A Ruined Childhood
Something about the man with the feathers didn't seem right. Renn couldn't put a finger on it but he knew it was there. Though it was in his nature to be suspicious of everyone, there was something about that stranger that made him particularly…queasy. As he took the boss's wife aside for a private word, he asked, "Who was that?"
Emilia Montecarlo looked up at him, wide-eyed and naïve. She was a pretty woman, even for her age; obviously the boss only married her for her looks and ability to breed. Apart from that, she was weak, pliable like fresh clay—just the way Renn liked them. "I don't know," she replied. "Must be one of Gianfranco's friends. Why?"
They stood in a dark corner in the hallway where a wall sconce had burned out. They'd have to get that fixed later, but for now, there were more important matters at hand. His beady eyes scanned the area briefly, ears perked up to detect any small sound. When he was sure no one was within earshot, he whispered to Emilia. "You need to be careful who you let into this house. The boss might have hired him to keep tabs on you. And Mira."
"But…no, I've been careful. There's no way he could've known. Oh god..." The woman's eyes widened and Renn recognized the brand new fear behind them—it was driven by the desperate desire to shield her daughter at all costs, even from her father. Especially from her father. "Renn, please. You have to act now. Take my baby away. Please, you can't let Gianfranco touch her!"
When she panicked like that, it simply made him want to hit her. Heaven forbid the daughter takes up after her. Still, he knew better than to lay hands on the boss's wife. Otherwise, they would know and the plan would fall apart. He couldn't have that, not when they were so close to success. "Hush now," he said, embracing her. One hand reached up to stroke her hair and for a moment, it almost felt like he was holding Mira whenever she cried. Since when did I turn into a goddamn babysitter? He wondered. But just as soon as the thought occurred, it was dismissed. He was more than a babysitter. He was an ambitious man and the Montecarlo family was his prize. Just a little more. For now, he focused on calming the frantic mother hen in his arms. "I'll keep her safe. Don't worry, I know what I have to do. We move tonight. Just leave everything to me, okay?"
His lies flowed like poison honey into her hears and he knew she believed them wholeheartedly. After all, what choice did she have? She'd been afraid for too long. And I'm her only hope.
Xanxus watched from the shadows as the little girl blew out her candles, all ten of them on a tiered cake that would've been the envy of every child. The Mira of this world had just turned ten, beloved by just about everyone she came in contact with. Though it may have been interesting to observe the younger version of his wife, he decided that she was pretty annoying; always asking so many questions and she never seemed to know when to shut up. It was a wonder, maybe even a miracle, that Angelo didn't turn out like that. With a drink in hand, a corner of his mouth tugged up into a smirk, reflected in the amber liquid. His kid was well-behaved, of course. Otherwise, he'd have the snot beaten out of him and he would learn, whether he wanted to or not.
At the sight of the other guests, she quickly forgot about him and she ran about the room, hugging this uncle, that godfather and this aunt. One in particular caught his eye, though he couldn't decide who he was to her. Little Mira simply ran up to him and the older man caught her in his arms and swung her around. He seemed to be in his late forties, with coarse blonde hair and beard to match. Xanxus knew it couldn't possibly be her father because when she pulled away from him, the little girl demanded, "You promised you'd bring Dino! Where is he?"
Instinctively, something in him made him roll his eyes. The Varia Boss would've groaned in disgust to but he was supposed to go unnoticed. This fucking blows, he thought. Obviously the man was used to traveling with an entourage, not alone. Crimson eyes settled on Dino's predecessor as he apologized to the birthday girl, wearing the same stupid smile as his son. "Next time, okay? I'll bring him over another time."
Little Mira pouted, but the slight was soon forgotten when the urge for cake took over. Dragging the older Cavallone by hand, he watched as she introduced her to the wonders of sugary confections and diabetes. God, she was a demanding little shit. Gianfranco obviously spoiled his only daughter. Still, it was a sight indeed, seeing her when her world was still right, when she was still happy. He remembered when he first met her; it was right after that bloodbath wedding of hers and she came to him seeking refuge and employment. He'd given her both and some more afterwards. But he couldn't help but wonder what would've been if she'd just gone through her first wedding without a fuss. Just then, Angelo's face sprang up in his head, only to disappear like diminishing smoke. Xanxus downed his drink, waiting for the buzz in his head to bring the image back. There would be no Angelo. And Mira…probably fucking and breeding with that sorry Russian prick.
Disgusted with the mere idea of it, he grabbed a bottle of champagne from a passing waiter and dismissed him with one of his trademark glares. It wasn't what he was used to but it would have to do. Just as he was about to pour himself a glass, another guest walked in, tall and towering, with a beautifully wrapped box tucked under his arm. This one wore an impeccable suit with a tie that matched his sapphire eyes and they glinted happily at the sight of the birthday girl attacking a piece of cake. Gray streaked his dark, slick-backed hair; he had the look of a kindly professor about him with those glasses pushed up his aquiline nose. Even from afar, the resemblance was unmistakable. So that's where she got those eyes of hers. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mira turned to him, but unlike any little girl, she didn't squeal in excitement at her father's arrival.
