Author's Note : And this finishes the three-chapter mini story arc of how Checkerface is a dick. Finally.
That was a lot of juggling time of day/place, and POV. I kind of forgot it was winter through most of it… though it really only mattered for Skull/Fon and Sonya/Lal Mirch. Whoops. Should return to the usual format after this.
Also, ask me stupid petty snide questions and I will answer with a list. I've warned you all repeatedly.
What can't a Cloud do?
1) Actually heal anything. Both Skull and Reborn would both survive fifty gunshots to the chest, but while one won't do anything back the other wouldn't stand there and let himself be shot at without murder happening or defending himself. Cloud Voodoo is an ugly patch job of an ability that actually makes things worse, one only the World's Strongest Cloud can do on his full body and let it heal that way… and Skull's canonically the weakest of them. The injuries aren't gone, the bones are still broken and the blood is lost, that's how the siblings have a high pain tolerance.
2) Create something from nothing. Everything a Cloud does has to have at least a start in reality on its own. Providing the force to Propagate is easy to do with their own muscles but they must get their hands on an item/substance to make more, everything must exist first to make more of it. There is an upper limit on every Cloud to make more, we've yet to get there to play with that.
3) Gain help against the natural inclination of another person. They're charismatic in an instinctual way, but that's it. Every Cloud has their own amount of diplomacy just like every other human, sometimes it goes wrong and sometimes it goes right but that's mostly on other people to do themselves. Violence only goes so far.
4) Stop anything before it can even begin. Again, everything they do has to be in reach and something they know how to manipulate. Rains can stop things out of reach, Mists can clog something to stop it easily, a Cloud can only just break shit and not nearly as efficiently as a Storm can.
5) Prevent all damage to themselves or others with little effort or only a touch. They can manipulate force, they can't stop it cold or redirect it without that touch-component. Sonya broke concrete and herself just to prevent Lal Mirch from suffering under the momentum they were under while falling out of the sky. She has armor to protect herself from things, which only works when she knows it's needed. Skull can't even do that much, he just opted to throw Fon somewhere he'd survive instead.
Need me to continue?
I fucking will. Try me. Snide, petty bitching is why this site has lost so many amateur authors already. It's practically dead compared to when I started writing. Why it continues is beyond me, this is a hobby not a job and you all don't pay to read this. Why do I deserve this attitude?
Russian Roulette : Second Chamber
Chapter 67
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Lombardo's Trattoria, Lower Level of Drury Inn, 201 S 20th St, Saint Louis, Missouri, United States of America.)
Well, it turned out to be more of a 'working late lunch' than an even rather early dinner.
Enzo Benigno, the asshole that caught them, didn't exactly explain why. Sonya was mildly annoyed by that, but still aware this could've been so much worse than a slightly enforced meal with local criminal powers. The Italian American came back to them almost immediately before they could pick a new location to regroup at, and instead of giving her a place and time he suggested that he could drive them there now.
His boss really wanted a word. Enough so he wanted a word as soon as possible, not later.
The thief in her was just disgruntled enough to be a little more sarcastic accepting the 'invite' than generally acceptable. Someone was getting a bonus for this, and she wasn't even at her best to provide a decent challenge so he could earn it.
Although Lal kept on poking her in the side before her mouth could truly piss off Benigno. Pained and aggravated or not, Sonya put in some effort to control her tongue because her mother really would smack her head off if she didn't. Meeting a local mafia power, she had to be diplomatic at least for the first five minutes.
After that, all bets were off.
When the guy led them into a semi-fancy restaurant, it was clear the staff had no idea what had kicked the hornet's nest or even what was going on. The guy manning the hostess' podium didn't even wait for the Mafia Soldier to ask for anyone, he merely beckoned them in without waiting for any words of greeting or batting an eye at how the two women were dressed.
Admittedly Sonya had dressed with the idea that they'd be stuck in a mountainous if Mediterranean winter-climate, and put on light layers. Jeans, boots, and a thin burgundy sweater over a tank top. Lal was a little more lightly dressed than she was, trading in the heavy denim for brown canvas cargo pants and a forest green long-sleeved shirt, but not too out of place for a 'tourist'.
In a place with white tablecloths, they were just slightly underdressed.
At least the guy they were meeting didn't bother to dress up for it either. If she had to explain what he looked like in a few words, it would be 'lanky plumber'. He probably didn't even change from wherever he had been, so maybe he worked as a plumber when not being a criminal?
It was very odd to her, but that might just be her now Russian sensibilities. Working a 'legal' job while running an illegal business could very well be a damn good cover, even if it left his white tank top stained yellow and grey in places and his jeans were grungy.
There was a pipe wrench stuck in a loop on his jeans, making it pretty likely he was more a blue-collar worker and a white-collar crime lord than anything.
Antonio Rico Giuseppe Giordano, the head of the St. Louis Crime Family, was very happy to see her. Sonya ended up having her hand pumped, strangely. "Your man did not exactly say why you wanted a word with me, Don Giordano."
"Call me Tony G," suggested the somewhat lanky man slyly, with a distinctly not friendly grin, "less of a mouthful… and slightly less incriminating."
"…sure. Can we talk in Italian?" Since one hand was still in his meaty grips, she jerked the thumb of the other at her very blanked-face student. "She does not speak English."
"I'd be delighted, ladies." Turning only partially away from her, the older man finally released her to gesture to a table set for four diners. "Join me, please. I didn't honestly expect you to come back to the country after your little adventure only a few months earlier, Miss Bazanova."
"Trust me, this is very much unplanned."
Instead of one person per side, the table was set up to have two people across from one another. The reason why might run everything from that was just how they set up their tables here to a specific request for various reasons, but Sonya wondered anyway.
"May I ask how secure this place is?"
"The answer will be 'not very'. I'm a known criminal of some influence, very sorry." Shrugging that off as if it wasn't concerning, 'Tony G' at least politely pulled the chairs out for her and Lal before heading to 'his' spot. "Order what you want, on me."
The menu was mostly in English, words and numbers only without even a picture or two. Lal just very blandly passed the folder to her instead of making a mention of it, sitting straight as a nail in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "There's been a whole lot of nothing said about why we're delaying everything to speak with you. Can we know now?"
