Author's Note : If you're going to leave me complaints, rather than anything actually useful, it'd behoove you to ensure what you're complaining about is what I actually wrote.
For instance, to be utterly clear as a bell, during the Triad Tournament arc Sonya was employed to be a stand-in hostage by the Wo Hop To Triads. Zhong was a client, he paid to have the right to dictate where and in what state Sonya was for a couple weeks. Therefore yes, he had full right to tell her what to do at that time. Bitching to me that she needs to stop letting others tell her what to do… I mean, yeah. That is literally the point of being employed in any field.
I can't fix that. It's just how the world works. If that's triggering you… you need therapy, not fanfiction.
Russian Roulette : Second Chamber
Chapter 63
(Friday the 29th of October, 1971. Le Rhul guest suite, Marseille, French Republic.)
"How are you affording this?"
Sonya sipped her coffee, in the rare mood for a milky hot drink this morning since it was on offer. "I'm not sure I understand your concern."
"No, don't try that bullshit with me." Lal shot back shortly over her own steaming hot mug of pitch-black liquid, leaning against the tiny kitchen counter next to the machine that made the drink for them. "I spent a small fortune of your money so far, just myself getting that stupid manse outfitted for habitation. This… place, on top of that? And I'm guessing while everyone's doing their own travel expenses… you got the hotel fees."
"About how much do you think it takes to hire someone to basically poke the United States in the eyeball because some asshole feels slighted?" Countered the thief responsible for that situation dryly, shifting how she held her mug as Alek slinked up to join her on the couch for a good post-walk napping. "I am paid very well for what I do, Lal. The more specific of a job, the more famous my target, the more powerful the original owner? The more someone pays for me to steal something."
"Even that aside, Sonya. That's… what? A probably hefty bonus, sure. Maybe everything I've already spent for you?"
"You still have a 'legal' sense of value, Lal. You'll lose that eventually. Probably around the time you're forced to pay an inflated to hell and back price for a decent gun."
The other woman contemplated it, pulling one leg up to balance an elbow on as she relaxed from her own morning exercise a little earlier than the others liked to wake up for. "Is it cheaper to go with civilian or military surplus outfits?"
"Depends. On if it's costing you a fortune to 'wash' your cash to be usable in civilian outfits without getting it tracked back to your less than legal jobs, if you don't have a vendor willing and able to give you a discount." She gestured absently to the whole room, to include both the money she gave Lal to decorate and outfit a whole second large-as-fuck building on top of the cost of their 'French vacation'. "If we had done this in Mafia Land… yeah. I'd be about bankrupt right now. But we're not there, the prices we're paying are all civilian and not inflated, it's not that bad of an issue."
Lal then regarded her a little dubiously over her gently steaming mug. "And somehow the prices in a hoity-toity French town, and reservations in a private resort hotel, don't scratch the prices there?"
"Not remotely."
"I can't just go military surplus for my 'extra' needs then, can I?"
"…in theory." Sonya amended slowly, not using guns or firearms herself making it hard for her to recall just where all the bullets and weapons sold in Mafia Land came from. If she ever heard where in the first place, she wasn't exactly interested in that subject. "You might be able to substitute for some things, but in general… I doubt it. Those kinds of things are regulated pretty heavily, whatever you don't already have will be somewhat tricky to acquire down the line."
Reborn would know better than her… maybe Tatiana could answer the question too. A more combative criminal and a less combative bystander who used military surplus to defend herself, between them they'd have the range of what one might want to prepare the cash for buying.
…except, Reborn had Leon. He didn't have to buy a gun. Maybe she'd ask that hitman on her ass…
"Okay. But no, seriously."
"You're getting better at not letting me distract you or railroad the topic off your points. You're still a little too elastic, and it won't always be possible to return a conversation to already touched subjects."
"Thanks." Lal grudgingly accepted, sipping gingerly from her mug then extending one finger to extend and point at her from where she was holding it. "But seriously?"
"What my brat of a sister isn't telling you, is that Vongola agreed to pick up half the hotel bill since Lady Vongola's spending some vacation time with us. For conforming for security needs and all that." Tatiana revealed breezily on her way by, stopping only momentarily to scratch the ears of a wary Alek. Dressed in her own running outfit, the second to last woman in the group to wake up and pass them for whatever early morning aims they might have, the Sun threw the Rain a smirk. "That's how she's fine with picking up the bill for this ritzy place, she's sharing."
She regarded the redhead firmly on her way out the door skeptically, then turned back to the younger sibling once they and the dog were alone again. "So… next step, I'm guessing, is figuring out when I'm being fed a line of bullshit?"
"That's more a 'in the moment' judgement call than just getting information out of someone in the first place." Sonya allowed for wryly, peeling one hand from the toasty hot side of her mug to pet Alek's sleek forehead fur as he got even more comfortable curled up next to her hip. "It's less a limitation than just getting enough to make that judgement, and if you get enough you can sort for inconsistencies later if you need to."
"So?"
"You get a solid six out of ten." She decided with a shrug, absently giving her dog ear scritches now. "You're still giving away too many details, which while yes it helps support your arguments… but it also informs another exactly how far you deem yourself involved in whatever's going on or gives away detail you might later want unknown. But, you'll get there regardless. If it wasn't specifically asked of you to avoid just that, it's a decent attempt overall."
Lal made an impatient, batting hand gesture at her entire form sitting crossed legged on the couch with her dog curled up and resting his jaw on her thigh. "How the hell am I supposed to be 'objective' about how much money you're basically throwing into a pit?"
"It's not your money, why be concerned about it?"
"Did you seriously blow a minor fortune on a place just to numb me to excessive, squandering, amounts of wealth?"
"It's a nice side benefit, but not specifically."
The Rain heaved an aggravated sigh into her mug.
…it was probably best the other woman wouldn't learn she just really didn't remotely care how much money it was, at least not now. With Bjǫrn and her place of work, she could always get more money. What she was running out of and valued a hell of a lot more was time.
Curiously, it seemed as if gratuitous amounts of money could be traded for saving time here or there. Imagine that.