Instead she sat there, fork frozen in mid-bite as the man and his gift crossed the floor towards her. Picking her up, he made a show of it in front of his guests. For a moment, Xanxus contemplated throwing a glass at him but resisted the urge to do so. He continued to watch little Mira, seemingly hesitant at first, but then she decided to return her father's embrace. She forced herself to smile as he put her down and he mirrored her expression, holding her face in his hands. "My sweet girl is growing up…too fast," he said, almost regretfully.
From where he sat, she seemed very much like a porcelain doll as she kept silent and just stood there, happy face painted on and ready. She would've been convincing, except…I know all your little tricks. She would grow up to be his wife, for fuck's sake. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew her as well as he knew himself. Her pretenses might convince some but he could easily pick them apart. Mira could never lie to me. And this one can't either.
Reputation aside, Gianfranco was a suspicious bastard. He wasn't anything like Xanxus, but when your kid doesn't seem to want to be with you…there's a fucking problem. Hell, I get along with my son better than that. In that way, he was so like his mother; Angelo couldn't lie to him either and therefore, he didn't have to pretend. Whatever the problem was, Xanxus decided to ignore it for a while. His first trip in the Time Chamber had left him with a thirst and now he decided to quench it with the bottle of champagne. He continued pouring his drink and that's when the light on the bracelet caught his eye. Not blue anymore…
It was green.
They spent the day hopping from one antique shop to another and yet Angelo couldn't find anything that he'd want to give to his dad. Nothing seemed to suit the recipient in mind, but that wasn't quite a shock for Dino. If anything, he enjoyed it, spending quality time with Mira's son. "You know, we've actually hung out before," he mentioned as they exited the eighth shop they visited.
The boy's eyes widened in curiosity. "When was this?"
"Oh, it was a long time ago. I think I made you breakfast and then we went to a playground in Japan." The Cavallone Boss smiled, glancing down at the boy. He was tall for a ten-year-old but he could still see him as a newborn, small enough to be held in his arms. "I found your mother again after she disappeared."
"She does that a lot, doesn't she? Disappear."
Dino sighed a bit, wondering if he used the wrong word to describe her. Then again, perhaps it was accurate. Mira came and went as she pleased; she only really stayed when she felt like it. "Don't hold it against her," he said, ruffling the Angelo's hair. "She had her reasons."
A million and one of them, in fact, and Dino remembered them all. And each time, it was done out of fear or love, sometimes both. When they decided to take a break from their search, they hopped back into Dino's car and headed somewhere for lunch. Angelo sat up front with Dino, safe and buckled, when he said, "Mom left me too, once. I was in a convent and I didn't get to see her for months."
He looked at him from the corner of his eye, wondering if the boy held a grudge because of that. Please don't hate her, he was about to say, but then Angelo spoke again and reassured him. "It's okay, though. She brought Dad when she came back for me. That was the first time I met him."
The memory brightened the kid's face and Dino wanted nothing more than to keep that smile there, just as he would've done for his mother. But then something struck him as odd. "Why are you looking for your Dad's gift anyway?" he asked, simply because he had to know. "Is it his birthday?"
Angelo shook his head. "Squalo says he went in a business trip. He must have left last night because he wasn't there during dinner."
Dino looked on ahead, his face turning stone and solemn. Inside, however, the gears of his mind began to turn as he processed the new information. Xanxus and business trip just didn't fit together, much less one that he'd leave for in the dead of the night. For one, he knew the Varia boss never went on those "trips" by himself; it was his habit to send subordinates in his place. Just what the hell is going on here…? "Is that so? Does Squalo know when he'll be back?"
There was another shake of the head. "He just said Dad had to take care of something important so he might be gone for a while."
Or maybe he doesn't know. As he turned into an Italian restaurant, the Cavallone Boss made a mental note to speak with the swordsman later when he took the boy home. He wouldn't leave his kid, he thought. Not when he's the only one Angelo's got.
When all the guests had gone, the Montecarlo family reverted back to its normal self, devoid of birthday trappings and courtesy. Like Cinderella on the stroke of midnight, everything became ugly again, including reality for the birthday girl. Screams echoed from the cold cellar walls, the terrible sound of it carrying on up the stairs and into the lonely hallway. It was a wonder her voice hadn't gone out yet, but perhaps that was her strength, manifested in the face of her pain. Her father just didn't know how to see it.