"And you two are ever so busy before Enzo caught up to you, right?" He observed just ever so tartly, leaning back in his seat and now not so much as slyly smiling but sneering. "Make ten minutes. It'll be worth it, I promise."
Sonya put her right hand under the table, then pulled out a full-blown golden battle ax to let drop on top of it. From a height where it would rattle the silverware, while plastering a flat expression across her face. "Get. To the point. Politely, please. We've been up since two, in the damn morning."
The American Don eyed it, eyed her, then Lal's unsurprised and not alarmed expression at the 'mysteriously' multiplying weaponry. In order. "Alright, alright. Calm down. Two things, then you can go free. Firstly, what the fuck happened in San Jose? Joe ain't talking, and the rest of us know full well it had to be referred back to the old world to be solved."
"…does he know you call him 'Joe'?" Inquired the thief slowly as the ax was taken away by another of his men.
The only other people in this entire restaurant aside the three of them were all his guards and related assholes aside the few required staff. They emptied an entire restaurant for this.
She wondered if she should be impressed or not. She wasn't, it was a weekend around the dinner/lunch time and they were probably depriving this place of revenue for the civilian workers and possible business owner.
Use a mafia-specific hotspot for this kind of shit, and no one got deprived of their wages. Use a civilian place, and they ended up suffering for it.
"He knows and hates it." Tony G smiled very nastily, sprawling over his stiff chair like he owned it and passing on that pipe wrench to the same guy to take too. "If he was less of a shit I'd care, but he is so I don't."
Sonya thought about it, more at ease with this detour if it remained an information mining kind of event than a 'twist her arm into lethal shit' one. "Technically, no one asked me to keep my mouth shut. The arrangement between me and Don Bergamaschi on Don Cerrito's behalf was just to bury the hatchet instead of silencing the situation. However, no one said I could tell others about it either."
"I'll consider you giving me enough dirt to give Joe a heart attack a personal favor that I'll let your presence here go. Up to a week from now."
…if she left Verde's name out of it, it was pretty harmless gossip. For her.
"Don Cerrito 'accidentally' came into possession of one of my Home Tutors." She informed him politely, with an equally nasty if less enthusiastically so smirk of her own. "In the middle of instruction to a recently found 'green' one of us. Well, there's Laws about that sort of thing… we have to pass a few things along, he was checking for the exact wording. I could've done a whole lot worse than just steal my Tutor and the guy he then owed his life to back. 'Joe' was… let's say… less than pleased and tried to bitch."
The American Don tipped his head back, affecting a thoughtful air about him though his suspicious brown eyes remained shrewd and calculating. "There was a lot of movement for it to have been that pretty and neat."
"Oh, no. I hospitalized several of Don Cerrito's men. I can safely assure you, he did not appreciate my response to him running his mouth to his originating syndicate." Sonya shrugged absently, trying not to fidget or worry at her sore thigh as well as prevent any defensive body posture from happening. "Between Don Bergamaschi and I, the 'stolen' green one would be forgiven if I gave 'Joe' something of equivalent value as that was the only leg he had to stand on. So I taught a few of his boys just what we were, how to identify us and such, and promised to get one of my students to emigrate. The idiot still probably thinks I cheated him on that one."
"That sounds like a story."
"That isn't part of this story."
He nodded sharply. "What do you want?"
"Two flights to Italy, as soon as you can get it done. Around Immigration, we kind of don't have our passports." Sonya gave a slightly more sheepish smile than she intended, given his arched eyebrows. "Being here wasn't part of the plan, but plans change. If you can, we won't need to get up to any mischief in your territory. Or anyone else's."
Tony G didn't look entirely displeased, but he did look doubtful enough it was iffy if he'd go along with this. "And the information is worth that?"
"…if you can keep him from actually making use of what value I gave him, I'd be very vindictively happy."
"Alright. I'll bite. If it's worth it, two flights home for the lovely ladies."
"The presence of one of us can encourage 'native' concentrations. The oranges are the best to do that, yes… but any will eventually encourage more. My yellow girl was here for only a few months… if there was any in the area they're now more likely to find their own colors."
"What native concentrations? No one lets their 'colorful' people go."
"Bastard lines? Those that refused to conform? I lost a yellow like that in the first year of my school being open." Poked the thief pointedly, not really impressed with that protest and uncaring if he knew it. "It's been two centuries. I'd just bet there's more here than anyone will really admit to. There aren't all that many of us… but we're a willful and spiteful bunch. 'No' is probably the greatest encouragement you can give something like me."
"…I can respect that." Mused the man thoughtfully, and slow enough she knew he wanted her to think it was only just enough. Likely, someone squealed and told his boss what they got caught doing. "Alright, yeah. I'll pay for some VIP flights out of the country for that little tidbit. Even if it comes to nothing and there ain't any in Joe's backyard, I can still use that somewhere else."
Of course he could.
It took more out of her to not roll her eyes than usual. "Your second topic, then?"
"That'll be… ah, never mind. Here she is… ladies, this is my wife, Catherine."
…oh fuck, the hair.
Teased out to a ridiculous degree and fluffy where there wasn't a hairband for absolutely no reason perched in the mess, then enough hairspray to cement it all in place like a helmet no matter what, the overly made-up housewife that wore it proudly sashaying to the table in what could probably pass as evening wear… made from a hardware store…
…right, that was probably 'in fashion' for the early 70s.
Sonya blinked hard, three times. The sparkles off the sequins on her dress were still giving her some eye searing pain, and she still couldn't make out what shape that dress even was in. Lal coughed suspiciously next to her, then cleared her throat uneasily.
"Cathy, babe, this is Sonya Bazanova and her friend… ah…?"
"…Lal Mirch." The Rain answered for herself, easily guessing what the topic was and what answer needed to be provided given the attention that turned her way. She even managed a semi-friendly wave at the new woman to go with her slightly uneasy smile. "Ciao."
"She doesn't speak English, unfortunately." Tony G informed his wife regretfully, getting up fully from the table to presumably hug the woman.
…or dip her backwards for an entirely overenthusiastic kiss.
That too.
Sonya awkwardly glanced at her student, who looked exactly as nonplussed as she felt.
