Author's Note : I make no promises for how long I'll keep updating, you all already probably know my update rate is at the whim of my muse. But as long as it lasts, I'll keep posting.
Russian Roulette : Second Chamber
Chapter 66
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Federal Highway E105, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic.)
They eventually ran out of petrol, which wasn't remotely surprising. They found the car abandoned, engine trouble might've been the reason why it had to be but a nearly empty tank could've been equally as much at fault.
Or someone siphoned off most of it before they found it.
The fact the scrappy little Moskvitch 401 got them out of St. Petersburg was good enough, Cherep was pleased as punched with the post-WWII manufactured little car's performance. Hopefully the fact he fixed the spark plug misfire issue was more than enough for whoever owned it, that he or she wouldn't curse out the carjacker that ran their vehicle out of petrol.
…and possibly quite a lot of rubber from the tires. Possibly wore out the brakes, too.
Fon, very pointedly and the moment the car chugged to a final shuddering halt, immediately abandoned him and the vehicle in favor of standing on solid ground. Not to do anything else, just to stand there.
"Oh come on. It couldn't have been that bad."
"I have a newfound appreciation for your skills." Answered the guy both measuredly and non committedly, not looking back at him or so much as twitching as he stood stock still on the side of a highway. "I would appreciate it more from a distance."
"You know, Vipes said nearly the same damn thing."
There was a reason why his best friend never let Cherep be the getaway driver for them. Even if they were greedy, kopeck pinching to a fault, and liked to have little details like that taken care of without burning the Flames for it.
The stuntman might be familiar with driving four-wheeled cars from all the illegal racing the miser nagged, bragged, and maneuvered him into just to bet on, but the Mist had only once gotten into the car while he was driving for them.
Notably, it never happened again.
Fon didn't respond, taking deep and measured breaths as he stared out across a respectfully busy highway.
Unable to help the grin, because the things he needed to do to keep both them and the kidnapped guy in the boot from being messily murdered or worse had been a little over the top even for him, Cherep instead offered something else as he got out of the car too. "Next time you're in a car and don't like it, open a window. Airflow tends to help those easily carsick or uneasy with high speeds."
"…noted."
Poor guy, he clearly believed he'd never be in one again. Or at least dearly hoping not. He didn't have the heart to tell him there was yet another car ride in their future, pretty soon for that matter. Cherep instead took a better look around for where he might possibly be able to call Lisa for Arseniy to come out and pick them up or bring them a thing of petrol.
If they weren't fully out of St. Petersburg's outermost reaches, they were at least probably on the border of it. That usually meant there was a smaller town or village nearby, especially on this highway.
There wouldn't be Zolotov-sympathetic assets in the area, way too far from Moscow and too close to a 'bigger' syndicate that wouldn't be friendly to thieves. But surely someone nearby would let him use a phone to call his parents about 'having no petrol money'.
"If you'd like to guard the car, I'll go get us some actual help now we're arguably too public to try for."
Now Fon shot him a look, confused a little around the edges but mainly that stubborn non-expression he wore like a well-used mask when he couldn't pull the 'polite smiling Asian' trick.
Yeah, his little sister's 'non expression' mask was better.
"Guard the car, on a main highway linking the place we just left to the place you wish us to go. While it is likely there are those with orders to apprehend either one of us or both if possible who will not care about being noticed in it. As they have not all morning."
"Well, don't stand here and guard the car." Cherep jerked a thumb backwards, to the tree line which wasn't all that far from the highway. "The militsiya might come by, just tell them we ran out of petrol and the driver went to get more. Our guy in the boot might make a fuss if he hears a way to get free from us. If he's still conscious."
The assassin probably muttered 'doubtful' in his native language, or at least that was what he was going to assume that word meant and ignore the possibility it was just a curse word. "Skull, perhaps I should venture to call whomever you intend to call. I am… uncertain how different your 'undeath' is to your sister's, but I am fully aware it pains you regardless."
"Erg, don't bring it up." The opportunity to sit, even if it was under some momentum and he still had to steer, let his injuries just be without additional strain. It didn't make anything better, but nothing was aggravated to be worse. Aside his shoulder, and maybe his neck. And his hand.
…possibly his ribs too.
Sleep was better, but Cherep knew how to go without comforts like that from all the press conferences after Skull's worst accidents.
When he 'escaped death' so 'miraculously'.
So yeah. Walking however kilometers to a semi-friendly person willing to let him use a phone, then back again, was going to suck. Especially since, under the clothing, he probably looked like an escapee from a hospital's ER or a domestic abuse case.
…though, letting the assassin go off instead was really tempting.
Like, really tempting.
As in, 'really shouldn't because I want to talk to my mom and she's going to have questions' but he was considering it anyway. Even if he had to be the one to guard their kidnapped Grekov Gang guy in that scenario.
"Tell mom it's an Arcobaleno thing, and we have an unwilling guest." Cherep gave in with, probably too easily if Sonya wanted to dodge her remaining oldest friend and best friend by default when she was injured but not really.
Because to be frank, he didn't want to do anything but sit here and not move. He'd do other things because he had to, but if he didn't have to…
"…can you remember the phone number if I say it, or do you want me to figure out how to write it down for you?"
"Given the situation, I will remember." Fon promised him easily. "Anything else you wish me to pass along?"
"Trust me, mom knows how to wait and get her answers later." If it was the vor who would answer the phone… Arseniy would come out to stare at them flatly until someone offered an explanation that made sense. Either way, something Cherep could deal with either once home or the old man arrived and not have to move a muscle for any of it. "Thanks, Fon."
He earned himself a tip of the head. "You are more accommodating like this than your sister is."
…he easily believed it.
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Cape Town, Western Cape, Republic of South Africa, Africa.)
