La Storia Sedicesima: Il Bacio di Giuda

Amica took a deep, steadying breath as she passed beneath the curtain. Past the point of no return. She dreaded this moment for weeks and, as it was presently upon her, the feeling had not lessened in the slightest. Just the thought of meeting with this man was enough to put a sour look on her face, not to mention the state of her demeanor. Their similar ambitions set them on a collision course over the years. Something in the air told her this was the day of reckoning. She held out hope that perhaps he would listen. Perhaps he would see that this was what was best for all of them. Or at the very least, his decadence would prove more powerful than his ambition. Regardless of the odds, there was no turning back. She must face forward, or risk losing everything she worked so hard to build. Her alliance with Fortuna, and with it her fragile peace with Regalo.

The room was filled with a thick veil of tobacco smoke that briefly stung her eyes. The walls were adorned by thick velvet drapery that caused the already cramped alcove to press further in. Despite the distressed luxury of the decor, the room exuded an oppressive and almost claustrophobic atmosphere.

Behind an elaborately carved oak table languished the disheveled, young captain. He reclined in a high backed chair, with one leg draped over one of its arms. His doublet was half buttoned, exposing a small patch of black hair on his tanned chest, marred by a series of purple-blue bruises that prominently displayed his infamous virility. He swilled his wine, intentionally ignoring Amica's presence. A flock of women surrounded him, chortling incessantly at some private joke. Their gaudy makeup and overpowering, cheap perfume were enough to indicate their profession.

Whores. He had the audacity to bar Debito's entrance when he invited a bunch of whores to their so-called "important meeting"? The sight infuriated Amica, even more so because she knew it was an intentional slight. She drew another deep breath to rein in her irritation. With all she knew of him, could she honestly expect anything else?

"Lucentio," she greeted coldly, staring daggers back at his roguish smile that reached his rich, brown eyes. Lucentio had changed little since their youth. Even as a child, he was always preening. It was among the many reasons she could barely stand his presence.

"Amica, such a pleasure as always," he cooed in obviously feigned joviality. "Please stay and drink. I made sure to arrange proper entertainment for such a... momentous occasion. And it is momentous, isn't it? After all, it's not every day that Fortuna's fabled whore pays a visit to someone of my meager station. As you can see, I was able to procure some company to make you feel more comfortable. I can wonder if they came as cheaply as you did, dear sister."

"You dare," Amica hissed through her bared teeth.

"Ah, it seems I have offended our guest. You will have to excuse us, my ladies. I think you have proven my point, famously," Lucentio said, laughing to himself as he tossed a large pouch of reals on the table. "Now, you girls had better run along, before she grows even more crass. Amica has yet to pick up the more subtle characteristics of her new trade."

The prostitutes paraded out of the room, crooning at their patron. As the last passed him, he slapped her on the ass crudely. "But you, Signorina, you can come to my chambers later."

The whore scuttled out of the room giggling and Amica scoffed in disgust.

"Are you finished, Lucentio? I came here with a purpose. Your childish jokes are testing my patience," Amica snapped.

"Ah, yes. Business," the young man sneered. "I've heard all about this business of yours. In fact, I've been wondering all this time when I was going to hear about it from you, dear sister. But it seems that you've saved the best for last, haven't you?"

"Hardly," Amica snarled in response.

Lucentio always knew the best way to get under her skin. It was the way he dealt with all of his perceived rivals. He called it Morte da Mille Tagli. Death By A Thousand Cuts, a series of both minor and grievous provocations that generally ended with his rival dead at the end of a duel. He garnered quite the reputation for both his sharp tongue and even sharper blade. He could try at his petty attempts to bait her, but she knew his game. She didn't know what he was planning. She never did. However, she would be damned before she gave him what he wanted. She would proceed, as she had with all the other captains in her fleet.

Amica bent over the table and carefully unrolled a series of maps onto the table, scowling at the obvious lack of provided seating. Even though it was unlikely Lucentio would take this seriously, she had to try. If not for herself, than for the memory of the man that adopted them both.

