when her temper started flaring up despite herself, as in physically. He wanted approximately seventy percent more hugs when he was at complete loose ends, needed twice the amount of attention or he'd sulk, wanted to wander off to see what there was to see rather than stay in place, and could be about two hundred percent more annoying by accident.

With the personalities they were 'sharing' a seventh of a residence with, that would not be a great mix. Especially if they were restricted to a narrow circumference around a physical building again.

…maybe he was doing a show before the end of the month and her efforts wouldn't be needed. There was another three weeks until their next enforced date with Checkerface, that was a lot of time to not do anything but plan new stunts. Given show business in a nutshell, he was used to long wait times while traveling… but that was still doing something. Traveling to another location to hold another show.

Equally as possible, since it had been a couple years since they last traveled long distances together, he had learned a bit more restraint when he was bored.

She wouldn't be holding her breath, but it was possible.

Sonya mentally tailed up how much time they had left before their next 'Arcobaleno Meeting', ticking off next week and the week after as time already marked out for her siblings. "You're coming with me and Tatiana to France, the week after. Just to remind you."

"…what?"

"It's the third time I've seen you in this outfit." Pointed out the thief practically. "This week. If you salvaged anything from that last 'meeting', you haven't worn it yet."

Lal shot her a disgruntled look as she turned down the next length of switchback mountain road. "Most of my shit is packed."

"That's a nice excuse, but you knew you were spending a week with us. If you had it, you would've packedit. Also, my housekeeper has done your laundry, so…"

"I don't need charity."

"I'm safeguarding my reputation, because how you dress for 'important occasions' will reflect on me and all that stupid shit." Corrected Sonya indifferently around another puff on her pipe. "I'm getting paid a shit-ton to do this for you, Lal. Let's put Luce's money to some damn use."

Pausing on the pavement, since they had to cross the road to get back on the walking path, the Rain tilted her head to the side to ponder it while she closed the distance between them. "While I have absolutely no objections to spending Luce's money instead, it was paid to you. Not me."

"Doesn't mean I can't spend it how I wish."

Lal waggled a finger in her face. "This isn't how capitalism works. Once it's paid to you, it's your money."

"I'm fully aware of this, yes… but it's still from Luce. And I can do whatever the hell I want to do with the money Luce paid me to ensure you have the best possible advantage in all situations. Which includes your appearance. Are you seriously objecting to spending Luce's money to hit up a spa and several beaches for a week in France?"

The other woman seriously considered it, one hand on the railing for the stairs down to the actual paved sidewalks in the commune proper. "I'm not very girly, Sonya. Clothes shopping is something I've been putting off and it needs to be addressed and all that, sure. If you want to spend it on me as my guide, I can't exactly turn that down right now. Going to a spa? Never been, not sure I want to either."

She shrugged that off. "Never been, and I'm not very 'typically' girly either. That's what I have Skull for."

Lal spluttered and choked on her next bark of laughter, highly amused at the claim.

If Sonya made a handful of phone calls once they were back… maybe it could be more than just the three of them. Galina would never object to spending time with Tatiana, who hadn't exactly been fond of Lal Mirch when she stayed over on Mafia Land. Mrs. Silvery-White was someone her student should at least meet if not compare notes with, as a native example of a Rain if not any other spy-related reasons.

If she was springing for Nilda Superbi, there was no reason to not issue an invitation to Fiorella.

Then, her mother might like another opportunity to speak frankly to her student again and spend time with her and Tatiana. More of a long-shot than Lady Vongola, but possible.

Maybe. She should also see about renting a condo rather than a hotel reservation this time around.

(Monday the 18th of October, 1971. South Giovanni Bosco Elementary School, Sestri Levante, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Sonya regarded her godson pointedly as she took a flimsy looking chair outside the designated classroom door to wait their turn. "You have until your teacher's finished with the current meeting to confess whatever the hell you might want to confess to, kotenok."

Shamal fearlessly tucked his hands behind his head, smirking up into her face. "That would be only if I wanted to confess anything, mamma."

If that was what he wanted to go with, she settled in for the very boring wait.

The private school her various young dependents were sent to was pretty damn well organized, she had to give them that at least. Two days to get through every parent-teacher conference for all students, and apparently Sonya and her godson were some of the last groups. She spotted Tyr leading his cowardly Cloud apprentice off when they arrived for their own, and as interested as she might be in reminding the damn man she wasn't pissed with him… Shamal easily won out in importance.

Ruslana and Afanasii had already been and gone with Larion much earlier in the day, almost directly after classes were finished, old man Yaozu had his for Mingxia on Sunday. As she could drive herself if need be, Hawk took the Rainy parents back to Moneglia and she had the keys for the other estate car she technically didn't own.

Skull 'owned' it, since she didn't hold property or any property deeds. She could, she just didn't want to because Arseniy had taught them 'proper' thieves didn't own any property.