Reborn studied the man across the room, then only spoke up as the pause in conversation stretched just long enough to be awkward. "…really."
"You asked, 'Reborn'."
Tipping his head back only just far enough to be able to clearly see both the moderately wealthy dressed man and his two more shabby bodyguards under the brim of his fedora, the Catholic hitman considered several responses.
'No' was a little too succinct for this. 'Not on your life' was maybe a little too blunt.
Just shooting them all through the head… concise and to the point.
Reborn gleefully went for option three.
He left three new corpses decorating the mostly featureless room behind him, the blood and brain matter now painting the walls a much better use of the materials than what little use they had before, and three bullets down in his stolen gun. Immediately leaving the area was more to not have to pay for damages than to deal with the corrupt law enforcement that might be called to deal with the murder of a 'white' citizen.
The funds he needed to bribe the next idiots to let him speak with a criminal power that might have the reach he needed. Not be spent on keeping his own ass out of a jail cell.
The appalling ignorance in asking a man who believed that all men and women were made in God's image to murder someone for a difference in skin tone… not for an unfortunate murder or crime that they were responsible for?
Well. If they were that stupid Reborn had no issue taking out the trash.
He had no doubt there were Catholics that didn't consider those with darker pigmentation to their skin to even be as the same race, but that wasn't his problem. He was only responsible for his own actions, doubly so for being a Mafioso and a Catholic in good standing, and he'd stay that way.
Regardless of the need that had him asking the local criminal powers for work they might need done in exchange for a little… assistance. He did not murder the innocent, the situation and details of one's genetics were not a crime. Whatever another might think.
Verde had yet to complain how long it was taking him to find them a way out of the country, and he probably had even more funds on him by now. Probably a quarter of the way to buying the damn ferry tickets himself.
Especially since local society was designed kept most of the wealth in the 'white' sectors of the city, where the man likely remained for access to more lucrative pockets to dip into. Where there was also more comprehensive law enforcement putting him at risk for picking pockets to earn them funds too.
How the hell Irene found this country to be a decent one to 'retire' to and raise a child in, was beyond him. Preferably it had been her husband that decided that. He didn't like to contemplate if he hadn't even known something as critical as her being a racist.
Apartheid the locals called the 'tiered' social structure they were attempting to lock into iron-clad law. Segregation the rest of the world knew it as. As if people weren't mostly shit the world over regardless of what they looked like, having been raised that way rather than any determination of genetics that gave a supposed visible indication of character.
The specific society in question did most of the damage, other assholes finished that mess off in forming the outlook of its native population. Call a man a thief and a lazy waste of a human often enough while withholding any possibility to advance himself or earn a decent wage to live on, they'll prove you right just to eat every night.
How… utterly not shocking.
Even Reborn's skin tone earned him hostile and suspicious attention in the 'whites only' parts of the city, and he was just a fucking lightly tanned Italian. A paler than the norm but still darker than a snow-white natural Mediterranean skin tone, another European like these assholes seemed to value over every other heritage. If he let himself get as much sun as Sonya and her sister did he'd easily be 'colored', or at least mostly there, in this shitpit of a country.
It made leaving the scientist to his own devices riskier than somewhere without segregation, he could literally be attacked for being a pale hermit of a man in the wrong section of the city. Rather than because he was a wordy and sarcastic little shit without the concept of concise answers first and detail second or dipping into someone else's pockets to take their money.
Worse yet, the country was in the middle of local strife and protests centered on the issue of if it was right to be separating out not only 'whites' and 'blacks' but 'Asians' and 'colored' for differing amounts of federal and societal 'legal rights'. Displacements from the city to other parts of South Africa, and the stripping of rights from those so inconvenienced. Strife and protests that could very well turn deadly for those caught out at merely the wrong time, much less wrong place.
Something 'non-local' visitors were at a higher risk for, than those that knew what wouldn't be safe from growing up here.
And his best friend favored the Lightning, to the point she'd likely not forgive him for not ensuring her man remained mostly unharmed on this little adventure to the reasonable best of his ability. Like that didn't stick in his craw just a little…
Annoyingly, Verde wasn't in the same section of the city as he was only a few hours earlier. Understandable given he was committing crimes while he wandered, but it remained annoying. Reborn merely followed the general direction of descending complaints of being robbed in broad daylight to where no one realized it yet to start his search.
He found the Frenchman drinking a pint of something local in a bar, mostly done with the beer but unable to leave the bar or notice the hitman's arrival.
Irene was not a stupid woman for all her aims weren't sensible then or now. She had tracked the ones that broke into her home down with little to go on or idea for what reason they had done so.
Or at least, one half of the problem. Apparently she was rusty enough that the other man had noticed her at it.
How unseemly. Being retired did not mean one was assuredly safe.
"…assure you, I do not care." Verde was in the middle of informing the retired hitwoman flatly, mildly annoyed by the knifepoint he was being held at under the table but completely unconcerned in that annoying way of Lightnings the world over. "Your situation or beliefs aside, the only actual detail of note was the fact your home was the closest. If you had noticed the crater in your backyard, it should be a simple process to realize why. I attempted to clean up afterwards, I apologize for the lackluster results only."
"That's a very likely story." Sneered the Irishwoman sarcastically, attempting to dig the knifepoint into the man's thigh but again Lightning. "I'd like the truth now."
Reborn pulled his gun, swapped hands to his left, and pressed the barrel into the middle of her back while leaning over her shoulder to hide the weapon from the other midday bar-goers. "Perhaps, miss, you should be a little less self-centered. My companion has no reason to lie to you."
"…you two just so happened to 'land' in the backyard of the only hitwoman in that neighborhood? Yeah, because that's believable."
