Chapter two, coming at ya. It's short.
Capo di Tutti Capi
Hit Two
Zoro hadn't realized that after a week, an entire seven days, that his life would be so... so... what was the word?
Unchanged.
After the young cop had awoken in his bed, his jacket thrown over a nearby chair and his shoes set neatly on the floor, he had scrambled up, only to be hit with a massive headache. A brief examination of his apartment proved that everything was in order. His valuables, wallet, gun, badge, and such were left in a careful pile on the bedside table and the apartment door was locked.
Whoever had brought him back home was at least courteous.
But now, a week later, Zoroscia was beginning to get antsy. He hadn't received any word from the Luffyone family since, and the long amount of time was setting him on edge. Nevertheless, true to his word but somewhat reluctantly, the police officer took on every single case relating to a suspicious case that reeked of mob-work. There weren't many, after all, the mafia worked in a way that it wasn't supposed to be detected easily.
Five cases. All of murder, ranging from a single death to a total slaughter in a back-alley in Brooklyn. The five files rested currently on his desk, mostly untouched.
The only way Zoroscia could keep the rest of his squad off of his back was feigning an interest in the cases and work on them himself. Or, really, not work on them.
Because of all of his cases, the green-haired man had mostly nothing to do for a week. It was nerve-wracking and his paranoia grew at a dangerous rate. So much that he didn't stay much in his office anymore. Always locking it before he went, the man often went out for long walks, which oftentimes ended up at a local bar. He was careful to keep to himself and even now put in an effort to avoid the men he worked with.
So that is where one could find Zoroscia on that chilly October afternoon in 1949. Stumping down a crowded avenue, lost in his thoughts, the police officer was once again avoiding the station and instead wasting time.
And, indeed, that was how Russiano found him. Cap tugged low over his face and bundled up in his long-coat and carrying the usual scowl, Zoroscia Roronoa.
The curly-haired mobster snickered to herself, walking behind him a few paces, her presence going unnoticed for the time being. She appeared to be in a better mood than the week before. Her wide, pin-stripe pants swished along her ankles, beneath the trendy trench coat she was wearing. Her hair was up in a loose bun and eyes shielded from the sun with a fedora.
Patiently biding her time, Russiano kept up the stalking of her pre-occupied pretty for a few more blocks before going in for the kill.
She snatched out with a manicured hand, grabbing the back of Zoroscia's coat, and, taking advantage of the millisecond of startlement from the cop, the woman dragged him into the nearby alley. It was dark and naturally, the crowd they left behind on the main street was too occupied with its own affairs to notice anything.
Moments later, her hand was smacked away and she was pinned down by a set of glaring, somewhat bloodshot eyes. "It's you." Zoro growled, hands itching to practically strangle the woman that had frightened the shit out of him.
"Watch your hands, rookie." The woman crooned casually, looking amused at Zoroscia's twitchiness. A sly smile curled the ends of her lips as she looked up at him. Folding her arms over her chest, Russiano tilted her head slightly, one heel beginning to tap a pattern into the cement floor of the alleyway.
"How's your week been going?"
"Hmph." Zoroscia suddenly turned away, torn between relief at finally receiving word from the mobsters in a way that didn't involve a gun to the head, and annoyance at the fact that of all the people, this woman had to be the correspondent. He impatiently fixed his jacket, still scowling. "You guys have connections everywhere. Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?"
"Yeah." Russiano replied casually, leaning back against the building. "But we don't monitor your psychological state."
The girl suddenly winked. The usually innocent gesture made Zoro uneasy.
"That's what I'm here for." She chuckled, bangs swaying in the light breeze.
Zoroscia's brow furrowed in suspicion. He tucked his hands deep into his jacket, looking away from the curious brown eyes. "I'm fine." He groused, keeping his voice to a low rumble.
"Good!" Russiano said happily, moving to adjust the tie of her coat. "Then you'll be well enough for a meeting tomorrow morning. It's a Saturday, so I'm sure you can make time."
"As if I have a choice." grunted Zoro, watching as the female mobster reached into an inner pocket in her trench coat, half convinced that she would tug out a firearm.
Instead, a small note was shoved into his hands. Russiano was standing next to him now, firmly making eye contact. She was still grinning. Probably from amusement and pleasure at his discomfort and impending doom. "Tomorrow, then, around nine. Don't be late. The address is on the paper."
She moved past him, heading back out into the main street again. As an afterthought, Russiano unexpectedly turned his head back. "Oh, and try to look a little happier. It's such a beautiful day out, after all."
Zoro looked up at the sky above him. It was smothered with dark gray clouds that told of an incoming storm. However, when he looked back to Russiano to contradict her statement, she was gone.
