CHAPTER 6: Nice Night For A Stroll

A few additional days at sea was all it took for the pair and their crew to reach the meeting place. So far things were going quite well, though as they neared their destination, apprehension began to fill Rocinante's chest. He knew he was supposed to just stand there and look tough for the most part, but that was a lot harder than it sounded.

Then he thought of Aylin's direct, self-assured manner of speaking and remembered that she would be doing all the talking. Relief immediately flooded through him. As long as she was there, what could possibly go wrong? Not only did she excel at negotiation, but she was strong and skillful in a fight as well. The mission just might go off without a hitch, though Rocinante was hesitant to be so optimistic. He was enjoying himself for the time being, despite the fact that he was almost out of cigarettes again, even after buying another carton after the fiasco on the last island. He spent the duration of the journey out on the deck, breathing in the salty sea air and leaning against the railing. He nearly had to double over to reach it due to his height.

Aylin stayed nearby, always with her nose in the file of documents that Scarlet had given her before they left. He was sure that she wouldn't find anything new the twentieth time she read over them, but he guessed that was one way to alleviate boredom.

oOo

It was a clear afternoon when the ship sailed into the harbor of the bustling port city that was their destination. The tall buildings rising up around its half-circle waterfront could be spotted from miles away. The sunlight reflected off the metallic structures, creating something akin to beacons which guided the ship toward civilization.

"We're here! Crescent City!" One of the crew members whooped in excitement as he and the others prepared the ship for docking. It had only been a couple of days at sea, but some of them were already missing land.

The further in they went, the more Aylin could see why they were meeting representatives here. Lush green grass, tropical trees and brightly colored flowers decorated every spot in between the architecture. Men and women dressed up in expensive business attire walked briskly along the cobblestone paths between each of the artfully constructed buildings. Crescent City was clearly one of elegance and prosperity. She guessed it was the perfect spot for people to come and rub elbows with each other. A meeting with some company representatives over a shady business deal would likely go unnoticed in a place like this.

Rocinante lit up his last cigarette without also setting himself on fire as they weighed anchor. That in itself was a good sign for this mission, he thought as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke over his head. The men lowered the walkway, but Rocinante ignored it as he jumped over the side of the ship and bounded down the dock, face planting on the path that lead to the road into town.

"OOPS…" He rolled on his back and stared up toward the sun, squinting and grinning like a fool.

Footsteps immediately bounded past him as a few of the crew members headed down the dock, excitedly proclaiming they were going to pay a visit to the city's famed tavern district.

"Yes, great. Let's all get too drunk to sail back afterward," came Aylin's dry remark as her heeled boots clacked over the shiny mahogany planks at a leisurely stride. The ship had made good time on the trip over, though, so she supposed they had time to sober up before departure. She paused upon reaching the end of the docks, where wood met cobblestone, to wait for her partner to catch up. "We've got some time," she said once he'd hurried over. "I'd like to scout out the site of our business meeting first, though. Just in case... I don't want any surprises."

Rocinante grinned again. "Yes, ma'am! I will use the calm spell on the both of us and no one will know we're there! Good thing, too; I like your boots, but they're noisy. This way you can still wear them. What time is the meeting, anyway?"

Aylin had been glancing down at her boots but she looked up when he asked the question. "Nine o'clock. It shouldn't be too hard to find the place. I've got the address." She patted the pouch strapped to her leg containing very few necessities. She'd left her longsword on board the ship, rather reluctantly as she didn't feel entirely comfortable without it, however she always kept a couple of throwing knives on her person in case a situation went sour.

Rocinante used his hand as a sunshield as he looked out over the port. There were so many businesses and houses. They all seemed smashed together near the docks, but he'd seen further from when they were back on the ship. The island held much greenery as well; calm rolling hills with manicured houses and lawns, all painted the same beige color, muted orange rooftops jumping out at you with a glance. It was a nice place. Of course, nearly any place was nice when you compared it to his residence as a child.

His stomach let out a long growl and he quickly covered it with both hands, his eyes widening.

"Sorry!" The tall man tended to eat like an elephant, his stomach and nutritional needs being much greater than most people of shorter stature.