"Or, we have all been set up." Verde chipped in dryly, draining the dregs of his beer and plunking the glass down firmly. "I assure you, our so-called 'employer' is that much of an unlikable asshole to have found this 'amusing'."
Tisking at the language in front of a lady they weren't supposed to know at all, the hitman had to give the other man the point and let that stand for them both.
Checkerface was likely laughing his ass off at the net results of his little 'team building exercises', at least on their behalf. Who knew how badly, or how strangely, any of the other 'teams' were suffering through in their own situations.
…in all honesty, Irene might just have a way back to Mafia Land for them. If not on her, because he knew she wasn't that stupid to reward her possible killers, then tucked away somewhere just in case someone came after her and she needed either revenge or supplies she couldn't get in this country.
He might not want to stress test Viper's work on him. Before even asking the Mist if it was possible their Flames would've worked on an individual he hadn't even known was alive enough to remember him in a far off country… but. Needs must, and this would be quicker.
A patch-job could be done later, on both of them if need be.
Reborn uncocked his gun, wrenching the knife away from his ex-girlfriend with little gentleness before stepping away from her back. "Now then, miss. Since you decided to not let it go… I'd like a word."
Irene tossed her short red locks back with a careless toss of her head, folding her arms over her modest chest irritably and shooting him a sideway glare. "And just why the hell would I care?"
He smiled, an unfriendly expression on his face to most that ever saw it. When she didn't even arch an eyebrow or show any recognition of his features, he continued lightly. "We weren't there for anything nefarious… but that could always change."
If it came down to it, she was no innocent. Her daughter and husband were and that made them safe from him, but not her.
Reborn had wanted to not involve Irene, but she involved herself.
As per usual for her.
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Bloomington, Illinois, United States of America.)
"I don't think I like this idea of yours."
Lal Mirch snorted at the semi-crackling voice in her ear, softly since she was in public wandering down whichever street that led further away. "We're almost halfway through this state, and well out of reach of anyone in Chicago. If we're to get any practice with your earpiece before we have no other options, now it is."
It was kind of… pretty?
Firmly deep into fall around here, and colder than the mountains in Italia they had unwillingly left. Old brickwork buildings, almost tree-covered streets still dropping the remains of their autumn leaves to mix in with what snow was still frozen to the corners. Nice little small main street with some local shops and some larger chains dotted about.
"Your faith in my up to date understanding of American crime syndicates is cute," Sonya informed her blandly from a convenient vantage point on their latest stolen car not too far away, but now firmly out of sight, "but misplaced. I only have a general understanding, Lal. There's any number of reasons why I might just be wrong in how safe we may or may not be at any one time."
She rolled her eyes as she passed an older couple out grocery shopping, only mildly put out that the other woman wouldn't be able to fully appreciate it. Even if she wouldn't react the same way as she would've in Italia.
There was a fine line between Sonya the Russian mom and Sonya the internationally wanted thief. So fine it was almost easy to miss.
That there was a switch between her personal and business life wasn't all that shocking. She knew several military-types that also were somewhat to entirely different 'at work' than 'at home', so it was easy for her to both see and understand the same held true even in Mafia-types.
Russian mom easily indulged things she found 'stupid' if someone she valued wanted it enough.
The thief she also was did not. Period.
When she was being a full-time mother and Skull's adored little sister, Sonya didn't mind not being in the thick of things going on around her if she had things to read at hand.
When she was a full-fledged criminal with responsibilities to handle, that same amount of exclusion for basically the same reasons chaffed.
Her very grumpy, pained, and annoyed Mafia Home Tutor did not like that her student in criminal activities was off on her own. Mostly just to test the range on their equipment or not, there was a possibility of danger still involved and Sonya couldn't be in range to provide any backup if they were to test her handiwork.
Lal honestly believed the inability to safeguard her irritated the other woman more than any presumed lack of ability in this situation. The ability to walk pain-free included.
Even if there was nothing around a small town in Illinois that was any worse than small retirement towns in Wisconsin that would threaten her.
"How are we going to get enough money for your little plan, anyway?" She changed the subject with, because if she let her Sonya would bitch logically and convince her to put things off even longer.
It would never be safe enough for the younger Cloud sibling, not until she could control every damn detail Lal might accidentally trip over or be there to cover for her unfamiliarity with criminal sensibilities.
As an instructor herself, and the one being taught, she appreciated that care when it came to her student. Keenly.
Didn't really help them right now and in this situation, but her attitude about this was appreciated.
"By robbing an armored car, probably." Answered the thief in her ear dryly, sighing heavily before she could even hope to have thought up a response to that admission. "If I can't do it, and you're not trained to get around the security measures most banks have like I have been… taking the cash where it's mobile is the only answer. Heavily guarded, but possibly somewhere discreet. That might take a week, just to figure out a good spot and route that would let us pull it off so you do the legwork."
"Any ideas for something a little… quicker and not messy?"
"None you will like. As that would mean I get off my ass and do something… possibly energetic."
She didn't even need to ask if being in this country illegally for an entire week or more was bad. The chance of getting caught by law enforcement for not having the correct paperwork to be here rose the longer they stayed put, and if they were going to do something dangerous and illegal at the same time?
Sonya's leg might just end up worse, whatever she was doing to walk on a broken femur like nothing was wrong. The woman had tersely explained 'Cloud Voodoo' in the first car they stole, sure. Lal understood the concepts behind that bloody application of Cloud Flames… but didn't trust in it.
The only 'saving grace' to that situation was apparently the 'new' design to the thief's so-called glass armor worked decently well as a splint. The interlocking soft blue crystal plates, expanded by a very experienced Cloud's Propagation, held her thigh firmly straight.
Skin-tight everywhere but the joints, totally rigid, and something Sonya could hold dead asleep or not.
Almost… as if by design.
