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throwaway-yandere · 2 years ago

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The Fox Hunt (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A very brief summary of chapter 2 for those who had to skip due to CWs: You had been bottling your grief. You hired Alhaitham as an underboss and he tagged along when you negotiated with Diluc. (Thanks to his presence, you avoided getting kidnapped by the Visconti). When you visited the church, Rosaria offered to help you track Tighnari down and Cyno shared his story about losing his younger brother later on. At night, you decided to visit your old underboss's grave. An old friend, Dainsleif, found you in the cemetery, and helped you finally cry your eyes out for all the lives you lost that day.

CW: yandere & religious themes, mafia syndicates (therefore guns, violence, etc). Possible major character death. THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE FIC: YOUR CHOICES MATTER.

"O Capo! My Capo!" - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

—----

[4 years ago:]

"You seem to be stealing fleeting glances earwards the whole time I've been leafing pages."

"Ah, so you've noticed." You spoke sheepishly. "My apologies, Professor, but your ears are…"

Tighnari's ears boastfully straightened as he shrugged with a tiny smile.

"They do not feel as nice as you're imagining. They honestly just feel like any regular cat's or dog's."

"Your behavior says otherwise." You said. "But it's deserved. You groom it every other hour, don't you?"

"Hah?"

On a late 1910s night, renowned writer Professor Tighnari prepared his next discussion in the Innamorati Familia’s mansion.

Why inside such a dangerous place? Well, what is Teyvat without corruption? The Syndicates remained in control for most of Teyvat, and no military forces can quell their power. It reached a period where people cannot envision life without these organizations as detrimental to society. No man can exhaust the flames that burn brightly amongst the Fatui mafiosos, and should they try, they'll only find smoke in their wounded chest.

Professor Tighnari joined the Innamorati Familia when several academics from his university inexplicably vanished. The fox believes they'll target him next based on their trend of research topics. He initially gave his services in exchange for the security of his research, but unanticipatedly discovered that everyone in the Familia has values, culture– precious lives of their own. They were kind people who simply had a penchant for violence. As strange of a revelation as it may sound, they lived their lives hurting as little as they could with their religious restrictions upheld by their capo.

Not long after that, the hitherto snarky professor had become close friends with the aforementioned boss.

"Don't think I don't notice that every time I'm about to enter the room, you brush your fur like you're five minutes late to a party."

"I-I just wanted to look presentable, that's all. Do you think I'd show up to work with bed hair? Who am I? Dimitri?"

Aware of his sharp tongue but lacking the means to keep it in check, Tighnari accidentally insulted your underboss. The hairs on his body stood and he was ready to make a fool of himself by offering an apology, but your usually unreadable resting face looked warm.

"Mhm. Sure. I'll choose to believe that." Without hiding your curiosity, you turned back to his ears. His ears were not touched, despite your hands being close to his head.

"A-as you should." Fortunately, Tighnari is good at masking his emotions. If cowardice overcame him, he would encounter a blade's glimmer rather than your gaze. Tighnari digressed by returning to his books while maintaining the illusion that his thoughts were clear.

"Alright then. Platonically, can I pet you?"

"... Excuse me?"

"You're one of those Vulpes who always wondered why close friends would think touching your ears would make you angry right?" You told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

Tighnari is a smart man, yet he is unable to understand how your mind may go in circles and still arrive at a logical conclusion. He did ask, but it didn't make sense. You sincerely advised him to give up most possessions and gain a new perspective from the experience when he sought guidance on how your deduction functions. There is no way in hell that he would act in that manner.

You continued. "I'm just skipping that whole step. So, are we intimate enough for me to run my fingers through your hair?"

Tighnari snorted. "Phrasing, Capo."

"So, am I a close enough friend to touch you in that special area?"

"You'll never get me flustered– I might just bite you instead if you keep testing me."

"What a major shame."

Your gaze lowered to the pages he was writing. Tighnari is a well-known botanist at the University of Teyvat, a public university for bright students with limited financial resources. His intricate writing style regarding the fundamentals of bryophytes speaks volumes. You doubt that students can understand what he jotted down, but then again, Tighnari's an effective communicator.

In all honesty, you hated those books, not because of their contents, but because of the memories laced within them.

These were the type of pages you sift through in hopes that you will be the one to decipher a cure. Dottore used to help you sort through whatever books were more easily digestible. Nowadays staring at something related to moss feels akin to reading about an end of a long relationship. It was fun and exciting, but ultimately the compatibility led nowhere. As much as you want to tell him that he should take his research elsewhere, he'd probably reply with a sassy "Or what? Are you going cage me?" reply. Simply not worth the effort or time.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue. "Whatever. You can pet me if y–"

"Mosses huh? Why this area of study?" Those words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tighnari tucked his tail underneath his chair, his eyes unblinking.

" … I have a theory."

You nodded, recognizing the shift in his tone. "Go on."

"The Goddess of Flowers often described in their books that Sumeru's mosses have an intricate healing property in them that can only be harnessed by those who are as knowledgeable as the Scarlet King."

"I never thought you were a devotee."

"I'm not," Tighnari answered. "I only believe in Gnosticism when it benefits me."

Spoken like a true University of Teyvat graduate.

"But phytotherapy is a rather complex and time-consuming field– why focus on this?"

"And why does a Capo like you know that?" Tighnari asked, and you digressed immediately to avoid him probing on things he need not know.

"–Our familia is doing fine, Professor. Hmm... Is there someone in particular that you're praying for good health–"

"You have Eleazar, don't you, Capo?"

You knew it. He saw the recollection in your gaze when you glanced at his books. You weren't surprised that he figured it out quickly. You were just waiting for him to confess that he knew your condition. However, you just didn't expect him to ask at that very moment.

This time, you patted his head without asking, tracing your fingers around his fluffy ears. You grinned. Your smile was just a centimeter off and your shoulders were square; neither of those rigid signs sent him a positive response. The way you held his ears was restrictive, far from the quote-unquote "platonic" gesture you offered earlier. Your soft chortles sent chills down his spine and your glare froze his nerves akin to Snezhnayan rivers.

"Hoping to sell that information, Vulpes?"

"Of course not!" Tighnari was shocked to hear himself raise his voice. "I'm not stupid."

You hummed and pulled your hand away. Tighnari may have acted tough, but you knew he was shaken by that exchange.

Oh well, it's not like you were being serious.

You just did that so you can hold his ears. (By the way, he lied. They're even fluffier than most animals.)

Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari found your touch enthralling. He shook by an entirely different reason compared to your assumption.

Talking to you was addictive. Tighnari could take his studies elsewhere, but what's the point if you're not there?

He chuckled.

Save for the low-volume classic jazz the fox played in the background, you both indulged in the comfortable silence of each other's presence. An atmosphere as cozy as this makes it tempting to brush your cheek against his shoulder and flutter your eyes shut– but the dawn hasn't crept in and you will not be deterred from your sleep schedule. Tighnari's pleasant pen strokes came to a halt, releasing you from your trance.

"Capo?"

"... Yes?" You sucked your yawn in.

"If– If I told you I could find you a cure, but I'd have to sell my soul for it, what would you do?"

"Easy question: don't."

He was taken aback. Tighnari did not expect that answer.

"But why?"

"I know that look in your eyes, Tighnari." You shifted on the sofa, doing your utmost to stay awake. "Those were the same eyes Dimitri had when he killed his step-sister. That's the gaze of a feral animal. You're part of my familia, Tighnari– I'm not letting another fratello of mine lose himself to greedy impulse."

"What if–"

"No."

You spoke dangerously low in the tone Tighnari hears when you interrogate those who were chained in your basement. This was not the voice you used to talk to your men. This (Y/n) was not just commanding– this Capo was daunting and domineering. And he would loathe being at the receiving end of your torturous whip and fingers.

Suddenly, Tighnari had an epiphany.

Before he could save a kind friend, the professor would have to save a cold-blooded murderer first.

"Alright. Fine then. If you don't want to be the patient who'll help me get a Nobel Prize then have it your way." Tighnari joked, but his mind was made up.

He won't do as you commanded.

"But don't think I'll stop studying mosses. The world doesn't revolve around you, Capo, I still have many to save."

And just like that, he retired for the night.

Once upon a time, these half-asleep conversations were routinely done in order to check up on one another. A Capo is the busiest person one could be in Snezhnaya, and it warmed his heart to know you allot some time for his mundane conversations. But these heartfelt gestures are now mere ashes behind Tighnari.

Never to return.

—----

[Morning, 1 AM:]

The Fatui Headquarters is a daunting place.

Filled to the brim with murderous sociopaths, no sane man would act juvenile amongst your crowd. This room never fails to make you feel small. Everyone, from 2nd to 10th, showed up dressed to the nines with capes and fur, which was slightly less grand than the funeral clothes everyone wore for La Signora. Their extravagant yet sensible winter attire contrasts sharply with your unimpressive standard Prussian-blue coat in the sea of whites and blacks.

"Can't believe you showed up."

You turned to face the front. Scaramouche, in his custom-made Kasa hat, sat on the opposite end and sneered with disdain.

This gremlin never took a shine to you. The feeling is mutual. Whenever he utters a nasty word, the impulse to clothesline him to the nearest tree arises.

"It's not a habit of mine to miss meetings, it's not gonna change now no matter your wishes, Scaramouche."

"You dare use that tone against me? Remember who you are talking to, number eight."

As the 8th Capo– higher only for Tartaglia (10th) and the 9th– you were looked down on by the rest of the Harbingers. Had the 1st rank not been filled by a fellow Khaenri'ahn, Archons know how mistreated you would've been.

"I have a firm grasp of my identity. Never have I shared your indecisiveness, number six." You spat. "What about you? Have you decided on whether or not you're human yet?"

Everyone knows that Scaramouche may not even be human, but no one would open that can of worms other than you.

He crossed his arms.

"Maybe after you figure out whose fault it was that your men died, you… or that fox?"

"SHHH!!!" Tartaglia shook his pointer finger near his lips. When he noticed you staring, he donned his best brotherly smile. "H-Hey (Y/n), what do you think about the rising inflation in Mondstadt City?"

Tartaglia actively avoided talks about the Innamorati Arson Incident. It's been days and he has not once brought it up. You recalled how when you first visited his manor, he asked about your experience in the church of Sumeru– and it was solely focused on what happened AFTER the incident.

… Now that you think about it, he probably made those stupid jokes about Alhaitham that day because he didn't want you to look so grim.

"More problems with their funds, considering how most of it is all gone." The shorter man managed to still find a quip along the way. "Honestly, why are they even here? Shouldn't they go back to selling matchsticks by now?"

You visibly stiffened.

"Shut it, Scaramouche." Arlecchino interjected with a sympathetic yet mildly condescending outlook. "They're still a Capo through and through, even if they're past their prime."

Prime.

That's how they referred to the Dottore who had never taken a dose of canned knowledge. The youthful and composed Dottore you were once friends with.

You've always dealt with the very murky morality of your line of work by contrasting the transgressions of your coworkers. At least you went through rehab and detox when you were hooked on heroin. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything other than feed his addiction. Truly, Zandik is fortunate to receive a wage that exceeds his necessities.

You and a monster like him are not so different, not anymore. He is no longer human; instead, he is a corpse that runs back home covered in more scrapes than on his previous visit. As for you? Well…

Batting your eyes, you scoffed breathlessly. Are you really past your prime? Words failed to come up when you tried thinking of a retort, and perhaps that was for the best.

Finally, the man of the hour entered the room.

Like many Khaenri'ahn kids, you formerly held Pierro in high regard. He was the gleam of hope that even impoverished and orphaned immigrants might change the tides, even if it was in a world other than their home country. For most, he's the one who would nod his head upward. Pierro, the first Khaenri'ahn Capo, was the hero in the eyes of your younger self who lived off thanks to the table scraps of your even younger foster siblings. Tsaritsa knows you fumbled on your first meeting, and you were proud that was the only time you embarrassed yourself in front of him.

Considering how things are now, it certainly wasn't the case.

Pierro took a proud stance and showed no remorse for what had happened to you. His gaze veered in your direction. At that very moment, if you had been blinking, you would have missed the disappointed expression on his face. He promptly rotated the whiteboard after removing his sheets from his folders.

You stood up. "Lord Pier–"

"Let's start."

You sat back down again.

The entire meeting was a blur. You felt like you weren't there the entire time. Arlecchino eagerly chatted about her child soldiers whilst the other occasionally quipped a word or two. When her turn was done, it was Scaramouche, then Capitano, then Tartaglia– not once had the bottle turned to face you. The reason behind that is simple:

Pierro did not plan to call you, Number 8th, during any of his discussions.

—---

The meeting was adjourned, but far from over. Just as you were about to head to the cathedral, a lithe hand pulled your coat sleeve, stopping you from reaching the front gates.

You sighed, looking at their perfect doll-like fingers, there's no one else it could be other than…

"Shylock businesses aren't my style– ask Tartaglia instead."

"You know damn well that's not what I'm gonna ask, Brighella?"

"Then what is it, Kunikuzushi?"

He flushed red at your venomous retort.

Neither of you liked those names– unlike you, who dislike your Harbinger title purely because it sounds stupid– Scaramouche doesn't like hearing his baptismal name out of family reasons. Guess who's the more insecure one between the both of you.

"Are… Are you al– tch. Forget it." He paused before he scoffed and pointed his finger accusingly. Scaramouche grumbled. "I invested a lot of money in your casino project, so there better be some results!"

You nodded, barely paying attention to his tirades. His infantile behavior was never endearing to you; you either find it repulsive or boring. With the weighing pressure on your mental state, you were quick to chuck his new burlesque anger as mind-numbingly monotonous this time.

"Sure."

"Sure? Sure what, worm?"

"The Casino is not affected– the men who handled it are all alive. Zero casualties."

Unless you count Dimitri who used to manage the Casino in his spare time.

"That's good to hear." Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely relieved for what felt like their safety rather than financial compensation.

"Agreed. Are we done here?"

His grip on your sleeve tightened.

"One final thing." Scaramouche leaned closer. "Use caution. Tighnari had likely received divine favors."

"Maybe you're stupid or you just don't care, but my devotion to Gnosticism is just a front. I appreciate your concern, though."

"I wasn't concerned. Just can't have my idiotic colleague underestimate what the divine can do." He smirked. "Can't have you burning another property you don't deserve."

You yanked your sleeve away.

Heartless puppet.

"Goodbye, Balladeer."

—----

[Morning, 3 AM:]

With Felix trailing behind you (Alhaitham was in his Akademiya job), you both entered the church searching for Sister Rosaria.

The stained glass of the church had recently been updated. No one was surprised when disciples started taking away any hydro-related emblems from all northern churches. Even if those pieces of art are incredibly captivating, the fascists had already started utilizing them as a sign of movement, thus they are deemed not worth saving for future generations.

"Since when did they begin removing those things?"

"Since yesterday," Felix said with bags under his eyes. It's clear to you that he genuinely didn't want to be here. "Under Architect Kaveh's orders."

"I see. Go get some rest, Felix. There are surely some empty rooms in the convent."

"Thank you, Capo."

You let him leave.

Should you die today, you've already written a will that Felix will be the one to inherit your position. You'll let him have his quite-possibly-last good sleep before the Capo life keeps him busy.

You stared back at the glass.

In a way, architect Kaveh was similar to Alhaitham in that you were familiar with their names but not their faces. Even though he is consistently the first to offer to assist you with construction, this man always finds a way to decline your requests for an audience. The last time it was because he caught boar fever (how? ), but that was nothing compared to the time he wrote you a disorganized handwritten letter about how an Akademiyan spy sabotaged his clothes after breaking into his home and harassing him to gain confidential information.

... At least he has extraordinary talent. You can excuse any eccentric traits as long as a person's value outweighs the costs. That is the same reasoning you employed when you hired Alhaitham.

"(Y/n), is it true that you're going to find Tighnari?"

That voice couldn't be anyone else but your little fratella.

You were about to answer with a firm "yes", but when you turned around you felt a pang of guilt seeing how troubled she looked. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress in a suffocating hold and her eyebrows were knitted together.

"In Sumeru City? Of all places?" Barbara scurried and hugged your arm.

"Don't go. Please."

[CHOSE: REASSURE BARBARA]

"Mia sorella, don't worry…" you cooed and soothingly lowered your gaze before bluffing. "Sumeru City's a lot safer nowadays. Alhaitham told me so."

[DID NOT CHOOSE: SAY "GOODBYE"]

[FAILED TO UNLOCK CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "MUSICIAN VENTI"]

"No…" Barbara stiffened and tore herself away. She clenched her fist, but everything else about her was calm and resolved.

Barbara looks exactly like you when she's mad. She mimicked your traits so perfectly.

"No. You're lying. I heard Sister Rosaria talk to Inquisitor Cyno– it's not safe there."

"Barbara…" You traced your thumbs against her cheek. Her heartfelt display of anger almost successfully beseech you to reconsider. She slapped your hand away, but you kept talking. "I have to go."

“No. No, you don't– don’t be prideful! At least bring some of your men with you.” Barbara argued.

You can’t. Some are stationed to help with church work while others are with Visconti Diluc. You purposely made them preoccupied so that they won’t put themselves in danger (like you.) Besides Tartaglia, there’s no other Capo who loves their people more than you– and perhaps this overprotective nature will be your cause of death, but so be it.

“Sister Rosaria will tag along. I'll be back soon– like I always do." You scooted closer to her, bending your knees a bit. With an unnoticeably forced chuckle, you shook her slightly. "C'mon, it's me, your very cool older Capo sibling. Don't you have faith in me?"

"I-I…"

There are two things that can convince a pure-minded individual like her who has been sheltered from harm: a prayer and a cheerful smile.

"If you're worried about me, why don't you pray for my safe return?"

And you know damn those are the only thing that helps Barbara keep moving forward– the two things that help keep her sanity intact or else she'll break down. Religion is her sole solace. Despite living in poverty, she wouldn't sin. She's "used to hunger", that's just the type of person she was. Without prayers and smiles, nothing can help Barbara forget how her real biological sister left her in this chapel.

"Can you do that for me, sorella?"

Barbara paused.

Snezhnayan men are the most religious. The people of Mondstadt nor Sumeru couldn't possibly compare with how Snezhnaya rears their impressionable children. Barbara was raised in this chapel and Snezhnayan culture ran deep in her veins.

“F-Fine.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll pray for you.”

You ruffled her hair.

“Grazie, sorella.”

—----

After reassuring Barbara that you will be safe and praying to an archon you don’t believe in, you slithered behind the church.

"You watched everything earlier, I presume?"

Inquisitor Cyno didn’t move a muscle from his position. He was leaning by the wall, staring at the church cemetery. Still, he cracked up a small yet wholesome smile. He seemed pleased by your response.

[AFFECTION METER: 39.05%]

"It's in my job description."

You smiled sweetly. "Forgive my sins, Inquisitor, I forgot you were a professional stalker."

"Not stalking; I'm monitoring you."

"What's the difference?"

"Stalking has a more sinister connotation."

"Oh, then forgive me, your holiness." You theatrically bowed.

Cyno nodded. "You are forgiven."

You laughed loudly.

The inquisitor innocently raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. His pup-like demeanor shut you up. Apparently, that response wasn't a joke. Ex-priest Cyno wholeheartedly forgave you in a religious fashion.

Why is he only hilarious when he's not trying to be?

You cleared your throat. "My apologies, I suddenly remembered a joke, that's all."

"Would you mind sharing?" Cyno asked. "I want to find new comedy material. My previous jokes didn't seem to work."

You were about to cut it straight that he's the joke but ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. 'You mean 'ALL your jokes don't seem to work.'' is what you wanted to say, but kindness is not the absence of mean-spiritedness. It is when you are restricting such actions.

“I don’t think you’d find it funny.”

“Is it an inside joke?”

How very kind of him to offer you a way out of this one.

“Something like that.”

“Then I won’t ask.” The Inquisitor nodded. "But there’s something else I want to request. Won’t you allow me to join you–"

"No."

[CHOSE: DO NOT INVITE INQUISITOR CYNO]

[AFFECTION METER: 25.00%]

Cyno paused.

You cannot allow him to join. Since you observed how the inquisitor and your new underboss interacted, you had a feeling that Cyno's presence would cause more issues than they would solve. He knew Tighnari well. He might even kill him before you do if he is provoked. Besides, it's not as though any sane man would hold an Inquisitor captive if given the chance; that would be like trying to wrestle an alligator to scare a dog.

Plus, you want to exploit Cyno and Tighnari's previous friendship against him. The safest course of action is to bluff and say you'll kill Cyno should that bastard try anything funny.

“Why not?”

“I hate to impose or be more indebted to you, Inquisitor. My conscience will not allow it.”

Cyno frowned.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to rely on others, Capo.”

“How very strange that I’ll hear that coming from you,” You said. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I’ve done my research and found out that you fulfill your duties alone. Candace kindly told me that you’ve always been a lone wolf, so I can’t say I’m persuaded by your advice.”

“Hmm. Understandable.” That’s all he could say. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You held his hand. He flinched, both shoulders tensed up like a shocked cat.

Your hands weren’t warm. They were cold. But as a desert dweller his hands oddly fit well with yours– a perfect balance. Unlike you, however, he had never used these hands to do evil. The Inquisitor silently wondered how would it feel like if these fingers wrung his neck–

Cyno closed his eyes.

He cannot think of such sinful thoughts.

“Please relax, Inquisitor.” You spoke, circling the back of his palm. “I know what I’m doing.”

Should those words be the whole truth, then you must know unsavory your actions must be behind the pretense of kindness.

You debaucher.

“Do you now…”

You grinned.

That effectively made his heart skip a beat.

Cyno doubts you somehow knew about your hold on him.

“Hmm!”

“Fine. Then I’ll let you be.”

—----

He shouldn’t do this.

He’s worried. The Inquisitor did work with the spy before–

But Cyno doesn’t trust Alhaitham.

Cyno handed the disciple a dagger.

Alhaitham is calculating and most of all selfish. This was the man who actively disobeyed the church’s teachings unapologetically. Perhaps such behavior is cultured in the Akademiya but Cyno cannot stand it.

Maybe that's why he tried stopping himself first, but after that fire…

Cyno's overprotective nature worsened.

He convinced himself that this feeling was a product of his past losses and argues that this is just a precaution. The Goddess has given him a second person to watch over. A second Usir. A new blessing to make up for his past transgressions.

And he will not waste this second chance.

"Take this. And do not forget my orders."

—---

[Morning, 4 AM]

Towering dome buildings, abundance of trees yet eerily silent streets– Sumeru City was not a tourist spot for amusement.

Considering these facts, Dunyarzard, in all her former glory, still built a large theater underground called The Zubayr Theater. She had the intention of making the city a more joyous location with her contributions, and it's sad to see that it had done little to brighten up its citizens. Then again, Dunyarzard probably won’t be bothered by this if she lived longer.

You would know this because she was once your friend too.

Dunyarzard...

It’s a shame an invasive fox is hiding inside her paradise-on-earth.

That, and a troublesome dog too.

You glanced at Alhaitham. He behaved strangely the entire time, glancing at his watch as if he were counting his seconds down. Soon enough, he walked closer and tapped your shoulder.

"(N/n)."

Assuming this is about the akasha terminal he let you borrow, you let him talk. "Go on, speak."

[AFFECTION METER: 28.00%]

"Tuqburni."

"… what?"

"Means you bury me in Sumeru," Alhaitham said, looking away sheepishly. "I decided it'd be best if you heard it again, even if Cyno isn’t here."

Is he trying to imply that an Inquisitor would care enough to kill him? Please. He’s an insignificant cog in the grand scheme of things. If he’s so sure you’ll lead him to his death then he should just quit. Go back to being an Akademiyan spy, it’s not that hard.

"Good to know." You'll forget about that word in ten minutes, tops.

He pursed his lips, troubled. "You don't remember what Tuqburni means?"

"Can't remember something I never learned."

Alhaitham frowned.

"I see…"

Sister Rosaria swerved her way between you two before pushing Alhaitham away with little force. "Take a hike. We don't have time to entertain you, underboss."

His nose scrunched. "Sister Rosaria, age 25. Weight 80kg, height 5'9, address–"

"Yeah, no shit I know where I live, so what?" The nun retorted. "Think you can take me on with your calculator, kid?"

You snorted.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you," Alhaitham spoke. "I'm letting you know that–"

"Whatever." Rosaria clicked her tongue. "Capo, what're your orders?"

Thank the Tsaritsa that Rosaria is here.

“We’ll split.” You pointed at the theater. “There are three main sections in Zabayr.”

You handed Rosaria a map. Alhaitham didn’t ask for a copy– he presumed that you already trust that he knew the location with the help of new technology. Instead, it was Rosaria who had a follow-up question.

“Where’s your copy, Capo?”

“They don’t need one,” Alhaitham answered. “They were here when the place was built– they helped Lady Dunyarzard build her dream theater.”

“I didn’t issue any orders for you to speak.” You glared. “Know where you stand, underboss.”

You cleared your throat. "As I was saying, we'll split up. I'll scout the theater, Rosaria outside the buildings, and you're on the apex building. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

—----

Despite saying "of course" confidently, Alhaitham found himself in a small library.

This was likely NOT the place you ordered him to find, but the wealth of information stored around here was relevant to your investigation. Why? Because these were records haphazardly left by the fascists.

Their intel was right. The theater was one of their headquarters.

