The streets were filled with the nightlife and the boy waded around them like a mosquito against repellent. He was shot with some stares, but most looked over him, too focused on themselves. But he was used to that, used that one feeling. Nobody seeing him, or her. Like dust in the wind.
His body was like fireworks going off in his chest, and his head had started heating up as soon as he got out of the woman's block. The rain was heavy on him, and he had no cover for his head, forcing him to hold his hands on his scalp in some attempt to cover himself. The crowds about like rats with the plague.
Around him, the flashing of neon signs illuminated the sidewalks. Shops of expensive tacky clothes, bars where the filth gathered in their excrement, and the sounds they made. The screaming of the drunk as they swayed about, women in clothes two sizes too small for them, all of this and he pressed on through it.
His boot sloshed through a puddle as he stepped in and turned into an alleyway, walking between two lights, one on one side and one on the other in this neon green and fluorescent white and yellow. For a small moment, he stood there. Staring down the way and wondering.
"Are you really going back to them?" he said.
He continued to stand there, his chest rising and falling in strange intervals. Sucking in a breath, he looked down at his feet and looked back up. "What other choice do you have?"
Taking another step forward, he started walking before something was in the way of the light on the other side. Men, three of them in total. They were dressed in ratty t-shirts and had gruff faces. The boy continued on, moving to the side and keeping his duffel bag close.
The first one down the way eyed him, and he spoke something the boy didn't understand so he continued moving. He could feel the wound on him and the rain sliding down his neck.
"Hey you," was the first thing he understood. The boy kept moving even still, that was until a hand placed itself on his shoulder. Without any warning, he donkey kicked hard at what he thought was a leg. It was, he heard one of the men yell out and he turned seeing one of them clutching at his shin and cursing.
"Why you do that?" another said. The boy tried to move away but the man was as large as he was big, and he grabbed the boy and threw him to the ground. "What you got in the bag?"
"Nothing! leave me alone!" the boy kicked up as the man he'd done it to before moved in at him. The man seeing this quickly took two steps back nearly slamming himself into the dirty dark brick that was the other side.
"Show us the bag," one said as he grabbed the boy's leg. "Show us!"
The cock of a gun made all turn to see the hand behind it. A woman was standing about two yards away, her blonde hair crazy long and she wore a similar scant style of clothes to most other women in the midcity the boy had seen.
"Pickin on a kid? come on now boys, no need to...oop..." she watched as all three men quickly ran away, "well that was easier than expected, coupla street toughs," she said lowering the pistol.
She then looked down at the boy, wearing shades it was hard for him to gauge what exactly she was looking at. "Sup little guy? shouldn't you be in bed? nasty things can happen to kids out on the street at this hour."
He stood back up, his breaths heavy as he clutched his stomach. "...Who are you?"
"Hm...you know, it's strange. I'm in a bar and I get a tad bit of info on a certain boy the Russians are searching for, and apparently...he's real white with grey eyes, a thick ole accent that's real Romanian, and white hair. Now you ain't got the eighteenth-century garb on, but darn if you ain't all of those exact things. And...pardon me for this, but I've followed you for a sort while and you move like a kid who'd be runnin from the mob. Along with that, I got this weird feelin that I've seen you somewhere. Care to explain?"
She still had that gun in her hand, and he knew there was no way he could make it out of the alley without a bullet being lodged in his back. "Listen...listen-"
"Uh huh? I'm listening kiddie. Name's Eda by the way."
"E-Eda...Miss Eda...you're right..."
That made her brighten up, "Great! come on," she said lifting the gun up, "they want you alive and I'd like to get out of this rain."
"How much are they offering?"
"Bout ten g's, why you got a counteroffer? in that bag? if ya do, I'll just be taking that and the reward money."
"...I'm..."
"Not getting out of this?"
"Not going anywhere with you."
"Oh...fiesty, how adorable. But little...what was your name?"
"Hansel."
"Little Hansel...who has the gun and who doesn't?"