"Anything else I should know about the next few days?"
"Not particularly." At the disbelieving eyebrow raise, the thief merely shrugged before draining the rest of her now lukewarm coffee milk and didn't mention her mother's intentions on hijacking their pending shopping trip for her own aims. "Lisa is Fiorella's Home Tutor, and we decided the two of you didn't need us telling on you to the other behind your backs. You're going to be allowed to make your own determination between the two of you. What I can tell you is about Mrs. Silvery-White, who's not a remotely new criminal fledgling. If you want."
Lal tapped her nails against the ceramic in her hands. "Does your sister hate me or something?"
"Tatiana lives on Mafia Land. She's… very much not remotely trusting you'll make it right now."
"Trying to bullshit a bullshitter? Those are two very correct statements, sure. They have nothing to do with one another."
"No." Sonya agreed to politely, soothing back Alek's ruff where she had been idly scratching him before discarding her own mug to the coffee table. "No they don't. Your next task, Lal, talk to Mrs. Silvery-White about what Italian Rains are expected to do and be. Without giving away you don't fucking know."
(ooo000ooo)
(Friday the 29th of October, 1971 continued. Mafia Land.)
Noah Ward had less than a second to react, the heavy hunting knife pressing into his Adam's apple made any kind of reaction but freezing in place entirely ill-advised.
"Mister Ward… I wonder if you realize just what level of shit you've gotten yourself into."
He didn't need the warning crackle of green electricity on the younger man's exposed hand and wrist to tell him which of the variety of characters he recently pissed off this one was, the heavy knife was enough of a tipoff. "Kind of expected you a hell of a lot sooner, Lackey."
"Yes, well… I'm a remarkably busy man these days." Drawled the 'Lightning-Storm' Lackey to the only 'Cloud' that visited Mafia Land, more than a little dryly to go with the edge of his knife pressing harder against his neck. Then, shockingly, he took his blade away and rounded the little bar table to seat himself across from Ward. "Additionally, you're not really all that important in the grand scheme of things I look after."
…ow. Right in his pride.
With a sharp tug on both cuffs, the elegantly suited blond gave him a professionally pleasant little smirk as he folded his arms on the bar table. "Now we're introduced and all that jazz… I simply must inquire again, Mister Ward, if you do fully realize the situation we are in with your ill-advised actions."
Smoothing a hand over his neck, checking for blood but irritatingly enough there wasn't even a smear of it so he could complain about the Lackey's antics to anyone important enough to make a difference in it, the hitman huffed sarcastically and picked up his glass of scotch again. "You mean the fact I accepted a hit on your nightmare of a boss?"
"Yes, actually."
"I got the basics by now." He eyed the other man suspiciously as he swallowed a hefty amount left in his glass. "I take it you're here to ensure I know just how fucked I am if I succeed? The moment you won't be in danger for killing me?"
"While normally I am all for redundancies, in this case I believe that might be… very pointless." Bjǫrn informed him with a hand raising from the table as if to flick away his question with a sharp twist of a wrist. "No, Mister Ward. I am here for another aim."
"Do I get to know what that aim is?" It wasn't always obvious when dealing with another's agents, then there was figuring out if he was here on his own behalf or on his patron's… or a third party's.
"Keeping you alive."
Noah eyed the younger man suspiciously, a little thrown and not entirely sure he heard that right.
"No, seriously." Insisted the Lackey quietly into the damn near silent pub room.
"How the fuck do you expect me to believe that, mate?"
"I've had twenty-nine inquiries, to date, if your murder would be considered a 'favor' to 'Nightshade'." He announced flatly, to his very deadly point without fuss or evasion or even a modicum of pity for him. "The fact you are on a Mafia Land contract for that aim is the only other reason why you live at this very second. The other being that my Dama would be displeased if you died on her before she has deemed herself done with you, and as such I have turned down such offers on her behalf."
He swallowed again with some difficulty, his whole mouth suddenly going dry as a desert on him and something tasting faintly of terror making his whole throat seize up. If that was right… but it couldn't be.
Right?
Please let the guy be lying. His luck wasn't that shitty, right?
"Only two of said twenty-nine offers comes from friends of my Dama," continued the Lackey tartly while drumming the fingers of his left hand on the tabletop, "one actually comes directly from Saint Julian's."
Yeah, he was waiting for him to try denying it. Even if he were lying, Noah knew full well the woman had her own friends that obviously wouldn't appreciate his entire existence at all much less his job in trying to kill her. While it was still entirely possible he was lying about Bazanova being fucking Nightshade, if he was it wouldn't make all that much difference in his overall situation. "Okay. I get it."
The other man raised a truly skeptical eyebrow in his face.
Even if he could ignore how his suddenly queasy stomach wanted to eject his lunch all over the polished wooden surface between them at the mere possibility he was telling the truth, Noah still couldn't help but duck his head slightly as if that would keep his head attached to the rest of him. "How are you going to keep me alive?"
The pub his target's Lackey had tracked him down to wasn't empty by any means. Aside them both at a table in the middle of the room and the bartender behind the bar, there was a scattering of other crooks in between aims either getting a head start on drinking or watching the games showing on the three muted color televisions around. Given he got greeted by a fucking knife to the throat, their conversation had been covertly watched by at least half of the other handful of early afternoon pub goers out of curiosity if not interest.
Three-quarters, if his luck remained as far into the privy as it had been since accepting the thrice-damned contract.
Of course the woman had to go off and make herself into an internationally wanted thief just months after confronting him, like he wasn't fucked enough to begin with. With how things were going for him on this 'job', he wouldn't be surprised if just getting himself killed doing this shit wouldn't be enough to survive this. There'd probably be more than enough left over on the revenge hit he'd earn for doing his bloody job to ensure no one he ever talked to survived either.
"You're not lying, right?" Noah eyed the younger man suspiciously, feeling depressingly certain he wasn't but it still had to at least be asked.