Renn descended down the stone steps to the cellar, with only a dim torch mounted to the wall to illuminate his way. It was the oldest part of the Montecarlo mansion. While everything else was renovated over the years, that part stayed the same, a testimony to the strength of the family. Old as they were, they kept to tradition and one of them entailed training their children who had inherited their powers down there, in that cold, dreary place. They'd been calling it a "training ground" for as long as Renn could remember and now the torch was being passed down to the poor daughter. A part of him couldn't help but feel sorry for her as he listened to her cries and pleas, knowing her father would never listen. Gianfranco was a headstrong man and he would beat this weakness out of his sole heir. Only the strong prevail, sweet girl, he thought as he turned a corner and beheld the most disturbing sight.
He'd seen it tons of times before and it never ceased to disgust him. Heavy manacles encircled her wrists and ankles, with only a small length of chain to between them to grant her a bit of movement. Gone were the pretty party dress and the blue ribbon in her hair. Naked as the day she was born, red lashes crisscrossed on her bare skin and she could only hunch over to protect herself. Gianfranco was especially relentless tonight with that riding crop, his "disciplinary tool" of choice. "We've been over this already, Mira!" he roared, walking around his daughter in a circle like a predator stalking its prey. Mira could only whimper pathetically, hugging her knees to her chest. Her silver head whipped this way and that, wary and afraid of the formidable riding crop. "Breathe deeply and exhale. Like a dragon now. Do it!"
"No, Daddy, please, I can't!" she wailed miserably, but Gianfranco wouldn't hear it.
The riding crop whipped across her face, knocking her down with a pained yelp. She sounded like a wounded pup, but puppies didn't have such impossible high expectations put on them. Bending slightly, Gianfranco breathed white flames from his mouth, like the dragon he described earlier. Ah, so that's what he's trying to teach her, Renn thought. He was the only Montecarlo capable of such a feat; no wonder he wanted her to learn it. Still, it was too lofty a goal, one that Mira could never hope to reach. Her father's flames reached her, licking at her skin and singing her hair. She screamed crawled helplessly away from it, her back hitting the wall. "Daddy, please stop! It hurts!"
"Do you think it'll hurt any less when they try to kill you?" he spat. He'd driven her to the wall and now he had her cornered; there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. For a moment, his voice grew soft as he held her bruised, tear-stained faced in her hands. "You're ten now, sweetheart, and my daughter. Your weakness will kill you. Now show me something."
A heaving sob wrecked through her small frame and she raised her shaky, fettered hands. A flame engulfed them and slowly it grew, covering her forearms…but Gianfranco wasn't impressed. He hit her barehanded this time, his knuckles making painful contact with her face as he backhanded her. "I know what you're capable of, Mira! And that's not what I wanted!"
She stayed on the floor this time, curled up like a fetus while her father stood over her, breathing hard. He'd been standing there for a while but now Renn decided to break his silence. "Care to take a break, Boss?" he asked nonchalantly, as if the man was just going through a particularly tough workout. "At this rate, neither of you might be able to last."
There'd always been a bit of a crazy gleam in the Boss's eyes; Renn noticed it when he first entered the family and it was there now. His sapphire eyes burned with unwavering pride and arrogance; as far as he was concerned, he was the strongest Montecarlo to ever rule the family and he wanted his daughter to take up after him. "Nonsense," he replied, but the red-haired man could see the slightest tremor in his hands as gripped the crop. "She's my successor. She should be grateful that I'm training her." Gianfranco wiped his brow, sweeping back a stray lock of hair. Feverish blue eyes fixed themselves on Renn's face, his pale cheeks flushed ever so slightly and he knew; the sick bastard got off on hitting his daughter. "There are trials ahead of us, Renn."
The red-haired subordinate nodded knowingly. "Indeed, sir. Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Good luck." As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of little Mira's face, wide-eyed through a sheet of matted silver hair. Sorry, princess, but I can't hang about.
The cries resumed again when he started up the stairs and they grew louder in volume. Countless times he thought of bringing earplugs with him whenever he went down there, but no more. Her training ends tonight. At the top of her stairs, collapsed on the floor as she held onto the wall for support, was Emilia, weeping for the daughter she couldn't save. As Renn locked his gaze on her, he shook his head and she wept even harder. Emilia clutched her head in her hands, her frustration so great so was almost ready to tear her hair out. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispered, holding her against his chest as he did earlier that day. Her tears seeped through his skin, echoing in his bones. He could feel her heart break and knew there was no better tool to start his coup d'éta. Keeping one arm around her, the other reached into his pocket and fished out a switchblade. Emilia lifted her head just briefly to see the weapon and she looked up at Renn, confused, afraid and desperate. "You can end it. Mira needs you. She's crying for her mom. Do you understand?" He took her hands and enclosed her fingers around the blade. One kiss on the forehead and he hoped it'd be enough encouragement, no matter how temporary. And then, he left.