"These runes…" His eyebrows furrowed. “‘A tool that can only be used if the wielder upholds absolute justice above all else and would sacrifice the means for a satisfactory end.’ None of these descriptors match the Akademiya’s records at all, except...”

Alhaitham's eyes widened.

This specific piece of information corroborates how Tighnari behaved thus far.

"However, if the Archons live with us and not Celestia then isn't it possible that Focalor is–"

His fingernails dug into the papyrus while his eyes frantically skimmed through its contents. If the contents of this papyrus were true, then what the hell was that collaboration between La Signora and the Adepti about? What the hell did they exchange?

Alhaitham heard the sound of breathing.

He turned around and turned on his terminal, hoping to reach you before the assailant stops him.

"(N/n), be careful! Whatever Tighnari's holding, that's a gn–"

[SHUTTING DOWN…]

—---

The Akasha Terminal buzzed, the signal muffling its voice. You surmise that this was caused by the theater's layout. The architect of the Zubayr Theater– which is funny enough, still Kaveh– specifically chose this location for its lack of noise. That being said, it would be nice to watch an actual play here now that Alhaitham wouldn't bother you with his senseless blather. Pity that no one's performing.

"… B… c…ful! Wh….. na… ri…ho…."

"T…s … ...sis!"

You shook your head and nonchalantly thought out loud.

"The terminal must be acting up."

There's no one there to accompany you in your confrontation with Tighnari should you encounter him, and you preferred it this way.

You opened the door to the main stage.

And you finally found him.

You spotted the back of his silhouette lingering on the theater’s second floor. Props were crushed and some built-in chairs were knocked over. Whoever wreaked havoc around Dunyarzard’s theater had to pay– but that isn’t your main priority. Your target is already right here.

The professor no longer wore his cotton dark caramel coat– instead, he replaced it with a blander yet bolder black one that made his figure look larger. His eyes were vacant, looking forward as if a person would warp from near the ceiling. The bastard appeared to be waiting for someone.

Someone that isn’t you.

"Hello, professor."

A chill shot down his spine as his eyes met yours. Tighnari looked down, seeing you stare at him with a small smile. There was malice behind your peaceful expression. He made indescribable noises when he took a step back. No one else was in the vicinity except for the two of you, but his thoughts screamed that there was nowhere else to run. Tighnari knew that look was nothing he had ever seen before– a look of pity and anger reserved only for a dead man walking.

He sensed bloodlust, and it was consumingly relentless.

"It's been a while. Mind if I bother you outside office hours?"

Tighnari's hands were trembling but the rest of his limbs were frozen. He couldn't completely deny the possibility that he could die at this very moment. After all, he had seen your agility wipe out an entire floor of men with two dull daggers. If that was lazily done to protect him, he can only imagine the full extent of your abilities. On the bright side, at least you were below him and he could sprint somewhere– he just didn’t know where that is.

When you go on a hunt, you don’t stop until you catch your prey.

The professor knows that damn well.

"N-No," Tighnari answered with false confidence. "No, I don't."

"Can I ask a few questions, then?"

Your way of speaking contradicts whatever thoughts you both had in mind. Your voice inflection bounced off lightly, but the air shifted as soon as you traced your holster.

He didn't reply, and you took that as a yes.

[FREE TALK EVENT: START]

[READER REPLIES MARKED IN RED]

"Why."

It came out more like a general statement than a question, so you repeated it with added conviction. You're not a static force. You're here because you willed it– you're here to satisfy your demands. Your lust for revenge.

"Why did you do it? Why did you burn my manor?"

Like a grim reaper appeasing their curiosity, you spoke calmly while simultaneously patronizing his inconsequential life.

Tighnari bit his lip. "You already know why–"

"But I need the confirmation, the closure. Any reason to make your death tenfold more satisfying."

"I did it so that you'd get your cure."

Your eyes squinted.

Of course he did. You don't doubt him. You've known his obsession with Eleazar and how he rightfully suspected that you're burdened by this illness.

But he took the whole truth and poured some out.

"That still doesn’t make sense, Professor Tighnari."

He took a sharp yet deep breath. Tighnari's treading on thin ice. He was scared not just for his life. He was scared that this would be his final moment when he had yet to give you what you needed.

"I had to–"

"Surely the cure for Eleazar doesn't involve mass murder."

You were remarkably calm. As opposed to your uncharacteristically feral actions during the previous few days, this argument was entirely typical of you. Strategic and reserved, but ready to unleash everything in a single strike.

"I…" Tighnari bit his cheek. He sighed exasperatedly. "Just. Just trust me for once, Capo–"

"Don't call me that." You tensed up. "You lost the right to call me Capo the moment you betrayed your familia. How can I trust you when I don't forgive you? Why trouble yourself so much when you can rip my head off my shoulders right now? I'm just another body between you and your precious cure, correct?"

He almost didn't notice how you threw a dagger mid-talk like pelting a mere pebble. Tighnari dodged it, albeit barely, and you calculated as much. You won't let him die until he hears everything.

You spat lowly. "You snuffed the lives out of the only people that mattered to me."

"Please don't be mad. I had to–" Tighnari spilled. "I had to or else Focalor wouldn't help me."

"How the fuck can I not be mad? You're a fox, I'm sure you can smell the hatred I have for you. Your olfactory system is sensitive, after all." You masterfully kept your voice calm despite the severity of your words.

"Your associates are such idiotic bastards then if they have to kill my men for a cure." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Where is it? Where the fuck is the correlation, Professor?"

"It's to prove my loyalt–"

"The only thing you've proven is that you're a piece of shit. Is this what fascism is about? I can't see why you'd ever want to be one."

Tighnari looked down and muttered something you didn't hear.

"Who said I wanted this to happen?"

You continued. "I know I was only spared because I was in the chapel– so take out your gun so we can settle this already."

You fired a warning shot, this time with a bullet and not a dagger, burying another close call between his tall ears.

There were so many things to worry about, but Tighnari relied on hopeless dialogue. It's the only tool he has left to de-escalate the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you're better with words.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Teppei."

"... What?"

"Lyudochka, Kazari, Bao'er, Viktor… " You cocked your gun. "Lindhart. Did you regret killing them?"

"Capo, I know what you're trying to do."

"You should or else we'd both look stupid."

"But saying their names won't change my mind. I've already decided that they're replaceable as friends."

Replaceable?!

"You bastardo–"

You fired a second shot– it missed. With a bit of spite, you aimed higher knowing that he'd evade. You didn't repeat the same mistake.

He ducked behind the second-floor barrier.

But didn't take its spiral pillar designs into account, and the gaps were exactly where you aimed at.

"GAH–"

His guttural scream echoed across the theater.

You shot him in the leg.

Whoever designed that barrier had great tastes– you'll thank the architect for this later.

It'd be so easy to just kill him now.

"Your fur will look better draped around my shoulders, Vulpes." You aimed with Tartaglia's revolver. "It's winter, is it not? Don't worry, I'll put it to good use."

The most significant thing he would do with his life is dying.

Lucky for him, you can’t grant him that just yet.

You still have hope.

You still believe that there’s a way to get rid of Eleazar.

And as much as you hate it, you also believe in Tighnari.

Rather, you believe in his abilities and nothing more.

With the "goodness" in your heart, you’ll let him finish what he started.

"But I’ll suffer through the winter for now. That cure is the only thing keeping you alive. The day you finish your research will be the day I finish you. After that, I’ll make sure to kill every last person you hold dear."

Tighnari huffed self-deprecatingly, clinging onto his wounded leg by the theater's second floor. gazing at you with a melancholic stare. "Jokes on you (Y/n), there's no one else but y–"

"Cyno. Collei."

His eyes widened.

You smirked jadedly. "I had Inquisitor Cyno keep her in our custody. Did you know that pain is heightened ten times more for those of us suffering from Eleazar?"

You traced your old battle scars. They were all healed, but their numbers will keep multiplying.

Each time you pinch, no matter how dated these may be, it's as painful as yesterday's wounds. Nothing prepared you when you were diagnosed with Eleazar. Each wound, each papercut– the pain clings onto you like a leech that can never be scrubbed out, or else it'll cling tighter.

"It's excruciating. That's why I was addicted to heroin– it numbs everything. Have you heard? Children are more vulnerable when it comes to drug addiction–"

"Don't." He faltered, lowering his gun. "Please. Don't touch them."

Bullseye.

Them. He used the word “them” instead of “her.” Despite Cyno’s impression, the fox still cares about him.

Maybe you should’ve invited Cyno to tag along.

You tilted the revolver sideways.

You want him to inflict even more pain.

If Cyno were here, you would’ve made sure he said all the wrong things and watched Tighnari squirm. After all, you do have the uncanny ability to get people to behave in the way you want them to, don’t you?

"Then parry this."

But you didn’t pull the trigger.

Surprisingly, Tighnari bravely climbed up and hung his leg by the barrier, making him more susceptible if you attacked. You can’t tell if you hesitated or you’re curious as to what he’s trying to accomplish– the second floor was meters high above your station– he’ll surely die if he jumped.

Sister Rosaria emerged from your peripheral vision, ragged and stripped of breath. It's a long way from the main theater to the bazaar– she ran when she heard your argument as soon as possible.

Tighnari fished something out of his pocket.

A blue light shimmered in what appeared to be a chess bishop.

… What kind of trick is this?

"Tighnari, what the hell are you holding?" Your nose scrunched, squinting at the small piece. You could've sworn you've seen that symbol somewhere– in large glass-stained imageries.

"Can't you see?" Tighnari croaked, angrily crying out in a desperate attempt to make deaf men such as yourself hear. "Focalor is the Hydro Archon– there's no better healer than her if you would just allow us to help you find a cure."

His eyes… Whatever it is you’ve said, it had its impact.

Tighnari lost his mind.

Sister Rosaria's breath hitched. Fortunately for both of you, she understood the situation.

"CAPO, GET BEHIND ME–"

"This is the Hydro Archon's gnosis," Tighnari yelled. "I'll prove to you– I'll show you that all those sacrifices were worth every drop of blood I had to spill. Maybe I haven't figured out how to heal with it now but destroying things has always been easier than fixing them!"

Gnosis?

What the fuck is he talking about?

Like the 7 gnosis the Tsaritsa collected?

That bedtime story?

"Fox, where on earth did you get that?!" Sister Rosaria pushed you near the exit door, mediating the argument. "Where did you steal that divine artifact?!"

"Dear sister…" Tighnari chuckled darkly.

"If there's a will, there's a way."

He raised the chess piece to the sky.

"I'm sorry Capo– but this I swear: I never betrayed you." He spoke softly while his ears lowered. "Open your eyes– everything I do is all for your health and wellbeing. This little thing right here is worth more than your men. Easier to do things first before apologizing later, that's what you told me last time, right?"

"Fuck off." You didn't take a step forward. In this instance, Rosaria would handle this better than you could. "Take a swim in the river Cocytus for all I care– but don't you fucking dare dedicate that slaughter under my name."

[FREE TALK EVENT: END]

Tighnari grinned emptily.

[AFFECTION METER: ERROR.]

[AKASHA TERMINAL STATUS: DISABLED]

“I’ll never know.” He spoke softly. “I’ll never know why I like you so much. At this rate, I’m too afraid to find out.”

His hold on the “gnosis” tightened.

The bishop piece beamed.

“Farewell, my Capo.”

—-----

[6 years ago]

Alhaitham lived a monotonous life.

The same old nine-to-five schedule: wash up, dress up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat the following day. When compared to his former self, he had a professional short haircut and was dressed in white dress shirts that were buttoned up. Alhaitham has the appearance of a plastic toy. Too typical and bland. Nothing exuded uniqueness.

He thought he got what he wanted. Alhaitham graduated and became an accountant, just like what he aimed for for years. As a child, he grew up under the misconception that he had something special. Alhaitham was the boy every parent preached about when their lackluster children produced little results. Maybe he was the smart kid everyone loathed– but his repertoire was genuine. The world handed him an easy-to-follow script, and he mindlessly fulfilled it with his innate abilities.

But for goodness' sake, if this is what success is, then why is it so empty?

His purpose in living had turned into nothing more than a bank's problem fixer until he returns to doing what he loved most:

Nothing.

What the hell is life boring him for?

"Tired of life, tesoro?"

Alhaitham looked up.

He saw an underdressed person wearing a white tattered shirt and lousily safety-pinned flip-flops. Had they worn white instead, they would be easily mistaken as a hospital escapee.

More specifically, they looked like they just got out of the heroin rehabilitation center just a few blocks down the street.

Alhaitham didn't send them away. They had a sparkle in their eyes, something that he lacked nowadays. However, there's something about it that made it more noteworthy compared to civilians around here.

Those pupils are (e/c) Khaenri'ahn eyes.

A natural trait, but its presence alludes to artificial happiness in the same manner endomorphs appear friendly and kind. No matter how lifeless a Khaenri'ahn may be, the gem in their eyes will always make them look more alive than the rest of the world.

They covered their mouth.

"Oh, pardon. I can't help but ask. You're rather down and I thought you needed a distraction..."

They didn't seem all that sorry when they immediately sat down beside him after that apology.

"Incorrect." He bluffed. "What makes you assume that?"

They smiled.

"I dare say you look like you've achieved everything you thought you wanted in life, but you're still feeling empty inside, aren't you?"

Alhaitham's head snapped back in their direction.

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the Banco Di Snezhnaya, around age 23, have a wage of 500 thousand mora per week," they chuckled, gesturing at his hair. "Aaand you probably don't own a hair dryer."

Stalkerish-ly spot on.

"How did you–" He clicked his tongue, disappointed at himself for becoming immersed in parlor tricks. "Nevermind. I'm not buying into whatever astrology thingamajig you're selling."

"Oh please, the only thing I'm selling are matchsticks. Hair dryers ain't astrology, ya dumbass, they're a new Fontaine invention." They huffed. "If my matchsticks could tell the future I would've achieved my dreams by now."

Alhaitham still can't phantom why, but he's oddly intrigued by whatever came out of their mouth.

"And your dreams are?"

"I want to become a journalist." They said, softly knocking their chest with a closed fist. "Future Teyvat Times journalist. The best of the best."

"Unlikely." Alhaitham muffled his laughter. Unlike most people, he can regulate his emotions masterfully well. "Someone like you who obviously achieved no real education? Give up on that dream while you're still ahead."

"Yikes. Already sizing up my intellectual capacity? That's rude."

"I'll see your dreams if it happens." He continued. "But it's my turn to guess things about you– you're a heroin addict who just got out of rehab and now you're stuck doing community service by selling matchsticks. Not only are you uneducated, but you also have a drug record so say goodbye to any stable employment."

They smirked. They were right– he's not the type to hold his tongue. That just makes him a better conversationalist.

"Close, but no dice." They snapped their fingers, pretending to be saddened by his faulty inference. "EX-heroin addict. I got out of rehab a year ago and I'm not selling matchsticks because of community service– that sure sounds better than the actual truth, though."

He'd rather they communicate properly with little subtext and implications. Alhaitham sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm hooked, what's the truth?"

"Don't tell me you can't tell." They raised an eyebrow before they pried their left eye open, showing off their unique pupil. "I'm an immigrant, so of course finding a job is as easy as becoming the seventh archon, ragazzo."

Their butchering of the Snezhnayan language further cemented that they're not from here.

"I didn't get any quote-unquote "real" education, but living on the streets? You'd be caught dead if you're not skilled at inferences." They said grimly, but the smile on their face never left. "That's why I know how to spot a person easily. I know a guilty murderer when I see one, and I know an unsatisfied man once I look down on him sulking by the fountain."

"Right. I forgot you're Khaenri'ahn." Alhaitham muttered.

"Well, then you must be the first person to do so. That's literally what everyone points out after looking at my eyes. Congratulations." They snickered.

"Why am I even talking to someone as arrogant as you?"

"I may be arrogant, but you're a lot happier now that I'm here, aren't you?"

Alhaitham froze.

"See? I'm pretty good at swaying people into behaving the way I want them to."

"What's your goal exactly?" Alhaitham pulled out his wallet. "Need me to buy a pack of cigars? I'm not funding your addiction."

He said that but he already took out 150 bills.

"Nah. That sounds great though but I was just trying to practice my conversation skills." They sheepishly told him. "I want to practice speaking Snezhnayan, and also cause I want to seem friendly."

"'Seem' friendly?"

They laughed. "Well, we all have secrets, don't we? There's something powerful about being charismatic yet setting boundaries all the same. Master both and you might just get somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alhaitham grunted.

"We've been talking for a while now– I'm (N/n), and yours?"

"That's…"

Alhaitham subconsciously glanced around.

Morepesok was not one of Teyvat's safest plazas. And they look Khaenri'ahn in the worst place possible, not that anyone besides him would appreciate that. Drugs are prevalent but it's not the only social cancer in the plaza. Petty thievery, human trafficking, money laundering, the list is bottomless and in no small thanks to the syndicates. Immigrants especially get a bad rep around here as either helpless victims or eager puppets, so forgive him for exercising caution based on generalizations.

They cringed. "Ah, right. Don't worry– no need to spill your real name, just give me something I can call you."

He paused.

"... Deshret."

"Well, well, nice to meet you Deshret. Is that from The Scarlet King's Court Jester?"

"Nevermind. Let's just change it to–"

"No no no! It's perfect." They said. "Very underrated bedtime story. The kids loved it… even though it was pretty dark and abusive."

"Many say it's a real tale."

"Do you believe that?"

It was also his favorite story as a child.

"Yes."

"Heh. I don't, but I don't want to make little Kaeya cry." They laughed. "As you can probably tell, I'm Khaenri'ahn, and we just don't have all these strange cultural beliefs you people have…"

They gazed down his thighs.

"Hey Deshret, isn't sitting with your legs together uncomfortable? Go on, cross your legs, or whatever. I don't mind."

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before he slowly did what he was told. It's been a while since he sat this way. He trained himself to stop since it wasn't appropriate in the office, and somehow he forgot he could still do it outside work.

He relaxed. The change in posture was effective.

"... You're creepily perceptive."

"As I said, gotta be more observant." They chuckled. "Being liked is key to survival–"

Out of the blue, a loud metallic thud reverberated around the plaza. The both of them flinched at the sound and everyone turned their heads to its source.

"Hey, isn't that Adepti Underboss, Xiao?" They whispered.

The Adepti were incredibly busy that year. By June, a rat published a book entitled "Rex Incognito" where they detailed and provided evidence that Morax is the Geo Archon himself, which makes the piece both heretical AND entertaining.

The man, whom they both assumed was underboss Xiao, tossed a man upward till they landed on the roof of a nearby car. With his lithe yet muscular form, he swiftly disposed of a 70kg policeman like a garbage bag. No one moved a muscle in their direction. Not a single person showed empathy for the nose-bleeding cop in the middle of the plaza. The civilians pitied the car owner and not the injured man. Only children shrieked at the sound. For the rest? Just another Wednesday garbage cleanup.

There's no semblance of justice in Teyvat that remains in broad daylight.

Alhaitham closed his eyes, disappointed.

"Pathetic how the tri-mafia overpowers the military police in every way. The police are useless."

"Yeah man, fuck the system."

"Fuck the system indeed." Alhaitham nodded solemnly. They nearly laughed at how strangely innocent the word 'fuck' sounds coming from him.

"Wanna know what we should do?"

"I genuinely don't."

"Let's join the mafia together."

Alhaitham snorted. It's funny how he considered himself a pro at regulating his emotions moments prior because now he couldn't hold back the cute little chuckles that betrayed his lips. His shoulders trembled as well as his hands while he composed himself.

That was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.

"W-What?" They asked mid-laughter as well, clearly not considering their own enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't think we can overthrow the government together? Tsk, tsk."

They look positively malnourished. Alhaitham would bet on the chance that they'd achieve their dream journalist career rather than a stable life as a future mafioso.

Then again, Alhaitham looked very straight-laced and put-together before he joined Akademiya.

"Ah yes, an accountant and a matchstick vendor joining the mafia together; one of them might even become the next leader. Find out next time in chapter 3."

"Coglione, I'm the one who's going to be a journalist here, not you."

"Not with that awful pronunciation you're not."

They frowned. "You Teyvatans are so strict with your stupid lingua francas."

"But still, it's not a bad idea, isn't it? Let's meet each other again after we join the mafia." They nudged his side. "Same time, same place. C'mon, it'd be funny if the next time we meet you'd be holding your head thinking that there's too much excitement in your life now."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes before he looked down at his watch.

"At 6 in the morning?" He looked rather amused for someone who claimed to be uninterested.

They bantered back with the same vigor. "6 AM sharp of course, tesoro."

Alhaitham chuckled.

They laughed along with him.

"Heh. Anyways, say, what's it like being an accountant?"

"Well…"

Since then, the two of them began meeting weekly as Deshret and (N/n). They've used their morning hours as an excuse to get drunk in the crack of dawn. Both have forgotten what the true purpose of that time was,

But it's not as if they'd both remember that joke, right?

—---

Well, if that's true, then Alhaitham doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Something about that small conversation rekindled a fire in him– a torch he had never once touched for he saw no need for it. But after seeing how empty those cubicles were– how mechanical the bigger picture was– nothing had been the same for him. His conversations with coworkers were barely anything compared to what he shared with (N/n). Dialogues in the office were canned scripts, and they were oh-so-predictable.

And so that morning, he went up and quit his job before accepting the offer to be the Akademiya Syndicate's bookkeeper.

But (N/n) was nowhere to be found in their usual spot.

Not in the fountain– not in the old bar.

Where the hell were they?

Alhaitham asked the people of Morepesok if they'd seen them, but these efforts were futile. Some were eager to point out that they know what's-their-name-s, but none led back to where they were. And the street urchins that were familiar with the name (N/n) assumed they'd departed the country and gone back to their homeland.

He refused to believe that. Passions quite like theirs do not burn out as easily as he did.

As a result, waiting in Morepesok for (N/n) in the hopes that they'll return has become a daily ritual. For the first few days, no one was eager to approach the new Akademiyan mafioso; instead, he would monitor the time with a feverish bloodlust. Even in Snezhnaya's harsh winters, he is frequently observed by numerous concerned bystanders who urge him to get inside because it is cold out. None of their worries stopped him. He saw waiting as a chance to relieve stress. These quiet moments remind him of his humble humanity, and he was grateful to have ever met (N/n) because of this.

Yet they never came back.

But Alhaitham never held it against them. It's alright.

Thanks to them, he lived the kind of life he never knew he dreamed of.

"6 AM sharp, huh?"

The more he hung around the square, the more people thought they understood him. They were under the impression that this immovable man was not on a syndicate mission– he was just a lovelorn yet patient man.

"But I doubt I'm far gone. I just appreciate them. That's all there is to it." These were the words that helped him sleep at night. But if the term "lovelorn" simply means "unrequited" then perhaps the way he feels while waiting for them to return fits the description.

He was still sitting upright by the fountain in Morepesok Plaza, waiting expectantly for (N/n) to return like a dog.

—----

And even now, he waited.

Until (Y/n), Capo of the Innamorati family, found him lying on the ground.

(N/n) didn't come.

"(Y/n)..." Rosaria whispered while her face grimaced at the pungent and metallic smell. You both observed the pool of blood on the ground.

You and Rosaria narrowly escaped the blast of whatever divine power Tighnari conjured– and you’re still processing what happened in the theatre that you couldn’t comprehend the body right in front of you. If Rosaria wasn’t there to lift you on her shoulders you would’ve stood and resigned to your fate. Thankfully, you weren’t wounded, but the bump you had on the seats when the water pressure pushed you back nearly gave you a concussion.

In the end, you both came back for Alhaitham with soaked coats and socks, dripping from head to toe. Rosaria’s veil was discarded and left by the doorsteps as it was distractingly clinging to her skin– you would’ve done the same with your coat had it not been one of your favorite ones. Your cold and quivering limbs weep for respite but you remained steadfast. However, your mind does not share the same willpower. Your thoughts were slow but chaotic.

Just how did Tighnari flood the underground theater earlier?

Was that really a gnosis?

Why did he have one?

Where did Tighnari flee now?

You shook your head in an attempt to focus on what was in front of you.

Who attacked Alhaitham?

His neck is bleeding and there's a clean stab wound on his neck. The crimson trail trickled down to his exposed arm. With his back leaning on the wall and head facing down, Alhaitham did not move a muscle. You know little about Alhaitham but you did know one thing: he wanted to work with you far longer than your first guess.

Suppose he’s underqualified to be an underboss, after all, failing his first (and last) mission like this. You once heard Pantalone say that "Akademiyan spies are the weakest species in Teyvat" and your new "underboss" proved that right by messing up the marble tiles with his blood.

The collar you were supposed to give him feels useless in your pocket.

Maybe you should've picked Enjou instead. That crazy maniac would survive better than him, and he's just a merchant in the Abyss Market you like to gossip with.

Alhaitham is pathetic. Was pathetic.

"One of those fascists likely killed your underboss," Rosaria said, sounding awful like she was reading from a script. "It seems that Tighnari will do anything to stop you from maintaining your position."

That's funny, cause the only way those shits can achieve that is by burying you alive– and they failed miserably– comically, even.

Did they seriously think you'd weep for Alhaitham?

For someone as “replaceable” as him, as Tighnari would put it?

You've said it once and you'll say it again: that's fucking hilarious. Tartaglia would love this story– you're sure. They've already taken your best friend Dimitri, everyone else is secondary. You love your men, but they know they can never be him. Hell, you'd argue that if the others were equally loved, Alhaitham would be "less equal" than the others.