Bjǫrn was entirely unimpressed with the question, as expected. He also didn't bother going through any arguments to convince him otherwise, which either meant it was true and he'd find out himself when he checked into it or it wasn't and he was just using this to strongarm him into whatever regardless.
The young Viking-looking Scandinavian shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose for a long second, then heaved a silent if heavy sigh and pointedly didn't address that. "I usually concern myself with the Thieves' Guild contracts, but I have taken the liberty to look into hitmen related rules for your guildhall. As far as I am aware, you cannot back out of the contract even now the details have changed it beyond what you can realistically accomplish."
"No shit."
The Lackey shot him a look, one that changed his blue eyes to an unholy burning red for a split second.
"I tried that already." He confessed weakly. "If she's really Nightshade, I could try again but I don't think the answer will change."
"…possibly not." Allowed the other man slowly, still phenomenally not happy but resigned to helping Noah since he had an insolent mouth. Very professional, this one. He quite appreciated that right now. "There are no requirements on the timeframe of the hit placed on my Dama's head, I do believe your arrangement with her about a single attempt per year can stand."
"You read the contract?"
"It is an ongoing contract, already accepted." Bjǫrn pointed out dryly, sliding the pointer finger of his right hand around the cuff circling his left wrist to pop loose the button for some reason. "Unaccepted contracts are more difficult to review when you are not aiming to accept one."
Quick as lightning, he shot out his left hand across the table to clamp down on his wrist of the hand clutching his mostly forgotten drink and he had the unenviable sensation of what it might be like to stick his finger into an electrical socket. Given something hard and fast moving but small impacted then the back of his head in the next split-second, a burning hot something that slipped into the collar of his shirt, Noah decided remaining still and keeping his mouth shut would benefit him more right now.
"Mister… Reborn. I should take this moment to inform you Miss Bazanova has decided she wishes to deal with her own hitman, personally." The Lackey announced, quickly but calmly as if he weren't loaning out some spiritual-based defensive ability to keep him alive against gunshots to the back of the head.
Fucking damn it, Reborn was newer to the guild than him. What the hell did he do that the bloody Italian decided to pop his head open for?
"Oh, I know." Drawled the fedora wearing guy darkly. The other hitman was significantly better at it than the Lackey but then again, he was also significantly more ill-humored than the younger guy. "Just a… friendly warning and all that. There's quite a lineup of individuals that would just love to skin your little pity-project alive for if he even manages to get lucky."
"She's been shot in the chest, twice, then ripped the man's head off before wandering off to do other things than report herself to the hospital." Bjǫrn very strongly informed the both of them, not blinking or looking away from the other hitman at Noah's disbelieving look. "It is unlikely that Mister Ward 'getting lucky' will do more than merely irritate her."
Reborn's flat black eyes widened slightly, then the Mafioso rocked back on his heels momentarily before appropriating a chair intended for a different table to join them. Uninvited. "Ho? I didn't hear that."
He didn't call the guy a liar. Which probably meant he was that fucked.
"Shockingly," deadpanned the Lackey both pointedly and with a measure of sheer disapproval in his tone that the other guy totally ignored, "that little tidbit is not a story anyone seems to like sharing when discussing her. The assassin Master Fong and the hitwoman Miss Natalina both know the incident I speak of, you can confirm it with either of them."
Instead of addressing that or continuing the conversation he was having with the Lackey, the Italian turned on him. That grin could probably cause ulcers itself, and the slightly older than him 'Sun' Flame user sneered somehow sarcastically. "I now work with the woman, Ward. Curious happening and all that, not very interesting… however. You make me have to deal with a substandard Cloud, I will draw and quarter you across Main Street. I'll ensure you survive just long enough to have a good feel for the process, wouldn't do to be sloppy…"
The 'like you' came across just fine, in case anyone might've been wondering.
"Are you quite done?" Inquired the younger guy with some impressive steel balls, sounding unimpressed for all he looked just patiently bored with waiting out the interruption.
Key point of contention here, Bjǫrn still had a grip on Noah's wrist and that hair-raising sense of sticking a finger into an electrical socket had yet to fade.
Not that he was complaining about the faintly painful prickling sensation skimming across every square bit of skin. Just pointing it out.
There wasn't much else he could do and stay alive right now.
Reborn studied the Lackey intently under the brim of his hat for five awfully long, drawn out seconds. "Are you certain you don't just want to let me murder the idiota? It wouldn't take more than five seconds to take the man out back and remove him from being a pain in the ass, skinning him alive wouldn't necessarily be a death sentence."
"I will pass on your regard to my Dama, but she is interested in Mister Ward and his… situation, for her own reasons."
"No sneak previews?" Inquired the hitman, almost fucking politely. That ulcer-inspiring grin turning wickedly sharp at the edges to show just a little of how utterly committed the Mafioso was to cause another hitman grievous bodily harm. "Just a little bit?"
"What you and Mister Ward here do on your own time is your business."
"…mate, please."
"Don't ever be alone with him." Advised the younger guy, almost faintly sarcastically. "As a matter of fact, Mister Ward, you may wish to consider attaching yourself to me. I seem to require a little more muscle for an aim both she and I are involved with, I originally approached you to secure that."
He just got himself into a massive ocean's worth of hot water not doing the proper investigation on a possible job, which was probably the point of this confrontation happening now. Caught between a murderous hitman of his own and another long-term survivor of Mafia Land left him with little other options right now but to take any possibly helpful offer with both hands. "Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Then it seems as if your services aren't required, Master Reborn." Announced the younger man peacefully, that hot grip on his wrist not letting up even as he said it. "Was there anything else I could perhaps assist you with at this time?"
"…won't that be considered a conflict of interest?"
"Yes, however I can easily navigate Mister Ward through that minefield with the appropriate bribes at the right points to not be 'removed'. I may be her representative, but I am my own individual asset at the same time."
Reborn cocked an eyebrow at him, but slowly nodded once. "I see. I'll leave this situation in your capable hands then, Lackey. I will know the moment he steps one toe out of line, and then I'll deal with the situation myself. We're a little bit… busy to entertain some half-wit hitman's delusions of grandeur."