…speaking of which, her brother had been out and about rather more than she expected.

Oh he made it to the introduction to scuba diving lessons earlier this afternoon and bragged to Lal about wearing black leather for his job made him immune to the weird feeling of being covered from ankle to wrist in black neoprene dive suits in a Mediterranean-winter climate. However thin they were, the damn things were still black rubber suits and absorbed so much heat. The still more military than criminal Rain had pushed him into the surf for being a braggart, Shamal had a good long laugh at his uncle, the dogs got absolutely soaked paddling around the beach, and they got through the equipment familiarity and 'how to put it all on' lessons before dinner.

Then, after a hearty meal and Usov took Lal back to the Arcobaleno manse for whatever the hell the Rain wanted to do with the rest of her evening, Skull wandered off with a purpose. A late-night purpose.

It wasn't to organize a show, but his Rain-man was occupying the phone lines rather single-handedly anyway. While she wouldn't have raised an eyebrow if it was for the rental of some venue so Skull could do what he did for a living, it very pointedly wasn't the topic this time around. According to Maximillian, all calls were significantly more local.

His bikes, all four of them, were still in various stages of being stripped and rebuilt for whatever time since he got home. What props and show equipment he owned outright were left where they were, strewn about the garage as they were stress tested again and repaired where needed. His stage makeup was still all packed up in his traveling kit, his stupid black-leather suit was still hung up in his closet, and Skull was in plain clothes every time he left for the train station.

She suspected he was junkyard diving for Luce's old car, as Reborn asked him to do. It'd make some sense, if he was… little weird he wasn't putting up a fuss about doing anything for a criminal they didn't 'really' know all that well.

While yes, she was suspicious as all hell of the Sky woman and her motives that didn't mean she cared what she knew or didn't. It couldn't be all that important or interesting, since Luce was as fucked as the rest of them and nothing would really change that.

Shamal draped himself over her knees, smiling a particularly mischievous smile up at her. "Mamma, you need to follow up on your accusations."

"I'm not stupid, brat." She countered, tugging a hank of his hair fondly and equally amused at his little wrinkled nose for her doing it somewhere public when he had a 'reputation' at stake. "I know too well to ask, especially if you're angling for it."

"That's not fair! I enable you, you need to enable me too!" Whined her brat in good humor, rolling his ribs over her thighs as he splayed out all over her because he was apparently that bored to abandon any pretense that he wasn't a total mamma's boy.

Petting his kinked hair since he didn't pull away or bat at her hand for doing it, Sonya very pointedly didn't agree.

Brat had more than enough going for him. He didn't remotely need her help for shit anymore.

Shamal didn't pull himself upright, or even roll off her lap, when one of his little classmates exited the classroom with her parents. He instead gave a limp-wristed wave, comfortably stretched out over her thighs on his back.

Very noticeably, it was a young female classmate who smiled bashfully at her godson lounging around on her that he was semi-sort of posing for.

Sonya smiled politely at the parents and the girl, since that seemed to be what she should do. "Good evening."

"Olimpia, can you introduce us to your classmate?" Requested the mother of the little girl, who was presumably named Olimpia.

The much younger blonde nodded quickly, glancing up at her parents. "This is Shamal Nikishin, mum. And… um…? His sister?"

"His godmother, dear." Corrected the thief gently, which strangely made the young girl blush heavily. Rather confused for what reason she'd do so since it clearly wasn't anything based in shame for being wrong, but aware some reactions weren't controllable and the reason for them one or a mix of multiple causes, she instead focused on the parents that obviously just finished their meeting about their daughter's education. "I am Sonya Bazanova, a pleasure."

A jiggle of a knee got her brat off her and back on his own feet, since she suspected they would have to move for this mandatory meeting thing.

The other mother stuck out a hand to shake once Sonya was fully upright, looking significantly more interested than she had been three seconds ago. "Oh, I've been meaning to get in touch with you! We thanked your brother for including dear Olimpia in your boy's birthday celebration, but I couldn't find you."

"I was watching the dogs at the edge of the ranch, to keep them from getting under the hoof of the horses." Slowly announced the thief as her hand was clutched in lieu of a shake, logging several inconsistencies in the other woman that made her very cautious of whatever the hell this was supposed to be. "But it's Shamal you should thank, he gave up any other presents from my siblings and I in order to treat his whole class to his current favorite thing to do."

Her efforts were treated to a very indulgent smirk, which she couldn't figure out the reason for. "I'm sure. Well then, thank you Mister Nikishin."

"…you're welcome?" Offered her brat dubiously from her side, looking and sounding very damn confused so at least it wasn't only her.

"We should get out of the way, Milena. They're probably up next."

The other mother's smile got a bit strained for a bare second. "Well, alright. Do you mind if I call and set up a playdate for our children, Mrs. Bazanova?"

…uh, what?