You didn't take a second look at Alhaitham, and not because you lack remorse.

The real reason is too boring.

He's not dead.

He's just unconscious.

Sadly no, that was not just the first stage of grief speaking. There's still some life left in him. He's nowhere near as cold as a corpse shouldn't be. Would've made your job a lot easier if he was, but he's still breathing, albeit shallow and excruciatingly so. However, that doesn't change the fact that he'll survive. All for one damn good reason–

Sister Rosaria was the one who attacked him.

The inquisitor must've left him like this hoping that fate will decide whether he lives or not, which means she was hesitant to kill him. In a way, your casual friendship with the nun saved your second underboss. This isn't your first rodeo– you've had good friends who tried to kill you once and vice versa, and it's nothing a visit to Angel's Share can't fix. Rosaria was merely a tool. Her feelings had nothing to do with this. It's a good thing your conversations with Sister Rosaria are never dull, you hate to imagine what you would've done to her otherwise.

Lucky bastards, both Alhaitham AND Sister Rosaria.

Still, this meant that someone else ordered you to assassinate your underboss.

Someone from the church. The very same cathedral you swore fealty to and devoted half of your life's work on.

You laughed furiously.

"Hahahaha! I see!"

Who the FUCK is the rat that tried to take what's YOURS?

You wrapped the scarf around his neck taut like a gauze and propped him upward. Alhaitham's weight leaned on your right side as you began lazily carrying him. It doesn't look like he'll wake up soon, so at least he wouldn't be bragging about getting carried by his boss.

Rosaria wore a stiff expression.

You both know the truth, and she's wholly aware you've pieced everything together. But you're not mad at her– any sister of Barbara is a familia to you. She's just following orders, and if what the church wanted was to frame Tighnari for this…

Then who's to say they haven't pinned someone else for any other crime?

But that's not what matters now– Alhaitham's situation is urgent compared to these half-baked conspiracies.

"He lives." You said. "Don't worry Rosaria."

Neither of you addressed how you subtly forgave her.

She placed two fingers on his wrist. The nun sighed a little too relieved when she felt his pulse.

"Good. Then we should go find help."

You smirked. "Oh, no need to worry. I know a medical professional nearby."

"Whoever it is you have in mind, you better make the right call, we're losing him." She spoke casually.

Neither of you showed any semblance of panic over a dying man.

Sister Rosaria, a child of the Archons, was more afraid of your fury than his stripping lifeline.

"Of course, Sister Rosaria."

In all honesty, he's by no means the "right call" for this scenario. But who else can you turn to,

other than Il Dottore himself?

—---

→ Common Route First Half Complete!!! ←

A/n: Did y'all think Alhaitham was going to die? Me too. Trust me, I'd give you guys a lot of chances to kill these three.

Btw, did some of their dialogue sound familiar? You're all very creative!!! I had to cut some responses off (I'm sorry.) because some were already similar while others currently don't fit the situation… But I hope some of you read it and went "oh, this is MY answer from the open-ended question (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)!!!" I want you all to feel like you're part of what builds Capo!Reader's personality!

Same as usual, the underlined word (Il Dottore) leads to the polls. Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: TBA

Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!" ❤️: @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar

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roxyfoxgamer150 · 3 years ago

Text

Grief of the others

"They say there are five stages of grief.." a distorted hesitant voice said.

The voice exhales.

"Denial."

Julieta was staring at her daughters bloody and dusty corpse, she was trying to look for the extra arepa she had, hoping that it had the magical powers.

"S-She's not dead, I-I swear I see her breathing! We just- we just need an arepa that has my healing powers and- and-" she began to sob and kneel, Agustin caught her, still staring at his hijas dead body.

"It's too late now Juli, it's-" he stutters a breath. "It's too late now."

"Anger."

SMACK!

"YOU DID THIS!" Camilo yelled at Alma, who held her cheek that had a hand mark from the slap.

The others were holding him so he could not hurt the old woman more.

It did not stop him, "YOU DID THIS! NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU LOVED MIRABEL AS MUCH AS SHE WAS GIFTLESS!" He yelled as much as he could at his abuela.

He began to sob, "She wanted your attention, your love, ANYTHING she can be happy with because you never loved her as much as she was before her gift ceremony!"

"You're the first reason why mi prima had the hanahaki disease!"

"Bargaining."

"Camilo please. Please I beg you, you need to shapeshift into Mirabel! I want to hug her for the last time!" Isabela begged her primo, who began to cry.

"That's the problem Isa! We don't have pictures of her so I don't know what she looks like!" Camilo cried to Isabela.

"Shit- I'll tell you all of my embarrasing secrets and moments just to hug Mirabel!" "I'm tell you, I don't know what she looks like anymore!"

"Depression."

Luisa was crying to herself in the corner, muttering something.

"I should have been faster enough to catch her, I should have been stronger enough to protect her!" She sobbed in her hands, her hermanita just died because of her.

Meanwhile, Bruno didn't want to blink nor sleep, he was already freed from his prison of doubt by Mirabel, only for her to die from debris. He could always see her when he blinks or sleep, it feels like a nightmare.

"I should have seen this coming.." he muttered, he had tear streaks in his eyes, his hair was more messy, and he held the tablet that Mirabel made him have so he could see a positive future.

In rage, he smashed it into a wall, breaking it.

Only to realize the last memory of Mirabel is now broken.

Dolores was clutching her ears, she could still hear the horrified scream of her prima, and the sound of her bones cracking.

"I should have heard it coming."

"And acceptance."

Observer Mirabel showed no emotions in her face, she looked cold and serious. No trace of sadness or tears.

Antonio was hugging her like she's his Mirabel, and seeing her die.

He sniffed, "Why- why aren't you crying? Mira died!" He cried harder, which made Observer Mirabel crouch down and hug him tightly.

"I've already seen deaths like this Antonio. And I've accepted death a long time ago." She looked at the grave.

"Mirabel wouldn't like seeing you cry because of her, would she?"

Antonio never knew that she always sees deaths around her, she just accepted that the Mirabel would die but the family will move on. After decades.

"Well, I'd like to add one more.." the voice cracked at the last part, you could hear a deep growl, possibly behind the speaker.

"Revenge." CRUNCH. A swallowing sound was heard.

BANG!

The man fell to the ground with a gunshot hole straight to his head, blood fell everywhere.

A woman is seen holding a gun in one hand, she wore a white pintuck shirt and a teal capelet with its hood covering her head.

She wore a white masquerade mask that looked like a hare, it had gold details and a bit of blood on it. Though it didn't cover her lower face.

She removes her mask, revealing that it's Julieta who shot the man. She wore a serious, cold face.

"That's for killing my youngest hija Mirabel."

BANG!

She shot the man again straight in the chest.

"And that's for targeting my familia."

[ End of recording. ]

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oscars-wifeyyy · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 12 (The Innocent)

Now the group started to not believe Jamal, but Elizabeth did believe him. She had to go home so she bid everybody good night, but turned back to Cesar.

“Go to my house after you drop off Monse,” Elizabeth smiled, “you’re crashing with me and my mom knows,”

Cesar grinned at his friend with Monse, “thank you, mana,”

“I got your back always. Oscar doesn’t need to know and he usually doesn’t come over, but if he does then there is a window out to the backyard through the window,” Elizabeth winked and walked out.

Oscar stood around the corner and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his girl walking alone with her attire. He started to go towards her to walk next to her. She turned to see him, but turned back to look forward.

“Bebe, I’m sorry. I don’t know what went through me when I said those things so please forgive me,” Oscar sighed.

Elizabeth sighed, turning to her boyfriend, “Oscar. I forgive you, but the next time you snap at me because things are ‘rough’ then it’s over. Relationships are teamwork, not whatever you think a relationship is,”

Oscar nodded with a smirk on his, “now tell me why you’re walking home alone with that dress,”

“Shut up and walk me home,” Elizabeth laughed and continued walking.

When they got to her place, they stood in front of the door and just gazed at each other with the look of adoration on both faces. Elizabeth, however, had to go inside and get the guest room ready for Cesar and Leticia knew this so she opened the door.

“Hey, Oscar. Happy New Year! Now I gotta get Elizabeth inside. We’re doing something for her. Breakfast tomorrow morning though! Be here at 9 am. Do not reject either,” Leticia grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, “good night and thank you for walking her home,”

Oscar chuckled, “Gracias, ma,”

Leticia closed the door and rushed her daughter to the guest room to rush the process so when they were done then everything would be ready for Cesar. It was right on time because when they heard the knock they were done with the room so Elizabeth rushed to the door and ushered the little brother in. She led him to the room.

“Here is your room and Oscar is going to be here tomorrow morning at 9:30 am so you should probably be out by 9 am,” Elizabeth smiled.

“Thank you, Eli,” Cesar smiled sadly at his best friend.

“No problem. Now go to sleep. You probably got a big day tomorrow with Jamal and Monse,” Elizabeth closed the door behind her.

The next day came and Elizabeth was up at 8:30 am and decided to make Cesar a little breakfast before his adventure with Jamal, Ruby, and Monse. When she was done it was 8:45 am so she walked into Cesar’s room and jumped on the bed to wake him up.

“Eli! It is 8:45 am...oh,” Cesar chuckled.

“I made you breakfast so eat up and get ready, puto,” Elizabeth laughed and walked out.

Cesar walked out and ate breakfast with Elizabeth sitting next to him cracking jokes. It didn’t take long for Cesar to be done so he washed the dish and put it on the drying rack, hugging Elizabeth before running out of the house to meet with the rest of the crew. Now 15 minutes later, Leticia and Elizabeth were awake and in clothes that weren’t their pajamas, cooking breakfast with the music on high, dancing away. A knock interrupted the dance session so Elizabeth ran to the door and opened it to see her boyfriend there with his “Spooky” face, but it dropped when he saw Elizabeth. He walked inside and smelled the food, making his stomach groan at the nice smell. Elizabeth gave a kiss to his lips before gesturing to the chairs and table and going back to dancing with her mom and the music on blast.

Oscar sat on the chair and smiled at the sight of his lover and her mother dancing away as if there were no stresses, cooking for the three of them. Soon after, breakfast was done and the three sat around the table enjoying the food and each other’s company.

“Oscar, what are you going to do today?” Leticia asked with a smile.

“I’m gonna relax and chill with the homies. What about you, ma y mi amor?” Oscar turned to his Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s phone dinged so she looked down and saw it was a text from Ruby telling her to meet up with him and Olivia to go help Cesar, Monse, and Jamal. “I am going to help Ruby and Olivia with something,” she stood up and kissed her mother’s cheek before moving onto Oscar, “I’ll see you guys later. Oscar, I’m gonna go with you to the bodega for your party,” Oscar nodded before she left the house and to Ruby’s. When she got there, Ruby was there looking sad and angry while Olivia looked a little sad. “What’s up with you guys?”

“I’m tired of having nightmares and ptsd! I just want to live the normal life before the shooting,” Ruby ranted, “you got shot because of your boyfriend’s gang! When is our life gonna be ok?”

“I don’t know, Ruby. Why aren’t you at church with your family?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t know if there is a God. This shouldn’t have happened to us. No shooting was supposed to take place,” Ruby shoved passed the girls and started the journey to Monse, Cesar, and Jamal with Olivia and Elizabeth following.

They were about to walk past Oscar’s place, but Ruby grabbed Olivia’s hand and motioned for Elizabeth to follow, she didn’t know what to do except follow her friends. There was a hope inside of her for Oscar to stop them and ask how they were doing and it was answered.

“Hey,” Oscar called out, “Hey! I’m talking to you,”

Ruby stopped and turned so fast to walk towards the leader and kicked the crate that Oscar’s foot was resting against, “What?”

“Just wanted to check up on you. You good?” Oscar asked.

“No, I’m not good!” Ruby freaked out.

“Yo, chill out,” Oscar frowned.

“Chill out? That’s all you got as you sit there on your damn throne? I got shot! Your girlfriend got shot! For what? Nothing! Nothing but some cullshit beef that means nothing! And that night won’t stop playing on auto repeat in my head, and every time I move my arm, which is often because I’m a gesticular, it kills, furthermore reminding me of that night, thanks to you so don’t tell me to chill out!” Ruby ranted as the Santos looked at each other.

“You must be in the anger stage,” Oscar took a sip from his Redbull while Santos laughed.

Olivia went to meet up with the other three friends while Ruby and Elizabeth went to the bodega with Oscar. They had walked in with Ruby holding the basket and Oscar walking close to Elizabeth.

“How many times can I say I’m sorry? I know I stepped out of line,” Oscar grabbed a Corona from the fridge, “but I really don’t have time to be your valet.”

“We need a few nopales,” Oscar continued walking.

“We need a cart. This is getting heavy,” Ruby complained as he tried to keep up with Oscar and Elizabeth.

“Do you ever not complain?” Oscar looked back.

“Well, no one told you to bring me,” Ruby said.

Oscar smirked, “what else don’t you like about me?”

“Nope,” Ruby denied, “I’m not falling for that,”

“It’s not a debate. What else don’t you like?” Oscar grabbed something from a hook.

“Is this like Queen for a Day sitch?” Oscar stopped and looked back confused, “it’s a legal expression whereby someone can say anything they want and their words can’t be used against them,”

“Speak, Queen,” Oscar turned down an aisle.

“Well, you guys call yourself ‘the Santos,’ the Saints, and yet you hurt people, so what’s the point of you, really?” Ruby raised his voice at the end.

Oscar turned so fast while Elizabeth had her eyes wide open, “you’re coming at me! But I didn’t start this war,”

“Yeah, said the complicit one,” Ruby glared at the leader.

Oscar dropped a bag into the basket, “you like history?”

“World or American?” Ruby asked.

“Freeridge. Doesn’t get more American than that,” Oscar started walking the freshman back, “Back in the day, the pinches Prophets terrorized Freeridge. Didn’t matter who you were. Paletero trying to make a living. Viejita coming home from church. You were a target. They went to the cops. But you know how that goes. Until, finally, Lil Ricky said, ‘no más.’ This neighborhood is his familia, and you don’t mess with family. He started the Santos to protect the hood.” Oscar motioned outside.

“Great,” Ruby spit, “now you have two groups terrorizing the neighborhood,”

Oscar leaned in really close to Ruby’s face, running his hand down his mouth and chin, “terrorizing?” he grabbed the bag behind Ruby, “you mean protecting. It’s complicated. The Santos are a family. Families are complicated,” Oscar walked to the fruit section.

“What do you know about family? You threw your own brother out!” Ruby spit.

“I said it’s complicated,” Oscar yelled, “Cuchillos made that call and no one questions Cuchillos.”

“Cuchillos can suck a dick!” Ruby yelled at the leader, but everyone turned in horror, “look, all I’m saying is if you’re a saint, then save people. Don’t kill people,” Ruby’s phone started ringing so he shoved the basket towards Oscar and answered it, walking away to get some privacy.

Elizabeth turned to Oscar, “thank you for taking it easy on Ruby,”

“Of course, mami. You ain’t the only one that got shot for my brother’s mistakes,” Oscar stood really close to Elizabeth who put her hands on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes before kissing her fingers and giving him a soft slap on the face while he chuckled at her alternative to kiss him rather than actually doing it. Ruby came back and the three went back to Oscar’s house and, by the time they got back the sun was down. Elizabeth stood next to Ruby, on her phone, looking through her email to see one from UCLA providing all the steps she needs to take for the future classes she is going to take.

Oscar looked at the way Ruby was cutting limes, but stopped him, “learn how to cut a lime. You cut like a serial killer,” Oscar showed the right way before giving Ruby the knife back. Ruby did it the right way causing Oscar to nod, “good. You’re excused,”

“I’m excused?” Ruby asked confused.

“Yup,” Oscar said, “I listened, you listened. We’re good. You can go,”

Ruby glanced at Elizabeth, “uh...ok,”

Oscar opened a beer and setting it down in front of Ruby, “or you could stay,” Ruby took the beer as Oscar grabbed an octopus tentacle, “taste it,” Ruby made a disagreeing noise, “expand your palette, homie,”

Ruby ate it then his phone dinged telling him that a text came in so he unlocked it to see a text from his mother, “damn. Yo, get off me already. It’s my mom. She was on me about going to church, on me about hanging out with friends. Now she’s just blowing me up wondering where I am. Can I just be left alone already?”

“Pressures of the privilege,” Oscar said.

“Privileged,” Ruby scoffed, “I live in a house with bars on the windows. With two parents inside and a college future waiting outside. Don’t whine to me about your mom. No one took care of me and Cesar when my mom was out there,”

Ruby looked down, ashamed, “I didn’t mean to-”

Oscar cut him off, “be ungrateful? I get that you and Eli got shot, but why do you think no one came to finish the job, huh? ‘Cause of me. Think about how fast that truce happened. Me, again.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said, “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there are a lot of things you don’t know,” Oscar chopped the food, “like what it’s like walking into a job interview with a record. You think Walmart’s gonna hire someone with two strikes?”

“See, I wouldn’t work there. They have poor employee satisfaction,” Ruby said being a smart ass, again.

Elizabeth flicked his cheek while Oscar let the knife fall, “it ain’t a joke, Ruby!”

“This shit’s real! That’s the kind of stuff that makes a man snap! But being mad at the world ain’t gonna help you. It’ll only hurt you,” Oscar went back to chopping.

Ruby decided to leave then so Elizabeth walked to Oscar and made him stop chopping food to wrap her arms around him. The two stood like that for a few minutes until Oscar had to turn the food over and the two of them had enjoyed a nice dinner before Oscar drove Elizabeth home and stayed with her since Leticia wasn’t home yet.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagines #spooky diaz #lil spooky #spooky diaz x reader #the innocent oscar diaz fanfiction #julio macias #julio macias fanfiction #julio macias fanfic #omb #on my block #netflix #netflix on my block #netflix omb

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batscrem · 5 years ago

Photo

Realized I hadn’t posted this anywhere and also figured I should put something that shows I do like things besides Transformers. XD

Anyway, this is Maurice Del Ray, an OC for @harvest-honeymoon‘s project. I’m putting him up here in the hopes that I’ll eventually draw more with him. Details are down below for those who are actually interested!

Name: Maurice Guernica Del Ray

Del Ray Mob Capo/Family Doctor

Species: Mars Toon

DoB: March 15th

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Unadulterated Rage Demisexual/romantic

Personality: Has an explosive temper as long as the width of a hair, but can put together a quick plan if unprovoked. He’s loyal to his family and friends to a fault and worries himself SICK over them, though he... tends to show that poorly. Mostly through shouting at them about “‘ow much uv’n IDIOT ya are t’ GETCHERSELF ‘nta dis mess!” ... Oh, and he has a very thick New Yorker accent.

Abilities: Explosion Inducement (triggers by snapping his fingers while pointing with his index finger, but target needs to be in view)

Pets: a Doberman named Minor, an old and injured Pomeranian named Major, a python named Deimos, a female cat named Insight and a female Goliath Bird-Eating Spider (Tarantula) named Phobos

Likes: Hot sauce, a good fight, animals, learning/reading about medicine, his familia

Dislikes: Talking about his problems, not being able to fight, things being TOO FUCKING QUIET, upsetting/hurting his family, stupid people

#Lyra Art #Maurice Del Ray #Tales of Blue Yonder #Lyra OC

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mystblbk · 5 years ago

Text

La Hija--Chapter 3

30 YEARS AGO: MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

Lupe’s life had been a complicated one. She was born to a wealthy family, one that rubbed elbows with the world’s most notable wealthy. Her father Paulo Flores had created his empire out of hard work, or that’s what he would tell the many interviewers that flocked to him. The truth was that though the casino and resort business in Mexico was a booming one, the life of a crime lord was even more booming.

This is why the fifteen-year-old was here, hidden behind large packages of drugs in the barracks of La Familia’s house. After Alacran had spoken to her father to notify him of his group’s return, Lupe followed the young man down to the basement as quietly as she could. Her goal was to find El Chino, as she did every time Alacran's group went out, to check if his recklessness had done him in. Her concern was unfound as the tall teenager was fine and cheery as he polished his gun. Lupe’s eyes still look him over for sign of injuries but just as she’s finishing she jumps from the sound of the boy’s voice.

“Are you done?”

Lupe stands to her full height behind the packages, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

El Chino looks at her with a blank stare, “I’m sure you believe that.”

Lupe’s cheeks darken with a blush and she turns around with a huff. El Chino watches as the younger teenager walks in the direction of the entrance before rolling his eyes and calling out to her.

“I’m sorry for downplaying your concern, Princessa Guadalupe.”

Lupe stops mid-step. El Chino watches with a grin as she shakes with anger then flips him the bird and leaves. The eighteen-year-old boy laughs at her antics and shakes his head, still polishing his freshly used gun. The boy's expression turns love-stuck as he remembers the girl's face when he first saw her.

“Eres una niña traviesa, Princessa Lupe.”

------------------------------------------------ 18 YEARS AGO: SAN ANTONIO, UNITED STATES

Macario ‘El Chino’ Valdes had never thought he would fall in love, let alone get married or have children. Yet here he was sitting next to his tired wife of five years cradling a bundle of white and yellow blankets in his arms. He looks up to his wife and thanks her push to keep trying for a child after he had lost faith. He looks back down to the small baby and smiles with tears in his eyes.

“I’m going to have you so spoilt, mija,” he whispers to his baby, “I’m sure your tios and tias will do the same too.”

The baby does not stir as El Chino continues to coo to her. Lupe slowly opens her eyes and catches her assassin cuddling their daughter. A peaceful and humor-filled smile forms on her lips as he starts telling his story of meeting Alacran and being enlisted for his training. The heiress stays quietly watching until her husband tells the child about his run-in with the mafia lord, Paulo. It all seemed plausible until he described her father standing tall at the end of La Familia’s barracks with a thick Cuban cigar dangling from his fingertips.

“My papá never smoked cigars or cigarettes,” the woman mumbles half-asleep.

El Chino glances over at his wife and smiles, “He did in my mind at the time.”

The woman guffaws, her husband had always been dramatic. Her father was always the fit type that always works out, there is no possible way he would smoke like one of those tv show crime lords did. El Chino simply gins at his wife, content where this dangerous life had led him. Unbenosted to the new parents, Juliana had opened her eyes and was currently staring at the curious fit man and boney woman that are standing over her with appreciative eyes.

---------------------------------------- 12 YEARS AGO: MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

Alacran has been friends with El Chino for many years, almost twenty, and in all those years he had seen him angry countless times. He had seen him kill men almost three times his age and three times his size. He has seen him tear into anyone who had crossed him, and with this experience, he hopes his comradeship spares him from the mafia boss’ anger.

“Juliana,” the man shout-whispers, “Juli?”

Alacran sighs and stands up again from crouching under the barn’s table. As he huffs from standing up, he is no longer the spry twenty-five-year-old Sicario he once stared as, his eyes catch a blur of teal run out of the stable’s exit. The man quickly dashes off and follows the blur. As he reaches the open space near the stables, he sees a little girl with long hair run to the barn carrying something in her little hands.

“Damn it, Juliana,” he shouts, “You’re going to get hurt!”

The man runs to the barn and throws open the doors as he reaches it. He freezes in place stares with wide eyes at the scene in front of him.

Juliana, his six-year-old goddaughter, stood across from him in front of the makeshift shooting targets he and Chino would use every morning. The girl points at the targets and from the movement of her little shoulder, pretends she is shooting the weapon. It's an adorable yet terrifying sight, so Alacran tries his best to walk slowly up to the girl. Juliana’s eyes narrow as she hears the crunch of boots on dry hay.

Mi tio.

“What are you up to niña?”

Juliana looks up and sees her godfather looking down at her with frightened but patient eyes. Juliana looks away, scared at what would happen now that she was caught playing with her godfather’s gun. Alacran sighs and puts his hands over the girls head.

“If you wanted one, I could have gotten you one, tiny,” he mumbles.

Juliana looks up with shock, “For real?”

Alacran nods and carefully takes the gun out of the girl’s hand, “Sí, but only if you promise not to touch the real ones.”

Juliana looks down with a little blush on her chubby cheeks, “Sí tio.”

Alacran smirks as he puts his gun securely into its holder. As he looks up he catches the look in the little girl’s eyes as she turns to stare at the targets.

It’s determined.

It’s wild.

It’s fearless.

It the same look Chino would get whenever Paulo gave him a job to do.

Alacran chuckles, “I’ll teach you too.”

The little girl gasps and turns back around, “For real?”

“But no touching the real thing,” the man repeats with a wave of his finger.

The little girl nods eagerly with a smile, “Okay.”

The middle-aged mand shakes his head and breathes out:

“Traviesa.”

--------------------------------------- 6 YEARS AGO: MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

“I swear if something happened to her—”

“If something happened to her, I’ll kill them all myself and then I’ll take myself out!”

El Chino fumes back at Lupe, both concerned over their twelve-year-old daughter. The woman glares at her husband, not enjoying this ‘I-told-you-so’ moment one bit. Alacran along with Amie Perez had convinced El Chino that Juliana was ready to take to the streets. After six years of hidden training under the Sicario, Alacran could see the potential that Julian was. It was easy to convince Perez after having the young heiress run circles around the men she was training.

They had gotten together and sat down with El Chino and La Mujer to talk about the girl. After an hour of scolding for teaching the pre-teen all about the world of crime, El Chino’s interest was peaked and he wished to see his daughter in action. After witnessing his little girl run through the obstacle course with two fully stocked pistols and an AK-47 strapped to her nimble body, he reluctantly agreed to let the girl go on one trip with his drug trafficking squad.