"They want me alive, don't they? I'll shout and I'll scream the entire way, that's bound to get attention on you. Even if the cops are as dirty that the mobs are."
"Hm..." she put her hand to her face, "you make a fair point...but then again I could just shoot you in the foot and gag your mouth."
"I have a real offer, but not in my bag just...listen."
"...Ten seconds."
"You know Verrocchio?"
"Acquainted, I sold his boys some firepower."
Then he recognized her, that same woman dressed as a nun with all those guns. Now he really had some ammunition. "Should I tell you then that...he plans to use that same firepower on Hotel Moscow and the Triad?"
"...What?"
"Yes, that's right. He hired me and...me and my sister to kill a group called the Lagoon Company who worked with these groups."
"Fuck...shit!" she looked away, "goddammit Revy why didn't you..." she looked back at him, "they where I handed em off?"
"Y-Yes, his men were equipping themselves with all of them. I guess selling to both sides is gonna make you look bad?"
"True..." she tapped her index finger against the side of the weapon.
"And...another thing. Verrocchio, he keeps a safe in his office, full of hundreds of thousands of American money. Imagine if you could get your hands on that and take down that...pig..." it almost didn't feel right saying it, as if the man would suddenly pop out of a corner and attack him for the insult.
"Hm..."
"I can...help you."
"How?"
"He'll...probably not be expecting me."
"Why?"
"I was shot. He'll expect my sister and I to be dead."
Eda thought about this for a moment before chuckling to herself, "...So two hands really did hit you?"
He gave her a confused face, "Two hands?"
"Never mind Hans. I'm liking this idea of yours so far...but taking on an entire group of mafioso's even with the advantage of surprise? now that's a mighty task.'
"Wouldn't the risk outweigh the reward? plus you could pretend like you wanna make a deal with him or...something I don't know, but...ten thousand isn't comparable to what he's got in that safe and I'm all who's offering to help you right now."
She thought for a long moment at this. Placing the gun away, Eda took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Keeping her free hand above the thing she said, "Look, I can't go and fight a whole ass family of grunts on my own, but...if you were to fall into Balalaika's hands...you'd go and tell her. Maybe I should just kill you."
"But you won't get any money out of it."
"Maybe I wanna don't go and take a risk."
"You look like a woman who likes risk."
"How's that?"
"Look at the way you're dressed."
"That an insult you shit?"
"It's an observation."
She seemed more and more unsure and slightly miffed by his comment about her. "Did your sister see the same thing?"
"Yes."
"So, she saw me."
"Yes."
"Well...shit.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry, looks like killing you ain't worth it. But I can't just let you go..." she thought for a while. "Look...I got a friend-"
"You do?-"
"Shut up, I got a cleric back at the cathedral. Maybe he could help. He's got a big ole gun, huge machine gun. It'll tear those flimsy ass wood and rotted out brick walls like paper. Could be the difference maker."
"For?"
"Taking out Verrocchio dipshit."
"You think so?"
"Three's company: A cleric, a nun, and the altar boy. Superior firepower always overshadows numbers. Those guys got auto's but they're sixties ass equipment that jams on the third shot, plus, like you said, element of surprise.
He stared at her, the boy weighed his options. "...Fine."
"Cool, cool, you'd better not be dead weight kid."
"I'm not."
"You'd better not be. Come on and get up, I'll call him. Don't think about running, ain't like I still won't kill ya."
He nodded.
"Hey uh..." she said as she placed the gun in her back pocket.
"What?" he got up to his feet and swung the bag over himself.
"You should know something, your sister, she's okay."
"...How do you know?"
"Lagoon company have her. But they ain't hurt her, she's been real approachable and helpful. I guess Revy forgot to tell me about that Italian donkey being the dude responsible behind the attack, but all I heard was ten grand and I was all, "chaching! I'm about to get fuckin paid!"
He studied her, "...Thank you...for telling me," the boy said as they walked onto the sidewalk together. He gave her a small smile. Eda raised her eyebrow at was about two feet in front of her as a small precaution.
They were about a block into the journey before she said, "So, long way from home?"