Lal coughed pointedly this time, then pretended she really just needed a drink from the provided water glasses no one had touched yet. Presumably just to drown something gritty in her throat, not remind them there was an audience.
"Hi, girls! I hope Tony wasn't boring you too much with shop talk." 'Cathy' had a very distinctive posh Chicago accent, for all her tone was a touch higher than the thief was used to hearing from a woman. She even included the Rain in her apologetic smile, knowing full well Lal didn't understand a lick of whatever came out of her mouth made it unnecessary but appreciative. "Anyways… I asked Tony to keep you when I overheard you were in the area, Miss Bazanova. A little birdy told me you've attended the Vongola Ball a couple times… it's almost our ten-year anniversary, you see. I was wondering if there was any way you could get us a pair of invites?"
Blinking hard another three times, she smiled a whole lot more politely as the older woman was seated at the table by her obviously very enamored husband. "Of course. Which one?"
"Which one?" She parroted in confusion, a crease appearing in the makeup on her forehead between perfectly plucked eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"The Vongola Valentines Day Ball, the Halloween Masquerade, or the Christmas Ball?"
"…can I pick?" She wondered in pure delight. "Can you really do that? I thought it was really hard to get them!"
"My mother is Lady Fiorella's Home Tutor, and we go on vacations together occasionally." Not to mention Fiorella kind of owed her a little bit for the whole 'try to steal a fucking island thing' still. "I can. Do you have a preference? All three, perhaps?"
"Oh my, no. Just one I think, dear." Cathy carefully pressed her palms into her cheeks, which really didn't do enough to hide the blush creeping out behind her makeup. "I don't think I could impose that much, and we just missed Halloween anyway. A shopping trip to Rome and a little party while Tony does his thing is a little much as it is… just Christmas. I'd just love to spend winter somewhere more exotic this year, Miss Bazanova."
"I think I very well can, your man is doing us a small favor as it is." Allowed the thief very dryly, amused at this very strange turn in… whatever the hell this was supposed to have been. "Happy almost ten years anniversary."
Cathy squealed something about putting some 'Detroit bitches' in their places. Which wasn't very understandable without context and muffled mostly into Tony G's neck as she hugged him in another enthusiastic outpouring of apparently sheer glee.
Lal leaned over slightly. "This is the weirdest negotiation I've ever seen take place. What the hell is going on?"
"It's almost their ten-year anniversary, Lal. Congratulate the couple."
She shot her a dry glare but did salute the pair with her water glass obediently. "Impressive?"
"And now that you've made my wife very happy, I don't have to hold the whole 'scoping us out' thing against you ladies." Tony G informed them both warmly in Italian, as if he wasn't indirectly threatening them about misbehavior they got caught doing.
"I knew that was coming." Sonya assured the suddenly stiff Rain without so much as twitching at his tone, because obviously his man would've reported that no matter what he claimed otherwise to them. "We're free and clear now, Lal. Don't worry."
There was no reason for his man to have not told his boss, and every reason he'd lie to their faces about doing it.
"Makes you smarter than ninety percent of the idiots I work with."
"And this makes you more likable than ninety percent of all the Dons I've ever met with."
The American Don laughed at her quip, squeezing his wife's shoulders where his arm was slung over her.
Lal made a confused and bewildered sound to go with her matching expression, slumping back into her chair with her glass of water now clutched in both hands like it could save her. "Okay. Seriously?"
"What's the point of power, influence, and money if you can't make the people important to you happy with it?" He shrugged ambivalently, perfectly content with this use of 'Nightshade's' reputation even if probably everyone else thought it petty as fuck. Just to put a pretty feather in his wife's political cap, and do a bit of networking in his ancestral homeland. "You ladies might be in the middle of chasing infamy, glory, and money… but try not to lose sight of the important things along the way. Mostly to keep the police on their toes, half to keep our shit to ourselves, and finally because we want to. And to part idiots with their money however we can, that's pretty important too. Now, what do you want to eat while the arrangements are made?"
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Arseniy & Lisa's home, Moscow, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic.)
"…I have my Mafia Land ID." Fon posed more conversationally than pointedly into the semi-amiable silence, sitting tailor-fashioned next to the couch instead of on it. "It would be a simple process to obtain tickets to avoid the issue you are having trouble with wholesale."
"I appreciate the offer, but I loathe that place. I've been three times, it's never any better than the last time I've gone, and I'd just really rather go the slow way. If you don't mind." Cherep responded more absently than irritably, shooting him a curious look over a shoulder after a moment. "If you want to, then feel free. I really should've asked what you preferred… but we don't exactly have the loose cash to pay for Mafia Land flights around here. Not without Zolotov permission. Nya and I aren't Zolotovs anymore, so…"
"An understandable omission, I do not take offense." Proclaimed the assassin peacefully, sliding both hands right back into his sleeves instead of being folded loosely in his lap. "I do not have the required funds for a ticket myself, much less for an addition."
"I, or Lisa, could call your Mountain Master dude if you'd just want to skip this." He offered from over Lisa's old world map, because yeah he really should've asked the guy what he wanted to do before making plans for them both. "I mean, you've been pretty great about putting up with me. And my driving. And my mouth. If you'd rather-"
"It is likely Checkerface has us tethered together somewhat. Or at least will know if we split up for any aim and might 'punish' such."
"…there is that. This is 'supposedly' a team effort."
Shrugging, the Storm withdrew one hand to cup the underside of his jaw leaving the other tucked under his elbow. "I am not averse to learning at least a way past the physical boundary of the Iron Curtain, but if my 'disability' is too difficult-"
"It's not a disability." Cherep interrupted wryly with a roll of his eyes, going back to eyeing the physical features of this part of the world charted more than twenty years ago. "We're a family of thieves, it's really just odd to us. Obviously it works for you, even if it's kind of noticeable to us that one of Nya's rare few friends can't sneak."
Both Lisa and Arseniy would help if their various kids asked, sure. However, they needed to know what they wanted and how to do it before either would lift a finger. That hadn't changed from the early years of Sonya's career before him, and that didn't change with his inclusion or after three out of four children became adults.
"…you consider yourself a thief?"
"I consider myself the son of thieves. And I can steal, I just don't like doing so."