"As you say, Master Reborn." Bjǫrn accepted on everyone else's behalf with a singular nod. "Anything else you would like me to pass on to her for you?"
The other hitman paused after slinking out of the appropriated chair, that sickening grin dropping for what could've been a neutral expression had he not seen that bloodthirsty grin of his and how little the rest of his features changed to accommodate it. "I'll be seeing her next week, so no."
Even after Reborn left, possibly just Noah's sight because like fuck he was going to do anything but sit here facing forward until the man loaning him his Dying Will Flames ability for protection thought he was safe, he did not let him go. "…while his interference was not particularly invited or wanted, I take it you now have a general estimation of just how deep this shit pit of yours can go?"
He eyed the other guy, caught somewhere between a quiet kind of despair and something he could probably label hysteria. "So… roomie! You got a closet I can live in? For the rest of my miserable existence?"
"You've lived this long in whatever accommodations you have." Cruelly denied the Scandinavian flatly, letting his wrist go and leaning back to fix the lay of his suit jacket after having his arm extended for a very nerve-wracking conversation. "You may remain there."
"You said you were here to keep me alive!"
"I am here to put a reasonable amount of effort forth to keep you alive, as my Dama probably wishes." He shot back without missing a beat. "That does not mean I wish for you to invade my personal residence. To keep opportunistic idiots that might mistake my patron as a woman that appreciates having her own dirty work done for her without consultation away from you, I am only prepared to extend an offer of assistance in return for some on your own behalf."
"…does that mean she might?"
"She informed Master Fong that trading around a hit contract until no one is stupid enough to take it would take too long." Bjǫrn informed him without a scrap of pity or concern. "And that she believed her own solution to the mess you are in is adequate. That does not mean your murder is out of the question for her."
…oh. Great.
Just… just peachy.
Noah did sign up to murder her first, he couldn't even say that was particularly bitchy of her to think. "So I'm basically fucked."
The guy who originally ambushed him today looked entirely unimpressed with his comment. "I shall endeavor to 'un-fuck' you, the best I am able to, as the situation is both decidedly unfair and ill-thought out on both ends… and I see a way to make use of it. Up to a point, mind you. Dama is more important to me than you are."
"I… look, I appreciate it. Really." He spread his hands, one empty and one clutching a glass, apart helplessly. "Even if you're taking advantage and cramming me into a hole of your own making."
"Employment as another storefront guard is not 'cramming you into a hole'." Bjǫrn pointed out with audible affront in his tone. "You will be paid, you will have the security of a contract as all other shift workers of Mafia Land benefit from, and your situation will not be held against you while you are working for me. Since, I am relatively certain, your acceptance of a hit contract you cannot accomplish is in fact preventing you from working as a hitman."
Noah bit his tongue hard, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to make himself bleed. "I wasn't allowed to do my research on your offer before we got ambushed, sorry."
Giving him a decidedly flat look for that, the Lackey heaved a sour sigh. "While you cannot take multiple contracts on your very first contract as a temporary worker for island services, you can insist on it upon a renegotiation. My research indicates you are a very recent arrival, yes? When your employment contract with the Hitman's Guildhall expires, I will be able to do something to return you to your preferred profession. You must merely survive that long."
"…my contract expires in two more years."
"Then survive two more years, and I shall renegotiate for you." Claimed the guy, getting up to leave him alone in a pub.
He was no idiot, and hastily scrambled to his feet and for enough euros to toss at the barkeep to prevent the guy from thinking he was attempting to dodge his bill. "So… boss. Where are we going now?"
"I do not require a bodyguard."
Yeah, no kidding. Noah did, this guy could make himself bulletproof on demand. "I feel it is in my best interests to ensure you have one anyway."
"There is irony in this situation I do not appreciate." Bjǫrn informed him flatly, rebuttoning his shirt cuff as he glared at him. "I will not bar where you may go but if I say to stay outside of a room, I will not hesitate to murder you myself if you fail to heed that."
(Sunday the 31st of October, 1971. Le Rhul guest suite, Marseille, French Republic.)
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Or if you do, ensure it's something I would do."
"…eww." Commented Sonya disgustedly from the couch.
Tatiana rolled her eyes in sheer exasperation that only her sister could inspire, seizing the man she'd be 'doing' in a few hours and hauling him out of the hotel suit. "I swear to whatever she holds dear, sometimes Nya's an utter brat."
"Bye, brat!" Ganache called back over a shoulder as he let his lady do said hauling around, marginally distracted by the well-dressed nurse's ass in her slinky gold cocktail dress. "Bye, ladies!"
"Be careful! And have fun, you two!" Fiorella called after them a little belatedly, but she was the one to insist on taking an actual bath after rolling around the beach for their final day of French beach vacation. It wasn't like she could clearly see what was going on in the main room occupying the bathroom on that side of the suite. "Galina, can you be a dear…?"
"The sunburn lotion?" Inquired the Lightning politely, fishing it out of the basket of things they ended up dragging to whatever strip of sand they were visiting per day and earning herself a thankful if a little wry smile.
She knew the woman would end up burnt out of all of them. She might've also specifically chosen to tidy away their extra equipment from the last beach visit of their vacation expressly to have it on hand for her.
So sue her, she liked being the efficient one.
"Please, I might've gotten a little too much sun." Agreed the Lady of Vongola sheepishly, gesturing to where the strap of her swimsuit had been and the stark difference between her strips of pale skin and the reddening around it clearly showing above her towel. "Oh… I should've asked Tatiana to look at it before she and Ganache left."
"Shockingly, Sun Flames aren't actually all that good at healing burns." Galina informed the Italian as she handed over the tube of medicated cream, and by consequence informed whomever might be eavesdropping on that limitation of Sun Flame healing. "Or frost-damage. Slices, not so much bruises, and breaks mainly."
Fiorella thought about that, smoothing a nice thick handful of the burn cream down her left arm before working it around her fried skin. "Is it because of cell damage? Making it harder for a Sun to Activate regeneration?"
