Hello! Oh. My. Gosh. First things are first. Thank you guys so much for supporting this story! I never expected so much support in so little time. Thank you to the following for favoriting my story: Don't Mind Me I Am A Nobody and Goddess Cure Mystic. Everyone, especially you silent readers, is so awesome, thank you. And if you didn't notice, I have a new cover art for this story! It actually inspired this whole story believe it or not. I found it by chance on YouTube in the awesome Blossom x Brick video "Pina Colada Boy" (the song that inspired this) and it was made by a crazy talented person on Pinterest (I found that out by relentlessly scouring the internet for this picture. I unfortunately don't know who it was but...all credit to them for the picture. That reminds me, I don't think I've done a disclaimer yet. I don't own PPG (WHHHHHYYYYYY?). But I own...this...for whatever it's worth ^^. Oh, and I'll be updating every Friday from now on. At least, that's my new year's resolution...psh. Originally this was going to be a SUPER FRICKING LONG chapter but I divvied it up to three. Again. Imagine that chapters 1-5 was all one chapter and you'll see why I split it up. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I certainly enjoy seeing feedback on my story. Ciao!
Two weeks prior
"Order! Order! Please, everyone, please just sit down!" The desperate blonde man yelled futilely into a microphone, trying fruitlessly to dampen the roar of the rowdy crowd below. The large underground auditorium was filled with overly macho, testosterone-filled males seeking to prove their manliness to the family…at least, that's what Blossom thought. She sat bored out of her mind in the stage box overlooking the entire Greek-styled auditorium, her gaze occasionally flickering over to the pale, middle-aged man desperately searching for order in the chaotic atmosphere that occupied the same stage box as she. She held only pity for the handsome blonde man. It must be tough for a first generation. They have no reputation, ammunition, or money…and thus, no power. She felt sorry for the rumpled blonde. Maybe in a different era, his family would have been artists and musicians, models and actors… But in this day and age, they were just a family struggling to keep up with the Joneses. She sighed in resignation. There was no way he would settle a crowd of this magnitude. She stood up and placed a hand on the unfortunate middle-aged man's shoulder.
"It's okay, Adams. I'll take it from here." She said with a kind smile. He averted his eyes to the ground, a hand running down his unshaven face. She caught a muffled Andrew will kill me for this. That particular statement strengthened her resolve to fix this crowd's obnoxious behavior. She loved to piss Andrew off.
"Alright, Adams, consider it done. Ciao!" She swung off the balcony with a giddy grin. She barely caught sight of Adams' panicked expression before she started seeing the stone seating area full of…shit, the Ricci family. The dark-haired family snapped to attention when the flying redhead started appearing in their peripheral. They reacted almost immediately.
"Damnit, Blossom," a snarling raven-haired woman started, "do you always have to pull stunts like this? Levati dai coglioni." A string of Italian curses streamed from the family's foul mouth as they pushed through the crowd. A small Cheshire smile appeared on Blossom's face. Aw, they still love me.
She wasted no time turning her free-fall into a soft landing on the audiences' rail, jumping off of it again in smooth succession, flipping in the air, maybe for dramatic effect, and landed gracefully in the middle of the auditorium. The whole audience was silent. Keep it short and dramatic, thought Blossom. Just like dad says; short and dramatic.
"Hello, everyone. Glad you could make it. Now," her lips twisted into a deceptively honey-coated smile as she drew her gun from the hidden compartment attached to her thigh, "please shut up." She pointed the pistol at the ceiling and cocked the hammer. "Or…" The boom and crack of the small firearm shook the auditorium.
"Have I made the situation clear enough for you?" The silence didn't worry her. Italians would hardly be scared off by something like this for very long.
With that statement, life was breathed back into the rambunctious Italians surrounding her. Grumbles of "damn redheads", "Vai a fare i pompini col culo", and similar sentiments echoed across the large dome but the huge crowd indeed settled down from their former "discussions". Her complacent smile said it all. But a particularly aggressive statement caused the redhead to whirl around in a less-than-graceful way.