Fon mused on something back there that made a pause in the conversation, but he very nearly had a semi-decent route under his hands… if this held up when he got the more updated world map Lisa was out getting him.
Valera jabbed him in the sore side of his ribcage, rather rudely too the brat. In his toddler-pudgy hands was one of the pair of wooden slats the parents installed locks into so the girls, and later him too, could learn to pick them.
"You know, talking generally helps when you've got a question or problem to ask about."
His little brother was supremely unimpressed, given that moody little pout. Baby kid brother also jabbed him in the side again, harder.
Not enough to do any damage, however broken it all really was, but hard enough he flinched slightly.
Cherep rolled his eyes again, offering a hand to take the unwieldy bit of hardware to see which ones Valera was having trouble with. "Alright already, give it here. Let's see what you've got."
The kid slapped his 'homework' out of his hands and right on top of the map he had been using instead of handing it over nicely. Plopping himself in his lap the very next second and pointing to the third lock from the right hand side.
He blinked questioningly at the back of Valera's head, but no lockpicks were forthcoming to go with it.
Another moment, where baby Cloud very pointedly didn't acknowledge the futility of having someone review his lockpicking skills without the picks, he sighed into shaggy brown hair and pulled out his own. "You're such a brat. How are you Lisa's son?"
"…where did those come from?"
"They usually stay in a compartment sewn into my boots. Don't need them usually, I figured we might here soon so I stuck them in my pocket." It was the safest place for them, his boots ended up scuffed at worse through his shenanigans while everything else… usually ended up in the rag bin. "I don't need them all that often, but they're nice to have."
Fon was thoughtfully silent while Valera took possession of the set of picks Sonya got him once she thought he was decent enough. Bending to his practice with a tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth and everything, apparently Valera was not in need of help but just wanted to do it while taking up all of Cherep's attention.
Because he was a damn attention whore of a brat.
The showman in him approved. He could be a little less violent in his aims, but the end result was petty and adorable.
"Can he speak?"
"Of course he can. He just refuses to talk, and makes these little smug faces whenever the parents or our sisters bend to his whims without saying one word." In a family of manipulators, habitual liars, and perceptive people… Valera didn't need to talk.
Being equally Arseniy's son as much as he was Lisa's, low effort communication became a fast favorite of the arrogantly opinionated toddler. Almost immediately after he started talking, Valera stopped talking.
Shamal was probably one of the last people the kid actually spoke words to. Mostly 'no', 'mine', and 'no' again. Because of course those were his last spoken words to another person.
Cherep missed basically all of it running around the world becoming famous, but he called their mom for family updates pretty often. Nice tiny slice of normalcy in between shows and press conferences, or what he eventually came to know as 'normalcy', hearing about all his baby Cloud brother's antics under Lisa's thumb.
He'll be missing most of Valera's childhood now, being famous and determinedly not a Soviet citizen anymore. Sonya would too, and Tatiana was busy enough at her hospital she'd probably only return to Moscow a handful more times herself in the next few years.
While it was very appreciated their baby brother didn't throw fits when the rare visit they could do came to an end, they'd just have to see if that stayed true in the next few years. When he realized how unfair it was, that they wanted to but it just wasn't all that safe to keep ducking in and out of the country just for him.
Valera was functionally an only child, despite having an older brother and two older sisters.
"I've never heard of a child refusing to speak, once they learn how." Fon postulated, somewhat uncertain and almost damn hesitant for him. "Your parents are fine with this behavior?"
"Lisa said she raised one child-genius and very nearly fucked it all up, Valera can do whatever the hell he wants to as long as he's happy." Cherep shrugged, leaning backwards so he could see the assassin lurking in the corner of their family room with a puzzled expression. "He can, that's the important part. If he can and he's on track in development milestones, mom doesn't care all that much."
"I… see."
Doubtful, given his tone.
While the two of them were really just waiting for Lisa to come back, and killing time trying to find light non offensive things to chat about, they weren't expecting her to basically run through the front door.
Valera snapped his head up in alarm when the heavy slab of wood bounced off the wall and made a racket, and to be fair Cherep shared that a little. Lisa didn't run, or hurry, or exhibit haste. Ever.
"Pack up." Snapped his mother sharply, darting in to haul her baby boy into her arms and relieve him of possible sulky burdens. "Of all the things you could've accidentally done, Cherep."
"…sorry?" He had no idea what he should be sorry for, but obviously he should be very sorry about it. "Mom? What's going on?"
"We've figured out who it was that tried to steal your sister's business from her. It turns out, the answer to that is 'it's complicated'." Lisa informed him shortly and a little sourly, swinging Valera to sit on her hip and lead them both right back out of the house. "Just to be safe, you probably shouldn't come back to Moscow for a little bit. Until both your sister calms down and this situation is less… dicey."
"Wait, Gedeon had something to do with it?"
Trying to knock over a Mafia Land business?
…was he retarded or something?
He didn't know the current Zolotov Pahkan, just like he never met the old one either, but that sounded… very stupid.
"It's complicated." She repeated pointedly, gesturing with her only free hand to the door for them to follow her out of the house. "Out. Let me explain it to Sonya, try not to stumble on anything else politically sensitive, and for fuck's sake Cherep. Avoid Saint Petersburg. Avoid anything Russian for a little while. And, if you could, avoid anything criminal until this blows over."
He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at her frown as they obediently followed, but the assassin had to pause to put his shoes back on. "Sorry?"
"Your father's at the airport, bribing your way out of the country. I'll include instructions on who to see and where to go once it lands in the car, as well as with a bit of emergency trade goods to see you out of the Iron Curtain. Only to West Germany, I'm afraid, but you should be able to easily make it back to Italy from there."
…frankly, that was the most alarming part. Cherep being given everything they needed, instead of with the expectation to at least pull his side of the situation however limitedly he could. "Sure… I'll see you at Christmas then? We're having it at Nya's again, right?"
"To keep your father from murdering the Pahkan for mismanaging non-clan assets, we may just have to." Lisa agreed in utter exasperation, opening the driver's side door of the car parked on their street to get at the back seat and buckle her son in firmly for the trip. "Why we didn't retire when the old man did is something I'll wonder for the rest of my life."