"Exactly. Any damage to cellular structure, and it'd behoove you to simply cut off the damaged part to let a Sun regrow it as best they can. Of course," she couldn't help but add with a smirk, "Flame users tend to be a little… resistant to being burned in the first place."
"The sun will still kick your ass if you're not careful." Sonya called her out shortly, not even doing her the service of lifting her nose out of the light novella she shamelessly stole from Nilda Superbi's purse. "Don't get over reliant on that, Galina."
"Indeed." Lisa announced herself with pleasantly, still having snuck up on Galina entirely without her knowledge. "How bad is it, Fiorella dear? You might… oh my."
Lady Vongola rolled her eyes at that polite understatement. "A few days of not having to chase my sons around, and I might've misjudged a few things luxuriating in all the laziness I could indulge in."
"Just a few. Mirch? Do you have an oversized shirt we might make use of?"
"Uh… yeah. Hold up." With still dripping short blue hair and a hastily thrown on outfit, the Rain in question approached Galina standing respectfully outside the Lady Vongola's hotel room with a somewhat ratty thin sweater in hand. "Here. It's not actually mine, so I'd like it back eventually…"
"Just for the night." Lisa soothed, taking the offered garment from her to pass along. "Just to help keep the medication on Fiorella's arms where it needs to be. Thank you for the loan, Mirch."
"…yeah, sure." Passing them to pad over to her own Mafia Home Tutor, Galina followed as Lisa stayed behind to apply the cream to Fiorella's back where she wouldn't be able to reach, the first Italian to arrive this weekend regarded the quietly reading blonde with playful suspicion. "So, you didn't warn me your mother would be along this weekend."
"You're the idiot that thought putting it off would avail you anything." Sonya shot back absently, not bothering to look up from the stolen novel. "How did that work out for you?"
"Your mother is a nightmare. She used the whole shopping trip to show Fiorella the best ways to hide a verifiable armory on you in eveningwear. Using me as a model. I was less armed to the teeth in full fucking uniform."
"I don't use any of it," revealed the master thief quietly, still not looking away from whatever she had her nose buried in, "neither does my sister. Galina might. It's a personal choice and setting yourself on fire that you're immune to tends to be a better holdout weapon in the end."
"I used to." She answered for herself since she was mentioned. "Stopped once I could electrocute people with a finger. Mirch, you might want to inform Tatiana that you don't intend to break Omertà and get both her siblings in a shit-ton of trouble."
"…that wasn't obvious by now?" Sarcastically inquired the Rain, dropping heavily to the other corner of the couch from her own Tutor.
"Suns. They're a little obsessive. Comes with some targeted blindness once they make up their minds." Pinching her thumb and forefinger together to show a sliver of space between them, Galina hitched her left shoulder up. "She won't admit she's worried about her siblings being involved with you, so there was no way for you to realize what's behind her attitude yourself. Just saying."
Instead of being pointedly told to go get herself fucked, Lal Mirch eyed her somewhat queerly but not negatively. "I appreciate the heads up, Galina. I'll talk to her about it before we all split tomorrow morning."
So, not unwilling to work with them but still moral enough of a woman to not appreciate the necessity of her condemnation. Not really all that surprising, in the end. She was raised differently, like Lisa's own Mafia Home student.
Sonya barely glanced up when her mother and Lady Fiorella also joined them in the main room of the suite, frowning slightly. "Where the hell is Mrs. Silvery-White? I thought she got back first."
The Italian mother of three huffed in dry amusement, uncomfortably rolling her shoulders under the borrowed cloth protecting her fried skin and plucking at her shoulders to give her slight injury more air. "With how much hair Nilda has? She'll be another ten or so minutes just combing through that mess, and maybe another five either braiding it or blowing it dry for the night."
…the other Italian Rain only had about a meter more hair than her. Galina didn't need to blow dry hers, though the curl to her hair did make it soak in a lot more water than everyone but Lady Vongola's.
"What are we having for dinner, ladies?" Lisa inquires of them all, already sorting through the various offers from hotel room service to the fliers of the more local restaurants nearby.
"I picked yesterday." Galina demurred politely, waltzing over to the armchair to seat herself and wait for either dinner plans or what lesson either one of the Tutors might feel like imparting.
It was all a review for her, but nothing said reviews were a waste of time.
Oh, she ran a business now. It was all respectable and feminine, having her own makeup line for Dying Will Flame enabled women to give them a tiny edge if possible.
Mineral sapphire impregnated blush for Rains, malachite impregnated nail polish for Lightnings… she really needed to expand to other Flame types but just that much was proving to have a respectable client base in Italy. Mingxia was a dear to test some combinations for her, and Nilda Superbi might just agree to help expand her 'test group' as well as introducing her to other European Flame able women to see what they might like. Small but growing…
With Tatiana off on a date-night with her boyfriend, she should probably corner the silver haired Rain about enabling her just a little.
Sonya rarely if ever wore makeup, and the cheater used weaponized jewelry instead. Her student wasn't makeup shy either, but also rarely used it and passed the offer out of hand for the crime of 'rarely needing it'.
…that was a thought. Some decoy makeup supplies intended to be used as a weapon or a small aid instead of worn.
She apparently also needed to schedule a bit of time with Verde to see about that idea, once she was home.
"How about something heavily greasy and fried?" Fiorella posed into the silence as both Lal Mirch and Sonya failed to suggest anything they might like for dinner. "Something entirely unhealthy?"
"Bar food?" Clarified the only Rain in the room right now, sounding thoughtful. "Beer sounds really good right now."
"A couple beers." Agreed the closest thing to criminal royalty there was in Italy. "Are there any calzones in that binder of menus, Lisa?"
"We can get that from a vendor down the street a little." Sonya answered instead, either reaching a natural place to stop in her book or deciding there finally was something more important than finishing it. "If you'd like to go with me, Lal, we can pick up both the calzones and the beer rather quickly. Probably before Mrs. Silvery-White's done with her hair."