Ugh. The Colombo family. It was always them. She gritted her teeth subtly and resisted a growl. Whoa, calm down girl, shove it. Murdering them would be a lot less satisfactory if you let them get under your skin first. Breath, keep it short and dramatic. The twin father-and-son duo sat "innocently" next to each other, one mouth twisted up in a satisfied grin and the other pressed into a hard, aggressive line. The smiling son turned his smartass grin up a level when he saw Blossom's level gaze fall upon him.
"Vaffanculo a chi t'è morto." His sardonic grin only heightened his death with his continued persistence to provoke her.
Her lips twisted into a sweet smile. A very dangerous sweet smile. "I would go screw my dead ancestors but it seems that you've beaten me to the punch." Loud whoops and guffaws were heard echoing the auditorium with her clever sentiment. The dark-haired young man turned red as she moved her way back to her box seating. Just as Italian cursing was an art in of itself, rebutting them was a one-of-a-kind skill.
Just as she reached the stands, the raven-haired beauty she had the privilege of calling a friend rushed up to her and smacked her hardily on the shoulder. "Ah, way to rip him a new one, Red," she said with a less-than-pure-of-reason grin. But her eyes slanted as her smile slid off her face. She lifted her fist and really punched her. And when a Ricci really punched, you felt it.
"Why the fuck would you jump from a fucking box seat!?" Her punctuated words grew louder as her anger grew larger.
"Hey, hey. First off, language, Buttercup. Two, why did you punch me so hard?" Blossom massaged her extremely painful wound and winced. Buttercup just stared at her disbelievingly. Her fucking crazy bitch of a best friend just jumped from a fucking seventy-five foot up box seat. How the hell was she supposed to react?
Blossom didn't miss her friend's incredulous face as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "Well, it wasn't a very big fall. You're just too protective, BC, too loyal."
The brunette just threw her hands in the air. Good god, there was a reason why she was slightly protective of the red head. "The fucking boss's daughter should not be jumping off of the fucking roof. We Riccis are fucking bred to protect you. How the hell was I supposed to react?"
Her aggravation was just lazily waved off with the redhead's hand as she continued on her way up the stands to the box seat. Here. Here's the perfect spot.
"Eh, don't worry about me, I'm a big girl. Here. You Riccis are bred to help my family, right? Help me now, if you please." Her seemingly callous response was due to the never ending arguments she had with every one of the Riccis sometime or another. They were a persistent family; almost too good at their job. Buttercup was used to Blossom ignoring her warnings. She was right. She was a big girl. It was time to treat her like one. The brunette just rolled her eyes, interlocked her hands and kneeled down.
"Fine, but this is the last time I throw you." Blossom's wild grin said all as she clambered onto her friend's linked hands.
"Up, up, and away," Blossom teased. Her only response was a grunt and suddenly she was up in the air. Yes, this is perfect. Her pink calculating eyes saw the quickly-approaching side of the box seating. Her hand shot out in perfect tandem with the flawlessly calculated distance between her and the box. Her hand met the warm wood railing and she gracefully flung her body over the railing. Ah, perfect. She loved it when things went perfectly.
Her landing was met with long, slow clapping. She smiled and then frowned just as quickly. That's not right. Adams is too nervous to be sarcastically clapping my "performance". She looked up. Shit. It was Andrew.
His warm brown eyes were eclipsed by haunted shadows and his usually grinning mouth was twisted up in displeasure. His usually vibrant red hair was dulled. Even his perpetually groomed soul patch was looking a little…rumpled. The young, handsome man that she usually associated with Andrew was decidedly unbecoming today. This was the fearsome Andrew, aka the Crimson Massacre.
"So...you've become a roof-jumper, eh?"
"Dad, please, like you did any better in your heyday." Also known as…her dad.
His warm brown eyes lit up in amusement at her jab. "Well, I didn't hate it. Besides, when was my heyday ever over? Last time I checked, I was a handsome young man winning hearts and jumping off of roofs daily."