Sonya blinked twice, utterly confused. "Shamal can bring whatever friends home he wants to, so long as their parents are aware of where their children are. We have more than enough room. But I think that should be up to the kids themselves if they want to, mainly."

Also, the times when she'd be home and someone might randomly call for any reason would be pretty sketchily thin. She didn't feel like explaining that right now, or even hinting at it.

The slightly older than just middle-aged man next to the woman rolled his eyes, grabbing his presumed wife by the elbow and guiding them as a unit pointedly on their way. "Good luck, Mrs. Bazanova. Perhaps we'll speak later, come along Olimpia."

"Yes papa." The girl screeched to a halt momentarily, only to wave at Shamal before hurrying along in her parents' wake.

Shamal gave her another absent wave, more focused on her. "I have no idea what the heck that was, mamma."

"Don't look at me, the fuck if I know." The woman did have a motive for something and until they knew what that was, they'd just have to be cautious of them. Weird…

"Mrs. Bazanova, please. This is a school." Suddenly announced the presumed teacher of Shamal's, from the room where the door was left open and the educator probably heard everything. "Would you and young Mr. Nikishin come in here and close the door? I've a few questions about the languages he knows already."

Mildly more curious over the man than the small family that preceded them, especially with a leading comment like that, the thief padded into the mostly empty classroom for their turn.

Instead of being seated at his desk, a massive wooden affair at the front of the room, the greying Italian civilian had appropriated the much smaller simple desks intended for his students. The chairs were student-appropriate size, meaning his knees were providing him extra space to balance what appeared to be a grade book upon.

He also had a folder he was pulling some 'examples' from, which Sonya could easily read since she knew all the languages Shamal knew and then some.

Someone had been doing his homework in multiple languages.

"So on a scale of one to ten, how grounded are you?"

"…oh no, I'm totally grounded." Shamal informed her brightly and only a little wry as he sat less awkwardly in the chairs across from his teacher. "But see, you didn't ask how grounded I was going to be earlier. Just if I had anything to confess."

One Noè Montemarano smiled the expression of a man who had heard countless excuses and illogical explanations for most if not all his life, genuinely and mildly amused at said brat's antics but uncompromising in getting him in trouble for it. "We have a French teacher who can teach German on the side, and I could get some of these translated for the purpose of grading them… but I really must insist young Mr. Nikishin complete his homework in a language I can actually read, Mrs. Bazanova."

"I will translate the rest of them," Sonya promised the poor man unaware he was teaching a mischievous reality-bending brat and expecting it to not be bewildering and slightly terrifying, "I am very sorry about this."

"He did his homework as asked, just in various not-optimal ways on some occasions." Allowed the older man very dryly, tapping his pen against the desktop. "I have little to no objections to antics, merely how difficult it is for it me to keep up with when he goes outside the language proficiencies I have access to."

Yeah, that was any Mist in a nutshell. Always one plus whatever was available just to annoy others.

"You're not mad he's doing it in language you can't read?"

"I always wanted to learn another language aside French, and I'm getting proficient in reading and writing German at least." Mr. Motemarano confessed easily, flipping his gradebook open to a specific if recent section. "If it were more than once every other week, no matter the volume of work assigned to be done at home, I would have a different opinion. As it is, I have no objection to young Mr. Nikishin refining his grasp of any language if he feels the need."

In other words, it was a small annoyance and probably done because her brat liked or wanted to poke at his teacher.

Shamal was still grounded for the next week or two. Depending on what else his teacher had he wanted to talk about.

Especially as some of these were in Greek, meaning she was going to have some difficulty translating them herself.

The colossal brat.

"So doing it in German is okay, right?" Shamal brightly asked of them both, to compound everything she was feeling right now.

(ooo000ooo)

(Monday the 18th of October, 1971 continued. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"…so…?"

"You have three attempts to convince me this was a good idea at all, much less that you shouldn't be grounded to your room for it for the foreseeable future." Putting the truck into park, his godmother turned the engine off and picked up the file of homework he did in Greek or Russian. "Or that you didn't waste the time of a decently good-natured asset for no reason."

"Okay, if we can put that aside for one minute." Shamal attempted a confident smirk at her raised eyebrow, but she didn't even look away from paging through his old homework to even appreciate it. "I did this so I can argue my way out of trouble when I clearly did something wrong."

The file was lightly tapped against the top of his head, but she pulled too much back so he barely felt it. On the other hand, she was watching his face again.

"And yes, I clearly did wrong. Only really occasionally, so it wasn't disruptive or anything."

Sighing heavily, Sonya pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment. "Shamal, your education is a permanent record type deal that is excessively hard to fake or change later. And only in the paperwork, if people remember different things that might get corrected on us. We can substitute less reliable things like homeschooling or smudging grades around, sure… and while yes you can screw with memories I don't think you're going to be able to corral the information that you can read and write Greek under wraps again."

"…why would I want to?"

