It was pretty busy that evening inside the Girls'. It wasn't even time to open yet, still you could already see so many people coming and going, most of them cleaning the vast yet stuffed main room, scrubbing the leather couches, dusting the tables, vacuuming the floor, and placing glasses, plates and bottles here and there. And let's not forget about the gorgeous half or stark-naked beauties that were legion.

Expect from all of that, at the moment, the club was still relatively calm; nevertheless in few hours, it would be full of businessmen, of rich and idle heirs from the hip neighborhood of the city, of people employed in more or less legal fields, or simply of people who don't need any reason to get drunk in a weekday. Long story short, they were all the social spectrums of NY with clear drinking problems, but who also would prefer to pass out in a rather cozy décor, surrounded by plump breasts and juicy arses that may or may not have had the need for any plastic surgery at some point in their life.

To sum it up, Girls! Girls! Girls! was the lair of rich horny drunkards.

Of course the owner had to put some effort to make the place look suitable for its clientele: in spite of its pretty shabby outside appearance, the Girls' inside was actually classy and the furniture was quite recherché for an average strip club. If that runway in the middle of the room wasn't meant to have women as only clothing scarcely half of their underwear dancing on top of it, it easily could have hosted Giambattista Valli's latest fashion show.

And it was the owner of that kind of place that Squalo had to grace with his presence that day.

In the club's VIP room – simply a section of the club that was slightly overhanging the rest of the place, separated from the public by a thin and shiny silk curtain – a Superbi Squalo gazing at a glass of bourbon was sitting on an extra-long leather sofa, sort of aloof. A gorgeous woman with shoulder length blue hair (probably an hostess) was standing at the opposite side of the space, her eyes also giving the same impression of being lost somewhere in the club.

I strong smell of liquor was slowly starting to go to the silverette's head while a speedy and light (still loud) driving beat was filling the whole club.

From where they were, the dancers were literally putting on a private show for them.

"I can't believe we don't have any ice left, hey!" A tall and blond young man suddenly rushed in the VIP room. He was dressed semi-casually, and weirdly enough, his blond spiky hair were held by a camouflage bandana. His demeanor was simple, nevertheless imposing, his entire presence emanating a sheer aura of confidence and self-discipline. Squalo couldn't help but compare this blond to another one, a way clumsier and idiotic one. "Well, I sent someone buying some in the convenient store next door…" Beaming, Colonello resumed as he took a seat next to the long haired man. "Crap, I didn't expect the freezer to break today. Really sorry, Squalo. You'll have to put up with iceless bourbon for today."

As an answer, Squalo grimaced and uncrossed his legs. "Fuck that, Colonello. Do you think I have time to waste for that shit? You little fucktwit ass clearly have no idea where your fucking priorities go."

"I guess I don't." The blond poured himself a drink. He cleared his throat. "So, have you guys talked about it when I was away, Lal? Looks like you didn't… okay, you'll have to say it a second time, because I think I really didn't get it the first time. What is it that you guys at VR Co. want?..."

"Make all the families of this fucking town swear allegiance to the Vongola." Squalo hissed as he violently put his glass down on the table in front of him. "You trashes here are the only one who have enough influence and manpower to tell those scumbags to fuck off. Or to push them a little if they start showing resistance. Of course, the compensation for this service will be fucking substantial." Squalo added with a feral grin.

Colonello burst in laughs. "Did you hear, Lal?" The blue haired woman remained silent in the corner. "Now Xanxus practically wants us to go on a crusade for him, hey! Ha! Ha! Ha!... Well… Hey, more seriously, if we're even considering the tiny possibility that we agree on doing that for you guys, what can we gain from the deal? Squalo, you've grown up in this kind of world, you know better than anyone else that men like us won't move for anyone else if they don't have anything to win. And it ain't about money. We have plenty of it, I won't give me head to get a damn bit more."

The young man still looked amused, yet Squalo could unmistakably see a flickering light in his eyes. Those were the eyes of one motherfucking greedy hunter.