That’s how they ended up in a screaming match in La Familia’s dining room—AKA La Familia’s meeting room. The two hot-headed parents stay glaring at each other then turn to glare at Alacran and Perez. This dance occurred many times in the span of two hours they had not heard from their daughter or the group leader.

“I’m not kidding Chino,” Lupe growls, “If my baby girl ends up hurt or—”

The woman’s sentence is cut off as the two heavy doors leading up to the room slam open and the subject of the whole room’s concern enters. Twelve-year-old Juliana enters dressed in full police uniform, a name of an officer attached to the name tag reads ‘Montilla’ and shines just as brightly as the badge above it. Over each arm is a duffle bag, so full that their forms are extended to the point of ripping at the seams.

“Holla,” Juliana greets with a wave, “Sorry, I got lost.”

The room remains quiet as the girl throws off the two duffle bags she has over her shoulder and onto the table. Juliana, in one quick motion, opens up one bag to reveal thousands of U.S. dollars bundled up inside. The other is treated the same way but this one contains the packages of drugs that were meant to be delivered. The young teen looks up and sees the room full of criminals staring at her with wide eyes and unhinged jaws. With a roll of her eyes, she begins to recount the event that happened earlier.

“The deal went bad, so they started a shoot-out,” she explains as she leans over to take Hernandez’s undrunk soda, “So when they weren’t looking, I ducked over and took both bags and ran. Somebody called the cops and a whole bunch of them showed up. I’m guessing the guys that made it out ended up in handcuffs.

“I honestly don’t know because I ran far enough to be caught by this stupid beat cop around the mall of El Este. He had me held up until he searched me and found all the stuff. Anyway, before he could call me in, I kicked his ass and knocked him out. I kind of had to dress up as him ‘cuz I stole his patrol car to get here, it’s outside so you’re going to have to do something about that papá.”

The girl then shoots them a dimpled smile before walking out of the dining room with a small but noticeable limp. The room remains quiet until Alacran starts laughing with both shock and amazement. The other leaders in the room share looks of concern while glancing over at their leader. El Chino just continues to stare at the door, his eyes unseeing. Finally, through his booming voice, Alacran speaks.

“I told you not to worry about that troublemaker!”

------------------------------------- 4 YEARS AGO: HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS

The sun glows down El Chino’s back as he stares out to the land that makes up his ranch. The horse under him digs his hoofs into the ground, impatient at remaining in one place for so long. The mafia lord looks to his right and catches his only child staring out to the property as well. The man blinks before turning back forward. He finally sighs and beings to speak after two hours of riding through the Texas wood.

“The day before I married your mother and a few months before your grandfather died, he took me on a ride like this one today.”

Juliana looks over to her father with confusion, “Papá?”

“He told me about his struggles to become the man that we was. He told me about his time in prison. He told me how he gained a dealer’s trust and then slowly another ten. He told me how they started working out of a small house and ended up in a warehouse outside of Piedras Negras. He told me about putting his life at risk to give everything he could to his wife and then to your mother. He told me about his near-death experiences, his successful deals, the rise of his casino business and expansion into resorts. He told me everything he thought I needed to know as his daughter’s husband.”

El Chino stops and looks at his daughter. Juliana stares at him with confusion.

The father sighs, “I’ve seen you grow up like a weed between two slabs of concrete, wild and free. I’ve seen you take down cartels with bullet wounds all over your body. I’ve seen you give orders and run operations like you were born to do it. You have defeated leaders and helped gown others. And to top it all off you have tackled Flores Co. with just that amount of intellect and determination. I want you to start taking over.”

“What,” Juliana gasps, “But I’m just a kid!”

Chino laughs, “That’s what your mother and I would say to your tio, but you know what? You’re not just a kid. You’re my kid.”

Juliana furrows her brows and stays silent, so Chino continues.

“You are my kid. My child. My daughter. Mi hija. You are wild. You are determined. You are intelligent. You are all of me and all of your mother, but you are also you,” Chino speaks with the seriousness of a man passing the torch to his child, “I believe in you. Your mother does too. That is all you need. You will surpass all that I have accomplished and will make a name for yourself. You will be your own person and fill the world with that narrative.

“But, how? I mean I’m a kid, and yeah you both believe in me,” Juliana half-yells, “What about everyone else? How do I get the mafia on my side? How do I get all those know-it-all men in suits to allow me to lead a multimillion dollar company? I’m fourteen!”

“You were born for this,” El Chino says with assurance, “You walk into a room and all eyes are on you. You command the space that you enter and demand submission. You outrun everyone and then some. You were born to shine in these circumstances just as I was born to do it too. I have faith in you because you are just like me.”

Juliana stares at her father, “Just like you?”

“You are me,” El Chino smiles, “But also your mother. And also, yourself. Which is why I have faith in you. I won’t give it all to you just yet, you’re barely turning fifteen in the summer, but I will give you parts until I see that you’re ready. I will never give you something I know you can't handle.”

Juliana looks down at her hands clutching her saddle. Her mind races of worse case scenarios until a thought commands her attention.

I will never give you something I know you can't handle.

Juliana looks up and catches her father’s hazel eyes. Between them, a whole lifetime of conversations passes through their connected stare. Finally, Juliana nods.

“Sí papá,” she says with a scared but decided voice, “I’ll take over.”

The man smiles as tears form in his eyes, “I knew you would, mi traviesa.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186732/chapters/45739531

#amar a muerte #juliantina #valentina carvajal #juliana valdes #fanfic

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morioh-killer · 3 years ago

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Alright, so could I get some s/h comfort headcanons for Kakyoin and/or Giorno? S/O really struggles to open up about why due to PTSD even after getting caught in the act. (And also not wanting them to worry.) Thank you so much again!

You sure can <3 I decided to do both characters because I can relate to all of this. Content is under the read more <3

Mentions of self harm

Kakyoin:

Kakyoin had wondered why you'd been in your room for so long and he took the liberty of knocking. "You alright in there?" He asked, his hand resting on the doorknob. With no answer, he let himself in. "Y\N?!" The scene before him hurt his heart and against his own will, Hierophant Green moved across the room to snatch your tool out of your hand. He was a moment away from showing anger but his heart told him otherwise. "Please... let me take care of this."

- Since then, Kakyoin remained at your side. He wasn't overbearing, he only feared for your safety. He never asked you to stop because a smart guy like him knew that was the last thing you needed to hear. In stead, he told you he loved you randomly. He told you to look at the flowers as you walked by them, he told you to savor your tea, he told you to take a long shower. Those things you didn't appreciate like you should have, so caught up in unwanted misery.

- If the urge hit you, he could always sense it. You didn't need to tell him, he just knew. Perhaps you've heard the suggestion 'use a rubber band!' 'Hold an ice cube!" Perhaps those things helped some, but Kakyoin hated the idea of you being in pain. If you needed to, he understood but he would prefer if you sit with him awhile, get your mind off things, watch a movie, play a video game with him. Maybe even win against him.

Giorno:

- Gio was always so busy he could often overlook things, but this? No. Gio never allowed this to be overlooked since catching you in the act. How could you hurt the thing he loved the most? "Amor, how can you do this? Tell me, please, what goes through that mind of yours?" You didn't want to say but he still pushed, only because he loved you so. "Please, at least let me... at least let me treat these." With the touch of a porcelain finger, your injuries vanished.

- Since then, you had the entire familia had your back, but Gio the most. He never for a moment, even a second, left you unattended. He would generate the most beautiful birds out of thin air just to make you smile. The glow in your eye he loved so much, the type of glow that rivaled both the moon and stars. "Look at that pretty smile."

- He made it a point to always ask how you were, even off handedly. He never wanted you to feel targeted, like an outcast, you were closer to him after all this. He loved you more than you knew.

- From time to time, he'd take you on a walk with no purpose, all you do is walk and admire the beauty of the world around you. he will never allow you to forget

#comfort #i hope this helps you anon

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duckball · 7 years ago

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The TuTu Episode w/ Patrick M. Dunn

The Big Brother house has gone wild! Julie Chen has barely had time to slip out of her Thursday night eviction dress and throw on some comfortable sweats. Paul has won HOH, followed by Jessica casually mentioning vague details about receiving America’s final temptation, Elena is pissed, Matt is (still) eating cereal, and what’s Mark been smuggling under those short pink shorts.

Confused? You won't be after today's episode of Big Brother!

Immediately following the eviction, Paul is pissed about hearing who received the final temptation. It all sounds a little too fishy to him. America? Saving the best temptation… for Jessica? What!?!? He bobbles his head around a few times in some diary room session to express his outburst of anger and then approaches Jessica that his feelings are hurt for automatically assuming Jessica and Cody are going on the block. Record scratch. Jessica can see right through you, bro!

Meanwhile, over the last several days Elena and Mark have been flirting with the idea of realigning with Cody and Jessica. This looks suspicious to Paul, so he sends Josh on a top secret message to annoy the hell out of Mark and dig his claws deep into that meatball’s brain… by banging pots and pans in his presence for days on end and shouting his various catchphrases aloud alongside shoutouts to his familia.

Elsewhere, Jessica and Cody are colored with curiosity on whether or not Paul will ask them about the rules of Jessica’s temptation hex. Cody thinks this is the perfect opportunity to strong-arm Paul into nominating two other people. Fret not, Bro! Paul is chilling in the HOH room as he speaks plotting some big boy moves with Alex and Jason; more specifically the other end of your double date spectrum, Mark and Elena.

Outside of Jessica, the only other houseguest Cody trusts is Mark and he wants to make sure Mark isn't a target to Paul. Cody slips into the HOH room to charm Paul with his <sarcastic font> amazing </sarcastic font> social skills only to be shut-down by Paul, “Whatever happens this week; just let me do my job!” Cody is pissed. I think? He only has one facial expression.

Later, Paul and Alex are pondering backup plans: Mark and Elena... As long as Mark goes up, Mark goes home. Sounds good, what could possibly go wrong? Oh wait, Elena’s input! Post-blindside, Elena doesn't feel so welcomed inside Paul’s inner circle. However, Paul plants some seeds to keep the trust alive; such as begging Elena to pivot away from Mark.

Later Mark is stoked to inform Elena that Cody and Jessica are willing to work with them. Elena feigns excitement in Mark/s presence but confesses to America that she did not put her hectic life on hold to throw away her game for a DUDE. It might just be time to pivot, girl.

Oh, it’s time for the TEMPTATION COMPETITION that has been unleashed upon the house for Jessica accepting the temptation hex. The winner gets safety for the week and the loser is the third nomination of the week.

We get a huge montage of houseguests debating of whether or not they should participate in the competition:

- Cody wants to compete and Jessica accuses him of not knowing what a poker face is. - Paul asks Matt to participate in the competition and agrees because he’s a team player… who does whatever Paul says. - Elena flirts with the idea of competing but decides not to because she wants Paul to think his pivot plan is now in motion.

The houseguests are called into the den one at a time and if they wish to participate they need to drink the potion out of the green bottle, if not take a swig from the red bottle. It’s very Matrix-y, but with clearance items from a nearby Pier One Imports.

Mark, Alex, Matt, and Jason all drink from the green bottle. Kevin asks if it’s wine before taking a swig from the red bottle. Honestly, I’d probably ask the same question.

The competition is Bowlerina, a combination of bowling and ballerina. It looks familiar, but what do I know? Basically, the rules are to knock down four bowling pins in the quickest time, but there’s a wall blocking the pins. To temporarily remove the wall, you have to spin like a ballerina… while wearing a tutu. Eh, I give up on explaining the rules.

Jason is awful at the competition and got the worst time, three minutes and thirty-seven seconds. To the chagrin of Paul, Mark pulls out the best time: one minute and eighteen seconds.

Paul is pissed with the results and has to do a little adjustment on his Plan B. The whole goal was to get Mark out of the house but now it looks like Elena is next in line. Speaking of Elena, she is scared that Mark is safe this week. Keep on pivoting, girl!

Pre-nominations, Jessica and Paul have a little discussion about the nominations. She is worried that someone close to her will be going up... and is super vague to Paul about the rules of her temptation hex. Jessica eventually gives Paul the opportunity to ask any questions he may have about the temptation hex, but he’s like fuck it, he’s going to try and nominate them anyway.

Oh and when the nomination ceremony is over, and there are no crazy alarms or Vincent Price Thriller-like voices announcing that Jessica and Cody cannot be nominated, the whole house is confused… and Jessica is laughing because for once she has the upper hand.

Or does she?

#bb19 #big brother #big brother usa

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lovelywaifu · 7 years ago

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Here’s the RP log I promised (part 1)!

As a warning: right now it is minimally edited. There are so many typos and shit I want to die but it was all done on the fly in a window that did not have any kind of spell check feature. Just uuuuuh... use your context clues. Yeah.

I’m breaking this into parts because it’s just way too long to subject someone to in one post.

Session started 2010-12-08 19:47:41 good times

Okay: Obligatory notes on wtf happened. Asa is badly... hurt?? at the beginning of this. Her body was 3 kinds of fucked up and she was suuuuuper struggling with it. She is working for a guild as a thief for the money to support her pregnant best friend who recently lost her mate. Asa is trying to keep working and has been loyal, but the way they are treating her throughout the story makes her realize she needs to gtfo. But since they basically own her, it’s not that simple. Her thief persona is called Kumiho and she wears a mask shaped like a fox. I’m not including a lot of the drama with Pheno leading up to this because that would take FOREVER. Yes, Volpe was based off the Assassin’s Creed series but in the map I ran, pretty much everything was fine so long as everyone had fun with it. His player spoke Italian, so there is a lot of that in there.

Here we gooooooooo:

Kumiho slipped her mask on over her face, hiding her gender and identity from the world once more as she stepped out of the Hideout. Going home was the only thing on her mind for now, though the assignment she had just picked up weighed heavy on her mind. Not because of the target or difficulty, but because of her growing frailty. Working -even just getting around- was becoming an impossible chore. The pain that ran through her becoming beyond unbearable and it showed in her ungraceful gait, lack of flexibility and general not being in top form. Even now, she trekked through the jungle with noisy footsteps and an echo-y pant in the hollow of her mask. She took a moment to pause and stop near the little dock, but noticed someone not too far away. She quickly ducked into the bush, cursing her luck and carelessness. La Volpe, fortunately for her, had not seen anything careless. His bright brown eyes were busy paying attention to the girl that so craved it, prancing in front of him like a cat mreowling for attention. "And what is your name, generous stranger?" The woman purred, tongue thick with local accent. Volpe seemed quick to answer, that smooth smile and charming look could bluff his way through any amount of lying. "Angelo." His own Italian accent said, "Angelo Cirocco." And then adding, as if to strengthen his cause, "My familia owns a wealthy trading market. I inherited it from my padre and I've been traveling with it ever since." The girl he was with made a noise of amazement. "That's so wonderful! I bet you're wealthy beyond belief!" In one smooth movement Volpe's arm slipped around the girl's waist, "More then you think, signora. If you like, I could show you some of my...wealth." A Cheshire grin spread across his lips as he lead the girl on, not waiting for her response. Volpe wouldn't have to. Lead them into a story about wealth and family and you'd have them dangling from the rod like starved fish. So, he and his new companion trawled through these unnamed streets, ones that would have no meaning to him. They stopped occasionally to speak to women, sometimes men that this lady seemed to know, chatting like old fishwives as Volpe sat quietly and patiently. Thankfully he was a patient man, else he would of not gotten where he was today.

Kumiho's ears perked as he spoke his name. Whether it was truth or lies, she had no clue but that accent grabbed her interest almost immediately. Always keen to the characteristics of targets, she decided that it might be in her best interest to keep an eye on this man she had never seen before. But, oh how that damned pain was troubling her! Left with little choice, she decided to tail him. She kept a little distance, though always within earshot of him. She was far too easy to spot on the streets, with the fox mask drawing the curious glares and questioning stares. Maybe it would be easy to drop her disguise. He DID seem to have a fondness for the ladies. And in normal clothing, she would be able to follow him without fear of being recognized for what she was. Having never worked without the protection of her mask, she was distracted by the hard choice. She stumbled right into a trash bin, knocking it over. A soft, sharp "fuck!" escaped her as she scrambled for cover.

La Volpe's acute senses had been picking up some strange vibes, the sort you got when people were staring into the back of your head. But he resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder, not wanting to discourage his tagalong. That was until the trashcan spilling onto the streets, hands twitched from the woman's waist and to the hidden dagger on the small of his back, grasping the handle though not removing the weapon. He managed only to catch a brief glimpse of this strange being before they disappear, but enough to see that vulpine mask. "What..." He gasped, not quite sure what he had seen. Without thinking he dashed off after the stranger, before stopping at the calls of, "What, where are you going?!" Thinking fast, he replied, "I, uh, forgot about something, someone that wants to make a business proposition. I will return, signora." And with a polite bow he continued chase, not really intending on returning to the femme who's name he didn't even know. "You!" Volpe called, rounding the corner she disappeared behind. "I know you are there." The street was quiet, a back alley that people tended to avoid. Volpe could see why; it smelled faintly of bodily secretions. "Hiding is useless, uno strano. Come out. I promise, I won't hurt you." Italian charm rode upon every syllable, his obvious unawares on the workings of the foreign city on his promises, and a lack of trust there in as the hand upon the blade refused to move as he inched further into the street. He was not afraid, he had come out of dark alley brawls many times and this was no different. A thief wanting gold, an assassin of a jealous man who's woman he happened steal; he had seen it all before.

Kumiho - What a dilemma... Run for it or play it off? Neither was a very good option. If she ran, the chances of her actually getting away in her condition were pretty much zero. But she casually came out from her smelly hiding spot between trash bins, what would she do? Say "whoops, you caught me!", have a good laugh and then go about their merry ways? She thought not. She took a moment to take inventory of herself. No weapons, terrible pain, lack of options. Wonderful. She sat a few more moments, silently trying to think of a way to slip by him. But, alas, there was really no way out of confronting him unless she attempted to run. She eyeballed the wooden fence at the end of the alley. It likely lead to another street, giving her a chance to slip into the evening crowd. I could scale that... she thought to herself. And she had a straight shot to it from her hiding spot too! The more she looked at it, the better it seemed - like a hungry man staring down a sub-par meal. With her mind made up, Ku made a mad dash for the fence, trying desperately to ignore the screaming pain that shot up her spine with every unfortunately footfall she made. She was running out of breath within seconds of her sprint but she continued on. It seemed like the alley went on forever. For a second, she even forgot what she was running from. But then reality snapped back into place and she glanced back, hoping she was miles away from the stranger by now.

La Volpe's hindsight had seen the dash coming; like an animal that was being cornered they had seen no other option, and in one movement Volpe was over the fence and the dagger withdrawn from it's sheathe. He, although probably much older than the other, in her weakened form he would be gaining on her, the distance between them getting smaller and smaller with each step. Brown hues kept a lock on the other's legs, watching, waiting for the right moment then...holding the dagger by the tip of the blade he threw it in a powerful over shoulder throw, aiming for the crook of one of her legs or at least somewhere close. His running had slowed as he regained himself from the throw, waiting now to see if his hit had landed before picking up the pace again.

Kumiho had turned just to look just in time to see him fling the dagger at her, but not in time to try and move out of its path. The next she knew, there was a dagger buried in her calf. Predictably, she couldn't help but cry out in pain, dropping her forced voice and giving a hint to the female under the masculine guise. It wasn't very often that she was at the receiving end of a blade and the shock of the pain made her leg stop responding just enough to send her knees, arm and face into the road with a little skid. Instinct kicked in immediately, though not for the better. She pulled the knife from her leg and clench the wound. But hearing him approach drew her attention away from the wound. She shot him a angry glare, but said nothing. She couldn't think of anything to say. Her only thoughts were: I'm in trouble...

La Volpe knew well enough that she could not possibly get up and run after having a knife embedded into her calf. Face was caught somewhere between a frown and surprise; it hadn't taken him long to get tailed, a new record perhaps! He sauntered over to her fallen frame, grabbing her roughly by the collar and pulling her to her feet - the mask causing whatever gentleness he would of given to be mistaken for the likes of a man - free hand clenched into a fist just in case the stranger needed a little help in talking. "Who are you?" He gazed hard into the eyeholes of the mask, "And why do you wear the mask of a volpe?" He was sure whether to feel proud or angry that someone wore something similar to what he did. "Who are you hiding from with that mask?" Volpe made the movements to remove the mask, pondering the importance of the stranger's identity.

Kumiho grunted and groaned as he dragged her up and made her stand on the wounded leg. Now, she was really, really in trouble. In her head, she cursed and berated herself for putting herself in this position. And it was a position she wasn't terribly familiar with. She didn't have the razor-sharp wit or cunning that would allow her to sweet talk her way out of sticky situations - but to hell if she wasn't going to try! She answered his questions in the order they came; all with the forced, breathy voice she talked in when masking her naturally feminine tone. "No one of importance." She met his gaze with her own. Those silvery blue things giving away the immense pain and panic. "If you want to know about the mask, I'm afraid you'll have to buy me a drink. It's a looooong story." Sarcasm practically dripped from her words, but the humor was cut short when he reached up take grab at the mask. "Don't you dare," she growled, in a much more serious voice. La Volpe snatched the dagger from where ever she had kept it, wiping the blood from the blade onto one of her trouser legs and sheathing it again, making sure that she could not use it against him. A smirk danced across his olive features, hand remained suspended in the motion of removing the mask. "Oh?" Tone pitched in interest. "If you were no one importante, you would not care for me to see your face. There must be a reason you hide it away, signor, unless you are unfortunately brutto." He brought her up and pressed her up against a near by wall, grasp tight across her collar and hand curling around the lip of the mask. "I could buy you a drink or two, mister. You need not tail me just to get one from me, I am a generous man." He played along with her sarcastic tone with a playful one of his own.

Kumiho snorted at his comments about her wearing the mask. Naturally, she didn't understand all the words he used, but the context of them could only lead to passing insults, she assumed. "Maybe there is, but why would it be important for you to know who's underneath?" Answering questions with questions, what a fun game. Having to deal with pain and conversation at the same time, it was hard to think of a next move. She considered using the first resort that most females used against a male - a blow to the jewels. But with the mask on she couldn't judge where her knee was in relation to him. Plus, a failed attempt at such was likely to end up with a less-than-favorable beating. "Who's to say I'm not just a curious passersby? Or maybe it was your lady friend I was following. Your assumptions are rather arrogant." La Volpe seemed to have read her mind, as his hand shifted so that his forearm pushed her throat against the wall, hard enough for her not to wriggle free but loose enough to let her breathe and talk. The other hand went to find that fresh wound, index and middle fingers finding the gap that the blade would have made and gave a quick press to it. "I am not stupid, my friend. That lady was just a puttana that worked in the brothels. She holds no importance." Hand remained touching the wound, adding only a small amount of pressure. "So, anyone that would have been tailing us, would have been tailing me, si? Besides, who wouldn't send someone out after a wealthy noble men, hmm? It seems to be common practice nowadays."" And then, at the arrogant comment, he gave a little chuckle. "It is part of my charm, signor. The ladies certainly don't seem to mind it." Volpe's smile remained, but his eyes flared with seriousness. "Now then, back to business. Just tell me who you are, what you are doing, and I might let you go. If not, I'll just have to reintroduce you to my blade. I don't think you two properly met."

Kumiho coughed a bit with the sudden pressure on her throat. But when he went to re-attack the wound he had made on her leg, her mind really went into panic mode and she was struggling to keep herself in check. She was in no condition to be in this kind of predicament. A startled cry echoed behind her mask in all its girlish glory. Tears sprung up against her will, though she managed to keep herself from sobbing like a fool. Pain on top of pain on top of pain. That was definitely not something she was used to. But she couldn’t betray her guild, and was going to refuse to speak of it until the bitter end if need be. Still, little details wouldn't hurt for now. She hesitated at first. "I'm a thief, that much is true.Who I am is not to be spoken. I'm only tailing you out of curiosity." That was half lie, but hopefully good enough to pass. La Volpe's lips spread into a satisfactory smile. Oh, how he enjoyed that sound. Eyebrows raised in surprise at the stranger's voice, however, and how many octaves it had increased by. "Say, you're not quite a signor so much as a signorina, si? Clever disguise, my friend. Even I was fooled." He let a little of the pressure off, fingers hovering threateningly over the wound in case she tried something funny. "A thief, eh? Just some petty thief wanting to steal from the pockets of the rich? I don't believe you. Petty thieves don't use get-ups. Come on, signorina, you are only making it harder for yourself." Pressure was reapplied, hand tightening around the wound like a vice grip. "I could sit and do this all night. It's one of my favourite past times. But I can't let you bleed out into the street, now, can I? Perhaps if you are a little nicer I'll take you to a doctor and get you seen to."

Kumiho was trying so hard to keep her mouth shut. She had thought herself to have such a high tolerance to pain, but here she was driven to the brink by one of the most basic plays in the book of torture. "I'll take that as a compliment." She groan as he went right by to playing her wound. A passing hunch was telling her that perhaps he was the man that she was supposed to be targeting... No ordinary man would go through this much trouble or know how to do these things - nobleman or not. And she wasn't absolutely certain it was him anyway. That was all the more pressure to not break. But the pain! "I'm-" she bit her lip, "hired..." That was all she said before decided she had said enough. She decided to go with her earlier plan and go for the groin. But with her blind spot, she was more likely going to aim too low and hit his thigh or too high and get him in the gut.