"Oh, gee kid. I wonder how being able to speak or read a language no one knows you can, could be helpful later in life. Especially when it's the official language of a neighboring country." Slumping back against the driver's seat, she thumbed through the handful of pages in the folder again. "If you knew your teacher couldn't read Greek or Cyrillic, why did you do this?"

"To get myself into trouble, I just said that mamma."

He got bopped with the folder again. "Shamal, we can do this without involving outside parties. We can debate topics or anything ourselves and you can learn how to effectively structure your arguments-"

"But why would I be personally invested in the topic if there's nothing at risk?" He got whacked on top of his head again, probably for interrupting like she didn't appreciate, now she had a general idea how to not make it too light to be felt Shamal unconsciously winced under the papers. Not that it hurt, it just was he got things flapped in his face and he flinched because of it. "If I didn't specifically do something I knew you wouldn't appreciate, why would you argue against me honestly?"

This time she slapped herself in the face with the folder, and he felt more offended by that than being whacked himself.

"Okay. Let's break this down into parts." She drawled a little sarcastically, partially muffled by the papers in her face. "Part one, you did this knowing it wasn't something you should do. Part two, you did this to augment your education in a way you felt was lacking… instead of asking me or anyone else for what else you could do. Part three, you drew attention to yourself in a way that only interfered or obstructed someone else who had more critical needs to take care of. Part four, you wasted the time of a man who has fifteen other students to teach and imposed on his good grace further than you needed to when it wasn't a major issue."

…when you put it like that, then yeah. It didn't sound good of him to have done this. "Only a few times, less than once a month!"

"The number of pages in my hand says otherwise, and they're dated."

"…okay, twice a month. And Mr. Motemarano laughed, he was amused by it."

"Because knowing multiple languages is impressive, and as he said if you want to do it to refine your grasp on them then as an educator then of course he wouldn't object… much. What you failed to do was supply a translated effort he could grade to go with your little show of linguistic mastery, for the two-thirds he had no way to translate."

Shamal huffed. "That's more work."

He got bopped again, the action paired with a strained frown he didn't like on his godmother's features.

"Shamal, no. There was no reason to act out like this. We don't need to involve complete innocents in our mischief, and you know this just as I do. We could've set up our own 'minor but infringing' incidents had you said anything to me or one of the other criminal adults you know here. Putting a book off-limits or telling you not to go into an empty room. A lot of arguing yourself out of trouble is either not getting caught doing it or using technicalities specific to the situation. You didn't need to do this to gain that experience you want."

Shamal scrambled to his knees, planting his hands on her thigh to make his case here even more pointed. "But those wouldn't give the right tone to anything! There wouldn't be any stress or anger or alarm to manage in the process of making a point, or any reason to take it seriously!"

"Other than putting actual, tangible rewards and punishments attached to whatever." She countered equally as pointedly, extending her leg under the dashboard to unbalance him into her lap just to poke him in the belly. "Things you really, really want with only one possible chance to get it or suffer some consequence of going for it. That would provide some motivation, wouldn't it?"

"Not enough of it," he had to squirm a bit, but he ended up with the steering wheel digging into his back while sitting in her lap to make his point better, "and you wouldn't treat it as seriously as this. Which while yes, is an abuse of Mr. Motemarano's patience and willingness to let me be myself, is still educational. And if he knew what and for what, he might even agree to the premise."

Quick as a snake, she tugged on his nose using only the tips of her fingers. It made him overbalance into her mostly out of sheer surprise, and he got a strong hug that pressed him into her. "Very creative, brat… but. You failed to consider Lisa taught me to argue my points too. 'For experience' is an old trump-card favorite of hers, and I know it just as well as you do. And if you were doing this 'for your education'… you wouldn't have failed to turn in a translated version."

"Then why would I be getting myself in trouble if I did that?" He countered quickly, mostly to her neck instead of her face which made any accompanying expressions useless to help carry his points.

Which was probably intentional, knowing the build of logic and bullshit nonna taught him to argue with his godfather.

"But see, that's the point mamma. You know how I structure my arguments, I need to learn my own way to structure an argument so I can bullshit more effectively!"

"So you're going to be doing this more and more in the future? Thanks for the warning, brat. But… we can do this ourselves. On things that won't give away your real level of competence to those that don't need to know."

He huffed into her neck, not quite seeing a way through her points and mildly annoyed he gave that bit of his near-future plans away so easily. "I'm still grounded, aren't I?"

"You're so fucking grounded." Sonya confirmed pleasantly, giving him another squeeze before letting him loose from her arms. "I'll give you points for creativity, but it wasn't really necessary. I'll take your complaints about the speed of your more nefarious education under advisement, but your butt will be in your damn room until I say otherwise to make up all the time you've already wasted."

"What about scuba diving lessons? Walking Marco? I can't just abandon them on a whim, mamma. One's educational and the other is a responsibility I can't just not do."