It was the same one they stole to get out of St. Petersburg, just with a new license plate and a shiny new paint job. Apparently the clan would be absorbing his theft instead of returning it.
Assholes.
"Should I be pretending deafness?" Fon wondered politely, going so far as to politely lock the front door behind them too now he had his little black shoes on again. "I can give a very spirited attempt at it, if you so wish."
"Thank you, but really that's everything I know right now. Technically," his mother very pointedly made clear, "it wasn't Gedeon's fault. It wasn't Dimitri's fault. It was… less 'someone is at fault' and more 'someone thought there was something free for the taking' at fault. Someone not us is 'at fault' for the attempt, but the leak of information is our fault."
"Nya's not going to care, Lisa. If Gedeon had anything to do with it…"
She sighed heavily. "I'm aware, sweetie. Master Fon, can we trade liberally on your… skills? Or would you prefer just to be along for the ride, so to speak?"
"Whichever would ease your burdens more, I do not mind either way. I have no objections to assisting a worthy goal, and safeguarding your son is indeed a worthy one."
Cherep blinked, then looked at him sideways as his mother nodded firmly and climbed into the car's backseat too.
No, the Triad assassin Storm really meant that. Apparently.
…weird. Maybe it was an 'Sonya's best friend' thing, or a 'pull my own weight' thing.
"Remember to not-"
"I can learn better." Fon interrupted the reminder, defensively wrapping the tail end of his long braid around his left hand so it wouldn't be caught in the car door.
Again.
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 6th of November, 1971 continued. Cape Town, Western Cape, Republic of South Africa, Africa.)
Unfortunately, Reborn had to slink back to the meeting point empty handed but for some bits of paltry information.
There were just bad odds, there were semi-impossible end goals, all things he could easily deal with himself. Then there was… the fact none of his opponents this time were hitmen operating on Mafia rules.
It wasn't a hit, not as he knew it. Which meant there was enough ambiguity in what could happen to make him hedge his bets instead of doing it anyway and damning the consequences.
The Official Irish Republican Army had recently realized one of their old agents wasn't quite as dead as reported. While Renato had been aware of her paramilitary background and the current clusterfuck going on in her home country, he hadn't been aware she knew more than enough of the original Irish Republican Army that someone wanted to be sure she never spoke of it.
Apparently, the Provisional Irish Republican Army didn't care… but the entire organization had split into two recently and both splinter groups didn't agree on a whole lot.
They were going to need Verde to get Irene's husband and baby girl out intact instead of becoming unfortunate casualties, likely by bullshit Lightning immunity to all forms of damage.
The Irishmen after an Irishwoman's head might not be Mafia, but they were paramilitary. They knew just enough to cover all points of egress and not be stupid in keeping their only lead on their target somewhere they could control them. All of them moved around in pairs, at least five stayed in their 'hideout' and kept tabs on one another while they were so far from home.
Then again, they were military. Maybe not a legal military, but the whole group was trying to install an independent and official Irish government so they likely counted as an Authority. The men wouldn't know not to put a Flame user in with their hostages, or even what Verde was to prevent him from fouling their plans of threatening Irene's husband to control her.
If they all died, then Omertà would be kept intact.
Now he had to tell a very angry, very pissed off, Irish Catholic mother that he couldn't keep her innocent husband and daughter out of hostile hands. And the fault lies in her old fellows in arms, from something she did or knew about from back when she was a liberal freedom fighter.
Reborn wasn't even sure if he wanted Verde to protest the possible unnecessary detour or not. He didn't know enough about the Lightning's character to judge what he'd prefer to do in this situation, with their way out of here likely in hand and a dubious situation before them.
He had been oddly willing to both commit crimes on his behalf and follow the Mafioso's lead, a bit of a change from the last weekend shit-fest when they were stuck in the same situation. Sonya's current man could either be smartly betting on the hitman to return him in good condition, to avoid Cloud-related temper tantrums, or simply because he was that practical by nature.
When he finally reached the public square Irene had decided would do for a clandestine meeting of this type, he had to very carefully not sneer at the twin incredulous looks. "Mrs. Arendzen, just why would the IRA be… less than pleased to realize you are alive?"
She narrowed her, still pretty, green eyes at him. "And just how do you know I'm supposed to be dead?"
Reborn reached into his suit's breast pocket and withdrew an old posted greeting card from last Christmas he had liberated for the requisite proof. Still stapled to the 'orders' the men against her were obeying. "Because apparently, it took going through your mother's mail for them to come here and attempt to… express their grievances with you."
Snatching the postcard with her family portrait on it from his fingers, Irene pressed her lips into a tight line as she read her own handwriting on the address line and came to the same conclusion he did. "So. It's like that, is it?"
"Specifically the Official IRA." With a shrug, the hitman accepted the two very specifically marked plane tickets to ensure the watermark was correct and the right date was listed from Verde. "Without agreement from the Provisional IRA. If that makes any kind of difference for you."
Actually good tickets for tonight, and apparently there was some funds left over or the scientist had not thought to discard the suitcase once the money was spent.
Reborn, after a second to think about it, returned them to the Lightning for safekeeping. For now.
"Fine. Fine." Crumpling the picture that betrayed her in one hand, the former hitwoman defensively crossed her arms under her chest and glowered death at him. "Thank you for the information. Get lost."
The Sun sighed heavily, glancing over her shoulder at the so-far silent Lightning. Verde, irritatingly enough, looked blankly clueless. More than mildly annoyed now, he gripped the hitwoman by the arm when she attempted to brush past him and somewhat sarcastically indicated the scientist's whole form with a flick of a wrist.
"Mrs. Arendzen… may I introduce you to Verde." Reborn drawled with venom into the quiet, afforded to them by virtue of a back alleyway behind a local Catholic church well after Sabbath Mass. "He who will never be all that bothered by murder attempts, either on himself or those in his reach. We're not responsible for this clusterfuck, no. But you've done us a favor. Go die in a shootout for all I care, but there's an innocent little girl at risk and he's your best bet to keep her safe."
…he might not have been as over Irene's bullshit breakup with him as he had thought he was. Great thing to realize now.
Verde thought about it for three very silent seconds. "We do have the time before the flight leaves, I care not where or what we do while we await it."