Instead, the cop turned his attention to the paper. It carried a simple address. Zoro frowned. It seemed that he'd be heading out to the suburbs tomorrow morning. What the hell was he in for?
The next day found Zoroscia standing outside a humble, two-story house in the suburbs of New York, clutching the small note in his hand as he slammed the door of his car shut. Whatever this place was, it didn't look like a meeting place for gangsters. The small huddle of young children playing nearby was proof of that. Had Russiano just been pulling his leg?
That's when, after scanning the wide bay windows and the roses planted beneath them in the front yard, Zoro noticed the mailbox. In gold, curving letters, the large black thing had "Sanjino" encrypted onto it.
This was the Luffyone's Consigliere's house. The gold words practically spelled "Doom" for Zoro.
He thought back to the bizarre blonde. His hair-do, his revolting eyebrow, and the attitude in which he carried himself around women. The last thing the young cop wanted to do was walk into his house, of all places.
Nevertheless, he didn't have any choice in the matter. The scrap of paper had Sanjino's address on it, and while Russiano had looked unbelievably amused when she passed on the orders, she didn't seem to be the kind of person to pull off dangerous practical jokes like this.
Bracing himself for anything, hand twitching near the handle of his pistol that was buried deep in his coat, Zoro walked slowly up the small pathway set in the middle of the cared-for front lawn.
The journey was too short. Soon enough, he was standing in front of the painted white door with a crystal handle. His stomach was twisted. Not from nerves, but from how much he did not want to enter the building.
There'd probably be prostitutes about the place or something.
Wrinkling his nose and simultaneously taking in a deep breath of the misty morning air, Zoroscia grabbed the door handle and turned it, not knowing what could possibly be waiting for him on the other side. He swore to himself, if there were any more hearts anywhere, he'd leave.
As it turned out, a simple foyer was waiting for him. And after convincing himself that the nearby coat stand was not going to actually attack him, he discarded his shoes by the door. If he was going to be Sanjino's guest, he might as well be polite. Noting that two pairs of men's shoes and two sets of high heels were there as well, Zoro tugged off his hat and plucked it onto the still suspicious looking coat rack before finally venturing into the house.
All in all, as he walked down the hallway, he had to say that the house was tastefully done. No hearts, but mostly softer tones. Not that he was a design expert or anything of the sort. Mostly, he would say, everything looked... nice.
The foyer led out into a broad, long hallway, half of which was taken up by stairs leading to the second floor. To the right was an open doorway leading to what looked like a lounge. As he stumped down the hallway in his socked feet, he noted the right hand door, which was closed, but didn't explore any further.
Down the hallway he walked, being careful to make no noise. He heard voices at the far end of the corridor and made his way towards them, but cautiously. Zoro figured that there probably weren't any threats to him here, since they were making their presence known, but he couldn't exactly trust Russiano yet. The girl didn't seem to like him too much and could very well have set him up.
The cop stopped at the door. It was slightly ajar and beyond it, he could see a blue carpet ending and a linoleum floor taking up where it left off. There was a strange sizzling sound emitting from the linoleum side of the room. To the left, Zoro could just pick up giggling.
An abrupt loud voice nearby made him yell in surprise, but he stifled it just barely.
"Oi, Sanjino, what the hell!? Why's it taking so long?!"
Zoro frowned. It was the whiny voice of a teen.
Sanjino's reply came quickly. He sounded annoyed and the sizzling sound increased in volume. "Hold on, dumbass, you can't rush these things."
Curiosity taking over, and knowing that his arrival was most likely already long overdue, Zoroscia pushed open the door and stalked in.
About five things happened at once. First, Zoro took in the site of a wide, very clean kitchen with a shiny waxed table in the middle. Second, he noted Sanjino standing at the oven, wearing a bright pink apron and making bacon. Thirdly, the presence of a lanky teen with a mop of black hair became obvious when said teen squawked with surprise and began pointing at him.
"Look at his hair!"
Fourthly, after Zoro had managed to take all of this in in the brief seconds he had, Sanjino took that moment to blindly throw a knife in the cop's general direction.
"Oh shit fuck!"
A tense silence followed. Zoroscia straightened from where he had ducked down to his knees. Glancing back at the still wobbling knife embedded in the open door, he turned to glare fiercely at Sanjino.
"What the hell are you-"
"-doing here?"
The two stared at each other, bacon continued to fry in the background, unnoticed. Pointing a spatula at the scowling police man, Sanjino blew out a stray strand of hair out of his only visible eye, not breaking eye contact. Funny, Zoroscia hadn't even noticed that half of man's hair was gelled back, allowing the other parting to fall gently over his eye.