"I'll walk Marco with Alek for a week, and I guess you can still come to the lessons with Skull and I after school… unless you want to press the boundaries with this." He got poked in the back of the head again to go with a more pointed look. "That includes your fencing lessons with the Superbi and your track and field shit, sure… equally unless you try escaping or 'creatively interpreting' being grounded to your room."

"…well shit."

He got bopped upside the back of his head by her hand this time, still drawing entirely too much back meant he just got his hair going every which way rather than it hurting. Then Sonya popped open the driver's side door to let them out of the truck finally. "You are not twelve, no swearing."

"I thought it was a good idea."

She laughed at him. Rude. It was honestly more a set of huffed chuckles than an outright laugh, but he was going to take it that way, so there.

"Shamal… kotenok, you're eight. You're supposed to be making friends to drag home with you to get into mischief under pure social pressure, trying to get around me to try alcohol or tobacco for the first time, maybe picking up hobbies you can do for the rest of your life. Not specifically trying to get yourself into trouble so you can learn how to more effectively bullshit your way out of it."

"That's not what you did when you were eight, is it?" Shamal accused petulantly, earning himself a strangely wry smirk before his godmother swung them both out of the truck and put him on his own feet. "What?"

"You don't want to be like me, kid. I barely know what to do when I'm not working." She put the truck keys back into the box for the estate cars, padding back to him and ruffling his hair on her way out of the garage. "No, kotenok, I was planning my first solo-job at eight and barely able to notice my own Flames. You did better than me, finding yours at three. And again, you have until fourteen or sixteen to even figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life. Take that as an accomplishment and try to give this 'child' thing more credit in the life experience department. Renato and I put so much effort into giving you one so you could enjoy it."

"I am enjoying it. Just in my own way." He defended himself pointedly. "Just because it's not something another child would do doesn't mean it's not what I would do."

"That is a very damn good point… you're still grounded." She countered equally as pointedly without turning around. "If this is what you want to do, brat, then so be it… but working with me would help you so much more than doing it alone. I can also point out things you might not be taking into account when planning these things, and help you pull them off."

…all in all, Shamal gave the whole event a three out of five. He got what he wanted, mostly. Didn't get everything, and she seemed to have not appreciated the whole event as much as he wanted her to.

Besides, he might be grounded to his room for what seemed to be only a week or so… but that didn't mean his room had to retain the same appearance every day.

(Tuesday the 19th of October, 1971. Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"-and that's why Shamal's grounded."

Skull lifted a limp hand once he pulled it out of the wet neoprene sleeve most of him was still encased in, pointing absently in his sister's face as he awkwardly flapped his other hand instead of pulling out his other arm from his wetsuit. "At that age, weren't you in the process of robbing a jewelry store with Tats-?"

Russian mom slapped a hand somewhat woodenly over the bottom of his face, glaring a fit to murder. "Shut up, Skull."

Lal snickered as she finished peeling off the wetsuit rented for her and stepped out of it to dump on their collective gear being heaped on the parking lot. "Seems a bit like karma there, Sonya."

"Shut up, Lal." Groused the thief, more playful than really annoyed that she was giving her opinion on how she was raising her rug rat. Not particularly in any hurry to get out of her own wetsuit, and paused in the process of neatening the gear her son had used before being banished back to his room, the other woman made an expansive throwing away gesture. "Who even does that? Specifically and with full awareness get themselves in trouble, expressly to gain experience in getting out of it? Not even accidentally by being smarter than he can handle, with full deliberation and with specific intent for that end-goal?"

"Your brat?" Was the muffled suggestion from the stuntman, earning himself an ugly glare from Russian mom for giving it even if she still had a hand over his mouth. "You? Tats did it too, if I'm recalling right."

They were shockingly mundane and occasionally wholesome, for being a family that had a thief for a mom and an occasionally murderous one at that. Kid got in trouble for messing around at school, uncle was the fun-loving 'freeloader' who had a legit job but a lot of free time, supposedly aunty was a nurse, mom sort of bragged about how much worse she had it raising said brat than a presumed 'normalcy'.

On the whole, though… Sonya had a damn good point in her corner. Raising a kid that didn't have to obey the laws of reality couldn't be anywhere near the same as raising a perfectly normal brat. Different issues, but possibly just as much as any regular kid.

Very different issues, with some if occasional crossover problems due to their ambivalence to legality. Maybe just addressed slightly differently?

"It'll be pretty damn interesting to see you navigate his 'I'm a moody teenager' years here shortly." Suggested the Rain pointedly, amused at the disgruntled huff of a reaction from her 'Tutor'. "More interesting to me than the advent of Luce's brat, anyway."

That earned her a distinctly different reaction than before, a more puzzled kind of frown. "While I don't like Luce either, there's no reason to attach that to her kid before said kid can make something of themselves."

"Other than the fact Luce is going to raise them as she probably was, making for the exact same behavioral patterns as the mom suffers from repeat in said kid?"