"It's either this or I go murder more racist assholes until then." Reborn chipped in on his own end dismissively. "I really hate this country."
"You can't force them to change." Irene reminded him with bitter and hard-won wisdom learned from her own 'previous' life, hunching over her folded arms and noticeably not asking the Lightning for some assistance. "Even if they are assholes and racists, so long as they believe there's nothing wrong with that, no amount of death or destruction will change something as big as a country. You need the popular opinion to change for it to happen, and currently it's not popular enough."
Yeah, just like you couldn't change a Mafioso into a willing and able house husband without his support… no matter the attempts at emotional manipulation. Knowing that never stopped her from trying before, but he supposed there was a first for everything and even headstrong Irishwomen could learn new tricks.
He rolled his eyes, more at himself than her, unseen under the brim of his fedora shading more than half his face. Firmly shoving the residual irritation and bitterness from how she broke up with Renato back into whatever crack it crawled out of, the man who wasn't that Mafioso anymore instead hitched one shoulder up in a lazily dismissive shrug.
"Can I inquire as to why you live in this country, then? It does not sound as if you share the 'popular' opinion currently… dictating social norms."
Finally. Decent petty question to let her save face with, he wondered if it was by accident or by purpose.
"If I tell you, will you help me save my family?"
Verde gave her a puzzled frown. "I thought our willingness was already apparent. We have little better aims left to accomplish undone, except for your own. Additionally we have involved you in our situation, the reverse can be true as well. Regardless, yes. Answering my question will not change my answer to yours."
Irene unfolded her arms just to jerk a thumb at the man while looking at the hitman. "Why do you let him out of the house? He's so painfully straightforward it's agonizing."
"Sometimes, that's refreshing." Drawled the Mafioso sarcastically. "Other times, I wonder myself. Well, Mrs. Arendzen?"
"…we live here because Marcel has extended family here. I left mine behind in Ireland and obviously I can't go back for a reason, some family around is better than none." She then turned to fully face Reborn. "And you? Why are you willing to help me all of a sudden?"
"I am a Mafioso. A Catholic hitman." He reminded the both of them very pointedly with a broad gesture to his own form. "There's a young innocent soul at risk through no fault of her own. I'm aware of the threat, I know how to negate it, I am duty bound to at least try to save a true innocent that cannot defend herself from the danger she didn't invite."
If only to not critically stain his own already bloody soul with sin he would never be able to wash clean.
There was a difference between committing evil to already evil souls and ignoring the plight of the truly innocent. There was also a reason Reborn didn't tend to spend a whole lot of time outside of Mafia-only hotspots or locations.
Mafia people were well aware they had to keep their bullshit to themselves and others like them or else, that there were lines in the sand and stepping over it meant they could die. He didn't have to continually remind people that Catholic had a damn meaning and he'd follow that, regardless of if anyone around appreciated him doing it.
He was aware situations like this weren't uncommon at all, that interfering this once did not make up for all the times it happened near him but he never had the information to know it. However, right now, he did know it.
"So? You got a plan, then?"
"Verde's going to walk right in, be an annoying little shit he is at heart, and get imprisoned with your husband and child when they fail to actually damage him. They're military enough the only reaction to that violation of reality is calling back in to see what they should do from their command structure, and it'll be odd enough all of them will want to hear any explanation."
Irene nodded slowly, but she did give a little dubious look at Verde's thin form. "They'll be in one area, with Verde near the hostages. Should be rather simple to fix this then."
The scientist sighed heavily, peeling off his already stained and soiled previously white lab coat for all the use that would do him. "Very well then. Where am I to go to 'be a little shit'?"
Their tickets were in that coat, so Reborn didn't sneer at being given the dirty garment and the briefcase. "I'll put you on the same street and point it out to you, give us fifteen minutes to get into a good position then just walk right on in."
(Sunday the 7th of November, 1971. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)
The trickle of returning Arcobaleno candidates began with Sonya and Lal Mirch. Just after breakfast, but late enough in the morning Luce could make them something to eat. Just in case they hadn't yet or were hungry after an inadequate meal on the road, she wouldn't ask and they wouldn't have told her if she did.
Alek tackled his mistress in sheer relieved glee and then refused to be any further than arm's length away from her the moment the thief let herself out of a presumably stolen car. It wasn't her estate's utilitarian truck, which was already here, nor the more elegant if armored sedan she used for 'official' trips around Europe.
Why the younger Cloud sibling was limping was another of those things Luce would never learn the reason for.
A broken femur, yes. How the woman broke it… 'wasn't for her to see'.
She might be a little bitter over Kawahira having to take a moment to remind her of that fact, which she should've kept in mind herself. Events were attempting to spin out of her control and, as obliging as Viper was in giving her the day to keep watch in, there just wasn't enough time right now to try and foresee enough of the future to feel safe now an unknown deviation had been pointed out.
These were ultimately professional criminals. Professionals that would have only one reaction to what the Sky had a heavy hand in setting them up for.
They would all know, in the end. Luce still couldn't prevent that incident and still get everything she was after.
Sonya rolled her eyes at Lal's very pointed glare, once the two of them plus clingy canine were finally inside. She obligingly limped to the couch, dog still a half-paw away from her side until she sat and her lap was finally available for him to claim. "You and Viper then, Luce?"
"I was very lucky in that 'draw' of their assistance, yes." She agreed softly with remembered terror, shaking it off after a moment and tactfully not asking how they survived their own drops. "I don't believe Checker Face placed us all that far away, my coffee cup smashed into the porch roof once Viper had us on the ground again. Bacon, eggs, and toast alright?"
Lal, in a markedly different way than before their 'day trip' together, glanced at her Mafia Home Tutor with a tilt of her head in the Sky's direction. The almost invisible negative tilt of a blonde head answered her unspoken question, though it was hard to catch given her preoccupation with soothing her distressed companion with all the scratches and pets she could give with both hands.
"Well, you really are lucky then. We ended up in North America." The Rain informed her without giving away there very nearly was another topic she might've spoken of. "In the middle of the God damn fucking night. It was all nearly pitch black for half the time we were there."