It was beyond Zoro how he hadn't noticed something ridiculous like that.
The taught silence stretched out between them, only pausing briefly as Zoro turned to tug the blade out of the door behind him so that he could arm himself.
Zoroscia took in the odds. A knife against a spatula. It was gonna be close.
"SANJINO, THE BACON IS BURNING!"
At that point, any tension in the room was tossed out the window as the teen Zoroscia had just barely noticed before dashed to the oven to grab the pan. Without heeding Sanjino's sudden yell of warning or the fact that the bottom of the pan was red-hot, he proceeded to stab at all of the slightly black strips of bacon and shove it in his mouth in an attempt to save the food.
The two older men could only stare then as the boy's face steadily reddened. Then...
"HOT! HOT! ITH HOT!"
Chaos ensued. Zoroscia's eye twitched. The moronic teen began running around the room, screeching and fanning his mouth as Sanjino hurried to grab a glass of water for him. Meanwhile, two familiar females rushed in from the connecting room, guns out and eyes narrowed.
"Sir! Is there a problem?"
"We heard that..."
Russiano and Fratelli's fierce words teetered off at the end as they took in the scene. They dropped their offensive positions, allowing the firearms now to hang loosely from their fingers.
"Sir...?"
"WAAA-gurgghh..." The black-haired boy's shouts gurgled down into muffled moans as he snatched up Sanjino's offered glass and chugged down the contents. Then, not bothering to fill it again, he dove for the sink, sticking his entire head beneath the faucet to lap at the cold running water. After a full minute of gulping and heavy breathing, the teen sighed in content, settling down to sit on the linoleum floor and pant his way back to a normal heart rate.
Silence filtered into kitchen. Zoro still stood with a knife while Sanjino returned to the rest of the breakfast food that he was preparing. The girls blinked, exchanging brief looks before breaking the hush completely.
They started up a giggle fest, holding onto each other for support as they progressed to all out laughter. Zoroscia's eyebrow rose even farther. There was something seriously wrong with this mafia group.
As Fratelli and Russiano, tucking his guns away and still somewhat hysterical, headed back into the other room, Sanjino broke Zoro out of his daze. He shoved a plate of pancakes into his hands, simultaneously snatching away the knife as well.
Zoro looked down at the sweet-smelling food. His stomach grumbled noisily at the sight of the well-prepared cooking (although he'd never admit it). "The hell you want me to do with this?"
Sanjino frowned at him, armed with a spatula again. Despite the oddity, the weapon choice seemed to fit the blonde. "Take it into the living room, bastard. I don't know why the fuck you're here, but you better help if you are going to waste space in my house."
"What about him?" Zoro suddenly glowered, nodding towards the boy, who was currently occupied with poking at his scalded tongue. He had no idea why the girls had referred to him as "sir," though. Perhaps he was just higher up in the ladder than the rest of Don Luffyone's lackeys?
Sanjino didn't spare the boy a glance, returning to the oven. "He'll be fine, just go."
The police-officer had no choice but to turn on his heel and stalk into the carpeted living room. There was a set of sofas with a large glass table in the middle. Half of it was already occupied with food. The two girls were seated alongside each other on one of the couches. They seemed to have practically switched outfits from the last time the cop had seen them.
Fratelli was now resplendent in a dark gray dress suit that was secured with a large belt at her waist, her hair falling about her shoulders. Russiano's hair was up again, curls falling around her face. Zoro mildly noted, despite not knowing a thing about fashion, that her hair color matched with the light brown plaid pants she was wearing.
Setting down the plate of food, the cop nodded politely to the two girls, trying to not look as grouchy as he was. He was in the presence of ladies, after all. Even armed mafia women deserved some courtesy.
Russiano smirked, picking at some lint on the tie she was wearing to match the collared shirt and suit jacket. "Get here alright, rookie?"
"Yeah, I got here alright." Zoroscia growled back, suspicious of the superior aura around the girl. Fratelli listened with a grin on her face. "Why wasn't Sanjino expecting me? I nearly got a knife in the head."
"Oh, y'know..."
"The girls like to play tricks sometimes." Sanjino answered from the doorway, carrying four loaded plates at once. He didn't appear angry, but actually regarded the girls with a fond look. "They're so naughty." He crooned. The girls giggled again.
"Sanjino..." The almost forgotten black-haired teen poked his head into the room. "Is breakfast ready?"
The blonde looked over the arrangement of food he had. Zoro did as well. Pancakes, sausages, waffles, eggs, and toast were slowly letting of steam and mouth-watering aromas. Pitchers of orange juice, coffee, and tea were set right in the middle of the table. Sanjino, almost as an afterthought, set down a fifth plate, fork, and knife.