"If that was a totally uniformed issue with one's offspring, there wouldn't be so many children telling their parents to stuff it and going their own way." Sonya informed her, but took her hand from his face to start poking rudely into her brother's chest instead.

"Ah… we're adopted, brat-zilla." Skull smugly countered whatever point she was trying to make, easily catching her hand and tugging on his still completely suited sister for a seemingly bone-crushing hug. "I don't count, and hey. Neither mom or dad said anything against us running away to join a traveling Russian circus."

Lal slapped a hand over her face, feeling a faintly familiar exasperated incredulousness at them both rise up yet again. "Putting what you ran away from home for aside… aren't you… supposed to not say anything to your parents when you do that?"

"You haven't met our mother." Russian mom defended herself with sourly, peeling her face off her brother's drying skin with a pointed frown. "You do not lie to Lisa about where you're going or what you're doing. Ever."

"…yeah, she's kind of got a point there. Lisa's not a woman that you can easily lie to anyway." Cheerfully foiling his sister's progress by renewing his stranglehold on the rest of her, the stuntman shot her a grin. "You coming to dinner again, Lal?"

"I should pass and finish unpacking sometime this week."

Sonya's men had put in the basic furniture for them, quality if not expensive pieces and enough to mostly fill each room with that was honestly better than most of her own damn shit. There were exactly as many beds as they needed for the next bullshit weekend, a mostly stocked kitchen in need of a serious grocery run for the perishables, some linens to go with exactly eight mattresses… and while she highly appreciated the help filling up that manse it was a little big for one lone woman.

The place was seriously empty and very damn bland, making for a depressingly lonely experience living there. She seriously appreciated Sonya's attempts to keep her nearby or in contact with them, otherwise she would have driven herself up every damn wall in the manse by now.

Shoving against Skull and making him unbalance far enough to fall onto his ass in the sand not entirely contained by a concrete lip to the sidewalk, Sonya pointedly turned her back on her brother to completely focus on her. "Have you figured out where you want to start?"

"Heh, hell no. Way too early, way too many options, and not enough verified information to even begin." Besides which, she hadn't gotten all the dossiers her Tutor had for criminal syndicates near COMSUBIN holdings, or even a general overview of what the hell even was in Croatia or Yugoslavia as a whole Soviet State that might've identified her as a Rain before she knew herself. "Even if I did, the first order of business would be some serious recon work before approaching anything."

"Do you speak Croatian?" Effortlessly divined Russian mom, which wasn't very surprising when the woman was the one getting her specific 'criminal' dossiers in the first place for reviewing and modifying what she intended to do to something significantly less suicidal.

"Also something I might want to look into." Lal admitted to very wryly. "I'll pick up some 'teach yourself' language primers, would you be interested in helping me learn it?"

Rather predictably pleased by the request, the thief smirked. "I think I would, being your Tutor and all."

"…aren't they a part of Yugoslavia? Might want to add Russian onto that list, Lal." Skull suggested as he picked himself up out of the sand. "It's still a Slavic language, and might just help a small bit getting around the country."

"I can substitute for most things," temporized Russian mom simply with a shrug, "and if she runs into anyone that only speaks Russian she might be on the entirely wrong side of the country. But yes, I should probably teach her that too."

"Well, that's my next year entirely filled up." Groused the Rain a little unfairly. It wasn't their fault she started on entirely the wrong end of her situation, but the time wasted already was always going to grate. Maybe not in a few years, but for now… "You were saying, Sonya?"

"…you might want to think of gaining a reputation locally, if not for anything specific than just competence when tasked with shit while you track down your fellows." Jarringly more serious now, the thief regarded her with a pensive frown. "Yes, you might want to also investigate whatever group later… but getting a foot in the door now with what's nearby will only help you when you finally decide there's something you want in on. Obviously don't trust them a damn bit, they're always going to be more self-centered than you'd probably like to start with, on and on shit you probably already know, but. Any reputation will help you more later than popping up without one suddenly once you know where to go."

"And will probably pay my living expenses in the meantime."

"Eh… to start with probably not. You have to get a foot in the door someway, without a sponsor you're stuck doing it for free or for a pittance." Skull corrected somewhat apologetically, giving a strained smirk to his mildly confused sister. "I did work as a shestyorka for our dad, I've seen the underside of shit non-syndicate assholes are given before they 'prove' themselves… at least in Moscow-centric circles. I don't believe it'll be too different from what you'll have to manage yourself, Lal. And none of us were ever really 'paid' much for the crap we did."

…she occasionally forgot Skull had different but relevant experience with criminal factions and was as much a source of information as his little sister.

Which… might actually be more useful in the short term than a former 'inner' member of a syndicate that went freelance for herself. It was an end-goal for herself and whomever she found, to be a solo operation that didn't have to obey 'criminal' views on how the world should work. Right now, on the other hand, she very much was a little minnow in a massive cut-throat shark tank swimming in the wake of a much larger predator.