"I guess we could grab lunch before doing some recon. Talk about my boots being loud..." Aylin shook her head in an amused manner before moving forward to venture further into town, gesturing for him to follow.

oOo

Before long, night had fallen over the city. All of its buildings and bright lights were so colorful against the dark sky that the sun's absence nearly went unnoticed. The night life was just as busy, if not more so than during the day. People of different walks of life lined the cobblestone streets, headed to various functions and get-togethers with friends.

While heading toward the large corporate building that was to be the site of negotiations, Aylin and Rocinante passed many jovial citizens who were either returning from or on their way toward the bar district. Among them included a few of the crew members they'd sailed in with, who met Aylin's glare with their best sheepish grins and hurried back toward the dock at quicker paces.

Their earlier reconnaissance of the place didn't yield much of interest. Inside the silent barrier that Rocinante created, they'd taken stock of their surroundings, made note of who occupied each floor at any given time, found the emergency exits and planned escape routes. The rooftop, where they were headed now to meet with the representatives, was of fairly little interest, being an open space containing nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed the representatives had chosen the spot not out of any relation to the company it belonged to, which seemed to be a cautious, if not rather paranoid decision.

Rocinante played his behavior up as he strolled, hands shoved in his pockets, his face drawn into a scowl. His lips still held a cigarette and he was wearing a pair of sunglasses even though it was now far too dark for them to be of any use. His shoulders were hunched ever so slightly. He was determined to look the part of the tough bodyguard thug, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

He and Aylin quietly let themselves into the building at the appointed location and he followed after her on the long trek up the stairs. As they finally reached the rooftop, he opened the door. It made a long and loud creak before slamming against the outside of the building.

Aylin hopped up first. The moon was new and there was no lighting, only the faint glow from the city below and the stars above. She could make out three figures of varying sizes standing with their backs to them at the edge of the other side of the roof.

'What laissez faire attitudes,' she thought. She motioned for Rocinante to come up, steadying him as he ducked under the low doorway lest he bump his head and fall back down all those flights of stairs.

Rocinante nodded to his partner and took in the surroundings as well, noting the seemingly easy-going group. He was wondering if he should clear his throat or something, though there was no way they hadn't heard the door open.

After a moment of pause, Aylin walked forward. Her posture was full of confidence and her words were all business as she said, "Evening, folks. Nice night for a stroll, eh?" It was the sentence she'd been instructed to use so that they would know it was safe to speak with her. She watched as the three each turned to face them, giving her a better look, although the dim lighting didn't afford her much.

Two men and one woman. They all seemed to be dressed in black suits, one of them wearing a long trench coat. As her eyes adjusted to the darker lighting she realized, no, that wasn't quite right; the suit the man on the right wore had a pinstripe pattern and it was not black, but a dark green. He had long hair that touched his shoulders and was slicked back neatly. On his hip was a long sword and she cursed at the fact that she'd not brought hers. Of course they would be armed, although she supposed not carrying a weapon could be viewed as a show of good faith.

Her hand instinctively reached for the hidden place where her throwing knives were housed, but she caught herself and pretended to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothes or brush off some imaginary dust instead.

The woman in the middle of the group took a step forward as well, a smirk passing over her face as she nodded to the pair. "I quite agree. I was thinking I would stroll towards the Black Pearl tavern, the rum is very good there."

Rocinante kept still and silent, having decided that the folded arms posture would be most intimidating if his height wasn't already doing the trick. He let out a low grunt at the woman's coded reply.

Aylin gave a curt nod as she took a few more steps toward the group, deciding it was safe enough to proceed. "The Blackburn Syndicate sends their regards. I hear you may be in need of our services in the near future and I'm more than happy to discuss a partnership between our businesses."

The woman spoke first. "That's what we like to hear. I was hoping they would send their most informed associate along to negotiate...we have a lot of questions." She glanced back to the man in the pinstriped suit, as if communicating some sort of message. "Don't we, brother?"

He stepped closer as well, a smirk crawling across his face. "Indeed we do…"

Aylin's first instinct was to take a step backward, but she remained rooted to the spot, her eyes giving no hint of apprehension.

