Okay, this is embarrassing… I always promise I'll update next Saturday, next Friday, next Sunday. A month later, I apologize to you guys…again… Well, I apologize once more, but this time, I say…: that I will update when I can! I always aim for the next Saturday but it usually doesn't go along as planned… Good news? Exams will be over in two weeks and then…SUMMER! *weird evil cackle-thing with sobs of relief occasionally dotting the failing cackle* Thank the math gods… I'll be able to produce better and quicker content for you guys. Just don't forget to put your complaints down in the comments so I can fix my god-awful crap of a story ;). And as always, I must thank you beautiful people who always show such support: GoofballGirl, ICantThinkofanOriginalName, CandyLuv99, and Princess of Flames for the reviews encouraging reviews (they always make my day :D). And The UltimateFanGirl234 and Don't Mind Me I Am A Nobody for the follows. What you guys do to show your support of me really touches me and I could thank you every day and it still wouldn't be enough. Well, enough of that, time to get on to the story! (Yay! Flashback is over this chapter!)

Blossom let out a terse breath. She retracted her hand from the stone slab and automatically began fiddling with her watch as she started thinking.

What was the damn password, again?

Pausing her fiddling, Blossom reached out towards the stone slab once more, waving her hand in front of its center. The illusion dissipated at her signal, revealing a hidden, blinking keypad, patiently waiting for a pass-code.

She gritted her teeth. Oh, boy. It really has been too long… Starting with her mother's birthday, the pink-eyed woman typed in a long series of numbers. Her parents' wedding date, her birthday, the day her father became the Don of the Genovese crime family… Damnit.

She forgot what the last series of numbers were.

Staring at the innocently blinking keypad was probably the least important thing she could've been doing with her time right now. Come on, she was being stopped by a keypad of all things, really? When she, the under-boss of the most powerful crime family in existence, overcame hundreds – no, thousands – of situations ten times as tough? And now her own memory was blocking her way to answers? Really?

Could this day get any worse?

She growled in frustration. That stupid, blinking light seemed to mock her and her bad day, taunting her inability to get past it. I HATE situations not going PERFECTLY!

Letting out a battle cry, she slammed her hand down on the wall to the right of the keypad. The keypad suddenly blinked green and the seemingly immovable stone slab sank back and slid into the floor.

Stunned that even worked, she recoiled for a moment. Just as quickly, however, her swift mind caught up with her. She didn't waste another second, loudly marching into the now-visible chamber, the stone slab sliding shut behind her.

"What the heck was that!?" Her piercing, accusatory jab flew over to the unaffected object of her attention, a lean red-haired man calmly sitting atop a stone alcove. He took another long, slow inhale of his cigarette. A whole, slightly-used pack of them laid beside him. He spoke.

"You forgot the fact that there are hidden cameras outside," he began, waving with his free hand towards the general area of her entrance, "and that I can unlock the chamber from the inside?"

"No, not that," Blossom replied impatiently, "I'm talking about the stunt you pulled at the Commission meeting! What the heck was that, dad!? You stood – you stood at a Commission meeting like it was no big deal and then suddenly announced a plan to take over the world! Are you nuts!? You never told me anything about taking over the –"

She was silenced by her father's painstakingly slow extinguishment of the cigarette. She made a face of disgust. The Mafia dealt drugs – didn't use them. Slipping another cigarette out of the pack, he lit it, and for the first time in the exchange, faced his daughter.

"Have I ever told you about your mother?" His usually rich voice was marred by the rough, gravelly tone that told her he had been smoking in the chamber for a while now. Oh, she could see the empty packet partially hidden by his side now.

Her eyebrows drew together, disguising her original impulse to raise them. Innocent bewilderment was far more diplomatic than condescending dubiety, he had always taught her. Again, didn't help when her smart mouth got the better of her.

"My mother? What does that have anything to do with what we're talking about?"