"Lucentio, if you will set aside your prejudices, I think you'll find my proposal is as much to your own personal benefit as it would be to the men under your command," Amica began.

Surprisingly, Lucentio silently listened to her pitch. Despite the scheming smile plastered across his face, his eyes followed her finger intently as it traced the trade routes that his ships were expected to raid.

"As you can see, the bulk of the offensive will focus on targeted raids along these shipping lanes. Your portion of the Armada with harry the mercantile ships, with Captain Hawke providing auxiliary support. If we cripple the Venetians financially, we should be able to divert their attention from the our main force. Ideally, the ships directly under my command will draw them into small, naval skirmishes. Our objective is three-fold. Misdirect, disrupt, and demoralize Venetian assets through numerous persistent and controlled assaults. As usual, whatever ship that are plundered will be folded into the fleet that captures her," Amica explained.

Lucentio sighed audibly, and Amica looked up from the weathered map.

"I see you are serious about this. I had hoped this was some attempt at a ruse, but it appears you have disappointed me again, dear sister," Lucentio said. Briefly, his voice seemed tinged with an air of sadness. He reclined backwards in his chair. A momentary silence filled the room. A serious expression marred his habitually carefree features. Sensing the swift change in atmosphere, she nonchalantly brought her hand to rest on the holster at her hip.

With a swift clap of his hands, the room exploded into motion. A half dozen men burst from behind the curtains, quickly overwhelming the two men accompanying her. They fell to the floor with a choked gurgle. She stared down the barrel of her sidearm, swaying in her trembling grasp.

Lucentio narrowed his eyes coldly. His own pistol leveled, stoically at her torso. Their locked stares seemed to stretch on for eternity.

"It doesn't have to end like this, dear sister. I know this isn't what you want," Lucentio bargained. A small smile crept across his face when he glanced at her unsteady gun. "Just give me the Armada, Amica, and you can walk out of here. Free. You might even persuade me to allow you to keep your eyesore of ship."

"Fuck you, dear brother," Amica growled. Lucentio sighed, dramatically. Rolling his eyes in condescension as she summoned the courage to squeeze the trigger.

The gun blast filled the room, accompanied by sharp pain radiating through her chest. She stumbled backwards, and slumped against the curtained wall. She looked down at her fingers, painted red with her own blood. A sight so foreign, it confused her with its surreality.

Lucentio's cold laughter drifted through the background as Amica slid to the floor. Her hand pressed tightly against her side.

"You missed," he spat with derision. "For all these years, I had to watch your figure retreat from view. Powerlessly watch you steal the glory that was mine. All that's left is to finish what I should have started years ago." His eyes raked over her, snickering at the viscous blood bubbling at her lips. "By the looks of things, I won't even need to do that."

His icy disregard was a painful realization of how little she actually knew of the man before her, or how great his animosity for her had grown. While she admitted that the majority of their childhood was built on a competition for their father's acceptance, she only saw the boy who grew up alongside her. The closest thing Amica had left to a family. She always assumed that no matter how tenuous their relationship may become, at the very core, he was still her brother. A bond far stronger than youthful jealousy. What a fool she had been! Lucentio had only bided his time, waiting for his chance to take from her the only piece of their father that remained. His legacy.

"I should have... I should have left you to die with the rest," Amica choked out through gritted teeth.

"You're right, dear sister. You should have," Lucentio said, stepping over her on his way to the door.

Amica felt her vision slowly failing. She could barely see Lucentio's thugs milling around the room, unceremoniously slinging her fallen comrades over their shoulders like sacks of grain.

Through the agony, each breath grew more difficult than the last. There was no telling how much blood she had lost by now. But by the looks of the crimson pool growing beneath her, it was probably substantial. She always wondered how she would die, and always assumed it would never be peacefully in her bed at a ripe, old age. But to die in some pisswater tavern... The indignity was cruel. She wanted to go down with her ship, the kind of noble death every captain dreamed of. Lucentio, that bastard, robbed her of everything, even a decent death.

She closed her eyes, and focused on each ragged and painful inhalation. Not much longer, now, she thought bitterly. She could barely hear the distressed cries enveloping the room. She just wanted to hold out a minute longer, just to spite her Judas of a brother.

