"Damn, I should've picked up the commission to bomb your brother sooner," Deidara blurted, before he could stop. Emmie sat up immediately, "What? You picked up the hit on my brother?" she started dangerously. Deidara sat up as well, choosing his words carefully he replied, "Don't get me wrong. I did not pick up the recent hit on your brother. But two months ago, I did get a commission to bomb your brother's building."
Emmie's slender arm drew back and she slapped him so hard his neck whipped to one side and Deidara tasted the bitter tang of blood and regret. "You. I trusted you and you built a bomb to kill my fucking brother?!" Emmie wrapped the sheets around herself, hiding her body from him and shuffled as far away as she could. Deidara held out his hands, "Emmie no. The commission was canceled, they never even retrieved the bomb from me. At the time, I didn't care, it was just another hit, I didn't know you. Then a couple weeks ago, they hired me to kidnap you. My sister needed the money," he said miserably. Emmie kicked his hands away and stood, "I thought the Akatsuki hired you to ransom me." Deidara stood as well, "Nah, they were at first but your brother went missing so there was a change of plans. Pein just jumped on the opportunity to use you."
Emmie backed away from him and it hurt more than expected. "Like the way you're using me. You know, I was ok with being used, I was doing the same to you but I trusted you! I thought we were on the same side! Now you tell me that you're going to hand me over to the bastards who are trying to assassinate my brother?! My only family?! This was your plan all along right?! Seduce me then turn me in when my guard is down to draw out my brother! You're worse than Jerome!" She tried to leave but slipped on the sheets strewn on the ground. Deidara reached out and caught her, "No, I was never going to hand you over. I-" Cutting him off, Emmie clawed him and slapped his helping hands away. "Get your filthy bloodstained hands off of me," she spat with such poisonous contempt that he took a step back. "You monster. Get out! Get out of my room, get out of my apartment, get out of my life! I never want to see your miserable white-trash carcass ever again," Emmie turned and slammed the bathroom door in his face. The look of heartbreak and betrayal on her face hurt more than any injury his body had ever sustained.
"I'm not leaving, we're in this together," he yelled through the door. Pressing his ear to the door he could her Emmie's voice faintly. "911?! There's a strange man in my apartment and he's armed. I'm scared." Deidara's stomach roiled at her treachery. The cops would throw him in jail the minute they found out that he was the arsonist and New York's premier gang leader and throw away the key. Cursing, he had no choice but to slip on some clothes and grab the LV duffel on his way out.
Hotwiring a Mercedes AMG GT, Deidara peeled out of the private garage as fast as he could. If he drove fast enough, maybe he could outrun his messed up feelings. He needed to outrun the image of the solitary tear tracing its lonely way down Emmie's cheek. Deidara slapped the steering wheel in anger. He messed up. The next day, he took the jewelry that he stole and went to the Akatsuki.
"I'm done with the Akatsuki. If you hire me, I'm working as an equal, not some underling," Deidara slammed the jewels down onto Pein's desk. Pein compressed his lips but wisely decided not to argue. Deidara had a wild, barely restrained rage look that boded ill for Pein if he set Deidara off. Pein called Konan over, "Get Mr. Iwagakure's paperwork and burn them, we're done with him. We're even now, your debts are forgiven. Go, take the jewelry, it is your reward." Deidara gave him a curt nod and swept out. Both Konan and Pein exhaled a relieved breath once they saw him exit.
Over the next couple of weeks, Deidara relapsed hard. Part of his gang was thrilled that he was more willing to cause more destruction and violence. But most of them were apprehensive, he was never this callous and savage. Without that pretty lady by his side, Deidara seemed to transform into something much scarier. His brutal takedown of the Puerto Ricans and Harlem gangs expanded his territory and reputation, causing the minor Asian gangs to quickly surrender Chinatown to him and it seemed like no gang in New York was willing to cross him.
Even the Mafia and Triads were tip toeing around him now. Deidara was as volatile as his explosives was engineering more and more dangerous bombs. The bombs became a risk to users themselves. They detonated before the user could get away or the detonation sequence was far too complex to perform and the bombs detonated anyway. His explosives were even more powerful and unrestrained. It became a risk to commission his explosives, thus Deidara and his new empire was left alone. The number of people following him swelled as other gangs pledged their allegiance to him. Deidara couldn't care less.
Deidara fell into a dark empty void that he tried to fill with women, booze, and hard substances. He did it all: heroin, cocaine, psychedelic mushrooms, prescription pills, morphine. His skin inside his elbows, in between his fingers and toes were raw from all the punctures the needles caused. They all gave him just a small bit of reprieve that he kept chasing. He knew he was playing a dangerous game but couldn't find it in himself to care.