Lal was going to kiss Verde the moment they were all together again, and probably slip him some tongue too. Intentional design choice or not.
How he even suspected that might eventually be needed was something to contemplate later. When she felt less ill thinking about how bad some of Sonya's past injuries could've been to prompt that.
Or thinking how the hell Skull came up with 'Cloud Voodoo' in the first place, since it was the brother's ability first.
Or how bad things once were to the point both the Cloud siblings knew how to do it.
Or… why it was they both seemed to have the same queer unconcern about injuries and pain either might suffer and how 'Voodoo' might fit into that why. A high-pain tolerance for both could only be part of it.
She had a lot of questions, okay. None of which being answered would help their situation. Other than to piss her off when she needed a cool head.
"I'm noting a surprising lack of argument about my possible involvement, here."
"The quicker we get out of the country and back to Italia, the quicker you see a surgeon. Or Reborn. Whichever one catches your ass first or I can bitch you into seeing."
To be bluntly honest, if Sonya wanted to do something there was shit all Lal could do to stop her. They both knew it, the early morning adventure to make this damn communication gadget was case zero. The other woman might not be feeling great, and in terrifying amounts of pain just walking around, but she could do pretty much anything with or without her permission.
That she respected Lal's terror over breaking a leg to keep them from dying when they were suddenly falling out of the sky was… honestly pretty great. She just bet the woman hadn't really seen the injury as something to baby to the degree the Rain did given how she just immediately walked it off, but she didn't argue the 'unneeded' aid either.
The thief would be slow, and likely do whatever as much off her leg as she could, but it wasn't impossible for her to do something to contribute more than just words. Her admission earlier about how limited her abilities were with a broken leg was already scores above what comprehension Skull showed about crippling injuries their last bullshit weekend.
"Is there anything else that you can think of that I could do instead?"
"…bank fraud?" Mused the other woman several streets away and armed with three new books that were failing to hold her attention for any amount of time. "Otherwise… we could aim for the proceeds of some other criminal's enterprise. Oddly less guarded, but riskier to get caught at doing that."
Lal really didn't even need to think about it. "Let's do that."
"Then we're about to make some very powerful enemies." Sonya warned her steadily through a not quite great radio connection, which hadn't yet started to degrade on them. "Enemies that might just follow us back to Italy, Lal."
"If it comes to that, then so be it. We can deal with that when we're less up shit creek without paddles." She'd bet on an internationally wanted thief more than some locally powerful criminal asshole anyway, injured or not. "I find it kind of ironic it's going to be less dangerous to us than doing criminal shit to innocent people."
The only answer she got was a snort of derision.
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)
Did Leon even know how long 'a few hours' was?
Obviously this unmoving behavior was based on an understanding of past instances where her hitman was missing, but the duration of those and for what reasons were unclear. As was how much patience was spent already waiting, and the time until the creature refused to accept the apparent situation.
Viper was uncertain about quite a lot of things right now, because unlike Alek's faint touch of Mist Flames the chameleon was created by young Shamal's Flames and a pure creature to make a half-and-half new creation. How that affected her understanding of abstract concepts would be a fascinating study… but some concepts were harder to grasp by non-human intelligences.
Time was one. Life and death was occasionally another. Empathetic understanding was more often easier to encourage.
Depending. Both on how much Mist Flames were concentrated upon them, and the creature's original intelligence.
They had little idea how 'smart' lizards could be, much less the specific breed of chameleon Leon… half was.
Alek was decidedly not as easy to corral with a simple Construction of a potted plant. He was sulking and moping hard enough it was a simple process to confuse him so he ceased to break things, but he was a large dog with little care for anything here. Like their plants, the whole row of hedges near the house required some hours' worth of Mist Flame therapy just to heal.
Hunting dogs chased things. All the things. Even not well understood things. Motion and a flash of color in the form of something fleeting was all that was needed to keep him running in circles.
Distracted from the single-minded attempts to find his suddenly missing mistress by his equally sudden lack of support, Alek would race around the grounds just to do something. Chasing half-formed Construction of birds and rabbits until he was too tired to even flap that ridiculous white banner of a tail he had.
Confused, tired, and still moping, a bowl of fresh water and a bit of the kibble included in his 'doggy bag' of supplies to travel with coaxed the Storm-Cloud companion into more exhausted and sulky naps.
Some hours past the point Reborn informed them of how to calm his Misty Sun companion, Leon was still unwilling to leave or venture too far from the illusion of a hydrangea bush. A small dish of water provided just in case went untouched, whatever the lizard ate was not apparent to eat.
Viper pondered the issue and opened the kitchen window with a twitch of one wrist.
Perhaps bugs?
Tree or brush dwelling lizards would eat either insects or fruit, and they could try some of Lal's groceries next. A refusal to eat might be based in depression, and starvation for such a small creature would not be far off.
"Viper? Would you like the night or daylight watch?" Luce inquired as they finally descended the staircase, apparently over whatever emotional outpouring that resulted from being confronted by an infuriating Ancient meddler. "I'm fine with whichever you would rather not do."
…well. They had almost forgotten the Sky had retreated for some quality time with the ice cream.
"I am not particularly picky, mou… but if I am to take the night I will require some rest soon."
"Let me know by three if you do have an opinion, but I would appreciate taking the day hours. My prenatal care appointments have been made directly after these weekends."
…an interesting admission. Either made without her explicit permission, by her men, or made with her full knowledge. Even if there had been no promises to keep things contained to a single weekend every other month, she shouldn't know when she would be free to make such things.
Viper was almost too tired of this bullshit to really care… but only almost.
Luce absently tossed the empty container and placed her spoon in the kitchen sink, side-eyeing the chameleon attached to a potted plant warily and surprisingly not the Mist's position. Sitting cross-legged on top of the large table intended to seat nearly ten or more people. "Where is Sonya's dog?"