She was genuinely perplexed by his statement. What the hell did her mother have to do with anything?

Her father, however, didn't seem to want to further elaborate his meaning, bringing back her original frustration.

"Dad. Explain. What is all this? Why didn't you tell me anything?" Another suspicious and horrifying thought occurred to her. "What on earth was Bubbles doing so nearby at the time of the meeting? The Capital is four hours away. Did you plan this? Dad –"

"First, your mother." His voice was firm, unyielding. There would be no discussion. He seems to be interrupting me a whole lot today, her inner voice grumbled. She absolutely hated it. They had had, up until this point, an open and honest relationship; since when did her dad hide important shit from her or not encouraged reasonable, intelligent discussion?

With pained eyes, she watched her father take another hit. He seems to be doing that a lot lately… Well… he'd been smoking for more than half her life, when she thought about it. Since mom died…

"Do you remember the nickname I always gave her? It drove her off the wall." He gave a shaky laugh at that. Something's seriously wrong here… What hint did he think he gave her?

"Uh, yeah. 'Mockingjay'. After the iconic bird from some ancient story meaning 'unreal', 'larger than life', or 'mockery/sham'. Right?"

"Yup," he grinned in amusement, "you got it. She was truly larger than life. And had the grandest mask to boot."

"Mask?"

"She gave the world a mask – a version of herself carefully crafted for her protection." His duller-than-normal eyes softened when looking at his beautiful, all-grown-up daughter. "You two are a lot more alike than you think."

Blossom stiffened. "How so?"

His eyes softened further and spoke in a gentle whisper. "Amanda, you don't need to try so hard to be my daughter. I don't need to know that you can banter, that you are more laid back than you truly are, that you are witty and bold, I know you're my daughter. I can see through that mask you give the world. I am still your father, after all. I see you work so hard to uphold a witty, endlessly crazy self for my benefit and a powerful, graceful being for your Mafia image."

She gnashed her teeth together. "Where is this coming from? You still haven't answered anything, dad."

But he wasn't listening. His eyes looked lost in another world. "From the second I knew you were going to be born, I wanted the world for you. I wanted to shield you from the violence I faced growing up, and I wanted to keep you away from the uncaring environment of the Genovese family. But I never intended for you to shun an entire half of yourself. All those stories I told you about them was to show you your mother's side of the family, not push you away from them, not make you resent any similarities you have with them."

"Dad." She had heard enough. She had come here for answers, not a fucking sermon about her ignorant relatives. "Just tell me what you called me here to say." It had been a long time since Blossom was this pissed. It had been a long time since she'd had such an awful day… not since her mother's death… And this day was certainly taking a long time.

"It saddens me that you're actively trying reject the Gallo side of your family. They're haughty, nasty, and cold people under the worst conditions but I taught you about them because you share their blood and can learn from their mistakes –"

"ENOUGH," she found herself screaming, "I am not a Gallo. Sure, I may share their blood. Sure, I may be the under-boss of their crime family. Sure, my mother is buried among them. But I. AM. A. BURN."

She gasped for breath as she stared her completely alert father dead in the eye. "My name is Amanda fucking Burn."

The silence was deafening. Losing her cool like this… let alone at her father…

She just wanted to lay down on the ground and cry. Let the rest of the horrid day go to shit without her. Just sobbing her heart out, with Lisette or her dad brushing her long mane…

He cleared his throat, his eyes finally bright and clear. "Language." She blinked. And started to laugh, small, hiccuping sobs dotting her insane giggles.

The expression on his face was positively mournful. "I'm so sorry, Am. I don't know what came over me…" He fingered his cigarette pack gently, when he suddenly paused, hesitating, then ultimately deciding to tuck it away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwing up in distress. "Look, I… I'm being an insensitive, high bastard. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For more than you know. The reason why… the reason why I started with your mother…" he choked, breaking down in front of his daughter like he'd only ever done once before, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. If only your mother and I had worked harder, if only we had planned for the future instead of thinking only of our happiness."

