Viper opened their eyes and realized that they only had about five hours of sleep max. Not something they usually did especially when they had such a nice bed -it wasn't a guarantee to have a comfortable place to rest when they were constantly on the move so they tended to take every chance.
Beside them on the bed were the scattered papers filled with their scribbles.
Arching, they groaned at the pop and cracks stiff shoulders made as they rolled on their chest.
There were two separate piles. One for the world's history, and the other being the plot of KHR. There was no way to tell if they were even in the same timeline (considering that dimension hopping was a main fixture of the show) as Canon which, likely not, seeing as that Viper probably didn't receive enlightenment from their parallel/past. So there was no use trying to maintain quota but it wouldn't hurt to have some vague idea just in case, though if the butterfly flap thing was going to be taken into account, Tsunayoshi Sawada might not even get to be born.
There had also been some thought as to becoming a writer.
Imagine Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Percy Jackson, heck, the Jurrasic Park. Even twilight.
Viper could almost already hear the sound of their multiple bank accounts filling up.
The memories had come all at once, and rather than somehow messing it up and driving them insane, everything was vivid as if they'd done it all at once. Besides, it might be a different manner, a bit sideways than they were used to, but they had experience. So recalling plot points and even recreating it all word per word wouldn't be much of a hassle, especially if they get the draft out fast enough.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, they sighed. Bundling everything up and setting it aflame in the fireplace, Viper got ready for the day.
Bringing a change of clothes and their personal hygiene products to the attached bathroom, they left the bag in the corner of the room to fade from reality. There was a knock on the door by the time they were pulling up their black winter ankle boots.
They stared at their feet. It was cute.
Viper had always considered their boots practical before, but never cute. They looked at the mirror, seeing their dark cloak, with the two white strips and chain lock, just thick enough to make their shape indiscernable but not bulky.
They looked cool and mysterious.
Viper blinked.
They had donned their ensemble in the beginning because it covered their entire body, it was comfortably warm, the colour was dark enough that blood wasn't too obvious and, at this point, it was just their trademark.
And they had especially good skin, particularly for one that wasn't actively maintained. Their hair might need some trimming but it wasn't bad and the purple colour was luscious.
...Right.
Past/alternate was... Viper didn't think they were vain (or maybe they didn't think they were vain) but they were -had been- meticulous with their appearance and self care. More than Viper had ever been. Granted past/alternate lived in a time with no wars and grew up a civilian who's largest concern had been getting married and the next update of their current fandom.
Huh, it was a bit weird having a different perspective, not exactly bad though. Actually, Viper didn't think anything of their current circumstances was bad.
It just was.
A cursory glance over the room to make sure they didn't leave anything out that shouldn't be, they pulled up the hood as they stepped out into the hall.
"Please follow me." said the familiar pepper haired man.
Fitzroy had been a Cavallone butler for as long as Viper had known the Family.
They hummed, inwardly shelving away thoughts about a possible future and Hobbits. Viper was bound by contract right now and it was never a good work ethic to be distracted by other things when about to meet a client.
Distraction generally got you killed too. They'd learned that early on.
The Mist was led to a dining hall, the Cavallone Don and his sons already seated.
They were truly going all out with the generosity and hospitality.
To even invite to breakfast an unaligned Mist notorious for not being particularly friendly or mum with secrets with the Family boss. They must know that no amount of pampering would get them to lower prices, this wasn't exactly the first time they'd discussed business.
Whatever they wanted this time, even they were aware was particularly troublesome.
"Good morning Esper Viper. I hope my people had accommodated you well?"
Viper took the seat across them, on the other end of the long table that all rich people seem to like.
"I have to thank you for doing so, actually. It was rude of me to arrive so late in the night." They intoned, playing the role of a good guest.
"No. I did tell you your rooms and meals will be provided, and I had assumed that you would arrive at an awkward time as this place is admittedly a bit out of the way."
A bit. If Viper couldn't fly, then the trek here would've taken them days rather than the hours they spent last night -and then they wouldn't have bothered at all because Viper didn't like getting tired.