The man in the trench coat spoke next. "Yes, questions. For example, I would first ask about your insurance policies. We have many important dealings within our own organization and timely deliveries are essential. How would you handle a situation in which we fail to receive an expected delivery altogether? Say, an entire cargo ship full of heavy artillery...?"

An expletive escaped Aylin's mouth under her breath. "The Alfredo Family…"

The man in the striped suit smirked even wider. "Did you say something, dearie? It's rude to mumble in the presence of company, especially those with whom you intend to do business." The man gripped his hand firmly around the hilt of his sword, his eyes flashing over to his sister's, the smirk remaining pasted on.

Aylin knew right then that business was dead last on the list of things the Alfredo Family likely wanted from them. The whole arrangement had been an elaborate trap...dragging them out of the Syndicate and isolating them on a roof top...they'd gone scouting around for traps, but a formidable group like the Alfredo Family had no use for such things.

Her hands balled into fists. "What do you want from us?"

The striped man's smirk turned into a sneer. "Are you daft? We want what's rightfully ours; what we paid for and never received. I trust you have a good explanation…and if you don't, well..." He tightened the grip on his sword, unsheathing it by an inch, the metal click echoing across the empty rooftop.

Rocinante tried his best to keep up his stern façade of bodyguard. These people weren't who they said they were, that much was certain. The name that had fallen from Aylin's lips confirmed it. The Alfredo Family was not going to take an apology in lieu of the goods they'd purchased. It wasn't as if reparations hadn't been made. The Syndicate had refunded their money, but the leader of the Alfredo Family was known to be an incredibly cruel and unforgiving man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted and right anything that he thought had wronged him.

Aylin's eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching as they brushed against the leather pouch strapped to her thigh. "Do I look like I'm carrying two tons of weaponry in my wallet?"

The woman laughed haughtily. "Oh dear me, it's cute that you think anything you do at this point can fix this! No, no. That isn't what this is about. You see, if we let this incident go unpunished, people would start to think it's alright to double-cross the Alfredo Family...and that just won't do..."

The instant Aylin saw the gun in her hand was the moment she let the throwing knife fly. It whizzed through the air, clanging into the firearm and knocking it clean out of the woman's hand. Wasting no time, she hopped several steps backward, calling out to Rocinante, "Go!"

Roci turned on his heel and started a dead run, his footing sure for once in his life. He was ready to dive and roll back into the building; he was only a foot away when the door abruptly slammed in his face. He rebounded off the slab of metal and fell to the ground, rolling over to the side while clutching at his head.

Aylin quickly knelt beside him, grabbing onto one of his arms to help him to his feet, uttering another string of expletives as their situation continued to worsen. Her mind was racing. Someone was blocking the only exit, which left them only with the option of fighting their way out of this mess.

And they were outnumbered.

A disembodied voice drifted in before them just then; eerie, deep and scratchy as if the owner had eaten nothing but sandpaper for the past few decades.

"Going so soon? I had hoped we could stay and chat awhile longer."

Aylin's mouth went dry, having managed to pull Rocinante into a sitting position. Her eyes widened at the sight of the older man's gaunt features. She hadn't even noticed him. He had simply appeared.

"Don Fettuccine..."

The very fact that the man was here meant business, meant that he was angry beyond belief. Who better to pay than the messengers? She held on to Rocinante's arm tightly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

"Good, I see introductions won't be necessary then." The old man began pacing in front of them, putting a ringed finger to his chin. "My, my, my…it seems the Blackburn Syndicate just believes that a refund was all I wanted…not even a replacement…so these goods just went up and missing did they? No explanation…was an investigation even mounted?" His entire body flattened in that moment, making him a strange two-dimensional figure that no longer even looked human.

He slithered towards the pair before standing back up to his height, raising his now flat hand which blew in the wind, paper thin. "I want answers, and I don't care how I get them."

Quicker than their eyes could follow, the man wrapped his flattened body around the two of them, squeezing tightly. "Penne! Anelli! Come tie up these two clowns and bring them back to the ship. Further questioning will be needed." He squeezed tightly again for effect, causing the two agents to cry out, but their cries were drowned out by the Don's sinister laugh.