"Under the table."
Alek would, on the occasions where Viper stopped creating illusions for him to chase, specifically come back and check on Leon first. Just to see if she was willing to help him again. Then he'd take care of whatever needs were pressing and find an out of the way spot to sleep in if he was tired enough.
"Mou, keep an eye on the fridge." Advised the Mist sourly, reminded of that particular habit of the canine's by the woman checking what was in it. "Alek can and will open it if he feels not in the mood for his kibble."
"Ah." She shut the fridge to look, smartly, and then set her sights solidly on Viper. "Can I ask you a few questions, Viper, or…"
"…must you?"
"I don't believe it matters," shockingly started the Sky firmly, earning an unseen rise of an eyebrow, "but I know to some others it does matter. You've spent a good amount of effort removing anything feminine or masculine from being apparent in your form and seem perfectly content without a gender to be addressed by."
"I am." They 'unhelpfully' commented, resigned to having this conversation yet again. "I don't mind male if you have to have a gender to address me by."
"I will make note of that, but I still don't understand. Why? I am perfectly content being a woman, and I'm aware there are those that are not. Same with men, some are and some are not. I've never encountered someone that refused a gendered component to their identity instead of claiming another." Here the woman made a small expression of just sheer confusion, not distaste nor upset.
A well-practiced expression.
If only they weren't locked into a physical location, and they didn't have to get along until at least one of the others got back. Viper would otherwise immediately fuck off somewhere else than have to guide a gendered person perfectly content with that gender thought this topic. Again.
Fifty some iterations of the same 'discussion' got annoyingly repetitive for less than certain gains, and they were quite fed up with the entire thing.
…then again, the Cloud siblings as a pair took one look at them and decided to leave it lie unquestioned. Something had to balance their simple acceptance out somehow, and a questioned acceptance would be uniquely different.
"I used to switch between being male or being female. It almost got to the point I was trying to decide between one or the other to just fake regardless if I felt like being either gender." Viper started reluctantly, mildly annoyed and uncaring if the woman picked up on it. "Despite being a physical state, most conceptions of gender are social constructs based on centuries on centuries of arrogant assholes deciding what one or the other could do based on which way their plumbing went, mou. If that were merely it… I could pick which gender I wish to be and be fine with that."
"So the ideological differences aren't important to you." Luce concluded, more interested now and unfortunately not less. "Is it a physical reason?"
"…I am not entirely certain how to explain it with words."
"Can you try?"
"Mou, how do you know you're fine as a woman? Did you ever feel any curiosity to what it would be like as a male instead? It's worse than skin deep curiosity and less than soul deep discontent. Perhaps more, mou." Viper shrugged absently, because without feeling a disconnect with what they were no one quite understood the problem they had with gender as both a concept and as an identification. "It likely isn't something you will understand without assistance, and I don't feel like subjecting someone to the way I feel. It would be so much more manageable if it were logical, it's not. The logical thing to do would be to claim male and go on with my life like that, or claim female and just deal with it. Instead… mou, I would really rather not be either."
"I'm not interested in what you have," Luce attempted to start delicately, "but what are-"
"No." It wasn't required to be apparent, Skull got on simply fine without needing a gender for them. His sisters were less and more instantly accepting, one kept defaulting to male regardless of if they presented themself as male or female while the other didn't care a damn bit even if they had a gender.
It was perfectly possible to be just accepted as a gender-less being, and Viper had found they preferred that.
Sonya identifying and just accepting their less than stated gender, told them it wasn't at all that unique of a condition, and Skull had just been nervous over addressing them wrong and offending them. A 'working pronoun' for what gender they presented and just changing it when need be was fine enough of a compromise for the Cloud siblings to simply accept. Just ask was shockingly not the reaction most reached for when something was ambiguous.
The many forms of theater across the world deal with crossdressing and faking other genders due to all sorts of reasons. They merely extrapolated and found others like them sometime after that first 'confrontation'.
It had been unique… and bizarrely comforting, not to be the strangest one in the room or the only one hard to identify.
Reborn flatly ignored Viper's less than certain gender and would conform to social expectations when they fit his identification for female. Brutally frank and callous, perhaps… but a form of acceptance they would live with. Fon was discomfited by the same thing either way but likely would never say anything, seeing it as not his place. Less acceptance and more of a rejection based in ignorance and cultural uncertainty, but not Viper's problem.
Verde was another rare one that didn't care either way. Validation of their choice, it did not matter.
If Luce was the only one to require talking to let it lie, then they could suffer through that now and then drop the entire subject… but Lal would be another that required at least something to not be bothered as much.
It would be easy to just say females were just meddlesome creatures, but again… not strictly true.
"…thank you for taking the time to try to talk about it, Viper. I do appreciate it, even if I still don't understand."
"It's not something I'd wish on another. And without that, you won't understand." Viper unfolded themself from the table to go take their own nap. "Good luck with Alek, he will not stay put once he wakes."
"Maybe something to chew on will keep him distracted?" Luce posed uncertainly to their back. "Would you like me to make anything for dinner for once you're awake again?"
"Lal, and Sonya, got you new cookie sheets to bake with." They replied with instead, not particularly bothered by the soft huff the Sky then made for not answering her.
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Arseniy & Lisa's home, Moscow, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic.)
The first words out of Skull's mouth being 'it looks worse than it is' to his parents, Fon was utterly unsurprised his mother flatly refused to believe him and his father snorted in their faces. The first five minutes after their arrival was arguing the stuntman into admitting he was in pain to them, then bullying them both out of the patchwork rags they wore to see the damages.