"Get a couple extra." Fiorella advised, settling in firmly to enjoy the slight sea breeze coming in through the open windows now night had fallen. Going to the point of lifting her wet hair off her neck to feel it better as she fanned her borrowed garment. "What we don't want to eat we can give to my guards. Might want to pick them up something not beer to drink instead."
"Speaking as someone that once pulled those kinds of guard shifts, you're a lovely woman to think of them too."
She smiled wryly into the middle distance, pulling up bare feet to settle into the chair she selected to occupy a little more firmly. "I sometimes wish I wasn't as used to considering the needs of my own personal guards as I am, but given the alternative… it's just easier and keeps possible situations down taking care of their other needs myself."
"Amen." Lal agreed with, then she blinked and shot each of the Russians a strange look as they kept silent.
"I make use of that discrepancy." Sonya pointed out blandly on her own behalf. "If I had less pure intentions on Fiorella's jewelry box, I'd be put out by her consideration."
Galina sniggered into the palm of her hand as Fiorella dropped her forehead into hers, while Lisa put the binder of menus the hotel provided them away without a word on her own behalf. The older woman in fact saw the pair out, putting in a request to see about something for dessert if they were also going to be drinking their final day away from their collective responsibilities.
Well accustomed to her habits, she might not have lived with Lisa but she was trained by her just as much as either Tatiana or Sonya, the Lightning merely waited.
"…Galina, what do you make of Miss Lal Mirch?"
"No longer dangerous to merely be next to." She allowed for simply, the woman's own student shooting them a politely interested look.
If that wasn't covering something both highly suspicious and intent, Galina was a frog.
"Lisa?" Fiorella inquired sweetly, without anything else tainting her tone. "Can you blame her?"
"No." Deemed the mother of the adult children in question that could possibly be in danger, both simply and unapologetically. "That matters little, Fiorella. If one of your own son's little friends could have them all disappeared without warning, would you appreciate the continued friendship at their risk?"
Lady Vongola studied her Tutor's expression without replying.
"Less my daughters, I have faith my girls will land on their feet regardless. Eventually." Pursing her lips for a couple seconds, staring hard at the door said daughters had left through, Lisa just shook her head before turning back to them. "My son, on the other hand. Well, the elder one. Cherep's too nice for my own good."
"Isn't the phrase supposed to go 'for his own good'?"
"Cherep would never consider that a problem."
Fiorella carefully fanned the light sweater covering her shoulders and back again, either in hopes of getting the remnants of the cream to finish drying or to give herself a momentary relief from the worn cloth rubbing against her burned skin. "If the answer was Miss Mirch being a threat to them, then what would you do?"
"…worry more. It is their lives, as much as I love my children I cannot make their decisions for them. I would just like to know how much I have to worry." Lisa sighted in on Nilda returning from her room, brushing out perfectly dry long silver hair instead of just dealing with dripping ends like everyone else but Tatiana. "Mrs. Superbi, what do you make of Miss Lal Mirch?"
"Understandably pissed off," returned the more experienced of the two Rains that joined them for vacation simply, "but making good progress. Fiorella? What are you wearing?"
"Sleeves. I got slightly crispy this afternoon."
The silver-haired woman with a pale complexion, paler than all three of the other brunettes left in the hotel suite, looked decidedly unimpressed with her charge's confession. "…right. Did you want some specific observations out of me, Lisa?"
"No, dear. Just using your outlook to answer an old woman's worry."
Nilda paused brushing and gave the older woman a haughty stare down. "If you're old, I'm ugly. And I'm not, thank you very much."
(Monday the 1st of November, 1971. Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
Presumably the last day of Shamal being grounded, and it looked as if his sisters wouldn't be back until after school. Skull decided to grab Marco for the last walk he'd need to do for the wee beasty instead of be whined at, and hopefully when they got back his sisters and maybe his mom would be here.
Alek and Marco had very separate temperaments, for all they were brothers from the same litter. The bigger brother with darker fur was a very friendly, happy-by-nature, and easily distracted by just about everything. His sister's pale furred dog was significantly less friendly to anyone but her, with more of a hunting dog's temperament by being as easily distracted but more fixated when his attention was caught.
He preferred walking Marco.
Not that he hated walking Alek, on the very rare occasions his sister was sleeping in and he was home to do it for her. It was just more fun for him to let the almost bear-looking brother happily snuff around for pets from every single person they passed, instead of dealing with a dog that would duck around him to avoid everyone.
It was a little mean of him to leave Palaemon Arcaro, butler trying to find his place, to the tender mercies of Mauricio. While the Rainy hype-man of his treated the castle as more a place to stash their excess gear more than a wintering home base, the guy would take any opportunity any of his sister's people gave him to talk their ears off.
Maximillian was really the only one that didn't mind spending hours being chatted at, after he was done tracking numbers. His wife would bail immediately to go fuss after the three horses they were renting from somewhere if things went beyond a short story or two. Cesare was too unsafe for his terrible liar to chance irritating, which protected Ruslana and her boy… or any chance Mauricio might end up delaying a meal from being served. Hawk just had little to nothing to say back, Scruffy would let someone else talk even if he had something to say.
Afanasii was a little weird.
He wasn't just talking about the disparity between being a people-person and being a closed-mouth person, but there was that element whenever Skull talked to Afanasii. He was more than certain an element was also what gave that guy so many scars all over his face, and obviously that would make him a lot more reserved to being poked at.
Larion's dad was just a little strange, okay?
Marco, the overly friendly bear-dog, perked up and wagged a tail hopefully at the well-dressed Italian waltzing down the street as if he belonged here.
He didn't, but it wasn't like little details like that would stop a character like Reborn from affecting that kind of air. "I kind of expected you a few weeks ago."
"I was busy." Drawled the hitman, surprisingly extending a hand for Marco to sniff at. "A little too busy. What do you have for me, Skull?"
Since he was pretending the dog was enough to stop him for a moment, and who knew maybe his nephew's pet really was just enough for the guy to burn a moment to pet, Skull shrugged. "Half and half. Luce's car started life as a rental, was sold to her after it hit thirty-thousand kilometers. She didn't buy it herself, two years ago, so the guy who sold it to her didn't remember any reason given for the purchase."