Anelli and Penne did as they were told, rushing forward with thick coils of rope and wrapping them tightly around each agent's wrists and ankles while the Don continued to squeeze the breath out of them and simultaneously crush them together. There were a few loud pops as bones began to crack, dangerously close to snapping in half.

The third mafia member hefted a disoriented Aylin over his shoulder when the Don finally released his grip. As Rocinante fell forward, Penne and Anelli both hoisted him up.

"This guy is enormous! You better use extra rope on him, Penne," Anelli remarked.

Penne snorted in annoyance. "I'm not blind, Anelli, I can see he's a huge freak!"

The Don was behind him in an instant, pressing a flat hand to the man's shoulder. "Be careful what you say about freaks, since you're living in a circus!"

With that, the man disappeared from view, using his strange power no doubt.

Rocinante groaned in pain, clutching one of his arms gingerly to his chest. He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow morning, he could already feel the soreness setting in. "Lin…" He said weakly, turning his head trying to get a visual on her. "I'm so sorry…"

Aylin gritted her teeth, cracked ribs bouncing atop the shoulder of the trench coat clad man as he made his way down the stairs. She was still working to take air into her lungs, waiting for the black spots to clear from her vision. "Nevermind that," she gasped out, uselessly struggling against her bonds.

The man carrying her let out a snide laugh. "That's a waste of time! Better just lay there and get ready to die, Missy!"

Aylin growled, managing to swing her legs over and knee him in the nose. A loud 'crack' echoed throughout the stairwell, followed by an angry cry of pain.

"YOU BITCH!"

"Quit messing around, Bigoli!" Anelli's sharp voice reprimanded him. "Save the trash talk for the interrogation!" She then groaned with the effort it took to haul Rocinante's legs down the stairs, following after her brother. "I think I got the heavier end!"

"I see how it is. You're always the victim, aren't you, Sis? Obviously my end is heavier; it's got all his organs and his brain." Penne clucked his tongue as he readjusted his grip on Rocinante. "Of course they'd send a friggin' giant to this meeting."

Rocinante groaned in pain as they jostled his broken arm with every step. Penne grinned, gripping it more tightly for a few seconds then chuckling about the strangled cry that the large man emitted.

Aylin's head swam, trying to think of a plan as they were carried out the building and off toward the Alfredo Family's ship. The mobsters took them down dark alleys as not to be seen, and all the laughter and music from the tavern district nearby would have made shouting for help utterly useless even if they'd attempted it. What should they do...? There was no telling what would happen to them once they'd arrived on the ship...likely nothing nice. Don Fettuccine was feared for good reason.

The rest of the trip went by in a blur. Anelli and Penne would make snide remarks to each other now and then, while Bigoli complained about his bleeding nose, though he did laugh raucously once when Penne 'accidentally' knocked Rocinante's head against the corner of a brick building.

Once aboard the ship, the two black market agents were unceremoniously thrown into a cell down in the cargo hold.

Anelli snickered as the iron-barred door slammed shut. "The Don will be here shortly. If I were you, I'd say some prayers. Ask for a quick death, maybe."

With that, she and the other two mobsters disappeared from the room, leaving Aylin and Rocinante lying on the hard floor in mostly darkness.

"Shit..." Aylin maneuvered herself into a sitting position, looking around for her partner. "Rocinante, you okay?"

Rocinante took a few deep breaths, trying not to gasp from the pain it caused him. His head was pounding and his arm felt like it was on fire. "Lin…" He said weakly, "Don't…don't worry about me. Are you okay?"

"Nothing to be concerned about," she replied, although he knew from prior incidents how skilled she was at concealing her own pain. Searching her face in the dim lighting, the lines on her forehead gave it away.

He could feel the movement of the ship underneath them, but it was only the regular rocking of the waves. It seemed that the Alfredo Family was staying put in Crescent City for the time being. At least that was one thing they had going for them.

A drop of water fell from the ceiling, landing squarely on Rocinante's forehead, then again and again. He tried moving away from it, but he couldn't roll without feeling a shooting pain in his arm so he stayed put. The air was damp, but also tinged with the telltale smell of gunpowder. Down in that dark hold, it was clear that even if the Alfredo Family hadn't been able to acquire their goods from the Syndicate, they had gotten their weapons.