"Yes."
"Romania?"
"Yes."
"The accent was kinda a dead giveaway. Don't sound like you like that fact."
"You aren't from around here either."
"I'm not?"
"You're white."
"Pfft," she chuckled, "true, I guess. American."
"Of course."
"What does that mean?"
"I thought you were."
"You was saying it funny."
"How?"
"You just were. Do you not like us Americans? does our rootin tootin freedom loving way get your flaming iron curtain ass ablaze with fury?"
"...No."
"Yeah, yeah, how long you been in?"
"Nearly three days."
"Three days?!" she gave him an almost shocked expression, "and all this? fuck kid, you and your sister must be little terror tots."
"Verrocchio wanted this, not me. Aren't you a nun?"
"Born and raised catholic. Wearing the black and white proud. Why?"
"Shouldn't you...not be swearing?" he said as they crossed diagonally over a rather desolate street. Eda raised an eyebrow through her glasses when he said this, and he was looking back at her, bags under his own.
"What, are you dick archbishop?"
"No. I'm...orthodox."
"An Ecumenical Patriarch then. You're really judging me? kid, from what Revy went and told me you done a whole host of bad things that'd get you put in time out, or several life sentences."
"...What do you know?"
"You're assassins, ole fry face babushka wearing Balalaika found out herself. Among a whole host of other things. Broken in on the film industry hm? Quite the actor, aren't you?"
"...I'm not speaking about this with you. Never mention that again."
"Or what?"
"I'll kill you."
"Ohh, intimidating."
He said nothing more. She watched the back of his head. The white hair was matted from the rain, and it was cut in a near bob. Everything about him seemed strange. Like he was something taken and made into another thing entirely.
"Where'd you get those clothes? I was told you'd be wearing some gothic ass fashion, not no flannel."
He stared over his shoulder at her, his pupils dilating in the bright lights of the city, "I found them. It's summer, I get hot."
"Why were you wearing the coat then?"
"Because he made me-" he stopped talking and looked away.
"Verrocchio made you?"
"No..."
"Your boss back in Sicily?"
"...Yes."
"...Damn."
She sat watching the television, her knees up and her hands on them. The girl couldn't understand what the people were saying but she watched it all the same. Rock and Revy were in the formers room together, leaving her all to her lonesome for just a brief moment in time.
Glancing to the window which she'd opened the curtains to, the girl saw the bright lights outside and heard the pattering of rain against the glass. Standing, she walked to the door, then she stopped. Glancing down, she saw the jeans and long-sleeved dark shirt. He'd gone out and bought her clothes, he'd gone out and bought her clothes.
The men were like shadows, moving with the darkness. They'd taken them in the morning and stripped them of everything by the evening. They handed them weapons, told them to do things, made them do things.
The only thing she had left was him, and he was out there. Dead? she shivered at the thought and pushed it back. Would she die? maybe. Without him, what did she have?
He wouldn't want her to die, several times he'd put himself in front of her in gunfights. He'd get in the faces of the men who harmed them both yelling and screaming at them to go away. He said no to them, and they would hurt him and her anyways, but he said no. She didn't.
Her hand went out and she placed it on the knob, and it was locked. Of course. For the next two minutes she went about scouring the small kitchen, looking through the cabinets and drawers and coming up short with every single one.
Maybe Mr. Rock would take them to New York. No, he wouldn't. She wished he would, but she knew he wouldn't. In merely half a day, she'd latched to him. The only adult who treated her with a compassion that she'd not received in many years.
She stepped back, listening. The rain tapping, her small breaths becoming audible. What to do. She'd been in this situation before, tight spots. There had to be a way out, there had to be.
Kill them? she could try, but he could overpower her, and that woman was a quick shot. No, she wouldn't be able to.
And then she was pondering existence. Would she see him there? would she even be in a place where she was able?
"No."
The girl covered her mouth and glanced to the hall. Darkness there and nothing more. Walking to it, she stared down, watching the door, then she turned her eyes to the window.