"How uncommon is it to be sold a former rental?"
"Not that much. You don't want to pay premium prices for something never owned by anyone else before, you buy second-hand. Being a rental instead of preowned means it had a more trackable repair history, and there's the paperwork to back up whatever was replaced or fixed. With who did it, with what parts and who manufactured them, and then with a clear history if that was a successful repair or not."
Reborn made a grumpy sounding tisk, patting Marco on the chest before straightening back up. "Except… it doesn't make any sense one of her men would buy her a personal vehicle second-hand instead of new off the lot."
"Unless she asked for it specifically." He muddled further, still not convinced this had any weight in the question of 'did Luce know what would happen somehow' but it was information. "Unless she didn't want a brand-new whatever, either because she's practical or had one before that died on her due to whatever number of possible reasons."
"The Giglio Nero don't have any current money troubles, not anywhere I could find sign of it. That'd be the only reason I could understand why her men would dare to not give her the best of whatever she wanted." Refuted the Mafioso without so much as blinking at him. "You got the paperwork?"
"At the castle, I wasn't going to be walking around with it for a couple days on the chance you'd swing by before this weekend."
"Burn it." One last pat for Marco, and the hitman waltzed on in the general direction of the train line now opened for any station north of them.
Skull wondered if he was more annoyed the guy didn't even want the proof he did what he said he would, or surprised he was going to trust him on it, or exasperated an Italian Mafioso didn't think he could make further use of all that information he spent a week collecting.
…he was annoyed. Really. Totally annoyed, not remotely flattered he was going to be taken at his word.
He had no doubt that part of whatever had kept the hitman from checking in on the information he wanted was checking out Skull's history. Not just his, more than likely Sonya's and Fon's and maybe even Viper's too. That was a lot of details and personal histories to get through, all of the so-called Arcobaleno candidates probably poked at or investigated whomever they hadn't already had a measure of before being forcibly introduced to one another.
If Reborn had gotten to Moscow to ask Arseniy about Skull's brief stint as a criminal accomplice, he'd be impressed.
He was fairly sure he'd find out here shortly, if Lisa came back to the castle with Sonya and Tatiana after a nice little getaway in France. It wasn't exactly a sure thing, she had a baby boy waiting for her back in Moscow to go with her man and a really important job in need of tending.
Skull would always love to see his mom, of course. He had no objections if he got even five minutes to give her a hug before she went home and that was that until the next time he could see her.
He'd always like more time with his mom, but she was a busy person.
"…I just made myself homesick." Marco blinked up at him in confusion, wagging his tail and not getting down to business with a convenient bush since they were here. "Ah… whatever. Ready to go back yet?"
The dog kept on staring at him blankly, then deemed him not interesting in favor of re-sniffing the ground.
Skull rolled his eyes.
(ooo000ooo)
(Monday the 1st of November, 1971 continued. Verde's Home, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
"WHY are there MOTHS all over the damn place, Verde?"
"…my third-stage containment for my ongoing experiments was not as secured as it should have been." Muttered the scientist armed with a bug-catching net as he passed him, a plastic affair that looked comically childish in the hands of a full-grown man. He swiped irritably in the air, scooping three of the moths by mostly chance and the fact the entire damn building was coated full of the flying bugs. "Refrain from destroying the subjects, we can sort them out again once all are accounted for."
…yeah, Adrik wasn't touching anything about whatever the hell was going on, not this early in the morning and without any coffee in his system.
Leaving his roommate to his toy bug net and all the little plastic containers that probably went with the kit sourced for his current issue, he instead shuffled into the kitchen carefully. Without mentioning the moths had gotten into the man's green hair and there were at least three perched on his back, and there were several of the little annoyances upstairs, or that it seemed they were not shy about chewing on any fabrics they could land on.
The kitchen was also coated in a fluttery shell of moth wings. More on the windows and the curtains, less on the ceiling this time. The moths had made some really good progress on chewing on the lime green curtains, there was already a fist-sized hole in one as he watched them warily from the entrance to the room.
Shuffling in and carefully brushing off the bugs perched on their coffee maker, he tiredly opened the lid to check the grounds and filter were in place and there was water to make a pot. Seeing it was shockingly bug-free and at least not full of holes, he quickly reset everything and punched the button for life-giving caffeine to be brewed.
He eyed the sink and the dishes from dinner last night, which all were covered with yet more fluttery moths as they ate the dish rag to ragged strands.
Should he bother with trying to do them up, or wait until the Lightning got this far in his cleanup efforts?
Last night there had been no bugs. Adrik was pretty sure of that. They had dinner and went to bed bug-free, he was positive about that.
How the hell did they get from the man's labs into the residential portion of the house?
Roughly rubbing his face while he waited, he picked two moths out of his own hair and set them with their fellows on the tiny kitchen table. He did get out a clean kitchen towel to cover the opening to the coffee pot before any moths crawled in for a drink for maybe five minutes until it was done brewing, if they'd go for something that bitter and hot.
"I don't think so, but they're not very smart."
"You know that's rude, right?"
Usov scoffed, which went rather well with the tightly pinched expression on the boyish face that spoke of the effort he was already supplying them. Probably containment somewhere else or just to the house, if there were moths flirting around inside freely and he was already looking strained. "As if I care."
He side-eyed the Mist suspiciously, reaching up to open the cupboard that held their less specific medication for any ailment. He pulled out the blister-pack of acetylsalicylic acid for the kid to pop.
…aspirin. He plucked out a pack of aspirin for the kid.
He lived with Verde way too long.
Usov swallowed two dry, tossing the packet of individual sealed medication back at him irritably.
"What's got you so wound up?"
"I'm preventing this issue from becoming worse," answered the not-quite-a-child individual next to him flatly, confirming his suspicions, "by stopping them from continuing to take advantage of the ventilation system to crawl up here. Or by sneaking out via the vents in the laundry room."
"Anna already went to bed?"