Without realizing it, both father and daughter had sunk to the floor, with a distance of only a few meters separating their grief. What… Blossom's whirling mind slowed at her father's desperate words, staring at her bowed-over father, her tears flowing silently from her. …is he talking about?

He couldn't meet his daughter's gaze. He couldn't. "You are the last Genovese. The last from that bloodline. It doesn't matter what I do, once you die, the Genovese bloodline is done. While the crime family would go on, the blood of the Genovese would not… And we live in a dangerous profession –"

Breaking off with a sour laugh, he rose his head and locked eyes with his daughter. Blossom searched his gaze, picking up on his implications. Her mind clicked. "There needs to be a child. Soon." She tore her gaze from his and shakily stood. "What brought this on?"

She looked towards her right, ignoring her father on the ground in front of her. The urn sat complacently on another large stone slab to the right of the alcove her father had been waiting in. "Wait, don't answer that. It's the coming invasion, isn't it? We need an insurance once taking over the world." Her dull voice cut Andrew deeper than if she had been screaming.

She turned her empty gaze back to her father. "We're really doing it, huh? Taking over the world." It wasn't a question.

"Well, it's not like we're royalty or anything. My virginity doesn't matter – only how I use it."

Andrew cringed, like every father would when talking of their daughter's virginity. "No, that –"

"And it doesn't help that I've shot down every powerful, potential Mafia-mate in proximity, does it?" She interrupted, "Don't think I haven't forgotten the mess with Jenovah Colombo two weeks ago. He's a bastard of the highest degree but I could've gotten through the marriage meeting without telling him that. And to add salt to the wound, the mess at the Commission today could further alienate our relations with the Colombo crime family. We need a child from me. The source doesn't matter, does it?"

Her cold, formal tone – her Mafia boss's daughter voice – made Andrew wince in pain. His precious daughter, his last tie to her mother – he loved her too much to hear this, to tell her this. He slowly shook his dark red hair 'no', in response to her question.

She took note of his answer and continued, a little bit more gently than she had been earlier. "Don't worry, dad. You know as much as I do that I don't believe in love. I'll find an intelligent donor." She drew closer and hugged her father, pulling him up to his knees. His arms wrapped around her, an unseen, silent tear running down his face. Until another thought occurred to her.

My father has always been the type to bite off more than he can chew… he went after the most powerful Mafia family's boss's daughter for god's sake… But he's never been a fool… And only the most foolish or crazy (or both) try for the world…

"Do I have to ask who suggested this mass takeover?" She pulled away from her father, her eyebrow arched. A choppy laugh confirmed her suspicions.

"It's Him, isn't it?" Her unamused expression only fueled her father's mirth. He stood, an amused look in his eyes, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I know you don't like him very much but he's my consigliere. You've gotta trust his advice."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Ugh, love makes people so idiotic and insane… which explains why I'm helping this incredibly stupid plan…

In far safer topics than her mother and her new, uncomfortable objective, father and daughter laughed together at her constant disapproval of the man's advisor.

"Hey," his eyes softened as he stooped his height a little to match his daughter, "I also want the world for you, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, please." He laughed and straightened, ruffling her loose hair, making her pseudo-annoyed.

"I know, I know. Too cheesy." His eyes flashed with sudden happiness. "I know what will cheer you up."

"Lisette is home?" Blossom asked hopefully, eyes filled with her previous longing to be home.

"No, she's currently out, my dear daughter, though I know how much you'd like to go home. Do you realize how long I sat in the stone alcove waiting for you? If anything, I'm more anxious than you to be home." Chuckling at his daughter's pouts, he continued, "Because of these plans to take over the world, guess what we need? A mission. A solo mission."

He fought the urge to smile at the anticipated, excited grin stealing across his daughter's face.