He gritted his teeth. "Those bastards…I'll never forgive them for hurting you..."

Aylin pursed her lips, looking around the small cell for anything she might use to her advantage. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if we don't get out of here, it's only going to get worse." She grimaced as she attempted to slide her tied hands beneath her, though no matter how tightly she curled herself up, the rope was tied too snugly and her arms weren't long enough to reach around under her body. "Damn..."

She twisted herself around, trying to get to the pouch still strapped to her thigh. There were a few more throwing knives at her disposal...if she could just grab one... But the action of contorting her body to such a degree caused a sharp, stabbing pain on her side and she bit back a pained cry.

"Lin!" Rocinante wanted to go to her but every movement was filled with pain. "I should've tried to attack them….I…" He coughed, his head pounding harder than before and he shut his eyes tightly against the pain, knowing it was only going to get worse. "I'm sorry…I should've protected you, that's the whole reason I'm here right? Blackburn will have my hide for this…maybe never let us do another mission together..." He was trying to be optimistic, though he was well aware that their chances of making it out of the situation alive were already slim. No one held a grudge like Don Fettuccine Alfredo.

Aylin could only give a weary chuckle at his attempt to lighten the situation. "Don't be sorry. I should've known we'd be walking right into a trap... Scarlet should have known. Blackburn should have known." She frowned. "That's what happens when you're blinded by greed..." With a grunt, she managed to roll herself upright again.

They both froze at the sound of footsteps approaching. Too heavy to be the Don's, the click of leather shoes against wooden planks came closer until the door of the hold was creaking open again.

Penne strode into the room, followed closely by Anelli.

She spoke first, stopping in front of the cell and placing both hands on her hips. "This is no way to have a conversation with the Don, now is it?" She reached for two chairs nearby, dragging them over to the door. "Let's get you scumbags a little more comfortable."

"Go to hell," Aylin retorted as Penne carried the chairs into the cell, arranging them next to each other in the center.

He dragged Aylin to her feet and tossed her into the chair as if she weighed nothing. Next, he reached down for her leather pouch and grabbed one of her remaining throwing knives from inside, having seen her take one from there earlier.

"Dearie, that's my line." He held the blade against her throat with a smirk, slowing applying pressure until a red line of blood appeared.

Aylin gritted her teeth, making no sound as she remained rigid in the wooden chair.

Anelli clucked her tongue at her twin brother. "You better save some of that fun for the Don."

Penne pulled back, shooting the woman a look of disdain. "Just because you're five minutes older than me, you think you can always tell me what to do."

"No, it's obviously because I'm the only one of us with any sense at all!" Anelli rolled her eyes. "Now hurry up and get the big oaf into the other chair before the Don gets here and sees that we haven't done what he asked of us."

The blonde woman withdrew another length of rope to secure Aylin to her own chair while Penne very begrudgingly hoisted Rocinante off the floor to roughly toss him onto the other one.

Aylin could feel a warmth slowly seeping down her neck, though she tried not to pay it any mind. She stared hard at Anelli, determined to show no fear in the face of these mafia goons. "You Rigatoni sure know how to throw a welcome party, don't you?"

A loud slap resounded as the back of Anelli's hand suddenly met Aylin's cheek, sending her head whipping to the right.

"Don't insult me. The Rigatoni are far beneath me! Penne and I are Underbosses. Don't you dare lump us into the same group as those foot soldiers."

Penne snorted. "Now who's not saving all the fun for the Don?"

"Shut it!" Anelli growled at her brother. "Do you want to let this worthless piece of trash carry on addressing us incorrectly?"

Aylin's face was hidden by a curtain of messy orange hair, but as she moved to look up, she spat a mouthful of blood at Anelli.

The Underboss shrieked. "How DARE you!"

"You're being petty," Penne scoffed. "It's not like she'll be alive that much longer, anyway. At least she knows the name of the Rigatoni enough to fear them." He cast his glance over at Aylin. "But Anelli is right, we are much worse…"

Roci gave Penne a pained look, his head hanging down. "Why are you doing this? Do you really like being a thug?"