"It's ready, sir. Help yourself. And you..." Sanjino turned to the annoyed Zoro. "You can eat here, too, I guess. The meeting was originally scheduled to tomorrow..." The blonde flashed Russiano a brief look of exasperation. "But I suppose we can do it here, too."
"I didn't want to come here." grumbled Zoroscia, but sat down nevertheless. As soon as the boy tucked in, so did the rest of them. Taking their cue, Zoro set to eating as well.
Fratelli finally sat back from her empty plate, full of pancakes and such. With a contented sigh, she tugged out a neat metal case and after bustling with it for a moment, managed to extract a cigarette from the thing. She popped the tip into her mouth. Zoro raised an eyebrow at this, but continued eating. Russiano was still occupied with her huge stack of sausages and waffles to notice. The two were on their eight plates already.
Not bothering to ask the whole group, Fratelli looked directly to Sanjino. "Mr. Sanjino, sir, do you think I could maybe borrow a light?"
Sanjino immediately dropped everything. Including a loaded fork and a knife, which skidded off of the plate and into Zoro's lap. Ignoring his muffled grunts of protests, the Consigliere stood to lean forward over the table, fumbling with something in his jacket. Fratelli, apparently used to this, waited patiently until the blonde mobster managed to find his lighter. Smiling in a charming fashion, he flipped the top open and extended it towards her. "Anything for you, my sweet Fratelli. Anything."
Fratelli smiled happily, settling back into the couch to take a deep pull of her cigarette. "Thank you, Mr. Sanjino."
"My pleasure, love." purred the blonde, sitting back to light himself a death stick as well.
Russiano called it quits on eating soon after, settling back next to Fratelli to pat a satisfied tummy and lower her eyes to a lazy half-open state.
"Oi, marimo, stop stuffing your face as if this is the last time you're going to eat." Sanjino snapped, expression changing to a scowl appropriate for addressing his least favorite person in the world.
"Marimo?" Zoro protested through a full mouth. After a quick bit of chewing in swallowing, the cop was free to return Sanjino's glare, motioning towards the idiotic boy with a fork. "Where the hell'd you get that from? And if I can't eat, why is he still eating?"
The girls listened in silence and the boy continued stuffing his face. Taking another breath of smoke from his cigarette, Sanjino narrowed his visible eye at the green-haired man. His eyebrow twitched. "You're Marimo 'cause your hair is exactly like it. Zoroscia the Marimo."
Fratelli giggled from her place. "It's a good gangster name, after all."
"Almost as good as the Gangster of Love." Russiano noted, chewing on her lip.
Zoroscia turned his blank stare from the women to Sanjino, who beamed. "Ah, girls, you know that that name makes me blush..."
"But it's so true, Mr. Sanjino, sir!"
"Really!"
"Oh, girls..." Sanjino ran a hand through his hair. "You really are too good to me. Anyway, to answer your question..." It was back to scowling for the blonde. He turned his attention back to the flummoxed Roronoa.
"He's still eating, idiot..." Sanjino jerked his head back to the teen. "... because he's allowed. He is the Don, after all."
One, two, three... finally, his mind clicked back into action. The fork that Zoroscia was holding fell back into his plate. "What?"
"You heard me." the blonde shrugged. "This is Don Luffyone. In person."
The Don himself paid everyone else no mind. He was too intent on eating.
"You've got to be kidding me. He can't be older than 16." growled Zoroscia, not daring to believe it. He couldn't believe it. He was eating breakfast with a Don? One of the biggest mob families in New York, led by this idiotic runt?
"That's him." Russiano said from across the table, smiling lazily.
By now, though, the cop had had enough. This was getting too ridiculous. Armed women, meeting places held in regular houses over breakfast, and tween Dons was too much. Roronoa stood. "What the hell is wrong with you people?" He growled.
"Well, for your information..." Fratelli started, holding her cigarette carefully between two fingers. She didn't get to finish her sentence, though. An interruption came along. Yet another thing that Zoro was finding to be nerve-wracking and absolutely annoying.
"Sir! Don Luffyone, sir!"
All five heads turned to see a panting man standing in the doorway, doubled over to clutch at his knees. "Sir!"
Luffyone paused, fork and knife still in poised in the air. "Yeth?"
"Sir, they've captured Don Franky! He needs your help!"
Zoroscia looked confused, so he glanced to each of the mob members to see if this new developement was a good or bad thing. There was gasp from Russiano and Fratelli and Sanjino looked grave. Luffyone slowly chewed through the food in his mouth, eyes turning darker.
Alright, it was probably a bad thing.
"Oh, and..." The messenger paused, still catching his breath. "Lady Namimore said that she broke a nail. She thought you'd want to know."