As she approached, she found herself crouching. The girl murmured under her breath, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
She sucked in another breath, then grabbed the window and slid it up. The rain blew in almost instantly, not a flood but her face had droplets sliding down all over within a few seconds as she looked out and saw down to the street. Filled with the trash, both literal and the people who wouldn't notice somebody dying on the sidewalk next to them.
Then a sound she'd feared the most occurred. That of the door opening and the woman speaking. The girl couldn't hear what she was saying but that was all the pep she needed for her to sweep her leg over the mantle and then the other.
"Gretel!?" Rock's voice called after her, and for a moment, she hesitated to hear the rushing of footsteps behind her before the girl went forward and fell. Free falling, the yell of the only man to treat her with any semblance of kindness disappearing away.
She'd fallen with her feet out and luckily the sidewalk was clear below. The landing wasn't easy. Her left foot hit the ground hard, and when she rose, she favored her right leg greatly.
"Whoa what the hell's up with you kid?" a man who'd witnessed the event said a few feet from her. He seemed drunk. Several others stared with him. Turning, the girl ran as best she could down the street, weaponless, sucking in breaths as some looked up to the window.
They hadn't called after her, surely out of the apartment by now. At least Revy anyway. Where to go where to go? why didn't she think of this before jumping out? her leg was aching harshly as the rain kept on, her splashing through a puddle and the water landing on the street next to her to join the streams to a storm drain.
The next hour was spent legging it through the crowds, in all the chatter she hadn't seen any of the two following after her nor any cars. But she moved fast all the same. Some would call after her, but in places like this she knew never to listen to them. On her journey, passing under a streetlamp flickering on and off again, she began thinking.
Hiding herself away in the darkness on that street where few persons came along, and staring out to the rain with her hair matted down the girl weighed her options. Verrocchio seemed to be the only option left between her and the absolute. Brother would've returned. They made a plan to get there before the events of the Lagoon shootout transpired.
But she'd never been like this, not without brother or without someone watching her. It wasn't like she didn't feel...free or happy with her brother, he was just always the oldest or so he acted, and he always came up with what they were going to do next. Which usually involved doing what the adults said. The only exception would be whenever they wanted her to perform. Those were the only times she ever saw him get mad.
For a moment, she imagined herself away from all of this. Perhaps in...New York? or maybe London or Paris. She saw herself, a society woman living in a big mansion on a high hill where everybody knew only the good in her. They loved her for her, and nothing more. Maybe she was a singer, or a pianist who wowed crowds with her ability.
But in truth she wasn't any of that. A simple girl from the mountains, who didn't even know her own name. The biggest truth? she would probably be dead upon going back to Verrocchio's hideout and that would be that.
The girl stared out from under a small doorway she'd taken residence under. The building a condemned piece of work in its own right. With how far she traveled, she could see the beach in the distance, staring longingly at it. Tilting her head against the door, cold water sliding down her small arms and hot on her face, she cried there. Nothing more than the little girl she'd always been. So scared.
As the tears slid, she placed her hands together and spoke in a way that was almost pleading, no begging for eternity. Then she let out a loud breath and stared out to the absolute once more. Either she was ready now, or sure to die. It's not like she wanted to, but if there was a chance he'd returned, the girl would have to take it.
Stepping out, she continued on her journey. Thinking of the life she and her brother had together. Filled with the horrors of what the men did to them surely, but when it came down to it, she would always think of the good in the small time on earth, no matter what. The small moments of childhood and the time spent together with him.
The street before Verrocchio's compound was as usual, silent and the sense of an overwhelming foreboding. To what? she knew what. Her leg was causing her to walk awkward still after the near hour she'd spent on the road. Stopping for a moment, she just stared up at the hotel. What would probably be her final resting place, a structure of rotting brick and wood. With nothing else, she stepped to it.
"Get going!" the door as she walked up to it opened as several men rushed out carrying armaments and cases full of money or drugs. There were cars parked all around her, mainly vans but there was a black Lexus at the center.