"Didn't she just say we're not thugs?! Maybe you WERE right, Sis. We need to teach these morons some manners…" He began to advance toward Rocinante.

"STOP!" The disembodied voice resounded through the hold as the Don suddenly appeared in front of them. "You two shut the hell up. Go back to the main deck with Bigoli, I'm tired of hearing stories about his son."

Penne immediately backed off of Rocinante and exited the cell. "Sir." He nodded to the Don as he gestured for his twin sister to join him. "You heard him. Time to be regaled with tales of Pici…" He trailed off rolling his eyes.

The Don stepped slowly into the cell, the long fur coat he wore around his shoulders billowing behind him. He rubbed his hands together in delight at the two people that were seated before him. He began pushing his hands together and flattening them into a round shape until they looked like a pair of cymbals.

"So nice of you all to join me this evening…I trust my associates have make you quite comfortable." His sandpapery laugh echoed off the walls of the damp wood. "We're going to have a nice chat, just the three of us…" He clapped his hands together twice, making the two prisoners wince in agony at the loud sound. "So, Blackburn Syndicate, it's time to find out just what you're made of…"

Aylin growled back, her ears ringing so much so could barely hear her own voice. "What the hell do you want, Alfredo?" She had a feeling that 'chat' was probably a euphemism for something far less pleasant.

"I was hoping you'd ask that, Miss Wild. Well, I want what any reasonable old gentlemen wants, of course. Money, Wealth, Fame, Prestige, Fear, Respect...and of course…Revenge." He whispered the last word in a low voice that sent chills down both of their spines before throwing his head back with a raucous laugh.

"So you know, just the simple things in life." He rubbed his flat hands together, creating a slight ringing sound that increased as he rubbed them faster and faster, at an astonishing speed for a man who looked so thin and frail.

Rocinante cried out in pain and bent over ass blood started trickling from one of his ears.

"Tut tut my son, the best is yet to come. If you're as tough as you look, a little 'MUSIC' surely doesn't hurt all that much. Come on now, tell me what you think, I've been practicing!"

Faster than Aylin could see, the Don back flipped toward Rocinante, flattening himself thin enough to easily reach up to the man's head and smashed it over and over between his cymbal-like hands.

Rocinante's head was spinning, he couldn't hear anything except an incessant ringing. His head lolled downward as blood continued to trickle from both of his ears now. He moaned in pain, knowing that this was only a small taste of what this man could and almost surely would inflict upon them. He had to say something, anything to keep the man focused on him. Rocinante thought that maybe the Don wouldn't touch Aylin if he could only keep the focus on him. He coughed, trying to make some kind of retort like, 'Is that all you got?' but his tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth and a pathetic pained hum was all that emerged.

"HOHOHOHOHO! I had hoped you were tougher for one so tall! Well, appearances are deceiving aren't they?" He smirked in delight, thinking about how much that turn of phrase applied to him as he slunk over to Aylin like a snake, slithering up behind her, pausing to run his cymbal-shaped hand under her hair. "Lovely color, reminds me of my Cecelia's hair…" He suddenly yanked down hard on it. "I HATE REMINDERS OF MY CECELIA!"

She gasped as she felt a chunk of hair roughly rip from her scalp, but quickly pressed her lips together, determined not to utter another sound. Her eyes fixed onto the Don's in a cold glare. She could hear Rocinante's heavy breaths from nearby, injured but conscious at the very least. It seemed the best course of action would be to remain quiet...the Don was volatile and unlikely to be reasoned with.

The Don nearly growled, frustrated that he hadn't been able to draw a single sound out of the woman. "Tough one, are you? One of those ice queens, I guess…" He began cracking each of his fingers then his joints, horrible popping filling the cell. "I've seen worse. They all crack at one point, and my dear, you will be no exception."