"Cazzo! I'm too late!" A familiar voice registered in her mind. She opened her eyes, but saw nothing but an empty room.

"De-Debito?" she murmured, weakly. At this point, she didn't mind playing along with these hallucinations. She may as well tie up any loose ends while she was still vaguely responsive. "I-I'm sorry."

"Enough of that shit! Save it for later when you can apologize properly. For now, we have to get you out of here... Somehow," the voice snapped, sharp with a note of anxiety. She sunk into the warmth of the imagined embrace, and relinquished her feeble hold on her consciousness.

A/N: I'm sorry for the upload. I've had this chapter written for almost a few weeks, but frankly, I haven't been in the right state of mind to even consider looking it over. And I'll be honest, I'm just posting the raw edit. Sorry.

The 16th Story: Judas' Kiss

-TURN BACK! THE FOLLOWING IS A POLITICAL RANT ABOUT THE NEW RFRA IN MY STATE OF INDIANA. YOU WERE WARNED!-

For those of you who aren't aware of the socio-political dust-up in the state of Indiana, let me bend your ear a little bit. RFRAs (Religious Freedom Restoration Acts) are cropping up all over the United States. Generally,and they are fairly benign. They just basically check the government from limiting a person's exercise of religion unnecessarily. Good for things like Kosher meals for Jewish prisoners or allowing an Amish prisoner to keep a short beard which is important to the full exercise of their religion. I'm generally pretty cool with stuff like that. I mean... it's just one of those things that doesn't really effect me in anyway, so why do I care? And if it doesn't negatively effect me, and it positively effects someone else, I'm really behind it 100%. Like I don't get mad about the United Negro College Fund for being a blacks-only scholarship. It's a good thing to raise money for kids to go to school. It's just money that doesn't apply to me.

Indiana has a different kind of RFRA law. A lot of the major conservative media houses are saying that it's just like the other laws I mentioned above, which is by-and-large a good thing. The key difference is that Indiana's law pertains to disputes between persons. Now, persons has a funny definition in government. It's not a definition that's limited to just you and me. By which I mean, humans. It's also extended to companies and organizations (including non-profit). These are referred to as "corporate persons" which are extended the exact same liberties that we are. For example, The Washington Post is a Journalistic Organization, a corporate person afforded the Right to Free Speech. It's largely a good thing. The Right to Free Speech is limited in ways like slander and libel, or fabrication of stories. Which is good, it promotes journalistic integrity if there's a risk of being penalized for destructive speech. But Freedom of Religion when exercised by a corporation has a far greater impact, with little means for limitation.

In my opinion, this isn't a good thing. Corporations are not individuals practicing their faith. They are groups of individuals, of which all may not agree with the central corporate beliefs. Especially, the larger these corporations grow, the more diversity you will expect to see. The most notable example of this is the infamous Hobby Lobby case, where Hobby Lobby was granted exemption from Federal Law because they were substantially burdened by Affordable Care Act mandating insurance coverage for contraception to women on Hobby Lobby's insurance policies. (Not to mention their retirement investments were in those same companies they wanted their insurance coverage to boycott... Or that contraception was insured without Hobby Lobby's complaint previous to the federal mandate. They just stumbled upon this sincere religious belief suddenly, it seems.)

The most notable portion of the RFRA in Indiana is that it prohibits people that applied for a job, current employees and former employees from bringing lawsuits to the court for "certain causes." This is just another law allowing companies to use their authority and protections down to bear on employees. This has the implications of severe violations of Civil Rights, as civil rights do not apply when this law is invoked as a defense. There are no protected classes (race, religion, creed, sexual orientation (being the big one)) outlined under our new law. So, basically you can get away with employer discrimination with no recourse provided it's substantiated by a "sincerely held religious belief". As we saw in the Hobby Lobby case, that's sure convenient, isn't it? We can manage to stumble across plenty of sincerely held beliefs when it suits our personal/corporate person-al benefits, right?

And that's why I haven't updated in awhile. :)