However, Squalo's ferric glance didn't fade in front of it.

"Stronzo. You think I don't fucking know that?" Squalo's frown deepened. "Voi, scum!" He yelled.

"Could you not call me that?" The Bovino appeared at the other corner of the VIP section with a strained smile on his lips.

"Shut your motherfucking crap hole and bring that goddamn suitcase here."

Lambo sighed but obliged by pulling a somehow ordinary suitcase to the men in the VIP room. Colonello and Squalo had to pick their drinks from the table since that was where the young Bovino laid the suitcase.

"You open it." With a gesture of his hand, Squalo invited the blond to unlock it. "6-4-1."

Colonello seemed suspicious nevertheless he complied. Now, Lal Mirch was looking intently at what it got inside.

Inside, guns were tidily arranged in what looked like a very well-disguised pistol case.

"Nighteye Custom Agent 2, Draco NAK7, Rager EC9s… and a Taurus… Uhm, a Taurus Hunter." Squalo named some of the guns in the case as Colonello was inspecting them one after another, a concerned frown darkening his young features. He looked at Lal Mirch who hadn't moved from her place.

"Those models… I've never seen them before. They still look pretty familiar, hey."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't tell me you guys-"

"Vooi, fuck yeah, motherfucker, we are." Squalo's grin widened even more. His voice lowered as he drew closer to Colonello. "Former captain in the supposedly demobilized Commando Raggruppamento Subacquei Ed Incursori Teseo Tesei – aka COMSUBIN – and now operating as the main arms dealer for this part of the continent behind the shell company Girls! Girls! Girls!... Ugh. I won't say anything about your shitty business tastes though. But, yeah, we currently have ours eyes set on that too. We already know you were the exclusive provider for that failed coup, two or three years ago, in a certain southern country. Voi, ain't that one heck of a market. This and also, it seems like we have a mutual friend in Mr. A…. I've recently met the guy. One fucking pig of a man. (Squalo grimaced with disgust) But well, when the boss says something, it's not like I can say no."

"So… you basically are going to fight over that deal with us." Colonello was staring at the silver haired man. "By getting custom made weapons, you want to take down our monopoly by flooding the underground market with models you manufactured in your own factories…. VR Co. can be scary when they get serious, hey. And it's not like it's a power we can fight against, huh, Lal?"

Lal Mirch shrugged. However, she finally joined the others at the table.

"Xanxus can bring as many weapons in the states as he needs. So why would he need our help to take this city?"

Squalo shrugged. "We're not asking for your help. It's just a partnership. Not an uncommon shit. And we don't want to get directly involved in the war. That shit will come and haunt VR Co even once it has its legs deeply implanted in the States."

"In those days of peace, you had to bring this, huh?" Lal Mirch sighed. "You know, Squalo, this city today isn't like how it used to be ten or twenty years ago. The war is over. All the powers here had somehow found a balance. You can say it's just a frail balance, depending on too many compromises, yet it still is. But what Xanxus is going to do… will destroy this fragile peace again."

"I fucking know that." Squalo huffed royally. "As I said before, when the boss says something, it's not like I can say no."

Lal Mirch locked her bright, brown eyes with Squalo's dull grey ones, as if there was something she wanted to say. She shrugged again.

"Let's talk about the compensation. Given we accept your deal, what is Xanxus giving us? If there's anything left to take after that mess."

"You'll take control of the whole city. We don't want any of Giordano's fucking ally remaining here. You are a neutral faction to begin with, we see no reason to get in your face. We have no interest in the underground market anyway, we just fucking don't need Vito Giordano to receive any support from those motherfuckers."

For few seconds, Lal Mirch and Colonello looked at each other. Superbi Squalo was starting to lose patience; it had been a very long day, saying that he was tired was an understatement. But it was the final stretch (at least, for that day). If he were to show any weakness at that moment, it could jeopardize everything. The long haired man took a sip of the bourbon – it was giving off a subtle scent of pepper and vanilla – but immediately regretted it when he remembered there were no ice and no water in it.