"No…" The weak protest came from the man in the next chair. "Please…d-don't hurt…her…"

"Ohhhh how SWEET! A chivalrous gesture from the gentle giant. I ought to show him what happens to those who make futile appeals, shouldn't I, my dear?" He put his flat hand beneath Aylin's chin, forcing her to face him. "So lovely, so like my dear Cecelia…"

He gazed at her for a moment longer before cracking his skull against hers, then flattening his entire arm to wrap tightly around her neck, squeezing in a pulsing rhythm like a heartbeat. "Now tell me...Miss Wild... WHAT. HAPPENED. TO. MY. SHIPMENT?"

"NO!" Roci yelled, struggling against his bonds, but they were far too tight to simply slip out of. He tried moving his chair by jumping across to where Aylin was sitting but only managed to tip himself over onto the ground, hitting his head against the hard, dirtied wood.

Aylin could do nothing but writhe about in the Don's surprisingly iron-like grip, unable to draw a breath, unable to speak even if she'd wanted to. Her eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched. She had no choice but to wait it out, hold her breath until he deigned to release her. The seconds seemed to drag on and the more of them that passed, the more lightheaded she felt. It was only when she thought she couldn't last any longer that his hand suddenly vanished from around her neck.

She let out a strangled gasp when precious oxygen finally filled her lungs once more. Her eyes snapping open as she gulped down air as if it were her last chance to breathe it in. The dark haze obscuring her vision eventually subsided and finally she leveled another dark look at the Don, a sneer on her lips.

"You want to know what happened to it?" She let out an acerbic chuckle, her voice hoarse from the trauma her trachea had suffered. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you a damn thing."

"You're lying…" He slapped her across the face with his noodle-like hand. "WHO DID YOU GIVE IT TO? ONE OF MY ENEMIES? DID THE BLACKBURN SYNDICATE THINK IT WOULD BE FUNNY? Did you honestly think you would get away scot free after burning The Alfredo Family?!"

The Don laughed louder and longer than before. "Such fools…such fools with whom I will never do business again. You'd best rethink keeping those pretty pink lips sealed, Miss Wild, or you will not be walking away from this ship. Then again, I never said you would in the first place."

The Don moved over to where Rocinante lay sideways on the floor, still strapped to his chair and began kicking him in the ribs over and over and it became abundantly clear that the shoes he wore were reinforced with steel toes. Rocinante gritted his teeth, grunting with the force of each kick.

Aylin's eyes narrowed as she helplessly looked on, continuing to struggle against her bonds even though it seemed a futile effort. She heard a loud crack, and then another...before she could stop herself, her mouth acted of its own accord, desperate to get him away from her partner. "And who's Cecelia?! Ex-girlfriend? Probably someone you drove away with your shitty personality, I'm guessing!"

The Don immediately ceased his actions and whirled on one foot to walk back over to Aylin and grab her chin roughly. "Don't you ever speak her name like that. NOT EVER! You know nothing about her, and what you DO know about me you obviously ignored!" He sneered. He yanked his hand away from her face and aimed a roundhouse kick to her abdomen, knocking her over onto the ground. He stomped on her throat again, applying just enough pressure to cut off her air supply. "You don't seem very fond of breathing, Miss Wild, and I have to agree. Everything that comes out of your mouth is PURE GARBAGE. FEH!"

He removed his foot and left her gasping. In that moment the Don seemed to morph back into a human shape, as human as a gaunt ghoul of a man could look anyway. He tucked his hands neatly behind his back underneath the fur coat as he looked down his nose at the two fallen Syndicate members.

"It's been lovely chatting with you this evening so far, but I'm afraid if I stay much longer I'll be late for dinner. Why don't you just take this time to…contemplate…your options from here on out. I'll return after dinner…and if you don't plan on speaking then, I suggest you speak to whichever miserable deity you believe in to beg for forgiveness before you meet them tonight."

He turned abruptly on his heel, slamming the steel cell door as hard as he could before locking it and going back up the stairs to the deck.

Notes: We're back! Apologies for the brief hiatus - Kade was in the midst of a cross-country move and things got hectic for a while! Anyway, if you're interested in learning more about the Alfredo Family and Don Fettuccine, they make another appearance in our other fanfic, "Strawhat Chronicles: The Untold Voyages" that's also posted to this account. Also, we'd like to thank the two Guests who left us kind reviews last chapter! It means a lot and it's super encouraging, so thank you! :) 'Til next time!