He lost about five minutes of the conversation changing out of the rags and back into his Triad uniform, and when he returned to the front kitchen room Skull was shirtless and half slumped over the table. Meaning he likely missed nothing too important.
"It's really not that bad, Lisa. I swear!"
"Talk like that will convince me you don't need a hefty shot of morphine. Continue if you really want, sweetie."
The other man made a despairing noise into the polished wood but didn't speak until after Lisa gave him a shot in the non-bruised arm from the medical kit. "Okay, it was bad. But I can survive bad."
"There is a man in the boot of the car we arrived in." Fon informed vor Arseniy conversationally, discarding the clothing he had arrived wearing to the direction of Skull's mother. On top of the shirt Skull had been wearing, likely destined for a rag bin. "The attention we received in Saint Petersburg was markedly unusual. For Skull, not myself. We agreed it deserved investigation, but we are currently… unfit to do so."
At the very least, the second half of that trip had been moderately pleasant. Fon wished to never be in a car Skull might be driving ever again, especially not if 'evasive maneuvers' were required, but it had not wholly been unpleasant.
Merely mostly.
"Smartest thing you've done all day," Lisa informed her eldest son conversationally, repacking her medical supplies to go back under the counters, "second to calling us for help."
"It is mostly blood that got caught out when my Voodoo kicked in." He insisted yet again, pushing himself upright just to show the contrast between one arm and the other. "The bruises are under them, sure. But it'll all clear up in like a week."
The contrast between his arms was still unnerving and guilt-inducing, the rest of him likely could not be much better. Fon would prefer to think the upper body was 'worse', as in that was what hit the pavement first, but in truth he did not know.
He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Arseniy unfolded his arms to reach over and smack his son upside the head, then headed outside. Likely to take possession of their kidnapped Grekov Gang member or move the stolen car from their street, or any number of other duties he had left undone in favor of seeing what brought his famous child home.
"Cherep, the 'bruising' goes from shoulder to under your waistband, and down one entire arm. And I've never seen bruises that dark without broken bones to go with it." Lisa reminded him, lightly tracing said visible insult done to the man to avoid poking the injury. "What happened? Did you get hit by a truck?"
"Felt like it."
"It is an exercise in teamwork, according to 'Checkerface'." Fon informed the woman instead, earning himself some expecting attention and a wince from his 'companion'. "A race back to where we were, after being flung out in presumably pairs. Skull and I were placed some height above Saint Petersburg to fall into. He chose to fling me to a rooftop instead of saving himself."
"I can walk away from these kinds of injuries. You can't."
Lisa tipped her son's forehead back, so he could fully appreciate her worried frown. "Cherep… did you hit the ground?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"We'll be talking about that later… but then is it possible your sister has also been placed somewhere too high?"
"I'm trying not to think about that, Lisa. But yeah, it's possible."
The older woman frowned more, puzzled. "I told her to call me if either of you got in trouble like this… why could you call us just to send someone with petrol money, but she can't? If only to tell me she's fine?"
"…Fon called you?" Skull volunteered uneasily.
"And how many of the 'others' you're currently with will have the idea of having the other they're presumably with to call someone they know for help?"
…they had only done so since the other man was injured and willing to sit while the assassin went in search of a phone. The likely answer to her question would then be 'not many'. Not without extenuating circumstances like their own.
"Hindsight's going to suck after this one." Mused the man thoughtfully, getting distracted from her touch by the arrival of a confused and suspicious young child coming in from the great room of the house. "Hey, Valera! How've you been?"
The brunette child suspiciously took in his currently multi-colored brother and went over to poke him like their mother was not doing.
"Ow. No, ow. OW."
Lisa rolled her eyes and returned to cleaning up after both the spot of medical aid and what was probably their lunch, abandoning her sons to their own devices. "Valera, be kind to your brother. He's not feeling well. Master Fon, would you like some tea? I have a blend from Yanlin he claimed was particularly nice, and I've been meaning to speak with you eventually."
"…aa, perhaps at a later date? We are presumably limited on time."
Skull made a rude noise, glancing over with ill-concealed amusement from where he sat gripping the child's hands to prevent more poking. "We need the old man's help, who you just distracted. We've got the time."
"Why do you need your father's help, and not mine?"
"Because Fon's an assassin who can't sneak." Cheerfully revealed the stuntman with limited or no pity to him, hoisting his brother to sit on his uninjured leg to heed his tugging and prevent the poking better. "I was going to ask you for a way down south, but then that came out and… yeah, we're going to need Arseniy just to get Nya's best friend out of the country without him losing parts. I have full faith in you and your plans, Lisa… but…"
Fon did not appreciate the two skeptical looks shot at him, one from nearly under the table and the other from Skull's mother. "My jobs do not usually require me to have stealth."
"And when they do?"
"I acquire an expert." He temporized, which did his position no favors from the lack of change in expression his audience had. "Should we not be discussing how we are to get myself and Skull back to Italy from here?"
"We have more than enough time for business," Lisa informed him politely with a small little smile, that looked more like a smirk, "and so little time for friends and family. Make some time, Fon. Who knows… maybe we can help you with your stealth problem."
"As you raised thieves, I have little doubt in your expertise. But, perhaps another time."
"You're going to get yourself in trouble promising things like that. Those kinds of things can come due at the worst times." Advised the older woman with amusement. "But I'm going to hold you to it."
"Speaking of! Want to learn some math, Fon?"
Fon grit his teeth together, took in a nice calming breath, and blew it out again. "Perhaps at a different moment than this, Skull."
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. A hotel room, Cape Town, Western Cape, Republic of South Africa, Africa.)
Verde was uncertain on the logic of relying on help given under duress, but presumably Reborn was certain enough of the process to know if something was sabotaged on them.