But eh. The Cavallone famiglia was prominent in both the mafia and Flame Community (which, except for certain rules, was mostly one and the same in these times), as long as they had the money to fork out, Viper would look at their requests.
Angelo Cavallone was a man that held himself with dignity but also an amiable humility to him. And, as expected of a mafia Don, it was all a veneer. His sons didn't inherent any of his looks.
To his right, Daniel held a quite contemplative air to him, already with the makings of a chessmaster. He, like his brother, was also blonde, a straw type of blonde in the early morning light, in contrast to their father's brown locks.
Gabriel sparkled.
"Hey, Viper, long time no see. So how is it going in Germany?"
Viper ignored him. The younger of the Cavallone men had this unfortunate habit of considering himself Viper's friend, always trying to corner them in conversations to 'catch up'.
Viper didn't have friends.
Much less this guy.
The pile of papers beside said guy caught their eye and Viper froze.
There were newspapers between him and his father, most of them folded to the pages with the comic strips.
...Fuck.
There was no manga.
How could they forget?! They were in a manga, sort of.
They would have to restart the waiting for the end of One Piece from the very beginning.
If it would even get invented at all.
At least Superman was already a thing, they really hoped Marvel wasn't too far behind. If they knew anything, Marvel had followed not long after DC, maybe a year or two, they should check, Viper hadn't really been concerned with such things before.
They weren't going to loose either the Suicide Squad or Deadpool. Not the Batfam either.
Absolutely not.
They were suddenly so ridiculously glad that they caught the Endgame before they died.
They just knew it would've bugged them forever otherwise.
Breakfast was swiftly finished, with an illusion of them eating while they took a container from their cloak to store what they 'ate'. For later. In the meantime, they just munched on a biscuit or two.
Viper had never been a fan of heavy breakfast like the thick mashed potato, ravioli, mushroom steak, and other such meals presented on the table. Probably the French in them.
And they also didn't trust Don Cavallone. Once was enough, they weren't looking to get poisoned again because of too much undue trust. They were no longer that nine year old who didn't know better.
Viper saw the faint smile -almost insultingly fatherly- on the man's face and had to suppress the urge to poison his food out of pettiness.
Gabriel was quick to excuse himself while Viper followed behind Angelo and Daniel to the Don's office.
Viper stood across the pair as they settled behind the desk.
There was a window behind him, a frame with pinned insects on one wall, books about laws, politics, and geography arranged on the shelf below.
"So what is it this time?" Viper said bluntly.
Daniel frowned. The twenty-nine year old was just like his father.
Always keeping a smile pasted on his face, but ever so watchful of other's weaknesses.
"...ah. Yes." the man sighed.
Then, "Steal blueprints from Delta, fifty five million."
Daniel jerked, showing that he himself hadn't known what exactly his father had wanted from the elusive Mist. And that he didn't expect this.
"I'm an informant, not a thief." Viper said boredly.
"Get me the information of Delta's weapons. It doesn't matter which or what, just grab what you can."
Viper snorted.
The hell?
"Are you that desperate?"
"I thought you don't ask questions?"
Of course they didn't. They could just as easily find the answers themselves anyways, and they wouldn't have to bother with going along with the lies and half-truths.
"You're right. So convince me to go on what the whole mafia would consider a suicide mission."
"If it's you-"
"Convince me."
Really. Convince them. There were a lot of things they could be bothered with right now, like meditating over whether to kill Hitler asap or let things run its course.
Rather than getting into an unknown hideout somewhere in an unknown location rigged by a mysterious introvert that all anyone knew about was that they were a genius far, far, beyond their time (and Viper actually had something to compare it to now, knowing that even in the twenty-first century, humanity had yet to make contact with any other galaxy and they knew for a fact that there was a bullet tour to the newly terraformed formerly dessert moon in what was now called Azula-99 this weekend, available to anyone who was privy to it and had the money. And that wasn't even mentioning the things that go on in the guy's labs that never see the light of day.)