The club had long opened and now almost every booth and table of were taken. Even though the Girls! was an infamous strip club, it however looked as though people were too busy talking to each other than admiring the lovely ladies dancing on the runway.

The music was even louder than before, and now red and violet lights were bathing the room. It was very tiring for the silver haired man's eyes. Maybe he could just adjourn that meeting with Colonello, and say he'd just wait for their answer, or that there was something he had to settle rapidly after that, or that he had to go back at his lawyer's place… But that meant he'd have to lie before that Bovino brat?

"Uhm, Squalo," almost without the latter's knowing, Lambo was sitting next to him, near enough to have his voice heard by the three others. "I think you've forgotten about it, but we still have a diner with the President of the M… Organization tonight. I think we should now if we don't want to miss it."

That excuse that had come from nowhere surprised Squalo a little, but he still nodded and got up. It was decided that Lal would call the Vongola representative as soon as they came to a decision.

At last! Squalo thought in his inner self, at last he could go home and have a real night of sleep!

When they left the club, the night had just fallen. It seemed like the weather had gotten even worse than the day before. The sky was heavily clouded, and the wind was now blowing quite harshly on the wet ground.

"Mr. Squalo, please be careful when you walk." Lambo addressed the long haired man, who was tottering slowly behind him. At a single glance, the young Bovine could tell that the latter had abused the bourdon. "For Lord's sake, how many shots did you even have? Barely 3? I haven't seen someone getting drunk as fast as you before. I was right to end the meeting."

Lambo literally had to drag the silverette then shove him in the Lancia. Fortunately, it wasn't parked very far, just at the corner of the street. That was when Bel appeared from behind a payphone.

Or more exactly, the blond's ugly laugh raised from behind the payphone.

"Shishishi, he got the captain drunk and now he's going to rape him."

"Don't you say creepy crap and help me with him already." Lambo pleaded as he showed Squalo who was curling awkwardly on the passenger seat.

"I don't want to. The boss will kill me if he knows that I've helped some guy assaulting his lover."

After taking a deep breath in, Lambo gave up. Those people… He just couldn't reason with them. "By the way," Belphegor resumed, still hiding behind the payphone. "You better remind Squalo to thank me for that suitcase-"

"Oh shit, I forgot it at Girls!"

A grunt resounded from the car. It was from the silverette. "Voooi, stop screaming, will you, you fucking retard. Just leave it there. We won't need it anymore anyway."

"Squaloooo," Bel leaned on the car window. "You're not praising me? Even if I could find all those weird toys so fast for you to use today? Ushishishi! It's not very easy persuading foreign arm dealers to ship their merchandises in less than two hours when they've never heard about you before, you know. I even had to search for the gun models those guys are currently selling in the US. That's thousands of them. And it's thanks to my luck… Nan, nah, it's because I'm a genius that I could find the ones I gave you. And so fast! Just to make them believe that you had an armada of newly developed weapons ready to launch on this town! Heeey, Squalo, praise me-"

"Voooi, I fucking got it." Squalo rolled the window down and casually stretched his hand to pet a dumbfounded Bel's head. "You did great, stupid brat."

"Ok, so we're done here? Can we leave? We could bluff Colonello this time, but I'm sure it won't take them long to see through your trick. Then we'll have to find something else to convince him to work for us."

"Everything is fine, damnit." Squalo slurred. "We only had to buy some time before Xanxus' next move. You fucking heard him like me. He… No, they didn't rebuff us directly. They're still looking for the best deal. Between us and their current position. Well, all we have to do is to make it so that they'll have no other option left but our side. After all, we're all working in that shitty business. We're all fucking thinking the same. Voi, Bel, you gathered that shit I asked you to, didn't you?"