La Volpe was certainly not an ordinary man! As no ordinary nobleman would indeed not know how to torture information out of another. But who he was remained a mysterious to everyone he met, each identity different from the last. Quite like the femme before him, he'd rather keep his true occupation a secret, lest they know they were quite similar. "Hired for--" He was cut off from the blow of her knee, thankfully missing his precious jewels but catching him in the abdomen. The absence of armor meant that he was met with the full force of the blow, and despite being physically fit it managed to catch him off guard. His grip slipped away from her as he tried to catch his breath. "Ah...bastardo..." He growled through gasps of air, recovering moderately though his side still stung - maybe even bruise. What a punch this girl could land!

Kumiho was thankful her blow had landed. Even if it wasn't where she was aiming, she took what she could get. She mustered all the strength she had left to push him off and make a run for it for the second time. She considered ducking into a crowded shop or tavern, taking off her mask and trying to blend but the huge racoon eye makeup she used to black out her eye area would probably grab his attention. He wasn't a gullible idiot like many of the others she had dealt with. He was going to notice her in a crowd. She ran guided by instinct -and panic- but with a limp thanks to the overworked wound on her calf. And with her heart racing, a nice blood trail was left where ever she went. Eventually, she ducked into a different alley and collapsed against a wall. She didn't bother to see if he followed, only ran with the prayer that she'd lose him.

La Volpe steadied himself against the other wall as he was pushed, letting her get away while he caught his breath. "What a woman." He muttered to himself, laughing, "I've never seen a signorina hit like that before." Cutting the chatter to himself quickly he followed the traces of blood out into the street. But the crowds made it impossible to follow whatever blood was left. He considered very briefly returning to his abode and retrieving his own mask and weapons - and armor, in case she tried the jewel trick again - but by then in might be too late. She could easily change her own attire, remove the mask and walk freely among the streets past him. "Cazzo." Soon he found himself scaling the rooftops, catching just a glimpse of the girl as she sped off into some other alley, bounding and leaping over the buildings and their obstacles like a madman. "Here kitty, kitty. I won't hurt you, micino gatto..." Volpe would say as he dropped into the alley way he believed her to be hiding in, Italian accent rolling off his lips like syllables of soft velvet wrapped in the deep purrs of a sensual beast; some sort of coy to luring her out, of course not, an attempt of faking her out, or at least intimidating her in some way. He'd remain unarmed for now, the blade on his back and in his boot would come in handy should she try to strike at him. Kumiho, hearing his voice approaching, quickly inspected this new alley for a place to hide. But it had little to offer. But she had to get away and soon; her strength was starting to go. She felt woozy. All she had was a clothesline, a barrel of rain runoff and all the trash cans a girl could ever ask for. So she did the one thing she could do: a makeshift makeover. Though it was disgusting, she removed her mask to wash the black from her face in the rainwater. She stripped to her undies in record time, changing into a shirt and loose shirt from the clothesline. She dumped her clothing in the trash -it was bloody anyway- but there was no way she could leave the mask. That was far too important to her. So she gathered more clothes from the line, carrying them as any lady would when getting her laundry from the line. Buried in it, her precious mask. She did her best to walk casually down the alley as just any-other-chore-doer, even managing to hide the limp... mostly. It was an extraordinarily risky move; she had never let anyone see her face. Not even her trusted allies. If he found her now, he would know more about her than most of her allies and enemies combined. But if she kept running with her mask on, she would be just that much easier to pinpoint. Her hasty plan was far from flawless, however. Her one oversight being the biggest: a growing bloodstain on the back of the skirt.

La Volpe kept cautious, walking in slow, deliberate steps as he rounded the corner...only to be confronted by a woman with folds of laundry. "Mi spiace." He gave a polite bow on his way past, checking the near by trash cans and nooks and crannies for any hiding felines. Perhaps the lady had seen something. As he turned to ask for help, he'd spot that dark stain, funnily enough right where he had thrown the dagger into the femme's leg. Cursing himself inwardly but smiling outwardly, he approached the lady with a trot. "Mi susci. Have you seen a woman around here? She's injured and I am so terribly worried about her. She got so frightened that she ran off, please, I need to find her." He was a good actor, not failing to put on a good show. Though he had another trick up his sleeve should she find her way past this one.

Kumiho, for a moment, thought her clever plan had worked! He was passing her by! Or... not. Curse him! She did her best to act her part as well, not wanting to let him get the upper hand. She gave him an annoyed look and allowed herself to speak in her own voice now. "What am I, a babysitter now? First I'm sent to fetch a neighbor's laundry and how I have to look after a date gone bad?" She was doing her best to sound genuinely annoyed. That didn't take too much effort, not surprisingly. "Men these days are forgetting how to treat a lady. Always talking bad about them and forcing them to do this and that!" She continued to ramble on about nothing, trying to walk away from him all the while. Why was it all these alleys were so long?

La Volpe was genuinely surprised at the response. He hadn't seen this reaction coming! "Susca, sigorina." He'd give another bow. "I did not mean to upset you. I was just curious to know if you had seen her. I did not mean to burden you with my troubles..." He watched her walk away for a moment, before catching up to her. "Here, sigorina. Let me take that for you. It looks awfully heavy. Your neighbor must not appreciate you." He'd chuckle as he went to take the bundle of clothing from her, all in a generous act of kindness of course. "And besides," He'd lean in a little closer just to say a little quieter, "That injured leg of yours must be hard to walk on."

Kumiho- "No, I've got it." She scrambled for more to say, some excuse to make him go away. But before she could, his last comment struck her into silence. "Fine," she said with a heavily sigh. She shoved the pile of laundry into his arms. She buried her arm in it, pulling her mask out from within it. She looked at it sadly before dropping down to one knee, as her guild dictated was customary in a surrender or to admit defeat. "You win. I don't have the strength to play cat and mouse anymore." She clenched at her wound, finally able to put pressure on it. She looked up at him, clearly upset and weary, and awaited his actions - whatever they may be. La Volpe remained quiet at her defeat, waiting 'till she had finished her surrender before actually doing anything. The piles of laundry where discarded onto the floor behind him, forgotten and unneeded, as he bent onto one knee and placed a hand upon one of the feline's shoulders. "Sigorina...We should get you to a doctor before that wound of yours gets any worse, hmm?" He spoke with a kindness not yet used before, "My intention is not to kill you...Maybe not now anyway." He paused to give a faint chuckle, "I, uh, apologize for stabbing you. I let my instincts get the better of me sometimes." Another chuckle ensued as he rose to his feet, offering the femme a hand up. "Come on now, let me help you. It's the least I can do, after stabbing you and all."

[There was a pause here so the transition is a just slightly off]

La Volpe had remained relatively quiet as they reached the doctor's building, He'd offer the femme help to walk, even gentlemanly enough to offer to carry her should her leg be too painful to walk on. He felt somewhat bad for stabbing a woman...such thing wasn't something he did regularly but tried not to live by morals; they could get in the way of his chosen occupation. In any case, he let the doctor do his thing, the wound deep enough to need some stitching but not deep enough to be a serious wound. It could leave a scar, he would say, depending on how she looked after it as it healed. Volpe paid whatever fees and asked for a little time to talk to the girl, all done out of the way of Kumiho. He'd enter the room she was in, closing the door quietly behind her. "How are you feeling?" His eyes traveled to her injured leg then back to her face. "Again...I am sorry for inflicting the wound. If I had known..." He hesitated for a moment. "...If I had known had not you did not mean me any physical harm I would not have thrown the knife." Volpe offered a sort of half-smile. "Now, down to business. What were you doing, ladro? I know you are no petty thief. You are something more...serio. What did you want from me?" He'd lean against one of the doctor's medicine counters, crossing his arms across his chest, brown eyes kept upon her. Asayl was able to hobble along on her own - for about ten minutes before having to reluctantly accepting help. As the panic from the chase wore off, her flaws set in. She was hemophobic and struggled with the fact that she was bleeding. As the doctor worked, she kept her eyes shut tight. Her stomach turned at the very thought of there being blood on her but she somehow managed to keep from vomiting or passing out. At her request, the wound was heavily bandaged to that she wouldn't have to see it or any blood that may escape the stitches. As Volpe entered the room, she took it upon herself to put on a tough front again. She shot him a hard look. She snorted at his apology, obviously very upset that he had injured, outfoxed and unmasked her. "Still so arrogant," she huffed. "I told you already: I was tailing you out of curiosity. I've taken a job to get something from someone who has an accent like yours. So when I heard you speak to that girl, it caught my attention. For all I know, you're just some whore-loving man with a funny accent. Chances of you actually being who I'm after are slim. And besides, I'm no killer. I'm just a thief." She took a deep breath, still trying to steady herself a bit. She muttered under her breath. "Being out done by some kook in an alley... getting me to take my mask off... stupid!"

La Volpe did not break off his own stare nor loose his smile as she turned his way; such games were amusing to play. "Mi sucsi. I doubt I am the only man with a weakness to foreign ladies. As for my funny accento, well, you ladies are just the same with foreign men." Smile morphed into a lopsided grin as he rolled his shoulders some. "A kook? I am hurt. Surely I appear to be more than some crazy turistica. Business would not do well if I was but a kook." He quickly regained from the derailed conversation, eyes averted to the fox mask, where ever she may of sat it. "The mask. Why do you wear it? What sort of meaning does it have?" He'd lean off of the counter, sauntering slowly over to her, towards her mask, taking in the detail, still surprised at the seeming coincidence. But nothing was a coincidence, was it?

Asayl didn't like the way he talked. Not just the funny accent, but the emphasis he used and the very words themselves. Even if he hadn't caught her in the leg with a dagger, torment her and chase her down, she probably would not have liked him. Before he could get the conversation back on track, she managed to spit, "sane people don't throw daggers when someone tries to run from them." As he approached her, she snapped up her mask from beside her and move it to a more protected spot: her lap. "The same reason anyone would wear a mask. I don't want anyone to see my face when I work. I'd rather not have to worry about the constant threat of being stalked for revenge when I'm not working." She paused for a moment, looking a little embarrassed. "The meaning behind it is a long story. It's none of your business."

La Volpe, however, found the femme quite interesting indeed. A little firecracker with a silver tongue to boot, it wasn't often you met a lady that could hold her own. At least, not where he came from anyway. "And what is sane to you, signorina? Those that do not wield weapons for the sake of security, or at least know how to wield a weapon?" He threw his arms open into a wide, over-exaggerated shrug. "I am insane for knowing how to wield a blade. So be it." His tone was cavalier. "But that is not why I am still here. You are hiding something, signorina, I know you are." He'd lean in close to her, eyes squinted as if he were attempting to peer right into her soul. "You are not who you say you are. My instincts tell me you are something...something quite pericoloso."

Asayl would have had a weapon if she hadn't been heading home from a non-job-related task when she chanced upon him! She wanted to argue that, but held her tongue. Maybe the less that came from his mouth, the better. Besides, when someone says their many weapon is a stick, they tend to get laughed at. "Oh course I'm hiding something," she said with a 'duh' look on her face. "Just because you got the better of me doesn't mean I'm going to spill every detail of who I am and what I do to you. That would be idiotic." Then she decided it was her turn to ask questions. "And what about YOU, hmm? Why so interested in me - in my mask? You're just as pericoloso as I am!" Naturally, she completely mispronounced the foreign word.

La Volpe smirked, standing tall at his full height, gazing away from her. "Of course not. Where is the fun in that?" He glanced back at her, "I just love squeezing out information. And if you are not willing to part with it eventually...I have my ways. You don't think I'm going to let you go and wave you off, now, would you? I'm sure we'll be spending lots of time together." He emphasized 'lots' quite strongly, squinting his eyes in a mock-evil manner. Volpe laughed quietly, though did not correct her. "I could be very dangerous indeed. It depends on how you look at it." He paused for devious chuckle. "But because I know how to fight makes me dangerous. I could be a humble nobleman for all you know. So, la mia piccola volpe, what do you know about me?"

Asayl scoffed. After what had happened, she knew he wasn't just talking big. But still, she didn't quite buy his act - nasty laughs or not. She stood, injured leg giving out for a split second, though she righted herself in time to not look totally lame. Spending 'lots' of time with him was the last thing she wanted. "Hmph, you expect me to spill my guts but you won't play fair. What a gentlemen you turned out to be." She eyed the door. There were others around... if she cried out would people come to her aid? She imagined the doctor was at least a little suspicious of the circumstances that she and the man had entered. She decided to be a little daring and push her luck. It could work... maybe. She started to walk across the room toward the exit, limping but confident. "I don't intend to play your little games. I told you all that you need to know. You've had your fill, pig, now go back to your sty." . La Volpe allowed her to step forward, thinking that she was not intending to leave the room. However, as she made her way towards the door, he found himself leaning quite contently at the door frame, arm across the door in such a way that he looked as though he was just casually leaning against it but was in fact blocking her escape. "Me? Un porco? Not quite the resemblance I would have made. I would of thought more of a cat, maybe...a fox. But that is another matter." He gave a cheery sort of smile. "I am far from full, amore mio, and far from done with you. Now, shall we leave? I am sure the dottore needs to tend to other patients." Volpe moved from the door in one fluid movement, standing beside her now, one arm draped across her shoulders and squeezing it tight. "The night is still young. Come, I'm sure a couple of drinks will loosen that sharp tongue of yours." He'd begin to guide her out of the door, thanking the doctor and keeping a firm grip on the girl as the entered the streets.

Asayl gave him another sharp look as he casually blocked her way. She was starting to grow very, very suspicious of him. She couldn't tell if the fox comment was meant to mock her or enlighten her but she decided it was safe to not ask. when he put his arm around her, she flinched quite noticeably. This was not going the way she wanted, not at all. She stayed silent until they were back on the street. If he was dangerous, she guessed it was better not to repay the doctor for his work by putting him in harm's way. But once out, she talked again. "I don't drink," she announced sternly. This was a fact. Alcohol did not mix well with her in the least. "So, you're going to keep an innocent girl captive now? You're being awfully concerned about letting a girl who doesn't know who you are go. So I guess that means you're hiding something too, aren't you?"

La Volpe snapped the fingers of his free hand together in a 'well, damn!' manner. "How sad. You are missing a lot in life. Don't tell me, you're a Catholic too?" He'd offer a single raised eyebrow and another smirk. "Please, you are mistaking me. I only want to make it up to you. It's not everyday I get to stab a gentildonna." He'd then give a dark, devious look. "I could be. Or maybe I want to seem pericoloso to make you think I am hiding something. Oh, the possibilities!" Free arm was thrown up in the air in a wide arc. Asayl didn't reply to his joking comments. She only stared at him with a half-unamused, half-disgusted look that only the most unhappy people in the universe could produce. "You're a bad liar. If you were really just trying to make it up to me, you wouldn't have mentioned squeezing information out of me or spending lots of time with me." She suddenly stop walking, putting on a more serious face. She was catching on now. She worked with others like him, after all. There was definitely a chance that he was the one she was targeting after all. "I may not know exactly who or what you are, but I know you're games." Any attempt of him trying to put his arm back around her or touch would be met with immediate and fierce resistance. La Volpe would pout. "My dear, there is more than one way to take a man's comments." Though he would hesitate before waving dismissively. "But you're a little young for my tastes. Mi sucsi." Another eyebrow was raised now that she was getting serious, and he dared not try to put his arm around her again. It would be like putting his hand into a box of angry, poisonous snakes. "And what, signorina, games are those? If you care not to beat around the bush, why not just come right out and say it? It's not like I cut your tongue or anything." Volpe walked a little further on then stopped, turning on his heel to face her with a look of seriousness, one that had not been worn since the chase.

Asayl was silent for a moment, still with that tense-jawed look of seriousness. "Lying, double talk, being passively intimidating so that you remain in control with less chance of your victim lashing out at you. You're like us, aren't you?" 'Us' being her guild - the band of thieves and assassins she worked with. Her silver eyes locked squarely with his. "You do dirty deeds for money. I bet you even hide your face, just like me. I bet I can even guess your name." She started walking again, this time to pass him and continue down the road. If she turned and pointed and shouted his name, everyone passing nearby would hear. "Would you like to hear my guess?" La Volpe frowned, not quite knowing who 'us' were, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. She was really onto him now, a wildfire that had spread and now was out of control. There was no way he could weasel his way out of this one. A dark look crossed his face as she goaded him, a quick and dangerous saunter narrowed the distance between them, now standing merely inches away, bundling the scruff of her collar in his fist like he had done before and drew her ever closer to his face. Although the action might of seemed aggressive, he was being more than gentle with her. "Go on then, signorina." He spoke quietly, threateningly, "Who am I?" Asayl didn't bother to move as he closed in on her. She could play games too. She allowed him to get uncomfortably close and then closed the gap between them by giving him a sort of hug, hands placed on the backside of his shoulders to push him against her. To any passing drunkard, it may have looked like she was encouraging a kiss. At least with his hands up where she could see, she didn't have to worry so much about suddenly being attacked with that damn dagger again. She move to her nearly cheek to cheek with him, whispering in his ear rather than shouting aloud. "Where's your mask, La Volpe?" A part of her almost hoped she was wrong.

La Volpe was surprised at her actions, not quite sure what brought on this sudden urge for closeness after wanting to repel him for so long. Then, he almost felt his pupils dilate at the soft whispered name. How the hell did she know? With elegant swiftness he had thrown the femme around the corner into another alley way, keeping a hold of her collar as he backed her up roughly against the wall. Other hand went for that dagger she had been acquainted with on the small of his back, withdrawing it and putting it to her neck with almost lightning speed. "How..." It was an almost predatory growl, "How do you know, ladro?" Teeth bared as he fought hard to keep his anger sated, though the best idea would be just to slit her throat to keep his secret, there must be a link somewhere. Someone else might of told her, and killing her would only make the trail cold.

Asayl grunted as she was pushed back into the wall. It still hurt scrambling back on her lame leg and hitting the cold stone wall but at least she had braced for it properly. It was a nifty thing she had picked up from an assassin friend, holding and enemies shoulders to feel for when their muscles tense to signal a coming movement. She would have to thank him for that later if she managed to get home in one piece. The knife at her throat had her concerned. Still, it was her turn to smile. She got it right, it seemed. Too bad he didn't have what she needed with him or maybe she would have moved a little faster. "It's a secret," she cooed. "But it seems like we're even now. I've seen your face and you've seen mine." She didn't make an attempt to fight back just yet.

La Volpe hadn't actually planned on using the knife, it was more of an intimidation method...which had obviously failed. Teeth gritted against the femme's playing, not liking it now that the tables had been turned on him. "True. We are even." His eyes would narrow, "But I am still not letting you go until you tell me what I want to know. You still have your use...for now." His accent remained the same, giving his voice that smooth, velveteen touch despite his obvious anger. "Now come, ladro. Let us not play anymore games. Tell me your intentions. I grow tired of this balleto we are dancing. Tell me, and you can have your leave." The cold steel of the knife pressed softly against her flesh and fur, soft enough not to harm but still make its presence known. Asayl's coy grin grew wider. Maybe there was something fun to all this rough stuff she avoided after all. She was genuinely excited now that she had the upper hand. "Oh, now you want to stop playing games? What happened to all the fun and smiles from when you were toying with me? I thought you liked games." In the back of her mind, she was trying to conjure up a way to get out of this without slipping him anymore clues as to what she was after. Fighting back while unarmed was out. Running... well, that didn't work the first time so definitely not now. Maybe she could schmooze her why out by playing the seduction card? He wasn't too hard on the eye after all. She pondered. "And if I still have my uses, why so cruel as to hold a knife to my throat? That's very rude of you."

La Volpe frowned again. He knew he was loosing control of the situation and was beginning to panic. She was on a roll and he didn't know how to stop her. Then, out of the blue that wry smirk returned, knife hesitant to return to its sheathe. "Oh, I do like games. But I like to be in control. I am a controlling messere after all, just like you said." He'd then loosen himself off, removing the knife from her throat. "Very well, signorina. I will play your games. Let's have a little fun, eh?" He'd snort, "It's not rude to pull a knife on un porco when they are to be slaughtered. Only, this little porco wriggled its way out of the pen and has had a taste of freedom." Asayl- Phew! It was a wonderful feeling to not be in immediate danger of having a slit throat. There was still the matter of just getting away from him somehow. But that posed its own problems. He didn't know her alias or her real name, but with a few well-placed questions, it wouldn't be too terribly hard to find the name of the thief with the black and silver fox mask. This whole situation was leading down some dangerous roads. "What happened to what you said about not wanting to kill me?" She leaned back against the wall comfortably now that he had backed off. "You're going back on everything you say, Volpe. And here thought you were a more honest man. Really, if we are on even terms now we should be a little nicer to one another. I'm very nice when I'm not being threatened." She eyed him less tensely now. It was almost a friendly look.

La Volpe smiled now. "I never said I was going to kill you. Threatening someone with a knife and actually slitting someone's throat are different stories, don't you think? Don't make me sound like a disonesto messere." Arms would open up in a somewhat friendly gesture, like he was about to bring her into a hug. "That sounds fiera to me. All this threatening isn't very gentiluomo of me. What say we talk it out, like civilized persone, mm?"

Asayl- Good, he's smiling again. She was learning it was much easier to deal with him when he was smiling. She didn't push the threat things anymore, despite her urges to point out all his implied threats. "Yes, let's." She finally pulled herself off the wall to take hold of his hand and urge him back into the street - back to where she knew he wouldn't just up and kill her at the drop of a hat. The little prance in her step hurt her sore leg but she endured. At least it was distracting her mind from her other pains, likely from riding the adrenaline rush. She looked back at him with an impish grin and a suggestive shimmer in her eye as she mentally prepared herself for what she planned on doing. "Take me somewhere, Volpe."

La Volpe was impulsive and unpredictable at best. However, when deciding the fate of another he tried to be a bit more reasonable. He'd glance down at his hand as hers slipped into it, offering a confused frown of sorts. The sudden change in attitude was nice, but he couldn't help but feel that she had some sort of ulterior motive...but he said nothing. He'd wait it out, just going along until he knew for sure. "Where would you like to go, amore mia? You have already mentioned that you do not drink, so a tavern is out of the question. A walk through a quiet park, perhaps? Or is there anywhere nice you would like to visit?"

Asayl shrugged in a pseudo-carefree way. "This is a strange city to me. It's my first night here. Maybe you know where things are? You just have to promise to not drag me through anymore alleys. I'm not very fond of the smell of garbage." She glanced down at herself, just to reminder herself what she looked like at the moment. Right, a frumpy peasant top, a bloody skirt and a fox mask. That wasn't exactly night-on-the-town wear. "Maybe somewhere more... secluded. I'm not dressed for the occasion, obviously." La Volpe chuckled some. "I promise. Alleyways aren't the nicest of places in any sort of occasion." The more she spoke the more he was sure about ulterior motives, but again to couldn't be too sure. She had already somewhat admitted to 'being like him', without actually admitting to it. She was a dodgy sort of gal, much like himself, full of double meanings and facades; he could never be too careful. "Isolato, you say? That only makes me wonder what is going through that head of yours." He'd glance at her with grin. "I am new to this city as well, but I pretty much have the most important areas learned." He needn't say what these areas were. "Come, then. Let's go for a wander." Volpe would take her away from the heart of the city, having already commented on her own dress sense he figured she didn't want to be seen by the social community of the city. Volpe would take her to a public garden of sorts, surrounded by the ruins of a once previous settlement that was strangled by vines, a cobbled path cutting through the center with different off turnings around the ruins and flora. Flowers bloomed in their radiant colours, though in the setting of the sun they had closed over, hiding their fragile organs from the darkness settling in. Lanterns had been lit throughout the course of the path, the halos of those further ahead obscured by the blossom and red maple leaves of the trees.

Asayl smirked with a little tee-hee of a giggle as he led her off. She spent most of the walk plotting out her moves and planning for if something went astray between the idle (maybe awkward) chitchat that took place. But Volpe was a smart man. He wasn't going to be tricked so easily. Never the less, she had to give something a shot or she was never going to be able to get home. When they arrived at where they were going, she was impressed. Such a beautiful garden! Her love of all thing flora almost made her melt. Composure! she shouted in her head. She wandered over to a long-still fountain choked with lily pads and singing with frogs. She took a seat on its edge and motioned for him to come over, patting the space next to her. "So, let's talk."

La Volpe was not about to allow her to stray him from what he wanted to know - he knew that she would try every trick in the book to get out of this awkward situation. He would try to remain as positively focused on what he wanted to know rather than letting the conversation slip. At the offer he'd come to lean on the lip of the fountain, arms folded casually across his frame. "Yes, let's talk. Now then, little ladro, why don't we start off with what you actually know about me, mm?" He'd turn to give the femme beside him a sort of sidways glance, intent on keeping a watchful eye on her, on her movements, her body language; anything that would let him know what she might be thinking or planning on doing.