His footfalls were quiet, cushioned by soft leather shoes. He wasn't very far from the cellar when he heard Emilia scamper downstairs. Hands deep in his pockets, he whistled the tune to an old nursery rhyme as he walked down the hallway. There was a skip in his step, perhaps a little too cheerful; he knew what would come next. Women were so predictable and the Boss's wife made it all too easy. He was barely outside when he heard the telltale scream, more blood-curdling that the ones that came from Mira's mouth. A cruel smile graced his lips as he turned towards the men on the veranda—Gianfranco's subordinates. Well, former. Each one was armed, waiting…and Renn was only too happy to give them the signal. "Showtime, boys."
One by one, the guests left and Xanxus knew better than to stay in one place. The help would notice him then and so he wandered out to the garden with a bottle of whiskey he swiped from the open bar. In the middle of the garden was a small pavilion and he settled there amongst flowers in full bloom. They filled the area with a scent far too sweet that it made almost made him sick. He'd never been fond of flowers and the only ones he could stand were Mira's lilies. When they got married, she somehow got it in her head that she could decorate the mansion however she pleased and so vases of those abominable things littered the place—her study, the library and their room at one point until he tossed out the water and put beer instead to kill. He learned to live with it then, when he smelled it on her skin. When she died, she took those flowers with her. Since then, not a single bud entered through Varia's doors. They just reminded him too much of funerals.
He kept a wary eye on his bracelet, waiting for the green light to turn yellow before he took one of Giannichi's knockout pills. The small canister sat in front of them, right next to his whiskey just in case he had to down it in an instant. However, the bottle remained unopened; he hadn't taken a drink and was only going to do so when he needed to wash the pill down. Somehow, the usual thirst had gone out of him, replaced by something hollow. Gianfranco Montecarlo's face flashed in his head; how he held Mira and how she forced herself to smile at him. Kids don't do that. He didn't consider himself an expert on the little tykes, but even he knew a thing or two about them.
That's when he heard it—a faint scream cutting through the dead of the night, followed by an explosion. Raising his eyes towards the sound, he easily found the source. It came from the west corner of the mansion and smoke seemed to rise up from its foundations. There were other sounds as well—gunfire and panic. Even flowers couldn't cover up the smell of death as it reared its ugly head in. Before he could stop himself, Xanxus rose to his feet and headed towards the heart of chaos. He arrived at the front of the mansion just in time to see fire eating the east wing. A few more explosions and the windows shattered, raining down glass in glittering shards. The help that he avoided earlier now swept past him, hugging their prizes to their chests. One carried candlesticks, the other silverware and plates. Two men were carrying a rolled up rug right out the door. As servants ransacked the burning mansion, gunfire erupted inside, so loud he could almost hear the shells as they fell to the floor. A single thought occurred in his head—a name—and it was enough to carry him through the door before it collapsed.
He stepped into the grand foyer, the heat of the flames radiating around him. From where he saw smoke coming out of the mansion's western foundation, white flames came forth, consuming everything in its path. Wherever something fed into the flame, the pale fires would become normal to match the red-and-orange blaze from the eastern side. Wood, brick and the entire Montecarlo history threatened to topple over at any minute. Nevertheless, Xanxus wanted to find her. Not here, he thought as memories of her flashed through his head. She'd survive somehow, he knew it; he just wanted to see for himself.
Xanxus wasn't a praying man but perhaps some deity might have been paying attention. On the balcony overlooking the foyer, Emilia appeared, holding a suitcase in one hand and her ten-year-old daughter in the other. Little Mira wound her arms around her mother's neck, afraid to let go. He wasn't sure if it was the flames that scared her so but then the man called Renn appeared and Emilia gave her daughter to him. As the child passed into another's arms, the red-haired man pulled a gun on Emilia, point blank. Only when he pulled the trigger did Mira struggle against him, banging her fists against his chest. Meanwhile, Emilia bled through a dime-sized hole in her forehead, with a look of disbelief and bewilderment. Her daughter screamed her name over and over again, and it was the last thing she heard before her body crumpled at Renn's feet.
As Xanxus stood witness, he snarled, ready to blast a hole through the bastard's face with his Flame of Wrath. He was poised for the attack when Mira saw him and she stretched out her hand, screaming for him. "Please, help me!" she cried, her voice shrill with the recent trauma and the ongoing panic.
All the while, Xanxus never noticed his bracelet had already turned yellow. He wanted to hurt the son of a bitch, just as he'd Mira; he suspected this wasn't the first time he made the little girl cry. But before he could even loose his attack, the bracelet turned red. He only had enough time to see Renn knock out the little girl with the butt of the gun. Then he blinked and the burning mansion, Mira's tear-stained face and her past—they were all gone.