"I'd like to hear about it, if you don't mind sharing." She posed a little more delicately than even Sonya seemed to expect out of her. It really did seem Skull had issues with something about it and while she wanted the insider opinion, she didn't want it that badly.

"I thought you just ran messages for Arseniy."

Skull pointed first to his sister. "Yes," then to her, "won't be one-for-one exactly. Different culture, different values, different needs. I toured the whole underbelly and how other syndicates in our slice of Moscow did things for Arseniy while doing that, sis. While yeah, ninety percent of it was exactly as I thought it'd be… there's a ten percent that helped me understand more clearly why some people resort to criminal actions than find a legal way. Especially with a government barely able to cover all the needs of its people."

"I'd still like to hear it, but only if you want to. I'll supply the beer." Lal offered fairly, earning herself a very crooked grin from the elder brother and merely a glance from the younger sister. "We can get hammered while complaining bitterly over these assholes trying to dictate our lives, probably while we're stuck with said assholes over a weekend soon."

"Sold."

"Oi." Sonya very badly interjected, faking an offense that very clearly wasn't felt. "Assholes? Might want to check in the mirror before you go slinging mud in people's faces, Lal."

"Ditto." She shot back simply, grabbing her pack of a change of clothes out of the truck bed and leaving them to take the gear home with them to clean. "I never said you weren't invited."

She'd check it come morning when Anna fetched her from the Arcobaleno Manse, but Skull was no slouch in maintaining gear and equipment and it was always flawless even if he wasn't familiar with using any of it. Rented or not, they were well maintained enough that his precautions of cleaning alone would keep them in good shape for the next day's diving lesson easily.

…but she'd still check it. There was no reason to get sloppy, after all.

(Thursday the 21st of October, 1971. Mafia Land.)

For whatever record, Fon was attempting to find a decent teapot to be stashed at the 'Arcobaleno Manse' so he wouldn't be left to drink only water during their next enforced stayover. Given the women he had been forced into close quarters with the last round, he had no doubt there would be one… and the loose-leaf sourced to make it with. He merely wished for his own to monopolize without depriving one of the other tea drinkers.

It would be a mostly new experience, owning his own teapot. The choices were numerous, from ostentatious gilt reliefs to subdued patterns. Multiple colors, styles, with their own strainers or intended to be used with another accessory or not at all. Ceramic, metal, glass, and stone.

He had most of the supplies he wished to conceal somewhere in Italy already assembled and ready. All that was left besides additions he wished for than needed, was returning to the country to find proper places they would go undisturbed and entrusting those to hold on to some parts. And his Mafia Land ID card, before attempting to defy the 'mandatory' part of the shared situation again.

Minding his own business, in the bazaar of Mafia Land's recycled housewares of now dead agents and the decoy goods used to disguise the real prizes sent here, merely browsing for a decent candidate worth it to haggle for he wished to own for himself.

It was over in half a blink, which he only caught out the corner of his eye. The reaction was typical for heavily armed criminals in a tightly packed area, and the brawl kicked off with the gleeful abandon typical of Mafia Land nightlife.

He had no objection to joining flash-fire brawls, but he did when the instigator was not even real.

The shotgun that started it all was fired at a crisply clear image of some individual attempting to grab at the wares of a particularly sharp-eyed hawker. It was all he saw before the riot of human movement concealed what else happened from view, but afterwards when he could see the spot again there was no body or blood to show for it apparent.

Hence, Fon's issue.

He had studied thieves and their methods, no self-respecting thief would go for the merchant not yet distracted by a customer rather than await a distraction. There was always a distraction, a slight of hand, advantage taken in other events. Even Sonya herself distracted and evaded attention when she aimed to steal something.

While he had no problems with joining a brawl that started naturally, he did when it fed into someone else's aims. When the inciting incident was faked.

Narrowing red eyes, the assassin studied the market lit by strung up electric lights suspiciously as he absently dodged around being drawn in by errant blows going off target.

His suspicions were eventually proved when the invasion alarms went off, startling those on the outside merely watching to abandon any pretenses of being uninvolved.

Fon paused only momentarily as well, mildly surprised as the brawl attempted and failed to come to a screeching halt. Momentum of insult and counter blow carried them on through the alarms, the market brawl would have to come to a natural halt now instead of being interrupted by a more serious concern.

It was a first, in his experience. Mafia Land invasions usually happened in broad daylight, and without distractions to take away attention from the attempt. Meaning this was no throw-away waste of troublesome men on a far-fetched possibility, this was a concentrated and well-planned effort.

A decent attempt to be sure, but he was not fooled.

Abandoning his attempt to purchase anything, the assassin left the bazaar to find more worthy opponents instead.