"Yep, starting next week, you will be going to the Government's capital – Las Vegas." Her eyes widened. This was big. A few Mafia families had tried in the past to infiltrate the Government's most recent capital. Almost all failed. Only a few agents from their side could get in and that information was so classified even she didn't know who they were.

"You'll be scouting the enemy's territory. Your objective in that week is to find an optimal surveillance location and note it. After that week, you will come back to participate in the first raid, which will be taking place in three weeks from now, if you remember. The specifics after that is a little hazy but you'll most likely return after the first raid to continue the infiltration mission."

Stolen. That's what her breath was.

"It's going to be dangerous but the Commission leaders have all agreed that you'll be the best candidate. I contacted them after the official meeting, offering more information about the takeover."

She suddenly understood his tactic. Short and dramatic. That official Commission meeting was always meant to be short and dramatic. He had congregated all the families' representatives to spring the news, throwing their minds into chaos, keeping them from rational thought, and, most importantly of all, disallowing them any room to challenge his plan. And to curb their doubts afterward, he gave them just enough information to pacify them. It was nasty. It was sneaky. And it was brilliant. Although he seemed genuinely surprised by the drunk man, it just served to drive his agenda home at the end of the day.

Appreciating his mental tactic, she shook her head in amused astonishment. Andrew knew the second when his daughter understood and nodded appreciatively. She's so clever.

"Sometimes I think your outside name should've been 'Intelligentsia', instead of 'Blossom', Am." Laughing, he ruffled her hair once more.

"Now, you can go home, my dear daughter. I –" sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose again, "– still have some things to take care of. The price of being the Genovese crime family's boss." Offering her a smile, he looked down at his watch and punched some numbers in, opening the stone slab chamber door.

Her gaze slid from the opening to her suddenly tired-looking father. She didn't want to leave but she knew she had to go. "Alright… ciao, dad." Turning, she started walking out, a number of new information weighing on her mind.

"Ciao," she heard from behind her, making her wonder if she should've stayed.

Hearing her last words before the light of his life left, Andrew wondered if she should've stayed. He had been hiding a lot from his daughter lately, and it was an absolute pain to have the only person he was truly truthful with in the dark. His watch rang as the stone slab slid closed, alerting him to the news.

He turned away from the closed opening and pressed on of the buttons on his multi-purpose watch. "Yeah, Him?"

A week prior to the present

She looked around the bar, unimpressed. There was loud music, loud people, and loud drinks. Everywhere. She flicked her red hair over her shoulders, wishing for her lucky hat. Maybe if she had that, her mission would be a little more successful. Well, she had been in Las Vegas for only a few hours but that was long enough to decide that she hated it. Everywhere was grungy. Come on, she knew the Mafia was an occupying force for the majority of the country but couldn't the Government do something to clean up their capital?

Dark city, dark bars, and dark people. Practically everyone looked shady, and she dealt drugs!

There was absolutely nothing here – she should move to a different location. Maybe uptown? She figured it would be a little nicer, it was the newest part of town, after al –

The hell. Her eyes tracked the newest arrival to the bar, taking note of him. His short-ish, shaggy flaming red-hair did nothing to hide his blood-red eyes. They seemed to pierce through a person, though they were not settled on her. The lean, slightly taller than average young man floated to the bar, obviously slightly disconnected from his surroundings – not uncomfortable but… disconnected –

He idly ordered a drink. She almost turned back to her own drink, the initial shock of his appearance wearing off, until she noticed…

As the bartender, a short, pretty Hispanic girl, turned away to make the drink, he thumbed some cash from the cash register, smoothly, as if he did it every day. The move was so casual, she almost missed it. It was obvious that the girl was inexperienced, leaving the money unguarded and making the drink before demanding the money, but it still struck her when he offered their own money as payment for the drink. Holy crap… he legitimately did a "iemand een sigaar uit eigen doos geven"… "to give someone a cigar from [their] own box" …

She would've been impressed if he didn't take out a real cigarette a moment later and motioned that he was going to the back of the club. Ugh, clever, handsome, but a smoker… Dad, did you start this brand of guys?