Asayl shrugged as he looked her way. She was going to have to keep an eye on him too if she didn't want to find a blade in his again. "Funny you should ask that," she chuckled. Just to draw the moment out, she leaned back on her lands, letting her legs stretch out -though cautiously with the injured one- and across at the ankles. "I don't actually know much about you. All I know is that there is a masked assassin much like me, fox mask and all. Only, he has a very distinct accent, very much unlike me, and he calls himself La Volpe. And that is the extent of what I know." La Volpe's mind would wander to thoughts about his own mask. How it was sitting in a locked box underneath his bed at the inn he was staying at, along with all his other assassin equipment. A hand would begin to play with a ruffle at the end of his shirt. Despite his previous boasting about having a foreign accent, it also proved to be one of his downfalls, especially in an unknown land like this. "Hmm..." Was his only response for now, remaining in thought. The information she had was pretty basic, but enough to find a trail of some sort. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, signorina. You say you are 'like me', which I presume to be that you are an assassino, or something of the sort. May I ask, are you involved in a guild of that nature?" He paused for a moment. "I was attacked by a thief who had claimed to have come from a guild...Esoteric, I believe." It had been hard work trying to squeeze that piece of information out of him, and possibly resulted in his death. That, among other things of course. "And that has led me here. And strangest of all things, I am attacked in this city too, by none other than another ladro." Volpe turned now to look at her, coy smile on his lips. "So, signorina, do you have any connections to this guild?"

Asayl's cheery expression faded for a few seconds to some sort of uncertain face. All their conversations felt like they were a race. "I think I've already told you everything about me by now. And I've already said that I am not a killer. I'm a thief. Just a thief. That is the honest truth." She may have sounded a little offended. She didn't like being accused of murder, even under the context of being an assassin. Her ears perked slight at the mention of Esoteric. Ah, the guild leaders were not going to be happy that their name had been spilled. "I do work with a guild, yes. It's hard getting work as a lone thief. But the name of it isn't really something I'm willing to tell you, unfortunately." Crap, she was slipping away from her plan of action. "But what does any of that even matter," she asked in a sing-song tone. She shimmied herself over closer to him, though not quite touching him. "It's too nice of a night to talk about such dirty things."

La Volpe always wondered why people referred to the jobs of assassins and like-minded people as 'dirty'. Under the context, perhaps, but he had never connected his occupation to the likes of filth or other degrading factors. Maybe it was because he worked close with such things; maybe not. "I never expected you to tell me anything about them, signorina. All I needed was that link." He'd smile again, though it quickly faltered some as she shuffled towards him. Shooting her a quick glance now, wondering what she was up to. It might be one of her tricks, or perhaps she was just being friendly. There was no way to tell at the moment, but Volpe couldn't help but feel cautious. "What would you rather talk about, then?" Asayl- "Well, who you kill and where they're from doesn't really matter to me. It's not my concern." The second sentence was in a cheery tone. She noticed the drop in his smile and teased him about it. "Oh what's this? You don't want the company of a pretty lady like me now that I'm being nice? Or maybe you're the type who likes to be rough up by women?" She laugh aloud. "Don't worry, Volpe, I don't bite. I told you I wasn't a killer, right? I'm not much of a fighter either to be honest!" Was that a lie? Maybe. Maybe that knee to the gut was just a fluke, a lucky shot by a panicked cat. "Let's talk about you now. You know everything about me and all I know is your alter ego. So it's your turn to tell me about you. The real you, not the mask." She leaned, ever so slightly, toward him as she spoke.

La Volpe quickly offered her a sharp look, smirk twisting underneath. "Oh, I am not complaining. Though, usually when I chase a pretty woman I usually don't end up throwing a knife at her." He'd laugh, raising an eyebrow. "I like a rough woman as much as a gentle one. But that just depends on my mood, ultimately." He'd say nothing about her being a fighter, though. "All right then, signorina." Smirk morphed into a lopsided grin; he was up for playing her games, now. "What would you like to know about this fabled 'real' me? It is just as any nobleman's would be." Any nobleman that didn't play at an alter ego, that was. Asayl- "Yes, you really should work on not doing that anymore," she joked. She was annoying him, she could tell. But it was kind of fun annoying him so. "I'm very gentle. No really, I am!" She held her arms out in a limp, noodly fashion. "I don't have the strength to be rough." That was a lie though. Her usual outfit and the peasant top she currently wore did a grand job of hiding her toned arms. Still, she stuck with her story. "No it isn't. You're very different from any noble I ever met, except maybe in your fondness for drinking and chasing skirts. That seems to be a requirement of nobles. I want to know other things. No one just picks up any old mask and decides they want to be an assassin. So something must have happened to spur you into action."

La Volpe raised an eyebrow. "Some how a doubt that. You managed to evade me for quite some time, and got a nice kick in at me. Perhaps not strong enough to be rough, but you are definitely strong enough to put up a good fight." He wasn't going to let that slip away from him, whether she was trying to be annoying or not. "Drinking is an art form. That is a fact. How others like yourself do not take part confuses me so." He would grin, baring his teeth, "Chasing skirts. What an interesting phrase. Another art form, most definitely. The chase is usually the best part of the kill." Kill used in the non-literal sense. "Of course not. One that kills without reason is nothing more than a murderer. I have my reasons, and they remain as secret as your guild." He smirks, "I am allowed to keep mine, too. Besides, remaining dark and mysterious is always attractive." Asayl shifted all her weight to one hand so that the other could remain up to wave off his comments. "True enough, I guess. I'm much more apt to run than fight though. My strength was made for climbing, not throwing punches." She put her other hand back down and went right back to her reclined position. She let the conversation flow now, trying not to press him too hard though she was getting impatient about leaving. She didn't want him too get too riled up. "A shame to you, a nightmare to me," she pout-frowned, "alcohol works too quickly on me. I'm stupidly drunk after just one drink. So I stay away. It's not worth my time.” At mentioning that being dark was attractive, she couldn't help but sigh. "Yeah, I found that out a long time ago, thanks." It was an oddly misplaced comment but she quickly moved on. "If you won't talk about that, then tell me why you wear a fox mask. It doesn't seem like a fitting choice for you." La Volpe made a 'tsk' noise as he chuckled. "Yes. Such a shame indeed." He then frowned at the strange comment, offering a confused, "You're welcome." He thought about the fox mask again, wondering what she found so strange about the idea. She wore one herself, though their reasons where probably different. "What, would you prefer I wore one of un porco?" He joked, before getting serious, "I liken assassino to volpe. Quiet creatures, lurking in the shadows. Always seen as vile to common folk, but there is always something more to them. Creatures of lesser thinking know more about survival than we do despite us being of higher evolution, so to speak. The assassinos are not bound to morals, to law, to common thinking." Volpe paused, thinking. "Hence the name, too. La Volpe. The Fox. I find an odd biased liking to the vulpines more so than any other creature." Asayl rolled her eyes with a giggle. "It might be more appropriate." She listened to his explanation intently. Ah, so he just saw them as better than other animals. Playing favorites, who would've thought it was something so simple. It was far different from her long-winded story of betrayal and revenge. Not that that was something he needed to know. His sudden seriousness was dampening her plan though. Though it wasn't a very well laid play and dropping it was starting to seem like the more sane option. She didn't have the heart to try and seduce him. She wasn't going to be caught being unfaithful for some killer. Instead, she decided it was time to cut to the chase. "Well, now that we know each other a little better, I have to ask: what's it going to take for you to let me go home? Surely you have no more use for me." She was much more serious in both voice and expression now.

[We stopped but discussed the outcome from this OOC. Asayl is not allowed to leave at all. In fact, he knocks the everloving shit out of her and drags her off someone where she is bound and tortured for info for some time. There is a small fast forward. A new character, Nero, enters. She is Asayl’s best friend.]

La Volpe: The facade of the tavern did not reflect the room that they had been staying in. Rich colours of red, gold and purple decorated this master sized room, filled the most luxurious things the tavern owners could get their hands on. The king sized bed at the far end of the room even seemed small in comparison; a four-poster bed with crimson soft cotton sheets, semi-transparent purple drapes and an oaken frame that had been stained dark with polish. Cupboards and cabinets were like-wise, gold leaf making intricate patterns upon the doors, silver bowls and other expensive pieces of junk the owners thought would look nice. Whatever Volpe did as a second occupation, he was certainly good at it. Especially for Asayl was a large velvet chair, to which her wrists and ankles would be bound to when not up for one of her routine exercises. It was sat furthest away from any windows, cupboards; anything that she could use to set herself free. Her mask was sat upon a near by cabinet, propped up so its empty eye sockets would peer longingly at her. Just something Volpe found quite amusing. The Fox himself, on this particular morning, was sprawled across the bed, tobacco cigarette betwixt fingers as he casually exhaled smoke from his nostrils. "Buongiorno, singorina. I hope you slept well." He paused to allow a chuckle to rumble in his chest. "I hope today will be more progressive than it has been for the past couple. Surely by now you miss your home enough to divulge me on the information I want. If not, well, I have all the time in the world." He glanced at her from his lying position, grinning a Cheshire grin. "I'm sure a little more time together won't hurt." Eventually he would roll off from where he was, digging his bare toes into the thick carpet beneath them, strolling up to one of the windows. "I have an associate of mine coming here today. He will help keep an eye on you."

Asayl was not happy at all about her situation. Firstly for the stupid mistakes she had made that had gotten her there and secondly for the way she was bound to her luxurious prison without a plan of escape - or much chance at making one. The passing days crawled by a pace that could only be described as torture. But the way Volpe acted, he seemed to be enjoying every moment she was miserable. She would have pretended she was having the time of her life, just to annoy him, but she simply couldn't anymore. Without her usual comforts from home -and her friends and Pheno- it was hard to deal with the pain that constantly tormented her. She slept often just to make things easier on herself. At night, she was likely to keep Volpe awake with her pained whimpers and occasional sobs when the aches got really bad. When she was awake, she didn't talk much. She had talked herself out by the first night. Instead, she sat and and glared him with that certain kind of seething, intense hatred. The news that someone new was coming intrigued her, but pissed her off at the same time. She slumped over in the chair unhappily. Now she would never have a moment alone. She said nothing in response but simply made a grumpy noise to announce that she was peeved by the idea.

Alley Cat had just arrived in that very city only twenty minutes or so, and before making his way up to the room Volpe had with his prisoner, Cat had decided to wander around the interesting place. Not a moment he stepped off the boat he had come in on a group of young delinquents had pick-pocketed him of a few gold coins; so when he approached a food stall and found he was a few coin short he found himself being run off like a stray cat in a kitchen. A little disgruntled by the experience he decided he had enough of the sight-seeing and headed straight toward the tavern his mentor had decided to hole himself up in. After a few whispers with the bartender, he directed the mangy feline toward the room. With a small rapataptap of his knuckles against the door, Cat slipped into the well-decorated room. "Mentor," Cat gave a small, respectful bow before caramel eyes would flash toward the female. "Is this the prisoner, or have I walked in on something here?" Nero Of Wolves: Still she refused to give up, obviously very concerned for her friend and her unannounced absence. It worried her even still to find that the trail led her to a city, which usually held many dangers within itself Nero stopped and casually leaned against a nearby wall, giving a gentle shake of her head. Calm down and think, she said quietly to herself, or else you won t be any good for anyone. Where would she be if she were still here? The lycan thought hard, wondering if Asayl had any friends that she would stay with in the city. Still, that left the question of why she hadn’t left word. No, something was wrong. Her hand lifted and fumbled beneath her curls, bringing out a picture of Asa that she had kept beneath the fabric of her necklace, looking at it with a rather lost expression. Where are you she asked to the open air, only lifting her gaze to look around again. A tavern was across the street and to the right. She gave a little shrug, unsure of where else to look at this point. Besides, taverns were usually the places to go looking for someone, wasn’t it? Nero only hoped that these folks weren’t the unpleasant slurry types. Stepping into the tavern, she made her way to the bar and ordered a bit of gin and tonic, just enough to calm her nerves at least. Her eyes looked around, wondering what kind of place this was. Certainly was fancy.

La Volpe's attention was taken away from Asayl as Cat walked through, and at his words a little smirk danced across his lips as he glanced back to her. "Oh, no. Not interrupting anything, this time Gattino." He sauntered over to the chair Asayl sat in, leaning an arm around the back. "She is just a friend of mine. We're playing a little game. She won't give me information, so she's been tied here." He took another draw of his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards her as he got up and walked over to Cat. "She is the reason I summoned you. I need an extra pair of eyes to make sure she doesn't escape. She is one firecracker of a troia." At that he would finish the cigarette, the butt finding its way into a near by glass ashtray. "Keep your eye on her, Gattino. I mean it. She's a smart signorina." And before he disappeared behind the door he'd offer Asayl a little parting smile. Something to remember him by, of course. Volpe would find himself down at the bar, thirsty for something with a little kick despite the time of day. It wasn't like anyone was going to stop him. Another cigarette was lit up; something he didn't do unless stressed, and that was something Asayl was doing, even if he didn't make it far too obvious. Idly his free hand would run across the scar on his face, tracing the groove down towards his lip, deep in thought.

Asayl watched Cat enter, immediately giving him a viciously dirty look. She snorted as Volpe so rudely blow his smoke toward her, shaking her head a little to fan the stuff away. She hated smoke. But otherwise, she remained but a lump on the chair - silent and unhappy. A bit of a disgusted frown found its way to her lips as Volpe smiled at her from the door. She was silent for a long time after he had gone, ignoring this new figure that had been sent to watch her. But after what could appropriately be described as 'forever' according to how it felt, she finally turned to the cat for just enough time to take in what she looked like. Her voice was hoarse, whether from disuse or overuse was a mystery. "Mentor," she scoffed, "what a joke. That man is an arrogant piece of trash." She appeared to be talking to herself. Alley Cat watched as the human exited the room, before eyes returned to the fellow feline. There he stood for a few moments, watching her movements, body language before he would perch himself upon the end of Volpe's bed, not breaking his gaze. He waited for her to speak, though the first couple of moments it seemed she was going to play the silent game. That was okay, he could play that game too, and so he did; peering at the female contently in the silence. Ears twitched at the sound of her voice, and a small smirk coiled the corners of his lips. "Not fond of him, eh? You wouldn't be the first," Cat gave laugh that sounded more like he was getting strangled. "First it's 'Ohmigawd you're so beautiful, handsome, sexy' ... then it's BAM, you asshole! Blah blah blah. You should know, you're a female. You're all crazy like that," The tabby-like creature gave a small, disconcerting wave in her general direction. Though Cat was very fond, and grateful, to Volpe, his skills in seducing women was something he was ever envious of. Tail would flicker awkwardly behind him as he looked curiously at her, head tilting to right slightly.

Nero Of Wolves sat there for a while longer, becoming nervous again despite her efforts to calm herself. She had to keep moving if she were to have any hopes of catching Asayl's trail again, if there was any trace left to begin with. It was then that she smelled it, if only faintly through all the man musk and smoke that dwindled in the air around them, that familiar flowery scent of her dearest friend. She became more alert, though the lycan did so in a way so as not to draw too much attention to herself, pretending to fix her hair while she tried to get a better idea of where it had come from. Her eyes moved over to the man that had sat down only a moment ago, becoming suspicious, though she was only acting on a hunch. Nero had to move closer to find out for sure. Usually, speaking with strange men was out of the question, but nothing would come of it if she meekly stayed in her seat and simply waited for Asa to fall into her lap from the heavens. So, after a little pause, up she stood, taking her drink with her to stand beside the stranger. She offered him a smile, wondering if he was the type that liked to have a lady around each arm. It was risky, but at least she could get away if he wasn't the lead that she thought he might be. "You look like you could use some company. May I...?" Nero only hesitated briefly before taking a seat next to him, unwilling to be rebuffed so soon before she even had time to investigate further. "I'm sorry if you find me a little straightforward. I'm new here, you see..." Her hand moved to bring a bit of hair behind her ear as she spoke, playing a bit more of the 'blonde' than she would've liked, but this tactic usually worked. "My name's Nero," she added at last with a smirk.

La Volpe was pleasantly surprised at the encounter, turning slightly to face the stranger with a soft smile on his lips. "Not at all, signorina. I enjoy all the company I get." He'd purr, quite happy to find another humanoid after having come across so few in the city. "Il suo un piacere conoscerti...ah, excuse me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Nero." He'd offer a handshake, and if taken he would take the back of her hand to his lips; a formal greeting in his society. "You may call me...Angelo." Volpe lied easily through his teeth, "The more straightforward the better. I like a woman that can get straight to the point." Hand that had been touching his scar now patted the seat beside him that she was hovering beside. "What brings you to this city? If you do not mind me asking, if course." Volpe would smile again, leaning an one elbow onto the bar, the other in his lap as he held the cigarette away for her, in case she disliked such things. Asayl sat there with increasing discomfort. The very way Cat spoke grated on Asa, much like Volpe. Funny how things like that rub off. She wouldn't have said much more if he hadn't made the comment about women being crazy. He might of been on to something, but that doesn't mean that she couldn't be offended! For the first time in a week, she laughed. "How would you know? You don't look like the type to get very much attention from any sort of woman." There was no need for her to be nice to him, so she came right out and said it. As long as he didn't turn to torture like his lovely mentor did, she was going to say whatever she damn pleased. She shifted in her four-legged confines, trying to find a way to stop her restraints from digging in so harshly or at least to find some position tolerable for more than two minutes. She went about effectively ignoring Cat while she did this, not hearing many of his comments until after she had either settled or given up.

Alley Cat looked, for a fraction of a second, like he was about to fly right off the end of then bed and attack her, but he quickly regained his cool. "That's fine by me, I never really liked women anyway," Cat gave a casual shrug as he made himself comfortable again, "Females were always so vain, though if you throw a few coins at little sluts like you, looks don't really matter now, do they?" A large grin sprawled across his face as he looked smug with himself, thumb and index finger coming up to rub at one of his twisted whiskers. He didn't expect her to reply, thinking she might go back into the silent treatment again, so Cat made himself more comfortable on the bed, laying down upon his stomach with appendages sprawled, though his golden gaze never left her form. "So," He coughed, rolling slightly onto his side. "Whatcha do to make Volpe tie you up like this?" He thought a casual change in subject would hide his curiosity in the captured femme, though it was poorly disguised.

Nero Of Wolves immediately assumed that this man was from another country, judging by his accent. It wasn't often that she had such an opportunity to speak with foreigners, so she couldn't help her heart skipping a beat or two over it in her excitement. Her hand went to his, but it was during this time that she caught another clue, this time it was obviously coming from his clothing. Whoever this Angelo fellow was, he had made contact with Asayl quite recently. Her suspicions were correct after all. Though, how and why were other questions that needed answering, not to mention 'where was Asa?' With the introductions over with, she gave him a smirk and a nod in reply. "I see. Well if you like the straightforward type, then I will waste no time in asking what's really troubling me..." With that, she revealed the picture from her other hand, placing it on the counter and sliding it a little toward him as she did so. "I'm looking for this woman. She's about... oh," she gestured with her hand as she continued. "this tall... with a little bit of a limpy shuffly walk if she's feeling stiff. Her name's Asayl." Nero watched him with some interest to see if anything quirked his interest, keeping an eye on his body language especially. It wasn't usually the expression that gave people away, it was their posture. One stiff movement or shaky wrist was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. "You haven't seen her have you? She's been missing from home for about a week without a word and I heard from some locals that she was seen around here someplace recently... I'm worried." Nero frowned, her true concerns showing through. She only hoped that he was the truthful type and that he wasn't really the reason for her absence. If anything, he could've easily stolen some poor sap's clothes, leaving the real culprit out on the streets.

La Volpe watched cautiously as he was handed the photo, instantly recognizing the femme in it. Of course, he wouldn't just go 'Oh, I have her tied up in my room. No need to worry!' For a split second he faltered, letting a frown steal away his smile. "I do not know this woman. I am sorry." Volpe offered an apologetic smile as he handed the photo back. "That is quite worrying." He's manage to say, downing his drink so that he did not have to say much. "I can only wish you buona fortuna in finding her." He'd quickly glance at her, flashing a smile. He was good at hiding body language and little quirks people could pick up on, but he nearly completely faltered there. It was something totally unexpected, out of the blue and certainly dampened his plans. He would need to get out of here, with Asayl in tow...but how? "Mi sucsi. I think I am going to go for a stroll. Too nice of a morning to be wasted in here, don't you think?" Volpe had already paid the tender, so only pushed the empty glass to the other side of the bar before getting up from his seat. He'd turn to Nero, though, and offer a bow. "Sorry I could not be of help. If I hear or see anything I will see what I can do." Playing one of his usual lopsided grins before departing, and just as he got out of sight a heavy frown took his face, pinching the arch of his nose tenderly. Barging in on whatever conversation Cat and Asayl were having, he seemed unaware of the two other beings in the room, intent on only locking the door and trotting over to the window, checking for Nero's departure. "There is someone here," He'd eventually say, not bothering to turn around, "Looking for you, signorina. Goes by the name Nero. Do you know who she is?" At this point he was looking towards her now, a dark and most serious look that looked out of place compared to his smirks and smiles. Asayl snorted again. No words actually came from her to respond but with her face and tense body language, it was likely that he could see that he was pissing her off. And how. At least with Volpe, there was a kind of dance their conversations took, filled with sarcasm and fake kindness. But Cat... was just annoying. When he decided to change the subject, she decided her voice could use a little stretching. "That moron of yours attacked me for no reason. All I did was follow him for a bit before trying to get away and the bastard attacked me." She voice was taking up a hint of angry growl and tears were forming in her eyes. It was frustrating to hear herself say these things aloud. "And now he refuses to let me go because I got to see his face and because, apparently, I'm withholding some sort of imaginary bit of information from him." She was dangerously close to crying. And even more dangerously close to being absolutely and completely infuriated. The week of captivity had done a bang-up job of breaking her. Naturally, Volpe would bust in with perfectly terrible timing, though he didn't so much as glance at her. She would have repaid the favor but when Nero's name popped up, her ears flew up and a horrified look crossed her face. If Volpe knew who Nero was and she Nero knew her, that means she must have said something to tip him off. With both of them now in danger, her anger swelled. "Don't you DARE touch her!" She jerked in her confines, shouting for the first time since they had 'met.'

Nero Of Wolves wasn't sure what to make of this fellow. He was charming enough certainly, but the fact that he had made contat with Asa and refused to mention anything about it troubled her immensely. She would've thought little of it if he had stayed to talk with her about other things, but since he seemed to leave in such a hurry, she became increasingly suspicious with a twinge of anger in the lining of her emotions. His words and actions didn't line up and though she bade him a fond farewell, the lycan was eager to follow him and see exactly where he intended to run off to. If anything, she might be so lucky to corner him someplace and get the information she needed if necessary. Nero took her time with her drink at least, surely giving him the impression that he wasn't being followed. Now that he had his scent, it would only be a matter of time before she caught up with him again. Still, her nerves prevented her from staying put much longer before she too paid her way and moved to leave, taking the same path as he had done only a few minutes ago. After all, Asayl may not have much time, depending on what Angelo intened to do with her. It would be a heavy burden indeed if she were responsible for yet another death, especially of someone she held dear to her heart. A deep frown etched itself onto her face, briefly thinking of Enryous and Ero before quickly refocusing on her task with even more determination. It wasn't long before she found them, her ear pressed to the door just in case. She could hear the voice of the stranger, but most importantly, the lycan heard the familiar sound of Asayl. Many emotions flooded her at once, only briefly glancing around before promptly shouldering the door. Sure, he had locked it, but a little lock was nothing in comparison to her strength, even while in her human form. The door opened with a crash, splinters from the wood flying in the air as her eyes rapidly scanned the room, spotting Asayl in the chair, and her captive. A deep snarl escaped her, the sound of strong loyalties shining through in it as she rushed him, fully intending to pin him to the wall like an insect on display. "LIAR!"

La Volpe instantly let a smirk fall onto his face at Asayl's sudden dismay. "Oh? So she is dear to you, then?" After Cat's dismissal, Volpe went for the box under the bed, though retrieving at such an angle that Asayl would not be able to see what he was doing. And just as he unlocked the damn thing the door seemed to magically blow itself from its hinges. Peering around the side of the bed Volpe could not help but feel surprised and shocked to see Nero. "Cazzo." He cursed quite calmly, quickly slipping on his greaves that contained his valuable hidden blades from the box and taking his war hammer to hand. "You really think I would just tell you I have your friend locked up, puttana?" He snorted. "Stupid girl." Arrogant as he was, he certainly wasn't stupid. A girl that could shatter a door was no ordinary girl. "I'm afraid I can't let her go just now. Once she has given me the information I need, she is free to go. But until then, she stays." As he talked had been slowly slipping on his other armoured parts, chest plate, vambraces; it didn't take long to put them on, and he prepared himself for a possible fight. His grip on the hammer tightened, and he began to brace himself. "If you leave now, I will not have to kill you. Let her stay for a few more days until I get the information I need and she will come home safely. I will make sure of it." But Nero didn't seem like the type to accept such steep demands. In fact, he was more than certain that she would attack without even regarding his offer.

Asayl didn't say anything but stared daggers at him as hard as she could. The way he reached under the bed to get something was suspicious, but she had a feeling she knew what he was getting. She had guessed who he was correctly, yet she hadn't seen him in his mask this whole time. She had opened her mouth to snap some choice words at him, but instead shrieked as the door was rammed in, taken off guard completely. She turned away, just in case any lovely shreds of wood flew in her direction. The alarm quickly turned to utter surprise when the voice of her dear friend reached her ears. At this point, she didn't even know what to think. "Nero?! What the hell are you doing!" Still very much tied to her chair, she was all but useless. But the way Volpe calmly outfitted himself irked her and she continues to fight against the ropes. She was going to have some serious ropeburn to deal with. "Volpe, if you do anything to hurt her, I swear I'll never let you see another day!"She was no killer, as she had mentioned many times to him, but she was willing to make an exception. A very big exception.