Mafia Land at night was a hazardous place, but no more than how some docksides could be towards invasive criminal factions. Badly lit outside social blocks as the market he just left or the still open restaurants and bars, with more than enough nooks and crannies for ambushers to hide among. While the invasion alarms emptied most, not all and he still needed to evade the attempts to entice him to his death.

The bazaar brawl would attract all those looking for the invaders first, and likely waste the brunt of the response of those living here. Unfortunately for the very well-planned opponents, Fon and all those that could catch on to the ruse knew where they were headed.

The engine rooms that kept the island moving, to seize up the artificial mass and leave them stranded dead in the water, or the control center in the artificial volcano.

He had never been there in person before… and he wondered how true it was. Everyone knew the volcano held the bureaucratic center of all island activities. Was it a feint?

Regardless, it was a better direction to search in than where he just left.

He was not the only one to hold similar suspicions, some criminals were boiling up out of the underground as they left their personal residences. Either sighting in on the burning mountain or suspiciously searching for what else was possibly going wrong.

Curiously, there were no other spots of conflict starting up. The market brawl was loud, as all concentrated conflicts tended to be with shouted insults and gunshots going off… but the rest of the island was silent aside the sirens' wailing.

The only thing that saved Viper from a face full of Storm Flames was that enveloping cloak they always wore that was clearly identifiable even in the dark. The Mist lunged half out of a brick wall to seize him and pull him though, throwing him into the significantly more deadly struggle going on in a shop front room.

"GET RID OF THEM!" Barked the highly offended Mist sharply, getting immediately engaged with someone attempting to murder Sonya's Lackey.

To be fair, Bjǫrn was holding his own. One knife was already stuck in the bicep of the Mist opposing him, his Storm Flames etching streaks of reality through the Constructions thrown at him and the staircase he was defending. Though the other matching hunting knife was thrown into the back of the skull of a man attacking the possible night clerk instead of being kept in hand.

The issue was the underground access point was clogged with fresh opponents trying to scramble into the narrow shopfront to replace the fallen.

Fon launched himself that way, darting under the recovered clerk's baseball bat swinging into someone's face to clear the backlog.

Viper took over for Bjǫrn to contain the other Mist, and the Lackey leapt over the railing of the only staircase to support his employee's struggles instead of contest or waste time arguing. Forcing himself into the access point, Fon did as requested and started building a baffle out of bodies to block the way.

The strict confines restricted not only him but his attackers, forcing him to rely on his upper body rather than kicks. While he could Disintegrate them… that would keep the way open for yet more to try contesting against him about continuing to pour into the store.

It took twelve men, breaking just enough to keep them down yet not willing to continue fighting, to plug the issue with those they were unwilling to hack through for their aims.

A shotgun going off distracted him from watching for any weakness in his obstruction of bodies. Picking up his presumed guardsman, the Lackey helped him to a seat and pressed the weapon into the disgruntled man's hands. "I appreciate your assistance, Viper. I do. What the hell do you want?"

"I have stakes in this shop's success." Snapped the miserly Mist viciously, clearing the floor of obstructions if not various amounts of body fluids already spilled with an equally angry motion of a hand. "I have no doubts your patron will indeed ensure her revenge is felt, sure. Whatever, mou. Why did she not put a larger guard on a commodity as rare as this?"

"Nothing will be gained aside from the raw materials. The information to create and identify them is protected elsewhere." Bjǫrn countered with audible resignation. "They will lose everything they ever owned for attempting this. And I will be tasked with figuring out how to sell all of it."

Having seen Sonya perform 'a thief's revenge' before, Fon winced.

They still had no idea how to get rid of the kitchen sinks she also stole on her spree, as they were quite useless in value as second-hand fixtures. It had not mattered what value the items she stole held, it was who owned it that dictated if the thief stole it or not.

Some pieces had indeed been unbelievably valuable, it just was not all of it.

"That only works after an attempt, mou."

"This is more than just an attempt on us." Continued the Lackey without addressing that, rotating around the room to check on his blood splattered clerk clutching a sporting club next. "They got into the underground."

"You're a secondary objective." The Mist announced confidently, turning on a booted heel to sweep out of the narrow shopfront. "Another attempt will be more concentrated from here on out."

"I will adjust our security efforts." He gave in gracefully enough. "Master Fong, I apologize…"

"Ah, I believe I owed Sonya some effort. It is no problem." Not quite what he intended to pay the thief back, but at least something to address the imbalance. "If you do not mind, I believe I will clear your section of the underground to see where I am needed the most."

"Of course not, Master Fong." Allowed the Lackey immediately, whipping out a handkerchief for his bewildered employee to clean himself up with. "I will ensure I pass on your assistance was of great benefit to us when I report in. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Ah, I indeed will." While the heavy bulkhead door that normally bolted closed during invasion attempts was broken, it was only in the latch itself. Fon pulled the door closed behind him, confident in his ability to clear a narrow hallway until the situation was resolved.