"And Shamal's being a brat." Usov agreed, still flatly but with something dry around the edge of his tone as he finally found some malicious amusement to temper his mood. "I think he's still jealous that I don't have to go to school, and I'm not grounded for being a stupid Mist."
"Let him have a coincidental peek at the tests Verde's railroading you through, or one of the practice tests. That'll cure him pretty quick, if you don't want to complain to his mom." Adrik advised equally as flatly, utterly not surprised that even out of school the kid was plagued with issues with the other little brats. "How many of these stupid bugs got out?"
No matter how selective or refined a group, there was always some kind of internal drama to manage. Not that he was surprised there eventually was any, or that it was kiddy-based.
"Verde woke at six, and I didn't check in until eight. Mom insists on me eating breakfast with them, not immediately going to work once I wake up. By the time he got up there was already a significant number of the Flame-imbued moths that had gotten out of their enclosure. Basically all of them, and only most got out of the labs." Rubbing his fist against an eye, the Mist almost looked like the child he physically was. "You didn't open any windows this morning, right? I was sure you were smarter than that, but I could be wrong…"
"There's moths in the upstairs bathroom already. I figured letting them escape would be a bad idea."
"They'd die. They have no other food source, unless they suddenly adapt to getting the Flames they require from people." He offered as if that was remotely reassuring, and not the plot of some B-movie horror film. "Let's not test that."
"Let's." Adrik echoed wryly. "Thanks for the help, kid."
"Would you like a little toy bug catching kit?" Usov inquired almost nauseatingly sweetly, with an evil-looking grin to match.
Probably for calling him a kid. He was one, and the Mist couldn't really say he wasn't… but he wasn't entirely one anymore.
"Give me fifteen minutes of laughing at Verde and his yellow-and-red bug net first."
"What works, works." He shrugged off before disappearing again, probably to go sort out whichever lab had a leak or to watch Verde stalking bugs with his toy.
Adrik fixed himself a mug of coffee, then made one for his beleaguered roommate since he was only occasionally a sadistic asshole that enjoyed the suffering of others.
Verde… really hadn't made much of a dent in the number of insects coating the interior of their house in the time since he left him to it. He had three little plastic containers for bugs that were being 'mysteriously' emptied after tipping a net-full into one, and five more moths had decided to make him into a mobile perch behind his back.
"…appreciated." Mumbled the scientist-type sourly as he extended the mug of black coffee, setting his net down in favor of necking the boiling hot liquid as if it were stone cold instead.
Adrik picked up the toy to swipe all the bugs off the man's back for him, the ones hitchhiking in his hair could stay for now. He had limits, damn it. "You know… a spray bottle of water and you might water-log the damn bugs' wings enough they won't be able to flutter away from you."
"They will crawl, however." Venomously observed the man, taking the net from him and glowering acid at his experimental subjects caught in the netting. "My apologies for the difficulties, Adrik. I had thought there were adequate screens in the ventilation system."
"…aren't there?" He had only a couple glances at what the Lightning had built for himself, not because he was interested in the layout of the building/laboratories but just out of curiosity. "I'm pretty sure there were. Was."
"There were. The Storm moths ate through it."
"…so, the bugs can eat people." Adrik slowly concluded reluctantly, eyeing the expression on his best friend's face.
Verde pointedly didn't refute that and instead changed the subject. "Once I have an understanding of what metals comprise Sonya's Flame-resistant alloy, I will repair the containment measures with something that is less vulnerable."
"Verde. The moths can eat people."
"They do not realize such, and it is less 'eat' as in to consume as it is 'eat' as in to corrode." He countered equally as pointedly. "Nor do they seem to realize I am possibly their best food source out here, if they are in fact seeking out Flames. They are not. It is fine, Adrik. A messy situation, but no more than that."
"They ate my sheets." Adrik refuted pointedly. "And are in the process of chewing up my pillow. They could've eaten me."
"…I am fairly certain you would not have slept through such an event if it would have happened."
"I didn't check to see if your bed was suffering the same fate."
"We perhaps require a visit to wherever one acquires bedroom linens, as well as perhaps new mattresses. I shall see to it once this situation is in hand."
He held up his free hand and started ticking off fingers. "The couch, the curtains, fuck man. The carpets. The whole fucking house is flammable, Verde."
Verde hunched his shoulders uncomfortably and just repeated himself mulishly. "We will perform an accounting of all damaged household items once all moths are accounted for."
"Did you seriously count all the moths in your experiments?"
"Of course I have."
Right now that kind of worked for them rather than against. They'd know if there was just one more sneaky metal-eating moths fluttering at large…
"How the hell do you expect to contain metal-eating moths?"
"They obtain nothing nutritious from consuming metallic alloys. They are Flame moths, burning through obstacles is a more pressing concern." Grumpily offered the annoyed Lightning, firmly setting the empty mug down in favor of waving around his little net again. "I believe they might have mistaken the metal mesh in the vents for another cloth, like the canvas enclosures I have mulberry branches within for them to lay eggs upon. Flame-imbued insects can in fact utilize their Flames, how the Storm-enabled moths could bore a way out via the ventilation system, and the rest are merely seeking what they will consume for reproductive aims."
Adrik plastered a hand across his face. They were in a building with horny, metal-eating moths. "Verde. My man. No more Flame-bugs in the house. In your lab is one thing, in the house is another."
"I did not intend for them to escape confinement." He snarled back at him, embarrassment making him harsher in tone than his usual this early in the morning. "The canvas enclosures are traditional for raising bombyx mori for silk making efforts. The miscalculation of how much of the Flames they are fed on they can utilize will not repeat."
"It damn well better not."
Verde stalked off with hunched shoulders under his lab coat, which had a handful of suspicious holes developing in the back of it. Pointedly not replying.
"Okay, Usov. Arm me." Plucking the blue and green plastic toy bug net out of the air, Adrik also put his coffee mug down on the stairs to start helping the Lightning in corralling his wayward experimental subjects. "I'll start upstairs and work my way down. Hopefully, I'll keep them out of the closets and away from our clothes."
"…much obliged."