Nero Of Wolves found herself becoming angry with him, his arrogant attitude showing through at last, though she had drawn too much attention to herself already. It was time to go, before any reinforcements arrived. Surely the entire tavern heard that clatter, not to mention felt it through the very walls and if this guy was serious, then it was possible that he worked with others to get his dirty work done. The possibilities were endless, but of little concern to her. Right now, her main priority was to get Asayl out of there and fast, especially since her eye caught sight of his hammer. She visibly tensed. Ordinarily she would've taken the risk of hard knocks, but the silver that was embedded in it worried her. Hopefully he didn't know what she was, or else it was possible for him to gain some sort of advantage. The idea now was to keep away from those weapons while making their escape. Her attention focused on him, not considering his proposition in the slightest, though she made her movements in this dance. "You've kept her long enough. She's needed back home. What information could she possibly give you?" It was then that she spied the mask that Asa has made, her brows furrowing a moment before returning her attention to him, stepping closer as she spoke, trying her best to keep her composure.

La Volpe did not know who or what she was, fortunately for her. He presumed that she was just a tall lady that was more than capable of knocking a few heads together. He'd watch as she spied the mask, then watched Asayl's reaction, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Oh, so I take it she hasn't told you? How very sneaky of you, signorina." The latter sentence sounded as if he were scolding a child. But he said nothing of its origins, not yet anyway, wanting to keep at least some control of the situation. "I cannot allow you to do that, Nero." Hands twitched, surreptitiously checking if the hidden blades worked, "If you cannot take my offer, I am afraid you will have to die. She stays here." His tone was more threatening now, like the rising growl of an angry dog, "If you just let her stay, everything will turn out nicely for everyone. We can all ride into the sunset laughing about how silly this was." Despite cracking a joke his tone and body language were tense.

Asayl- "Shut your mouth," she barked at Volpe. Still, this wasn't the best way for Nero to find out that she was still out sporting her mask - or anyone for that matter. For a fleeting moment, she imaged Silv's and Pheno's reacts if Nero let word slipped she had upgraded from coping mechanism to real crimes. Asayl continued to fight the ropes -maybe feeling one get a teeny bit looser after a week of pulling at it- but remain trapped.

Nero Of Wolves didn't exactly know what he was referring to, her eyes looking between Asayl and the stranger with great suspicion, though whatever Asa's reasoning was, it would wait. She watched him, her gaze hardening to more of a cold glare, one that she rarely gave to anyone. "You're in no position to bargain. Your words are nothing but petty lies! If you seriously wanted to give me an option, you would have offered me collateral in return. Asayl is too precious to leave in your care, you two-faced snake, even if you did have something up your sleeve. Either you give her up now, or I'll be forced to tear her away from your coils." All the while she was moving closer to them, so now the stranger and his captive were only a few feet away, though her eyes were always on him, body tense for any sort of movement he made should he attack.

La Volpe would slowly edge his way around towards Asayl, so that Nero would not be able to grab her and run. He stopped for a moment, nearly surprised and turned to give Asayl a quick glance. "So, that is your name signorina. Asayl. Quite unusual." Volpe silently thanked the lycan for giving him another link. He didn't quite like being called a snake, but he couldn't exactly blame her. Lying outright to her face surely would of pissed her off something awful. "I see. Well, it seems we are stuck in this stalemate of sorts." He would then chuckle, "Oh, but I did offer collateral. You get your dear Asayl back alive. Because, I'll let you in on a secret, usually my torture victims don't get out alive, but I am willing to make an exception. So, unless you have another idea I do believe we will be stuck like this for quite some time." Eyes never left Nero as he spoke, though remaining cautious of Asayl behind him. He didn't want to get overpowered by two women; well, not in this situation.

Asayl: [I am half tempted to bite him in the ass] Nero Of Wolves: [LOL] La Volpe: [ I thought you might do something like that. xD I was hesitant to bring him around to Asayl because of it. ] Asayl: [You can skip me this time, I guess. Asa is tied to a chair, the end.] Asayl: [THOUGH IF HE GETS ANY CLOSER] Asayl: [chompchomp]

Nero Of Wolves scoffed loudly to his face. "Some collateral! You've got nerve, but no brains to back it up. Typical. I hate reptiles like you, always so cold to others and yet blessed with silver tongues. You are an idiot if you think that I would leave her here alone with you for another minute. The least you deserve is castration!" With this, she ceased to speak any further, rushing at him with full force. Her speed rapidly closed the distance between them, so hopefully she might avoid a direct blow from that hammer of his, but her main priority was to knock him down to the ground, much with the impact of a train hitting a car stuck on the tails. If he moved, then it was all the better, because her goal was to simply grab Asayl and make a mad dash out of there.

La Volpe had no time to come up with some witty comeback, when he went to open his mouth Nero was already charging towards him. Out of instinct he brought the weapon around in a sweeping manner, intent on hitting her against the side once the space between them had dissolved, capable of winding her, leaving some really nasty bruises and if he hit the right place even break a few of her ribs. The fleet-footed assassin then, once the hammer had struck or come around in a full swing, create some more space between them, now standing beside Asayl's chair. "Careful cane, you might just end up hurting poor little Asayl." He'd turn to give the feline a pout, though didn't keep his eyes off of Nero for long. She was strong, but he was fast. It would be a battle of skills, and mainly luck.

Asayl flinched reflexively as they moved in her direction. She growled up at Volpe for using her as a form of defense. How rude! Still, she almost had a foot free now. One foot wasn't much, but it would likely come in handy when the right moment struck. Once she had is loose enough to just barely pull her foot through, she made the decision to leave it where it was. No sense giving it away just yet. She kept fighting to free a hand while dodging their exchanges as much as possible in the meantime.

Nero Of Wolves turned to face him, the impact of his hammer leaving her gritting her teeth, her arm clutching her side, an obviously feral snarl escaping her throat as she glared at him. "I'm not playing games with you. You will regret it if you don't back down now... I'll wager you don't even know what you're up against." Beneath the skin, her body was beginning to cope with the impact, beginning to work its natural healing ability. Still, she was clearly in discomfort, the broken ribs making it painful to breathe. Now he was too close to Asa for her to make that move again. She cursed her luck, all the while trying to keep her cool for fear of losing herself entirely. "Make a move." Nero moved closer to him, dangerously so, hoping to intimidate him into either attacking or moving backward. If he moved back, it might've been possible for Asayl to do her stuff. La Volpe was obviously surprised at the snarl; how could such a sound come from a woman? He got shivers up his spine, the hairs on his arms standing on end. There was something not quite right about her..."I probably don't." He sneered, though he had been considering just fleeing the scene now, and returning for Asayl later. They shouldn't be hard to track now he had their names, and what the looked like. Staying and fighting began to seem like the bad choice, but Volpe remained where he was for now, stuck in the dilemma. He couldn't help but feel as though she were trying to pressure him into something, attack her so she could counter attack, or send in an ambush of more friends that were lying in wait. Attacking would be bad, as Nero looked as though she could just shrug another attack off, but creating more distance meant the chance of loosing Asayl to her. In the end, however, he decided to attack, coming at her would an over-the-shoulder swing that would thump into the ground if it missed, causing shock waves that would shake the walls of the room and the ceiling below the floor. He was attempting to drive Nero back, away from Asayl, so that he needn't worry about the two at the same time.

Asayl- Without being directly in Volpe's line of sight now, she was really given the freedom of working on getting those ropes off. Using her free foot, she kicked at the knot in attempt to loosen it. It would take more than a few seconds to achieve enough room to liberate that foot also, but would manager somehow. Now with both feet free, she employed her teeth to try and free her hands but with the rope burn from her struggling, it made for an unpleasant and slow process. Hopefully Nero would distract Volpe enough to keep him from turning on her.

Nero Of Wolves saw the opportunity immediately after he lifted his arms, leaving his entire chest area open in a split second before he began the down stroke. This tiny opening is all she needed, pushing into him in hopes of dropping him to the floor. Nevertheless, the hammer came down squarely on her back, though not with the intended force. It was enough to cause her severe pain, instead of breaking her spine in two. She couldn't help but scream, her voice deepening in several octaves as she did so, a lycan snarl accompanying it soon after. Once her attacker was either on the floor, or at least farther away from Asayl, she stood, her eyes focusing on him in a new way. The irises had changed color entirely, though she still held a shred of dignity and clung to it like it were life itself. It was time to leave. Now. She was already in too deep. Nero quickly moved to Asayl with every intention of lifting her, with the chair if she had to and make an escape out the window. La Volpe stumbled at the push, and was about to go down before he tucked himself into an elegant roll of sorts, rolling onto his shoulder instead of landing on his back, now instead of lying flat on his ass he was several meters away. He grew ever more certain that Nero was not entirely human, if human at all. There was too much space between him and them to be able to make up for lost time, with Nero on the move and Asayl steadily untying herself, he was fighting a loosing battle. "Merde." He cursed out loud, scrambling into one of his equipment pockets and pulling out what seem like a little grey ball. But when he threw it to the ground at Asayl's feet it became more apparent what it was. A smoke bomb. Thick grey smoke curled around the two, capable of choking, obscuring everything in sight when caught inside. Now, he was stuck. He could try taking Asayl and have Nero give chase, or just fleeing entirely, going back to his previous plan. Was Asayl really worth the risk of getting a beat down by an inhuman humanoid? No woman was, really, not in his current opinion anyway. He would rather live than getting maimed half way of dragging the feline out of the tavern like some mustachioed villain stealing the damsel away. "You win, for now. But I'll be back for you dear Asayl." He'd chuckle before any sight or sense of him was gone. When the smoke eventually cleared it became obvious that he was gone. All the equipment in the box and Asayl's mask were gone too along with any evidence at all to Volpe ever being there.

[Will continue in part 2 with the aftermath of this when Asayl is returned home]

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nish-e-r-r-o-r-neesh · 8 years ago

Note

A Billdip fic where Gideon is mad about not being able to go out with Mabel, so he and his goons trick Bill into thinking that Dipper cheated on Bill, so Bill and Dipper get into a fight/break up. Dipper tries to kill himself because he doesn't know what he did wrong, Bill goes to the hospital to see Dipper and figures out Gideon was lying because of Mabel. After Bill realizes Dipper is ok, and they make up Bill leaves to the beat the shit out of Gideon(to the point of disfiguring him) fin.

Okay, so you don’t mind if I twist this up a bit, would you? XD

I’ve had a Billdip mafia AU circling around my mind for a while back and I thought this storyline would be perfect for that AU! Well, it’s kind of a modern mafia world at this point so yeah, I hope you enjoy!

Fanfic: Billdip Modern-Mafia!AU

Warnings: angst-filled, suicide, blood, slight swearing and alcohol. All that happy stuff! Yay!

______________

It was all that little stringbean’s fault he was in such adisarray.

Gideon Gleeful—a name feared by men and lusted after bywomen. He was powerful, a god damn millionaire! He always got what he wanted,and Mabel Pines—oh, the gorgeous Mabel Pines—should not have been anydifferent.

It was her brother, of course. Her little, scheming brother,wanting his sister all to himself. He thought Gideon wasn’t good enough. Hefilled her head with lies and deceit, convincing her of anything other thantheir clear, bright future together.

No, this could not go on. This could not be tolerated! Dipper Pines, the little maggot that he was… hehad to pay—and in the most excruciating way possible. Picking up his telly’sreciever, Gideon knew exactly what to do.

“Cancel tonight’s meeting, Larry. We’re going after Cipher.”

________________________________________________________

Emotions.

Emotions were complicated and a constant nuisance—yes, eventhe pleasant-seeming ones. Take love forexample. Bill knew what love was. Itwasn’t exactly an emotion, but rather a cacophony of them. There was theconstant euphoria of simply being with that one person, the amusement ofwatching his antics, the fascination with everything you know about him and newones you discover every day, and the constant security you felt in hispresence.

Yet there was the constant anxiety of doing something wrong,having him get mad enough to leave you, or the fact that your job would landnot only you but him on the blade ofthe knife.

Bill didn’t like dealing with emotions; it got in the way ofbeing in the mafia, with all the people you had to terminate, operations youhad to keep secret, the enemies you gained… But hey, he was always one to takerisks, even when it came to the one he loved. He could handle it. He could bearthe weight, keep Dipper safe and still be with him.

And only several hours later would he realize that it was that very mentality that got him intohis little situation. He’d always thought that any possible threat to Dipperwould be from himself—from his job, more specifically. So he was careful, hekept quiet, he kept Dipper out of his files. He made sure no one in his familiaknew who he was. No one could use Dipper as a target against him.

He just never expected someone to use him as a target against Dipper.

So when the boy himself came barging into his apartment,eyes ablaze and growling for answers Billdidn’t have, the mafia captain couldn’t help but sink into his defaultconfrontation mode—anger.

A little way into the argument he could no longer keep trackof, Bill decided on shooting back with a little nonsense of his own.

He shot out words he shouldn’t have, said things that hit alittle too close to home. He ignored the tears forming behind Dipper’s equallyblazing fire and kept going, kept fighting. Dipper was wrong, and he had todrill that into the boy’s head.

More than words were thrown at each other, maybe even a vaseor two.

“Damn it,Bill!Maybe if you’d just been honest with me and never been such a pain-!”

“No, Dipper, you listen!You’re always going on about how I’m making so many mistakes, maybe I want to make them this time! With allyour nagging and holding me back-“

“Don’t you freaking dare say-!”

“You’re the pain DipperPines! You shouldn’t have to get a say in my every action and you shouldn’thave to hold me back!”

Bill still wasn’t done, but he stopped. He glowered atDipper, whose expression slowly softened. Then, just as Bill thought he wouldcry, his mouth twisted back into an angry scowl and his eyes returned theirnasty glare.

“Sorry for wasting your time, Cipher.” He turned, just like that, stalking back towards the frontdoor. “I just don’t know what I did wrong…”

The door slammed shut.

Bill looked around himself, slowly calming down. Oh god,everything was a mess… and so was he. He needed to fix this. He needed to fix them. But first, he needed to fix hisapartment. Never let it be said that Dipper Pines’s rage was something tame.

Dipper seemed like he needed some time, too… Alright. Space.If that’s what he needed. This would blow over in no time.

Ha ha, Bill knew he really screwed up this time.

_____________________________________________

What did he do? What did he do? What did he do?! Wasn’t heenough?! Wasn’t Dipper enough for him? Why was he like this? Oh god… it was hisfault….it was his fault…

You’re always going onabout how I’m making so many mistakes, maybe I want to make them this time…

No, no, no, please… it couldn’t be true…

You shouldn’t have toget a say in my every action and you shouldn’t have to hold me back!

But his words said it all.

Bill didn’t love him anymore.

Who was that woman? How was she so much better than him? Whywould Bill dance with her? Drink with her? Carry her around?

At first he thought it was just his eyes playing tricks.Then the photos came into the mail. Then a phone call from the blasted womanherself, asking for her… lover… goingon about their ‘nights together.’

Dipper was desperate for answers—maybe too desperate. No, hedidn’t want what he’d gotten but… why would Bill do this to him?

He knew Bill tried to keep his distance, in fear of Dippergetting involved with his job. Dipper knewthat. But he could take care of himself, fight his own battles. He wasn’tsome limp noodle that needed constant reassurance. He knew that Bill was thereand loved him, and he knew he would always love him back.

Ha… maybe he was simply living in a fantasy all this time.Maybe Bill did love him once, butthen grew tired of him. If so, then what was the point? Everyone would leavehim just like that, now wouldn’t they?

His sister had left him to live her own life, his grunkleshad taken to their own retirement, his parents were never there to begin with…

His poor, pathetic excuse for a life was really all leadingto nowhere.

Maybe this is all adrunken mistake, Dipper though, raising the blades to his arms. His mindwas too muddy and rational thought too far gone to turn back now. Bill didn’tlove him, Bill didn’t care. What did he do wrong? What did he do wrong?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care. The pain would end here… Onlyif that incessant pounding would stop.

_________________________________________________

“-my god, please, gethere quick…!”

Bill wasted no time in scrambling to the car at the word‘hospital’.

“Mabel, tell me what happened!”

In a frantic rush, Bill did his best to weave past trafficwhile listening to the static-laced sobs of the woman on the other line. Mabelhad said something about Dipper in the hospital, and that in itself was enoughto send him into a panic. So when she began to tell him about freaking attempted suicide, he was close torunning down every car in his line of sight.

It took fifteen excruciating minutes, but Bill finallymanaged to scramble for a parking space and dashed into the hospital. The placewasn’t busy, and he was glad for it.

Room 319, Mabel had said. She’d also said Dipper was stable…not too much harm was done but…

Well, Bill couldn’t really make much out through herdistraught sniffling.

One elevator ride later and there she was—standing down thehallway, back pressed against one of the doors and face in her hands. Billmoved to stand next to her and, really not knowing what to do, tapped hershoulder.

“Oh, you’re here… good…” Mabel sniffed, wiping furiously ather eyes. “Please, Bill, don’t you ever think this is your fault.”

That took him bysurprise.

“Wh-what do you-“

“What Dipper did may have been because of your fight—yes, Iknow it happened. Dipper thought you had been with another woman and-“

Another woman? What?“Cheating? I wasn’t- I could never-!”That’s what it was about? He didn’t. He couldn’t hurt Dipper like that, ever.

Mabel shook her head, a humorless smile sneaking its wayonto her lips. “I know how ridiculous it sounds. But some people have theintentions and the power to… forge… such things.”

Forge. Framed. He was framed.

“Who did…?”

“Later. But for now, you should go inside and check on him.”

__________________________________________

The journey into the room was a near impossible feat. Hishands shook and his heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea what horrors awaitedhim on the other side of the door. Could he take it? How bad had Dipper hurthimself? And to think that it would be all his fault… No, not all his fault.Whatever low-life sorry son of the devil had framed him, it was their fault. That asshat would be sorrythey ever-

“Hey, Bill.”

Oh. Well… it wasn’t too bad, maybe…

His complexion was paler than usual, or maybe it was thelighting, his eyes were rimmed red and watery, but otherwise wide open, and hisarms… god.

It wasn’t terrible, butthe red-stained bandages wrapped around them were enough to send Bill intoanother panic.

“Oh my god, Dipper, are you okay? Why would you-? I-I’msorry! I-I didn’t mean to- why are you- I c-ouldn’t-I’m sorry I ever hurt youplease don’t ever do something this stupid ever again! You hear me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper smiled at the little nickname. “Geeze, calm down,Cipher.” He tried for a laugh. Bill… yeah, Bill would never. He couldn’t. MaybeDipper was just too paranoid and drunk at the time but… it did hurt. It hurt alot. Even if it was never real, it hurt.

Just goes to show how much the blond bundle of sadistic stupiditymeant to him, huh?

So when Bill enveloped him in a hug, almost squeezing thelife out of him and whispering promises of revenge and hastened apologies,Dipper decided that he should definitely have more faith in his boyfriend.

He couldn’t wait for him to kick Gideon’s ass.

_______________________________________________

“OOH BOY, that was a treat!”

Glasses were clinked together and beer sloshed to the floor.Another success for multi-millionaire Gideon Gleeful!

Now with the brother out of the way, the path to Mabel’sheart was easy. He raised another glass to his men, their little rented-out pubfilled with them. It was a cause for celebration, after all!

Gideon’s rush of excitement was cut short, however, when asudden blast sounded and he found half of the men he’d just been toasting withdead at his feet. Men scrambled to get to the exit, when they too were suddenlyshot down, splaying over the numerous tables and booze.

“What?! What is this? Wha-“

Something cold pressed against Gideon’s neck. He froze. Asense of warmth ghosted over his shoulder before a breathy laugh was felt hisear.

“You think I wouldn’t find you, hm? You thought I wouldn’tfind out.”

Oh no. Oh no, oh god.Not him. He found out…

“My men-!”

“Your men are dead.”It was that laugh, that eerie, sadistic laugh that sent chills over Gideon’sspine. The man nearly cried out as he was shoved onto a table, a cold, sharpblade digging into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, you’ll join them. But first, a little courtesygift from the Pines and myself.”

The next day, Bill would insist the stains on his coat werefrom the ketchup on a hotdog he ate, while Mabel would say they came from a muddypig—which, in all honesty, wasn’t that far-fetched.

________________________________

Well this took longer than I though it would. Welp, keep watch for the next one! (Gerita Tangled!Au is still in progress and I keep editing and re-editing chapter 2 XD )

#billdip #mafia #au #bill cipher #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #mabel pines #i ship it!#gideon get rekt

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littleharpethcrossfit · 5 years ago

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Christmas Day......”12 Days of Christmas”

It was almost 70 degrees and a sparkling beautiful Christmas Day at the Barn. Some people would be questioning the very idea of having a big workout on Christmas Day, but those people don’t know CrossFitters. Some of you, especially the Buck’s, have been waiting all year for this workout.

Admiral Armando volunteered again to lead the mobility/flexibility warmup. The Admiral always does a superb job.

The traditional CrossFit WOD is “The 12 Days of Christmas”. There are multiple versions of this WOD, and this is the LHCF version. Performed like the song, do the 1st verse, then 2nd and the 1st verse, then 3rd-2nd-1st verse, and so on until the end. The hardest part of this WOD is keeping track of where you are in the song. All barbells are (95/65).

Run/Row 200m

Back Squats

Ground To Overheads

Deadlifts

Push Presses

Ring Rows

Wall-Balls (20/14)

Dips

Ab-Mat Sit-ups

Alternate Dumb Bell Snatch’s (50/35)

Bench Presses

Hip Extensions

Robert=28:57 Larry=29:07 Dana=31:57 Owen=34:27 Ed=34:54 Warner/Cooper=37:00 Kyle=37:09 Reagan=38:06 Aiden=38:15 Laura=38:50 Armando=39:20 Sue=39:23 Timmy=40:00 Kristin=40:12 Herb=40:39 The Buck’s=44:08 Allison=44:12 Nathan=44:40 There were at least twice this many who did the WOD, but they failed to post. Since today was Christmas, everyone gets an RX for being here.

Notes:

I wish I could name all the friends/relatives/and former LHCF members who came today. I’m certain I would fail to mention a few...but I’ll try:

The Brothers Greene, the Higgins relatives, in and out-laws of the Butlers, especially the Pater Familias BOB-O, and several Grand-Parents and small children. It was like a huge family reunion. And nobody got hurt, but many will be sore tomorrow.

Robert/Timmy/and someone else put up 5 new Wall-Ball targets. They are so super and naturally placed that most of you won’t even notice the addition. But I will.

Ed ALWAYS is our most depended upon janitor. Actually his title includes much more than only janitor. Usually he has Timmy (PHD/MS/BS/ETC) for a helper, and sometimes several others kick in to help. Only Back-Pack Larry never helps, except when Krystal is here. Back to Ed....Ed did an unusually fabulous job today, because it was a huge mess when we finished. Thanks Ed.

Thursday at NOON.

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thisdaynews · 5 years ago

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Joe Arpaio’s Surprising Legacy in Arizona

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/joe-arpaios-surprising-legacy-in-arizona/

Joe Arpaio’s Surprising Legacy in Arizona

PHOENIX — In the City Council chambers here, a squat, round room that evokes the traditional Navajo home known as a “hogan,” Carlos Garcia is easy to spot. His chestnut hair, long and limp, is perennially fastened in a ponytail that hangs like a string halfway down his back. His feet are shielded by a pair of weathered sneakers. One afternoon last month, he showed up for work clad in a black golf-style shirt—“That’s the most dressed up you’re going to see me,” he quipped—with the words “City of Phoenix Councilman Carlos Garcia” embroidered over his heart.

Garcia joined the council in March, but his style remains as casual as it was during his time protesting a mother’s impending deportation in front of the local Immigration and Customs Enforcement building in 2017, or chanting into a bullhorn outside the federal courthouse where Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio stood trial that same year, accused of racially profiling Latinos.

Story Continued Below

“One of my elders a long time ago told me, ‘If you’re going to be a public servant, you have to be ready when you wake up in the morning to meet with the governor and to go talk to ajornalero,” Garcia says, using the Spanish word for day laborer. The elder challenged him to use the way he dresses to telegraph who he really cares for—“Is it your priority,” the elder asked, “that you dress up to impress the governor?”

“My priority is to make sure people feel comfortable with me,” Garcia says.

By “people,” he means the people of color who for years have stood as targets of the politics of Arpaio and Jan Brewer, the former Republican governor of Arizona. Arpaio, perhaps Arizona’s most nationally famous politician, rode to fame in the 1990s with his draconian jail policies and then into President Donald Trump’s favor with his tough anti-immigrant posture. Brewer, as governor,in 2010 signed into law the nation’s toughest immigration bill, SB 1070, powering up the “attrition through enforcement” strategy championed by some on the right to drive illegal immigrants out of the United States.

Nearly 10 years later, Garcia is part of a new wave of Latino politicians in Arizona who have entered politics in response to those policies—a legacy that Arpaio and Brewer likely did not expect. In a state that once compelled police officers to ask about the citizenship status of the people they pulled over and barred undocumented immigrants from getting driver’s licenses and paying in-state tuition at public universities, a growing number of Latino activists are using the lessons they learned in organizing against the immigration crackdown to catapult themselves into elected state and local office.