Mrs. Irene Arendzen may have started out decidedly unhappy with them, but the longer the Mafioso had her 'helping' them the worse that got. Curiously, there was no sign that either of them knew one another… so there was the possibility the husband was a hitman as well and would not appreciate their 'appropriation' of his wife.
Unsurprisingly, he had not managed to pickpocket nearly enough of the local currency to have been of immediate use. Adrik had informed him this process would never be enough for expensive needs, but it would at least be something to address an imbalance if there was one.
They still required the Italian to go out and murder someone for a paycheck, if they were not going to be robbing the woman of her life savings. Less than previously expected, since they did not require the information Irene already knew.
Which required Verde to guard the woman from leaving to alert the authorities to their presence or just leaving entirely.
…again, he was not an imposing man. Her sheer unfamiliarity to what a 'Lightning Flame user' even was helped little, the obvious palmful of Flames was only applicable for things within his reach.
Before he left again, Reborn secured them a small rental room to wait for him in using the money Verde had stolen from pedestrians before this interruption. He stood in the middle of the room, reluctantly but they did require removal from this… society.
…and the country.
Admittedly he was a little behind on world news and the like, but he had thought racism was socially unacceptable. Not so in South Africa, apparently.
He could spend some time in the afternoons after tutoring Usov to watch the news, however little he wished to. The Mist was dedicated to avoiding educational establishments enough that it took little time to ensure he was still on pace to finish his education on time with his contemporaries.
Speaking of, he could turn on the news and not be required to awkwardly stare at an unknown woman seated on a bed in a slightly seedy hotel room.
"Seriously?"
"I presume, with a young child in your household, you would appreciate something less… childish."
"Okay, for your information," Irene informed him bitingly, obviously now even more unhappy with his 'guard', "when you take a prisoner or kidnap someone… don't bring up their dependents. Ever. Unless you actually intend to harm young children or innocent men. Bringing them up suggests to me that you intend to do something to them."
"…ah." They intended no such thing, but he was uncertain to what degree she might believe his words. "My apologies."
"You're so green it's painful."
He shrugged, uncaring of her opinion, and turned his attention to the local news broadcast.
…he had forgotten where they were for a moment. Unfortunate. Perhaps there was an international news station.
Verde ignored her attempt to garrotte him with a ripped measure of the bedspread, more interested in the news of Professor Gerhard Herzberg of Canada earning himself a Nobel Peace prize. A shock of Lightning Flames guarding his throat had her releasing him eventually, and no harm was done.
Irene did not share his opinion. She cursed colorfully, cradling her hands to her stomach and glowering at him nastily. "Who the hell are you? What are you?"
"In order of your inquiries, Verde. Lightning Flame user."
"…you're not supposed to tell me this shit." Hissed the retired hitwoman irritably. "I'll hunt you down and kill you, now I have your name."
"Good luck." The thieves he worked with had already informed him of not sharing his real name, additionally he was aware that what she threatened could indeed be possible. Adrik was almost ready to head out to his experimental surgery and hopefully the remainder of his life, but that did not mean the castle grounds were undefended even if Sonya was not home. "If you are feeling in the mood to instruct or be helpful, perhaps you could explain how Reborn recognized you from a photograph."
"He's your associate."
"For the nonce."
Irene thought about it, to the point his attention wandered back to the news broadcast. "So… willing to betray him?"
He snorted.
"Yes, obviously. He'll murder you later for it. Is there anything that will convince you to let me go?"
"I fail to understand the logic behind your words. We both know betraying a man like that will only end one way, why would I then do exactly that for a transitory at best reward of a dubious nature? We are required to return to the same place. Either immediately or within two months, I will pay for such actions."
"Some people really are that stupid." Explained the woman with a dismissive shrug. "There's no way you can really like him. I dated a guy like that, infuriating and aggravating entirely."
"Whether I appreciate Reborn's companionship or not is moot. Currently we share an aim, which means he has my assistance if need be."
A man 'like him', could it be that she dated the man before he became Reborn?
She didn't recognize the hitman at the bar, so that couldn't be it unless some sort of restructuring of the facial features happened.
Injury, perhaps?
Could an injury healed by Sun Flames deform features?
He should inquire of Tatiana.
"Furthermore," Verde continued pointedly while she reacquainted herself with the feature of Hardening that prevented him from being susceptible to stabbing, much to her continued displeasure, "there is no reason for me to trust in your word or professionalism as I do in his."
For what little he had been acquainted with.
Frustrated, Irene spitefully threw her knife into his temple and was equally as dissatisfied by him taking possession of it again as she was with how uninjured he remained. "You're as thick as your damn skin."
"…you are a married woman. Did you intend for the suggestive undertone of your words?"
"I'd do a lot of suggestive shit to get you to drop your damn guard so I can stick a knife through your throat." Proclaimed the Irishwoman irritably, stalking off from the lone bed to the provided rustic bathroom.
There was no point of egress from the tiled closet-like room, and nothing within would harm Verde even with a willing and enthusiastic killer to make use of anything. Therefore he ignored her movements and returned his attention to the staticky news bulletin still attempting to convey the news from around the world.
Reborn let himself into the rented accommodations quietly and without a word. Holding a suspicious briefcase and arching an eyebrow at the unfortunate scientist he left to 'guard' their… kidnapped retired hitwoman.
Verde shrugged. "Do you now have what we require?"
"Finally, yes. Slight problem." The Mafioso took the rectangle of plastic that was the 'remote' to this third-hand knockoff television set. "I do believe someone just set fire to Mrs. Arendzen's home."
Slamming right back into the small room, the redhead glowered at them both nastily.
"Before you say it, there wasn't enough time for it to have been my fault. Between when I left you both here and now I couldn't have made it halfway to your home, ma'am. Much less back."