"It's the start of winter. There wasn't much to see." Sonya disagreed almost immediately, very smoothly continuing the alternate not-quite-intended topic while Luce cracked eggs into a mixing bowl to scramble for them. "Just grey-white dirty snow, more white frost, and maybe some transparent ice here or there."
"In Wisconsin and half of Illinois, sure. Missouri was colorful."
"Missouri was a little too colorful." Grumbled the other woman irritably.
Amused now instead of reserved or unsure with being subjected to Sonya's snark, the Rain simply shrugged it and the semi-complaint off. "I think I prefer how it ended, rather than going with your original idea. It was cute. Slightly terrifying for five seconds, but mostly cute."
The Storm-Cloud rolled her eyes in return, shifting to fully focus all her attention on her very relieved canine companion instead of paying either of them any mind. "Go get our damn luggage so we can finally change out of yesterday's clothing. I'd fucking murder for a hot shower right now."
"Just to warn you both, Checker Face stole Viper and then I for a 'one-on-one' chat right after they returned us both here." Luce offered, grimacing at the suspicious and alarmed looks the admission earned her. "I'm unsure if he will wait for you two to 'settle in' or not-"
Lal Mirch instantly disappeared, though thankfully with the forewarning the Mafia Home Tutor didn't instantly break something and wake Viper at the presumed 'loss' of her student.
Sonya took in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly as she adjusted to the 'theft' right under her nose. "I really hate that guy."
"I should've warned you the moment the two of you got through the door, sorry. But you just returned, I don't know why I assumed you would at least have five minutes." Sighed Luce, going to the fridge to get the bacon she had pulled from the freezer to thaw yesterday for cooking faster. "Erm… is breakfast alright or would you prefer me to make you lunch?"
"Anything will do. I'm going to go take a bath, see if that will prevent him from 'stealing' me."
A very important question to be answered, at least for those among them that would care or didn't already know it would. It still wouldn't delay Sonya's 'theft' for all that long.
Reborn and Verde would be in within an hour or so, just before lunch. As she didn't know how much Flames either team had used during their trips, making more than enough of everything would only help them start making up for it.
The dog could and would eat the rest.
While Skull and Fon would be a great deal later than the rest of them to return, they too would be here sometime after nightfall. She wasn't going to be making dinner tonight, Reborn would because he was 'offended' by the fare he had to pick from the few places Verde was willing to stop their own stolen car at.
Mostly just because he could, and he was tired of paying for substandard meals when he could do so much better himself.
Luce checked on Leon, but the chameleon was stubbornly clinging to the underside of Viper's illusionary pot plant and would not move until her Mafioso coaxed her out.
She couldn't tell what the creature was thinking or feeling. Leon just looked like she usually did, it was her actions that told them what she felt at any given time. Scaled skin made for mostly ridged features, and she didn't have ears to lay back when she felt defensive or aggressive.
Kind of a theme, there. Out of all the rest of the soon-to-be animal companions, only Lichi had easily recognizable expressions to judge from as Alek did. Of the remaining mammals of the group, her own Cosmo… well, she wouldn't have the dear squirrel for all that long.
She will die with her once her Flames ran out, for what comfort that was. Equally as too early as her own death.
…if Kawahira successfully adjusted whatever it was that made the Pacifiers to account for twice the amount of Rain Flames and twice the Cloud, something she hadn't believed would be possible to ask him in time until yesterday, then there would be two Rain familiars. Not just one. Two.
Oh for God's sake, they would have to deal with Zamza.
To help balance the strain on the Arcobaleno even a small bit, and an immediate responsibility they could not ignore once Cursed regardless, they would be 'bonded' to an animal companion as a kind of half-assed 'compensation'/life extension. The animals exposed to so much concentrated Flames would soak up the ambient power, making them less reliable but still valid sources to pull yet more Flames from.
It would allow Leon a lifespan greater than any small lizards even on top of her Misty-Sun tainted biology, and Alek would live longer than any dog could. That was part and parcel of being Cursed so the Tri-Ni-Set could feed off their Flames, and not being a particularly powerful generation overall compared to what once had been.
Falco wasn't objectionable, the hawk of Colonello's would go with his partner or stay on his perches. If there were indeed two Rain Flame Arcobalenos in this final generation, despite the possible lethal strain on the mechanisms Kawahira didn't know how to repair if they broke…
Insectoids were the only creatures that got larger with heavy Flame exposure, instead of living longer than they should or becoming more in personality instead. Lal would pick her animal companion on the idea that a small poisonous creature might help her be a better spy, then end up with a giant centipede that could easily wrap around her entire body and still have some length left over.
A centipede that was venomous enough to not care about predation or possible threats to it, therefore wouldn't avoid humans or the other animals. Zamza would crawl up and over all of them multiple times because he wouldn't like staying put in his tank.
Lal picking her companion for an actual if eventually defunct reason was at least better logic than Fon's, who picked Lichi because he wanted since childhood to teach a monkey to use martial arts. The Storm would not mind the end results of that decision, but it was something he would easily admit to not having been a well thought out choice.
Or Verde and Keiman, he would pick a swan's egg as one was in a control group of his studies. He came out of the situation with a crocodile instead, as nonplussed as he would be irritated at the mix up.
Viper created Fantasma from their illusions and therefore no one would be surprised its actual species was as hard to figure out as the Mist's gender.
Skull would procrastinate until the very last second, then save Oodako from the food stall he would be eating at just before Checker Face bound them to their familiars in the old ways. Then, despite having an octopus as a familiar, would keep on eating calamari and octopus when he could. Even if it made him feel horribly guilty.
…Aria would pick Luce's companion, before her heritage of foresight would tell her what should be. Her baby would have a momentary if supremely adorable phase of being enamored of all forest creatures. Half due to Skull's habit of buying plush stuffed animals to send his baby brother transferring to her daughter, and half because… well, it would be very cute.
It would end a horrible death with Luce and Cosmo, and she was terribly sorry to know it.
(ooo000ooo)
(Sunday the 7th of November, 1971 continued. Unknown.)
Just enough time to take a bath then redress into something less traveled in, then shortly after a completely pensive Lal Mirch was returned Sonya got taken herself. Without so much as a word of warning or any permission sought, the jackass.