"Ah… Ah. Yeah, all the data about those families. Then their connection to WHS…" Bel handed the silverette an USB disk. "Shishishi! With everything you'll see inside, we won't even need Colonello's help to take over this city's black market."

"My, my, I didn't expect less from this bratty genius prince." Squalo ended that sentence with a light laugh that truly took the two other men aback.

Bel eyed – at least, that's what he believed – Bel eyed suspiciously at Lambo as he asked, "What did you make him take?"

"Nothing!" Lambo exclaimed, outraged. "Damn! We're going back home now!"

And in less time than it takes to spit another tamed curse, Lambo started the car and off they were.

When they got in the apartment, Squalo was already half asleep. As soon as he got in the living room, he sank into the couch, with one of his legs lazily hanging out.

Lambo sighed when he saw the peaceful face of the long haired man resting on newly treated cushions. Then he remembered the non-stop meetings and working in general that Squalo had done since he came in NY. How many days had it been? 2-3 days? One month? It seemed it was only the day before the young Bovino had met with that tall and white and gracious figure at the airport.

"I knew he was overworking himself… Ah? What? Wait. Please don't throw up yet." The young Bovino fetched a trash can from the kitchen. He put it right under the silverette's head. "Now you can. You know, Squalo," The Bovino continued after sitting in an armchair next to the latter. He lit up a cigarette, a mischievous smile on his lips. "You know, it's fine to not being able to hold one's liquor, just don't go and show that to our business partner. Just protecting my back is already hard enough here."

"The fuck are you talking about." Squalo grunted as he rose to sit up – with difficulty – on the couch. "I don't need a fucking brat to tell me that. Did they call yet?"

"Not yet."

"Che. And here I thought I deceived Colonello quite well. Fuck it... Unless… Haa…. Oh. Ha! Ha! It was that bitch."

"Who? That woman he called Lal?"

"Yeah, that one… Voi, the one who's the real head behind their business isn't that dumb ass kid at all; it's that bitch."

"Will that affect your plans?"

Squalo silently stared at the ceiling for few seconds before replying. Even at the brink of throwing his guts out, Lambo still could nearly see all the cells in the long haired man's brain colliding at light speed.

"No. Just one more head to wipe. I'll rep-" A strong retching stopped the silver haired man in his tirade. Squalo grimaced, frowned, glared, pressed his hand on his mouth… But finally relaxed when he felt the urge to throw up leaving his body. As though nothing had happened, he spoke again: "I'll report to Xanxus right now and ask Lussuria if they have anything about that-" Another retching.

"Okay! Now stop! Stop that!" Lambo waved both his hands to make the other male pause. "You can't keep on working in that state! That's already why I told that lie about that dinner or whatever. Can't you rest for a while? It's not that urgent, isn't it? You'll call the HQ tomorrow. Tomorrow!"

"Voi… I already told you I motherfucking brat like you don't have to tell me how I should handle my fucking job. I- Bleeeeh."

And for the next fifteen minutes, Lambo had to hold those long and beautiful silver locks while Squalo was throwing up in the trash can.

In spite of that unexpected thankless wok, Lambo couldn't help but ponder about how good the silky strands felt on the palm of his hands: cold, soft and almost ethereal.

After having his stomach completely emptied and two glasses of water poured in his sore throat, Squalo was lying on the couch again. The only difference was that now there was a blanket covering him.

"Fucking headache…" He groaned.

"Sorry, I don't have aspirin. And the next drugstore is miles away. I can't leave you alone when you're like this. You'll mess up the carpet."

"Shut up."

Lambo laughed lightly.

"I guess I should say good night, then. I'm exhausted too. I'll check on you from time to time so lie down and have a good rest."

He got up and was about to leave the living room when an almost imperceptible "Voi" made the young man turn round. "Yes? Feel like throwing up again?"

"Voi, it's not that… Earlier… In the car, yesterday… You said you could tell me more about Xanxus…"

Lambo smiled. It looked like it was going to be a very long night.

TBC