They passed her on by as she tensed up, expecting to be pushed at least. She watched them rush to the cars, one she recognized, Bikey. Waiting until he was done, he turned back and saw her standing there.
"What kid?...wait...holy shit it's you! get upstairs Verrocchio's with your brother. We gotta move!"
"...Wha-"
It was as though he was looking at her, but also not. He was going about directing the other men and she thought it a better use of her time to go and...brother!
Rushing inside, she ran with tunnel vision to the second floor and down the long hallway. Her small breaths and the sounds of her footsteps the only thing she heard.
"-Where the hell's your sister-" Verrocchio was cut off as she burst through the large door at the end of the hall. Inside, she saw them. The boy turning his head back and eyes going wide, and the mafioso blinking rapidly before saying, "oh, there you is. Had to use the bathroom er sumthin?"
"...Wha-" she saw her brothers face, "y-yes...sorry, t-the men outside were in a rush um, s-so I told F-Fratele to go on ahead..." there was a massive desk with two duffel bags on it, and fine furniture with a few cabinets for personal effects and an opened safe which was
"So..." Verrocchio was flanked by three men including Moretti who were watching with strange faces. "Lagoon company ain't dead huh, and uh...got some new clothes?"
The boy turned back, trying to put on a face as the girl joined him. "We failed," he said. There was a huge glass window behind the mafioso's desk where he now stood with his palms to the desk, the stench of cigars and liquor everywhere. She surveyed this before the boy grabbed her arm, glancing to him, he was side eyeing her as Verrocchio continued his monologue, none the wiser.
"Kids...what happened? I mean, I bring ya on and now you've got me havin to move. Fryface and Chang are onta me, you know what that means right?"
"It means we're done."
Her head almost lurched at her brother as he said it. The boy was staring straight at him, and he held up a finger.
"...Well, fuck it, boys shoot-"
The report of the machine rifles seemed near circular in pattern, all around them and in the second before it happened the boy wrapped his arms around his sister and fell on her as the spray continued and continued. Several shots going through Verrocchio instantly and his men following near a half second later.
"We have to run!" the boy yelled as the shots stopped, yet multiple pops went on from outside. "That isn't...that isn't who I thought it was!"
"W-What?!"
"I met a woman...a-and a man...but...hang on!" they got up and crawled prone to the shattered window and looked out, the bodies of the four men providing cover. Several black cars, none belonging to costa nostra and men none of whom belonged to the family either, in a massive gunfight with the family.
"T-That's-"
"T-Triad!?" she said.
"Grab the bags, we have to go out the back door!"
Eda watched with gritted teeth from the woods, Rico at her side, his shaggy hair falling to the side of his automatic as he lay with it looking down the sight. "Motherfucker...who invited these douchebags?!" she yelled watching as the fight raged on about five-hundred or so feet from them.
She'd taken off her sunglasses and looked through a pair of binoculars he'd brought for her, "Thought we were gettin a payday, but nooo, the Chinese steal American money no matter what country we're in!"
Narrowing his eyes and rubbing water off the barrel the man spoke with a gentle yet deep accented voice, "I ain't shot yet sis," Rico said plainly, "uh...y'don't want me firing yet right?"
"No, fuck...fuck! this close to a payday!" she said, the street seeming just out of arm's reach. Verrocchio's men weren't exactly winning, but they were putting up a hefty fight. Several cars had been lined up as cover and were about twenty or so yards away. Little flashes went off as the pops sounded.
His eye on the sight raised, "Ay, the kids just grabbed the money bag."
"Fuck!"
"Take a chill pill sis."
"That little shit better pay up for me not killing him if they get out of there! I swear! now the Triads are gonna be up our asses too!"
"What if we wait for em to leave and follow?"
"You mean if they somehow get out of-"
A Lexus from out of the left side of the motel suddenly screeched out onto the road and swerved rather crazily down away from the gunfight. "This..."
"Yeah," he took sight off the barrel and glanced up at her.
"Shut up, come on!" they stood and rushed to the jeep he'd rode in on.