Deidara pulled out of the expensive ass hooker he picked up a couple hours ago. He never trawled for women, they were always willing to throw themselves at him. Sluts. He slipped off the condom and tucked his penis back into his boxer. Throwing the hooker's clothes at her, he lit a joint, "Get lost," he muttered jerking a thumb at the door. "But I thought-" she started. "It meant nothing. Out now," he snarled, flicking ash at her. Hurt, the escort fled.
Deidara didn't care, injecting a dose of heroin, he rode on a half hour high, thankfully forgetting about everything. A lazy cloud of thought drifted into his clear sky. She was the strongest drug he had ever taken; a powerful, overwhelmingly addictive refined intoxicant and he couldn't have enough. He would OD on her forever if he could and he would die a happy man.
Winding down from his high, he took a drag of his joint. He only came onto this piece of tail when he saw her in the club because the woman had long black hair, pale skin, and a confident sashaying walk that reminded him so much of Emmie. So much so that at first, he really did think that it was Emmie. In the dark, he shoved partiers out of the way and grabbed her arm gently. "Emmie, I want to explain. I never wanted to hurt-?" The woman turned with a disgusted look that quickly transformed into a sly, seductive smile when she noticed his height and handsome face. "I'm not Emmie, but for you, handsome, I can be anyone," she said in a raspy smoker's voice.
He brought her home and threw her out like all the other girls he used to ease the loneliness. He listened as his gang firmly ejected her from his building. Deidara rolled yet another joint while looking longingly at the hypodermic needle filled with speed. But he was going to meet with the gang in an hour and needed his head to be clear. He sold the stolen goods he and Emmie took from her sister's place and the Benz. The money he got paid for his sister's treatment and assisted living home for the next 5 years.
His problems were solved. All of his debt were paid off, he was now free from the Akatsuki and honestly, he didn't need to run the gang in person anymore. With organization and second in commands, he rarely needed to make major decisions and if needed, he could do it over the phone. He tried to take care of Tobi but Tobi, unhappy with the safer, stable lifestyle ran off to participate in the gang. Deidara was left all alone now.
Bored, he scrolled through his phone and paused when he came to the video of her snoring. Like the hundred times before, Deidara hovered over the DELETE but couldn't bring himself to get rid of the only proof that she was in his life. Instead, he went through the Dark Web. An old post of Einaudi caught his attention. He frowned, Deidara thought that Bhenka was caught and Antonio was safe. It was all over the news, Bhenka confessed and there was evidence that he was the one behind the plot to assassinate Antonio to gain control of the gaming company and use it to pony drugs through electronics. Since everything was tied up neatly, why wasn't the hit taken down? Thank God, it was too high profile and the reward was suspiciously large, making would-be assassins wary of a sting.
That wasn't the only thing in the news. Everywhere on the tv, newspaper, phone alerts, the story of one of Manhattan's most prominent psychiatrist and socialite getting married to the city's main criminal defense lawyer was on every headline, jostling for his attention. Every time he saw the headline, it was a fresh stab in his gut. It was only a month and a half after they had went their separate ways but she had already moved on. In a fit of rage he threw his can of beer across the room spilling the sticky liquid everywhere. It was unfair how quickly and easily Emmie moved on while he was haunted day and night by his memories of her.
She even permeated his choice of fuck buddies. Once Deidara realized that he only fucked tails who looked like her, he tried to remedy that by fucking women who looked totally different from her but it still didn't halt the sound of her sardonic laugh or the images of her smiles and frowns from replaying.
Goddamn it all to hell. Her new fucking fiancé was successful and sophisticated. A man more at her level and she probably deserved him. That fucker probably made her happier than he ever could. Deidara felt a familiar stinging behind his eyes and in his throat. Shit, he missed her. Hell, he called out her name every time he had sex with another woman. No matter what it, he only saw her face when he closed his eyes. Breaking out of the cloying syrup of his misery, he remembered, he needed to warn her. It was the least he could do.
Taking a gulp of vodka for courage, he dialed her number. Typical Emmie picked up promptly. "Hello, this is Dr, Emiliana Einaudi speaking," her musical voice flowed out of his phone. God, her voice, he missed it. "Hello?" she asked. "…Emmie," he croaked. He heard a sharp inhale of breath and a dial tone. Damn it all, he cursed himself. He should have texted her but she probably blocked his number by now. He could try from a different phone but he doubted Emmie would believe him. He needed to talk to her in person, somewhere public, somewhere where she couldn't avoid him. It was time to brush off old skills and resurrect a part of him, he never thought he would use again.