She seemingly ignored him, focusing on the 'breaking news story' and waiting with palpable worry until her husband was interviewed with her young toddler-aged daughter in his arms.
"…right, you need my help." Irene turned around from where the blocky television sat to face them both. "Get me the head of whatever asshole thought that was appropriate, and I won't even try to kill greenie again while 'helping' you both out."
Reborn arched an eyebrow at her but glanced at Verde instead of responding.
…he shrugged yet again. "I do not mind."
Both the assassination attempts or the proposed delay. Willing assistance was easier to trust in than unwilling, after all. The attempts on his life were inadequate, and he did not take offense to appropriate reactions to being contained both illegally and unwillingly.
"Since it's an attempt on your head," Reborn informed Irene pointedly, handing the Lightning the suspicious briefcase presumably full of blood money he earned killing someone, "stay within grabbing distance to Verde while I go check it out. As a matter of fact, why don't you take him to go get our tickets. I'll have either a head or more information for you once you're done."
"Only if you guard my husband and baby from harm too." Bargained the woman shortly. "I'll take him and get out of the city for a bit, but I'm not leaving Marcel on his own against someone after something like me."
"…I'll see what I can do." Dubiously promised the hitman. "I'm here right now, unfortunately."
"I can see he's fine. Keep it that way."
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. St. Louis, Missouri, United States of America.)
"…you have got to be kidding me."
Sonya ignored the woman next to her and smiled politely at the well-dressed guy stalking up to them that just told them to move. "Sorry, I hurt my leg. Do you know a better place to sit, then?"
St. Louis was a large city, there were quite a few other pedestrians around here. That he came to speak with them specifically wasn't good.
Lal Mirch didn't need a nudge or a look to know what to do, at least. "I only just got you to sit down and not make shit worse. Tell him to fuck off."
Or she was bitching because she could. Either or.
The presumed 'gentleman' smiled back as if he didn't understand the Italian, which she knew he knew full well because the thief had already been able to identify the man as one of the local crime family's soldiers. A small-time criminal might not, but soldiers of Italian American crime syndicates had to know the language of their 'old world' roots.
"Anywhere but here, miss. Where's your friend from?"
"Italy." They could try to claim Spain or Mexico, but Italian and Spanish had differences that stood out to those that knew the languages. "Do you speak it? We figured I would have to do most of the translations on our vacation, but I think she is getting a little bitchy being only able to speak with me."
Getting spotted watching them wasn't exactly a deal breaker, healthy crime syndicates had multiple operations bringing in the cash to stay afloat.
"I know a couple guys that speak it, yeah. Sticking around for long?"
"The country is a little bigger than we counted on," Sonya 'confessed' brightly, as if she hadn't known damn well how large the US was before ending up here, "but for someone that can speak to us both… we will make some time."
"Why don't you girls take the paddleboat up and down the river, the dock is near the Arch." He suggested pleasantly, but with a toothier grin than he should give two 'innocent' girls that grew broader by the second. "I'll see if my friends won't mind showing you around the city a little later. And maybe get dinner."
"Maybe for drinks?" Sonya obligingly continued the polite necessity with, resigned to them having been made because apparently her luck was shit. "I really need a stiff one."
Someone was a bit of a bigger fish in this lifetime than they had been in another.
"Pretty sure my boss is going to insist on dinner, Nightshade. At least."
"I was not aware Russian was of interest to Italian American syndicates."
"Russians, maybe not." Helpfully offered the guy brightly. "Russians that immigrated to Italy, bit more interesting. Someone who embarrassed the hell out of NASA, the Texas Rangers, the Feds, and the Army all in one night? You might just be a little too popular for your own good around here, Miss Bazanova."
Sonya dropped into Italian, because for one that wasn't shit one should talk about lightly and for the other… well, Lal deserved to know she accidentally fucked them over. "If you know enough to connect those two, then you know full well what you're risking. I'll be jailed, sure… you and everyone you know will all be dead."
Both of Lal's eyebrows flew upward, and she darted a suspicious look between them.
"She really doesn't speak English?" Mused the American Mafioso idly, returning the bulk of his attention on her instead. "Are you really hurt?"
"What the hell do you want?"
"Not to get robbed, for one." He gave them both a rakish smirk, dropping the polite civility he probably only used with the civilians to get them to keep moving along instead of lingering around an illegal gambling den. "A favor from you in return for whatever the hell you want? Won't say no. Then again, there's other things we might just appreciate a thief's fine touch on. Just dinner with my boss, Nightshade. I won't even tell him you were scoping us out."
Well they weren't dead. Which really was the worst-case scenario.
Sonya sighed heavily, then addressed her companion before she got even more twitchy. "Apparently there's been a slight change in plans, Lal."
"Joy." Deadpanned the other woman flatly but tipped her blue head to the guy. "Nice spot."
"No hard feelings, yeah?"
"We'll see about that." Lal switched languages to French, addressing her next. "Can he speak this one?"
"We're not going to know unless we ask, and the odds of him being honest is pretty damn low."
They both looked at him, and the man smiled politely. "Whenever you're ready, ladies."
"Let's just see what they want." Suggested the only standing woman thoughtfully. "It'll be dicey, but so is this shit. Maybe there's another way."
"I don't like owing people favors. I've given less than the number of fingers on one hand and would like to keep it that way." Sonya warned her, then stood up without help or waiting for her to help. A muscle tightened in Lal's jaw, but she smartly didn't say anything. "We'll see about holding it in Italian, so you can at least listen in. For what that would be worth."
"What's our emergency escape options?"
"Likely out a window, and a very long drop. Again."
The Rain sighed heavily and with some aggravation, then shrugged. "I'll try to stay in reach, then."
She then gave the Italian American a falsely polite smile. "We are ready. Lead on."