At the very least she was clean and in new clothes, and the lord asshole himself thought to grab Alek with her. Thief plus dog ended up in a nebulous twilight nowhere suddenly, which faded to a somewhat decent replica of a grungy northern European tavern room after the initial second.
…a realistic enough mockery of a tavern that she immediately wanted to go investigate if there was any liquor in the racks of bottles set behind the bar.
"Miss Cloud Part Two, I must admit… I didn't realize it wasn't just your brother that had an odd relationship with death."
Sonya glanced backwards at the asshole seated as pretty as you please at a bar table, then limped over to see what if anything was in those bottles. Alek slunk along after her as he had been doing since he set his sights on her again, firmly within arm's reach and not budging any further.
The Ancient Mist sighed heavily, as if her reaction was at all that surprising. "So… Miss Stokes. May I have a moment of your time?"
…well. What an asshole, to use her former name. Did tell her exactly what this was going to be all about, though.
"It is Sonya de Mort, now." She corrected sourly, disappointed to find the bottles empty of anything but dark indigo Mist Flames on the inside. No labels either, just Constructions of dark brown glass bottles. "I died. Generally tends to put an end to names and things."
"Very well. May I have an answer now?"
The 'usual' response to the nominally unrisky gamble of accepting a correction to someone's name would be a 'yes', if one was operating on mafia-esque rules. It was admittedly a small petty favor that was more an ice-breaker than anything else, but she was rather done with his shit after what he already did to her this weekend. "What if I say no?"
Checkerface shrugged absently, pulling his walking stick from nowhere to twirl in one hand. "Nothing. Nothing can change, no matter what little surprises you have hidden away in your memories of another lifetime."
"Then I do not see why you wish to have a conversation about it now. Obviously," she tacked on sharply before he could open his mouth again, "you know my thoughts on the matter and why I resent needing to let this happen."
"…not entirely."
Sonya regarded the likely illusion of a man dubiously from across the tavern as she sunk fingers into Alek's fur to keep him calm during a contentious conversation. She just earned herself a concise nod after a moment.
"To be… shockingly clear here my, or any Mist's, ability to know what another thinks is reliant on a sympathetic Construction. It does not catch everything and every nuance, just a general yes or no to answer if any of you think of some specific… topic. Which can be narrowed down and help define what is known by another." The Mist informed her, then rapped the body of his cane against the table he was at before making it disappear. "It warns us when others are nearby so even your young child will be able to do the same eventually. Most Mists use that ability to indicate thought for just that. I've just… expanded upon it to be aware if any of you actually knew what I am after. I know you know, I've found out just enough to put the pieces together on how, now I would like to have a very frank discussion with you about all the parts you cannot remember."
"The information is gone. I have forgotten over the years."
"Not… entirely."
She glowered at him suspiciously now, very firmly staying on one side of the large room even if that likely wouldn't really stop him. Alek was still as a statue under her fingers, obviously aware this entire situation was strange and unnatural enough that he remained pressed almost into her side.
"You are as much a Storm as you are a Cloud, I cannot simply 'mine your memories' to the degree I would need to find what has been forgotten without your consent. Unlike with Reborn's telepathic tendencies when he's not suppressing it to keep his mind to himself, you can block me out of your mind. It might kill you, but it is possible."
…well, that might just answer the question of if she could Disintegrate her own memories.
Sonya blinked, then repressed the hell out of her own curiosity and wandering thoughts as her fingers tightened on white fur. "Then why does it matter?"
"Everything you knew before this had to be done in spite of me." Checkerface immediately answered with, something foreboding and dark threading into his tone and his eyes now hidden behind that stupid checker-patterned mask. "What has changed, is now I know it."
"You already told me nothing can change." She shot back, slightly unnerved at this change in his behavior.
Checkerface being a dick, she could handle. Everyone was to some degree, some more than others. Being the one dicked around was annoying, but she knew full well it wasn't all that odd for those like him. Fuck, she dicked people around when they annoyed her enough.
She might have to assume she knew his reasoning, or else was pretty much what he was working with as far as she could remember. Checkerface having reason and logic for his bullshit wasn't… really something she wanted to deal with.
She'd rather just think of him as a manipulative asshole.
"To be fair, I am a manipulative asshole. A common complaint, and a character flaw, commented on enough that I am fully aware of it." He switched up with, now sounding fucking cheerful even as he blandly revealed his disinclination to stop dipping into her thoughts. "I know, perfectly well, you know why and what for this has to happen. That unless some criteria are filled, you would not warn the others in your grouping and intentionally end everything."
"If," Sonya stressed very pointedly, "if I know just enough and have the proof to show it… I will tell the others. Consent should not be an afterthought, not when the stakes are this high. Why should I sabotage the chance of that happening for you?"
"Because I am now making a point of asking for consent. Miss de Mort, I have a desperate and terrible need of twenty years or more of your life. To keep us all alive and the world intact. Will you help me?"
"…I appreciate the effort somewhat, but you and I both know you cannot tell the others the truth of what is going on."
Checkerface nodded slowly, almost as if he was unwilling to admit it. "True. And I cannot allow you to know just enough with the requisite proof to convince them either. Not yet. But there is an end in sight. Two or three decades against the centuries I've been forced to keep the cycle going? I would do significantly worse things to see that happen. Willingly this time."
She warily eyed the illusion of a man suspiciously again, nudging her dog firmly behind her for all that would do them. "I have no reason to trust you, as I have no reason to like you enough to go through your 'mining' for what I have forgotten. If nothing can change, then why are you so intent on what I do not remember?"
"Knowing an end is in sight and understanding how it will come about are two different things, Miss de Mort." He spread his hands, as if to indicate the entire tavern illusion or the whole shitty need that had him here manipulating them all into being sacrificed for a world-ending need. "The process of your Curse has already started, there is nothing I can do about it now. I am the Administrator, I was never supposed to have been the Technician nor the Operator. Not do it all alone, with the desperate hope nothing breaks as the cycle continues time and time again. The Pacifiers do not just spring into being from nothing, but what they are has already been connected to each of you. I have already committed that crime. What I can do now… is mitigate the damages somewhat."
"…how?"
"Well. If I do not require the mechanism after this Era, who cares if it breaks after this one? I could do so, if… I am certain of how to end this terrible need. Finally."