She grinned, a twin to his own. Oh, he knew her so well. She opened her mouth to rebuttal his statement, it being along the lines of "you're old". It was going to be much more sophisticated than that, if not just as childish, of course, if he didn't raise a hand to stop her.
The flicker of amusement that was previously shining in his eyes disappeared as he held her gaze seriously. "As much as I would love to banter with you all day, my dear daughter, I have a rather unfortunate pressing matter I must discuss with the rest of the Commission."
She stiffened into a much more boss's-daughter type posture. As was expected of her. She dipped her head respectfully and tilted her head in formal agreement. "I will agree to those terms, dear father. But you own me a drink and leadership in the next special op if I let this go without a fight."
His eyes flickered slightly in flashing mirth before disappearing back into his mob-boss façade. "Very well, dear daughter. Now sit down before the rest of the Commission think that we're going to waste their time for an hour because of our all-important banter again. Sit and say no more."
She sat down by his side on her chair she had previously occupied before the whole jumping business without hesitation. She repressed a self-satisfied smile. She trusted her father with her life and he with his. If he said that she was going to lead the next special op, she was going to lead. Not that she didn't often lead, but a surefire op under her belt couldn't hurt.
The tense blonde man extracted himself from the shadows, hurriedly excusing his disturbance, and went to the previously abandoned microphone and leaned in nervously. The sweat on his brow shone as he began to address the room full of gangsters.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen of the Commission. We are all gathered here today at the request of our illustrious boss. Apologies for the emergency calling but the news is very –"
Incoherent shouting from the crowd interrupted poor Adams as he broke into another sweat, his eyes frantically switching between her father and the origin of the shouting. Her father's eyes peeked curiously as the noise grew louder and clearer.
"- my wife, my children, they're all gone. All gone!" The gasping and sobbing were heightened with a note of panic in the man's voice. As was the fact that the stumbling man was drunk. Blossom stood up cautiously and took careful note of the scene. The man was from the Azzoparti family. What is he doing? She wondered quietly as she watched the scene unfold.
"Me mama and me Antonio all gone! They've been disappearing, you know! They've been going, going, and going, one and one and one at a time. Only me and me boys are left." He cried desperately, clawing his way through the crowd, trying to reach the box for some reason. He must have come to the meeting late because of his drinking. But why would he stumble in like this? In the middle of a Commission meeting, no less. She scanned the room quickly. There were no Azzoparti family representatives. Something was terribly wrong. She had every family, every face, memorized, both for her safety and for their trust and now a whole family was missing.
"You're mad!" Someone shouted from the stands. The sentiment echoed throughout the room.
"I'm not mad, I'm not mad. I-I j-just-" He started hiccupping and his eyes rolled back into his head. He collapsed in a crumpled heap.
"Adams," Andrew said quietly in a dangerous, slicing whisper, "set to removing that man from the premises immediately. If a drunk, clearly not right in the head, man can get into the meeting, I want extra security instated this instant. Or else G.O.O.D. will be onto us before we can blink."
Well, shit.
Blossom definitely didn't want the Government's General Organized Operations: Day to drop by for a visit. The mafia-specialized branch of security tended to not sit well with any mobster, after all. At least it was too early for G.O.O.N. to be sending out any agents; those cloak-and-dagger types were far more…irritating to deal with than those self-righteous assholes that were the Daytime crew. The high-strung blonde squeaked and scrambled out of the back door of the seating area. Blossom plunked into her seat again, with far less grace than the first time. She glanced over at her ashen-faced father. Oh, this was so not good. A breach in security was never good in the mafia's vocabulary. It had been a long time since the incredibly embarrassing Apalachin busting of 1957, but the mafia hadn't forgotten their mistake. And here was a meeting between the most powerful families in North America, from the Colombos to the Riccis. Being caught here was not an option.
Her chaotic thoughts came to a standstill when she noticed her father stand up. She froze. The Crimson Massacre never stood up. Not for a bomb, not for a security breach and he probably wouldn't for her wedding. If she lived long enough to have one, that is.