The drink itself ended up in the hands of a man obviously poor and thirsting for a drink, gifted to him by the red-hair man. Her eyes stumbled over the new information. He… is an interesting character.

Oh, wait, he was coming close. That's right, she was nearby the back-alley exit. He progressed through the crowd of bodies, his red eyes almost hypnotically entrancing her, never wavering despite bumping into various hookers, drunken men, and tables. Hey, it was dark here, after all.

She closed her eyes, counting the seconds. Okay, according to the pace he was going before, I think he will be gone… now. She opened her eyes. And saw his dead, blood-red eyes passing her. The absolute emptiness in his orbs startled her out of her seat. And he passed, exiting into the back-alley, closed off to the world, exempting the heavy, maroon metal door.

Okay, that just pissed her off. He messed up his own timing – who did that!? Other than messing up her perfect timing, his curiously dead eyes permanently glued her interest in the young man. Her secondary objective for being here reverberated in her mind – yes. He's the one.

Present

She had observed his behavior over the course of the last week. Every day he ordered a drink, either legitimately paid for or stolen (curiously enough, whenever the main barista, a big, fearsome lady, showed up, he legitimately paid for his drink), went to the back-alley for a smoke break, then headed back to the bar. He would then either drink his drink, if he legitimately paid for it, and then be pushed by the big barista to the crowd of people just to disappear or give the drink to some desperate person and leave. It was eerily systematic and robotic. Of course, as soon as she noticed this pattern, the other bartenders had to be on shift. This was the last day she would spend here until she needed to go back to prep for the raid a week from now. Yet… the big barista was here today! This was her chance to enact her plan.

He went through the motions, going to the back for about an hour or two. The big bartender usually guarded his drink, making sure no one swiped or spiked it. Well, she would make sure someone would spike it today. Paying off one of the men to start a fight, she watched the bartender leave her station for a moment, yelling something about the Criminal Wars. She slipped to the drink, pouring her concoction in. Yup, I've started drugging people to get my agenda now… ah, well.

Slipping away again, she observed the next hour or so in peace. Then he came back.

With displeasure, she watched the young man take slow, halting drinks of his drink. Not enough… that's not enough. Thank god she had a back-up plan. She puckered up her lips and dabbled some special lipstick. Internally, she grimaced, hating the feeling. Drugs, sex, what else am I going to degrade myself to today?

She headed over to the DJ, giving him special instructions for old, old music her father loved to death. She quite liked it herself but, more importantly, she hoped that her target enjoyed it too. The drugs would amplify his emotions, especially his pleasure, and, from what she observed, he seemed to greatly dislike modern music. And he did. Her eyebrows raised. Of all the time she'd been here, he had never danced. It didn't make sense for the stoic young man to dance but he was surprisingly good at it. Whatever, that was unimportant. She floated generally towards him, examining his reactions. Suddenly, his eyes inexplicably locked onto her, an intensity raging around him she had never seen in him before.

Wait, why do I care? I could care less what he's like, as long as he donates the needed parts for the procedure…

Gracefully, she floated closer and closer towards him, complacently watching his almost violent attempts to get to her. Then he suddenly looked lost – so lost… He dropped to the floor in grief…

Oh no… it's amplifying his negative feelings…

She quickly closed the last few meters, looking down at the kneeling young man below her – so much like her father only a few short weeks ago… No, stop it! Don't draw connections! Just get it over with – don't feel, don't care, don't desire.

"Hey, you mind if I join you?" The words sort of just slipped out of her, she didn't know when or where they came from. She found herself kneeling down and repeating herself, speaking in such a teasing yet caring voice, "You look a little lonely, you won't mind if I join you, right?"

It was if she was looking at another person from far away. Her voice lowered to a whisper, "I'll take that as a yes."

Her lips met his.