He approached the mic and the whole room fell silent at his presence. He drew in a deep breath, "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. We are under risk of exposure. But do not fear, I shall see to all of your safety and you all will come out of this meeting alive and informed. I promise." Blossom took a sharp breath. Her father's promises were resolute and unmoving.
His tired, dark eyes swept through the room. "There will be a raid in three weeks. It will be extremely important. Our international brothers have already infiltrated former-Africa and former-South America. We have already taken over the East Coast, the Midwest, former-Canada, former-Mexico, and northern parts of the West Coast, yet we have yet to take over the Southern-most of the West Coast. Why? The Government is weak. But they have recently been resorting to underhanded practices and methods of eliminating us. Their threat. If we take over the last of North America, our brothers in Eurasia will be free to wreak havoc. The Eurasians have been depending on the North American trade for as long as anyone can remember for the resources depleted on the main continent. With their last North American tie severed, we can take the world."
The room was still deadly quiet, the significance of the speech still processing. Blossom was reeling with this new update. She knew that the mafia was powerful but…the world? When had that happened? Over the span of forty years of warring, of course, her mind whispered to her. No, that couldn't be right. The mafia had been split, gang wars were a frequent and violent thing back in the First and Second Criminal Wars, leading to the mafia's defeat both times but…with the new regulations and loopholes and exceptions in the lawmaking process…the mafia managed to stay in power – no, grew in power. And when they finally became smart enough to stick together… Slowly, slowly they had infiltrated the black market, the legal financial world, and soon, the North American government itself, leading to the success of the Third and Fourth wars and the almost complete defeat of the government. But…the world.
"That's madness." Apparently, someone shared her thoughts on the matter. "There's no way – I mean, the world? In three weeks?" Harsh laughter disturbed the incredibly still room. Uncomfortable laughter joined in with the voice's, originating from the Colombo family's direction. She peered over the railing. The Colombo family's boss and heir, both laughing at the face of the mighty Crimson Massacre. Of course.
"Riccardo." The room was silenced once again by that three-syllable word. Her father had just used the real name of the Colombo family's boss, simultaneously silencing and humiliating the Colombo family. Real names were reserved for private, family, and definitely not for speaking. Fake names in this world were traded, bartered, switched, and changed infinitely; this was not a world for real names. Real birth names were targets on your back, a threat to your family. Riccardo was too powerful for anything to happen to him but his woman and children… No, that wasn't right either. His family was too powerful for anything to happen to them. But still, the possibility…
"I'm listening, O Great One," Riccardo spat angrily between clenched teeth, "What about this plan is not suicide or madness, eh?"
Andrew's calm, smooth face chilled even Blossom. "You make a very good point, Seven Steels; we won't take the world in three weeks. We're just taking Vegas." Blossom blanched. The famed city of sin showed surprising resilience during the Criminal Wars. Half of North America's old towns and cities weren't half as lucky. Las Vegas, the former city of sin and now the famed city of spies. The city notorious for being…creative with their agent selections and their methods of elimination. Government property – no, the Government property. What was her father thinking?
"No, that's not right either. We will be taking Las Vegas in a year. An operation of that magnitude needs far more planning. The world will be in ten years. No, in three weeks we're going to initiate the start of our worldwide takeover. We'll move south. We will progress closer and closer to the heart of the Government until we can commence a complete takeover. And we will win." On that note, her father promptly turned and left the mic and left the stunned crowd and left his dumbfounded daughter. That last one wasn't quite right, though. He paused, poised at the edge of the doorway, and turned his head towards his daughter.
"Blossom, direct the evacuation. Use the tunnels. I need to go. I love you." And he disappeared. Blossom opened her mouth and closed her mouth in shock. She just sat dumbfounded, staring at the doorway. No matter how fast, how sharp, or how smart her mind was, she couldn't summon any of the right words in English. But one particular Italian word did stand out in the chaos of her mind, however, and she decided that it was quite appropriate for the situation.
Merda.