Garcia was born in Cananea, Mexico, about 30 miles south of the border, and lived without papers in the United States until age 14. For years, he ran the Puente Human Rights Movement, one of the most aggressive immigrant-rights groups in the state. But after five of his family members were deported beginning in 2009 and one was sent to Eloy, a privately run immigration detention center southeast of Phoenix, he says, “I got left with no options. And that’s what has pushed someone like me to actually run for office.”

He is not alone. In the past 10 months, Betty Guardado, a hotel housekeeper-turned-union organizer, took her seat on the nonpartisan Phoenix City Council alongside Garcia. Raquel Terán, the former Arizona director for the civic engagement organization Mi Familia Vota, joined the state House of Representatives as a Democrat. On Tuesday, Regina Romero, a child of Mexican immigrants who was the first woman elected to the Tucson City Council, became that city’s first Latina mayor. To replace her on the council, voters chose Lane Santa Cruz, who grew up in one of the poorest and most heavily Hispanic corners of Tucson and, armed with a Ph.D. in education, worked for more than 10 years as an advocate for her neighbors, many of them undocumented as her parents once were.

Arizona,long considered the home base of tough-minded Western conservatism, has been drifting leftward for a few years now. In 2012, the Supreme Court significantly weakened the “show me your papers” law. Brewer left office in 2014, and in 2016, Arpaio was voted out and escaped prison only because Trump pardoned him a year later, after he was found guilty of contempt for defying a federal judge’s orders to stop singling out Latinos. (At 87, Arpaio is running for sheriff in Maricopa County again, but his candidacy is considered a long shot.) The state’s Republican governor, Doug Ducey, has publicly rejected Trump’s idea of denying green cards to people who receive government benefits and questioned recent immigration raids in Mississippi food-processing plants.

Yet this new wave of Latino politicians represents another shift in Arizona politics. While Arizona has had a number of Latino politicians before, this new group has emerged specifically from the statewide push against undocumented immigrants. They have moved past the well-worn formula of increasing Latino participation in elections, though that too is part of their strategy. They’re building on their activism—protests, civil disobedience, grassroots organizing—to enter the halls of political power, and doing so largely without help from the Democratic Party.

“This is about stepping into the electoral space and saying, ‘Hey, not only can we put pressure from the outside, but we can infiltrate these systems and do something radically different,’” Santa Cruz says. “It sounds very subversive, but it is not. This is the way through the front door.”

Their arrival hasn’t come without challenges. They have struggled to find middle ground between their in-your-face style of activism and the more measured ways that are necessary to build alliances. They remain the targets of the anti-immigrant sentiment in Arizona, where Trump has a loyal base of supporters. Even in the Democratic stronghold of Tucson, there were signs on Tuesday that voters are willing to go only so far: A proposal to designate it a sanctuary city was soundly rejected at the polls, in part because many feared the designation could invite retaliation from the Trump administration and the Republican majority in the state Legislature.

“Our goal is to at least dismantle this system that was created to hurt our people and to get rid of us, and that takes time,” Garcia says. “But brown people are coming out, and now we have the numbers and the organization in place to be able to turn the tables in our favor exactly because we have a seat at the table.”

***

Mexicans and, later, immigrantsfrom other parts of Latin America have played important roles in Arizona’s development. They worked on the system of canals that delivered a steady supply of water to farmers and, today, plant and harvest greens along the border to feed most of the United States in the winter. They dug the desert to carve out the streets of Phoenix and, now, build the high-rises that are transforming this city’s skyline.

Latinos, however, have long struggled for equal access and equal rights in Arizona. Their resistance took shape in the labor unions that opposed legislation in 1914 threatening to ban non-English speakers from working in mines, and then a dual-wage system that paid Mexicans less for doing the same work as Anglos. It manifested itself in court, when, three years beforeBrown v. Board of Education, Latino leaders in the city of Tolleson, then a farming outpost west of Phoenix, successfully defeated Anglo school officials who believed Mexican Americans were inferior and, because of that, deserved to be segregated from white students.

In “The State of Latino Arizona,” a report published in 2009, Christine Marín, a historian, archivist and professor emerita at Arizona State University, writes about these early generations of activists who, in the late 1800s and early 1990s, mobilized in groups with names like “El Centro Radical Mexicano” (The Mexican Radical Center); “Liga Protectora Latina” (Latino Protective League); and “Los Conquistadores” (The Conquerors).

Decades later, in 1969, Congressman Raúl Grijalva, then a college student at the University of Arizona, co-founded the Mexican American Liberation Committee, which organized school walkouts in Phoenix and Tucson to protest overcrowding and the absence of bilingual classes and courses on Mexican culture. “We were fighting for equity. We were fighting for our identities, fighting to give our community power to change our lives,” says Grijalva, a Democrat from Tucson, where he was the first Latino to serve on a school board.

The defiance that grew out of the Brewer-and-Arpaio era represents a new chapter in the history of Latino activism in Arizona. Some 15 years ago, anger over illegal immigration rose in the state, fueled by the record number of migrants apprehended along the border. Activists like Garcia trained their focus away from Washington, weaving together a network of local organizations that taught the people whose lives were affected by Arizona’s heavy-handed enforcement how to fight back.

Groups like Garcia’s Puente, founded in 2007 in response to an agreement allowing Arpaio’s deputies to act as federal immigration agents, held weekly classes to teach undocumented immigrants what to do if they were stopped by the police. Lucha—which stands for Living United for Change in Arizona and means “struggle” in Spanish—trained teenagers who had lost a parent to deportation to use their stories to get voters on their side. In Tucson, volunteers created “redes de protección,” or safety nets, for people who needed money to post bail for detained relatives or for child care if they were detained themselves. Their advocacy contributed to the voter-approved expansion of worker protection laws in 2016, which included the largest minimum-wage increase in the country, and legally mandated paid sick days for all employees in the state.

Now, these activists say, they want to move past opposing those who have opposed them, and to be defined by the positive changes they make. They’ve worked on that together, counting on the same coalitions of grassroots groups that registered record number of Latinos ahead of the last presidential election, carrying out voter mobilization drives and spreading the word on issues of common interest, such as workers’ rights, better schools and safer neighborhoods.

“What really woke us up as a community were the anti-immigrant laws here in Arizona, and it was Arpaio, and it was Jan Brewer, and it was those anti-immigrant policies that they were pushing—that’s what took us to the streets,” says Romero of Tucson, who grew up speaking English and Spanish in the rural city of Somerton, near where Arizona meets Mexico and California. “But we also realized that if we wanted to change the systems that have oppressed us, we had to do it from the inside. We had to change the faces of these policymakers in Arizona.”

They ran their political campaigns as they ran their grassroots groups, drafting people into leadership positions who didn’t have much political experience but did have knowledge of communities and the issues they face. Some, like Santa Cruz, are alumni of New American Leaders, a national program that prepares children and grandchildren of immigrants for elected office; Terán has been an instructor there. As candidates, they joined forces to knock on doors and raise money in communities that are not often the targets of establishment politics.

And they rode into office over the past year by building on the success of the yearslong efforts at voter mobilization that followed SB 1070. According to a report released earlier this year by the Latino Vote Project, a network of advocacy groups, 75 percent of Latino voters in Arizona cast their ballots for a Democrat in 2018, a 22-point increase from 2014, which helped to tip the political scales in Arizona to the left at the national, state and local level.

“The point isn’t just winning. It’s what we do after, and that’s on all of us,” says Marisa Franco, co-founder of Mijente, an online organizing platform that has its roots on the anti-immigrant battles in Arizona. “But we’re actually starting to lay tracks of an alternative direction, an alternative way forward.”

***

Arizona is changing fast.One in three of its residents is Latino, and Latinos are the fastest-growing segment of its population, putting the state on track to become majority-minority by 2030, 15 years ahead of the rest of the country. Latinos are already the majority in Arizona’s public schools, which are also among the poorest performing schools in the country. That’s one of the state’s biggest tests for the future: how to prepare the next generation of Latino leaders if the institutions that serve them are flawed.

While this new cadre of Latino elected officials is finally in the position to make laws and ordinances to improve the lives of fellow immigrants and children of immigrants, they say they’re finding it’s a lot harder to push the same issues now that they’re in power because they’re not yet fully trusted: Voters who put them in office are wary that they will forget where they came from now that they’re in politics, and their colleagues see them as potential adversaries.

At the meeting that brought a semi-dressed-up Garcia to the council’s chambers last month, council members had convened to consider a civilian oversight board for the Phoenix Police Department, whose officers fired on more people than officers from any other police force in the United States last year. Increasing accountability among local police is the issue Garcia most aggressively campaigned on, a stance that the city’s powerful police union has taken as a deliberate act of defiance.

When Garcia wore a T-shirt that read “End Police Brutality” in June, the union posted on its Facebook page a picture of his arrest during an immigrant rights’ protest in 2017 and asked, “Does he serve the best interests of the people who reside in the nation’s fifth largest and fastest growing city?” When he traveled to El Paso, Texas, last week, the union used his own Facebook Live feed to question his commitment to his constituents. A few weeks ago, Garcia was criticized—not just by the union, but also by plenty of online commenters—for confronting a pair of Arizona State University police officers who had pulled him over on the edge of the campus, telling him that the license plate of the car he was driving had been suspended.

“I don’t believe you have jurisdiction,” Garcia said before handing the officers his driver’s license and asking them to hurry because he had a meeting to go to.

At the council meeting, Garcia squeezed his lips as he listenedto his colleague Sal DiCiccio, a build-the-wall kind of Trump supporter who is the most conservative voice in the council. “There’s a perception among some that our police officers are bad when I don’t believe that that’s true,” DiCiccio said. “I think that our police officers have done everything admirably well. They’re just amazing individuals, and quite frankly there’s just a lot of B.S. that’s happening toward them right now. And I think that’s just wrong.”

“We have a very different understanding of where we’re at,” Garcia retorted. “I believe we’re already in that crisis of confidence.” Garcia was measured in his tone. He seemed to be struggling to find the right approach to building partnerships that don’t compromise his convictions. (This month, the council will meet again on the oversight board, this time to hear community input.)

One thing these activists-turned politicians don’t want to be is one-offs. They’re trying to create political roots by hiring people like Adriana Garcia Maximiliano, a once-undocumented immigrant from Mexico who trained first- and second-generation Americans to run for office and is now, at age 27, Carlos Garcia’s policy director. They want to change the face of Arizona’s politics much as the growth of the Latino population is inevitably changing the face of the state.

One Sunday morning this fall, Maximiliano stood under a Palo Verde tree, one of 20-some Latino and black activists who had gathered to raise money for Santa Cruz at the home of Marisa Franco. The get-together was more neighborhood party than fundraiser—these were longtime friends, united by a shared heritage and common goal.

In a blood-red shirt adorned by colorful indigenous crosses, a tattoo of the brother she lost to a drug overdose covering her right arm, Santa Cruz listened as, one by one, people gave her the reasons they were behind her.

Franco: “We need to have people like you that are strong and willing to take positions that are best for our communities.”

Maximiliano: “We do need a lot of folks who are willing to change shit up and do things differently.”

Terán: “I’m here because the state is changing, and as the state changes, we don’t have time to have imperfect allies.”

Then came Garcia, who was wearing a crimson T-shirt with a picture of the Tejano superstar Selena. He and Santa Cruz went to the same high school in Tucson. “I was a little gangster,” he said, “getting into a lot of trouble. Lane was a tennis rock star, big in her church.” They reunited in college, when both of them joined MEChA, a Mexican-American student group founded in the turbulent 1960s.

“We raised our families together, talked about organizing together,” he said. “And now in the very lonely world of running for office and governing, I think it’s a privilege to have someone like you, Lane, to share this space with.”

On Tuesday, they celebrated her victory together. “Now,” Garcia says, “we have work to do.”

#Arizona #Foreign #legacy #Politics

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rightsinexile · 7 years ago

Text

Maribel Trujillo Diaz v. Jefferson B Sessions, III, Attorney General

This case was filed in the Sixth Circuit Court on 17 January 2018. The original text is available online.

In this immigration case, Maribel Trujillo Diaz petitions for review of an order denying her motion to reopen removal proceedings. The United States Board of Immigration Appeals (“BIA”) ruled that Trujillo Diaz failed to establish a prima facie case of eligibility for asylum or withholding of removal under the Immigration and Nationality Act (“INA” or “Act”) because she failed to show that she would be singled out individually for persecution based on her family membership. The BIA reiterated this finding in ruling that Trujillo Diaz failed to establish a prima facie case of eligibility for protection under the Convention Against Torture. Because the BIA failed to credit the facts stated in Trujillo Diaz’s declarations, and this error undermined its conclusion as to the sufficiency of Trujillo Diaz’s prima facie evidence, we hold that the BIA abused its discretion. We further hold that the BIA abused its discretion in summarily rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s argument that she could not safely relocate internally in Mexico for purposes of showing a prima facie case of eligibility for relief under the Convention Against Torture. Thus, we vacate the order of the BIA and remand for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.

Petitioner Trujillo Diaz is a Mexican citizen who entered the United States in February 2002. She was apprehended by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (“ICE”) in 2007 and placed in removal proceedings. On July 11, 2012, Trujillo Diaz had a merits hearing in her immigration proceeding. She sought asylum, withholding of removal under the INA, withholding of removal under the Convention Against Torture, and voluntary departure. During her hearing, Trujillo Diaz testified that she feared for her safety in Mexico because she believed the drug cartel, La Familia, would seek revenge against her and her family for her brother’s refusal to work for them and his subsequent fleeing to the United States.

The immigration judge found that Trujillo Diaz’s asylum application was untimely filed, rendering her ineligible for asylum and requiring her claim to be assessed under the higher “clear probability of persecution” standard for withholding of removal. Although he found Trujillo Diaz to be a credible witness, the immigration judge ultimately denied her application for asylum and withholding-of-removal relief but granted her request for voluntary departure. In finding that she could not meet her burden of proof to establish a clear probability of future persecution, the immigration judge relied on the fact that the cartel had not harmed or threatened her or anyone else in her immediate family besides her brother who refused to join the cartel. Trujillo Diaz filed an appeal, but in May 2014, the BIA dismissed it, again reiterating that she had not established a clear probability of persecution in Mexico because “her parents and two siblings ha[d] not been harmed by the gang.” Trujillo Diaz did not file a petition for review.

Nevertheless, Trujillo Diaz was allowed to remain in the United States under an ICE order of supervision. She received work authorization and remained here until April 2017. During this time, she regularly reported to her pre-scheduled ICE check-ins.

In February 2017, Trujillo Diaz learned that her father had been kidnapped by the Knights Templar, a Mexican cartel. According to Trujillo Diaz’s father, during his kidnapping, his captors told him they were looking for “Omar Daniel,” Trujillo Diaz’s brother, who had previously refused to join the La Familia cartel. “The men” told him that they “wanted to find Omar Daniel because they were upset that he would not work for the gang” and that “[t]hey were very angry that they could not find Omar Daniel because he had fled to the United States.” They mentioned Trujillo Diaz by name, telling her father that they “knew [he] was the father of Omar Daniel and Maribel,” and that they “knew that Maribel had gone to the United States too.” They threatened to “hurt the rest of [his] family if they could not get their hands on Omar Daniel and Maribel.”

Based on this new information, Trujillo Diaz filed a motion to reopen her immigration proceedings and a motion to stay removal. Because her motion to reopen was filed years after her removal proceedings had closed, she sought reopening under an exception to the time limit based on changed country conditions in Mexico. Along with her evidence of changed country conditions, Trujillo Diaz also filed, among other things, a personal declaration, a declaration from her father in which he described his kidnapping, and a declaration from an expert witness concerning the threat of future harm to Trujillo Diaz at the hands of the Knights Templar because of her brother’s failure to comply with the cartel’s demands. In her motion, Trujillo Diaz alleged that she feared returning to Mexico because she believed that the Knights Templar cartel that kidnapped her father was targeting her and her family to get revenge for her brother’s fleeing the country after refusing to join the La Familia cartel.

Two days after she filed her motions, ICE apprehended Trujillo Diaz outside her home, detained her, and scheduled her removal for April 11, 2017. On April 10, the BIA denied her stay of removal but took no action on her motion to reopen. Trujillo Diaz filed a petition for review of the denial of the stay and an emergency motion to stay removal. This court denied her motion to stay and dismissed the petition for review on April 11, 2017. Trujillo Diaz was deported eight days later.

On May 24, 2017, the BIA denied Trujillo Diaz’s motion to reopen her removal proceedings, finding that she had not demonstrated prima facie eligibility for asylum, withholding of removal, or protection under the Convention Against Torture.1 This petition for review followed.

A. Standard of Review

We review the BIA’s denial of a motion to reopen immigration proceedings for abuse of discretion. Alizoti v. Gonzales, 477 F.3d 448, 451 (6th Cir. 2007). We will find an abuse of discretion if the BIA’s denial “was made without a rational explanation, inexplicably departed from established policies, or rested on an impermissible basis such as invidious discrimination against a particular race or group.” Allabani v. Gonzales, 402 F.3d 668, 675 (6th Cir. 2005) (citation omitted). In determining whether the BIA abused its discretion, we look only at “the basis articulated in the decision and [we] may not assume that the [BIA] considered factors that it failed to mention in its opinion.” Daneshvar v. Ashcroft, 355 F.3d 615, 626 (6th Cir. 2004).

B. Discussion

Motions to reopen immigration proceedings are generally “disfavored,” in light of the strong public interest in the finality of removal orders. INS v. Doherty, 502 U.S. 314, 323 (1992); INS v. Abudu, 485 U.S. 94, 107–08 (1988) (“Granting such motions too freely will permit endless delay of deportation by aliens creative and fertile enough to continuously produce new and material facts sufficient to establish a prima facie case.” (quoting INS v. Jong Ha Wang, 450 U.S. 139, 143 n.5 (1981))). Evincing the importance of finality, both temporal and numerical limits apply to motions to reopen. See 8 U.S.C. § 1229a(c)(7)(A), (C); 8 C.F.R. § 1003.2(c). Generally, a motion to reopen must be filed within ninety days of the final administrative decision. 8 U.S.C. § 1229a(c)(7)(C)(i); 8 C.F.R. § 1003.2(c)(2).

There is an exception to these temporal and numerical limits, however, for motions “based on changed country conditions arising in the country of nationality or the country to which removal has been ordered, if such evidence is material and was not available and would not have been discovered or presented at the previous proceeding.” 8 U.S.C. § 1229a(c)(7)(C)(ii); 8 C.F.R. § 1003.2(c)(3); Alizoti, 477 F.3d at 451–52; Haddad v. Gonzales, 437 F.3d 515, 517–18 (6th Cir. 2006). Trujillo Diaz filed her motion to reopen under this “changed country conditions” exception.

The Supreme Court has identified “at least three independent grounds on which the BIA might deny a motion to reopen—failure to establish a prima facie case for the relief sought, failure to introduce previously unavailable, material evidence, and a determination that even if these requirements were satisfied, the movant would not be entitled to the discretionary grant of relief which he sought.” Zhang v. Mukasey, 543 F.3d 851, 854 (6th Cir. 2008) (quoting Doherty, 502 U.S. at 323). When the board denies relief on a particular ground, we review only that ground. See Daneshvar, 355 F.3d at 626; Hernandez-Ortiz v. INS, 777 F.2d 509, 517 (9th Cir. 1985) (“When the Board restricts its decision [refusing to reopen] to whether the alien has established a prima facie case it is only this basis for its decision that we review.”); see also Fed. Power Comm’n v. Texaco Inc., 417 U.S. 380, 397 (1974) (“[A]n agency’s order must be upheld, if at all, on the same basis articulated in the order by the agency itself.” (internal quotation marks omitted)).

The BIA denied Trujillo Diaz’s motion to reopen on the ground that she failed to establish a prima facie case for any of the relief she sought: asylum, withholding of removal under the INA, or withholding of removal under the Convention Against Torture. As explained below, we find that the BIA abused its discretion in reaching this conclusion.

i. The BIA abused its discretion when it found that Trujillo Diaz failed to present prima facie evidence that she would be singled out individually for persecution on the basis of a protected ground.

The BIA correctly noted that Trujillo Diaz’s motion to reopen was required to be “supported by evidence that . . . demonstrates prima facie eligibility for relief.” To present a prima facie case for relief, the movant need not make a “conclusive showing” that she will ultimately obtain relief. Vata v. Gonzales, 243 F. App’x 930, 947 (6th Cir. 2007) (quoting In re S-V-, 22 I. & N. Dec. 1306, 1307 (BIA 2000)). But she must present evidence that “reveals a reasonable likelihood that the statutory requirements for relief have been satisfied.” Alizoti, 477 F.3d at 452 (quoting In re S-V-, 22 I & N Dec. at 1308).

For asylum and withholding of removal, one of the statutory requirements for eligibility is that the applicant show a “well-founded fear of persecution” (for asylum) or that the applicant’s “life or freedom would be threatened” (for withholding of removal) on account of a protected ground—“race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group,2 or political opinion.” 8 U.S.C. §§ 1101(a)(42) (asylum); 1231(b)(3) (withholding of removal). One method for proving this “well-founded fear of persecution” or “threat to life or freedom” is by establishing a likelihood of the applicant’s being “singled out individually” for persecution on the basis of a protected ground. 8 C.F.R. §§ 1208.13(b)(2), 1208.16(b)(2); see Akhtar v. Gonzales, 406 F.3d 399, 404 (6th Cir. 2005).

An applicant who seeks to establish a likelihood of being “singled out individually” for persecution “cannot rely on speculative conclusions or mere assertions of fear of possible persecution, but instead must offer reasonably specific information showing a real threat of individual persecution.” Harchenko v. INS., 379 F.3d 405, 410 (6th Cir. 2004) (citation omitted). “The feared persecution must relate to the alien individually, not to the population generally.” Ibid. (citation omitted).

So, evidence of persecution in the applicant’s country of removal, without some connection to the applicant herself, will not suffice. For example, we have found that an applicant’s evidence of “articles and reports” demonstrating human-rights violations in Ukraine failed to demonstrate an “individualized” fear of persecution because there was no evidence showing that those conditions would affect the applicant. See ibid.; see also Vuthi v. Gonzales, 209 F. App’x 470, 473 (6th Cir. 2006) (upholding denial of motion to reopen in part because articles and reports did not support an individualized fear of persecution). Similarly, not even “acts of violence against an alien’s family members” necessarily suffice to present an individualized fear of persecution unless those acts are “tied to the asylum applicant himself or herself.” Gebremaria v. Ashcroft, 378 F.3d 734, 739 (8th Cir. 2004); see also Nyonzele v. INS, 83 F.3d 975, 983 (8th Cir. 1996) (determining that applicant did not have a well-founded fear of future persecution even though his father had been murdered by government officials for his political beliefs because there was no evidence that the government sought to persecute the applicant for his father’s political opinions).

By contrast, however, we and our sister circuits have found a real threat of individual persecution when an applicant presented evidence describing threats of harm directed at the applicant. See, e.g., Mapouya v. Gonzales, 487 F.3d 396, 413 (6th Cir. 2007) (holding that in light of applicant’s submission of two letters from independent sources in the Republic of Congo that showed a threat of harm to him, substantial evidence did not support finding that applicant lacked a well-founded fear of future persecution in Congo); Xiu Zhen Lin v. Mukasey, 532 F.3d 596, 597 (7th Cir. 2008) (overturning BIA’s denial of motion to reopen where applicant submitted a letter from the governing body of her village stating that it was aware that she had given birth to a third child in the United States and that she “certainly will be subjected to sterilization procedures” unless she obtained citizen or permanent-resident status or an advanced degree in the United States); Shardar v. Attorney Gen. of US, 503 F.3d 308, 316–17 (3d Cir. 2007) (concluding that affidavit from applicant’s brother showed a significant likelihood that applicant would be subjected to particularized persecution when the affidavit stated that individuals associated with a political party had targeted applicant’s family members for persecution because of their association with an opposing party, and these individuals had made a specific inquiry about applicant).

In the present case, Trujillo Diaz alleges that she fears returning to Mexico because she believes that the Knights Templar, a prominent cartel, is targeting her (along with the rest of her family) to get revenge for her brother’s fleeing the country in 2010 after refusing to join La Familia, a cartel that was prominent at that time. As evidence of this, Trujillo Diaz presented a sworn declaration from her father in which he stated that in 2014 he was kidnapped by members of the Knights Templar, and that during that kidnapping, the cartel members explicitly mentioned Trujillo Diaz and her brother and said that the whole family would suffer if the cartel members could not “get their hands on” Trujillo Diaz or her brother. In his declaration, Trujillo Diaz’s father stated that during the kidnapping, his captors told him they were part of the Knights Templar and that “they knew [he] was the father of Omar Daniel and Maribel.” Further, they specifically told him that “they wanted to find Omar Daniel because they were upset that he would not work for the gang” and that they “were very angry that they could not find Omar Daniel because he had fled to the United States.” The gang members also said to him that they “knew that Maribel had gone to the United States” and they threatened to “hurt the rest of [his] family if they could not get their hands on Omar Daniel and Maribel.”

Based primarily on her knowledge of her father’s kidnapping, including the details of what he told her that his captors said to him, Trujillo Diaz submitted her own sworn affidavit declaring that she and her family have a fear of being targeted by the Knights Templar because Omar refused to join the cartel, La Familia, and that “those bad men still want to hurt us to take revenge.”

After reviewing her evidence, the BIA determined that Trujillo Diaz had not made a prima facie showing of eligibility for asylum and withholding of removal because she failed to show that “she would specifically be targeted . . . due to her family membership.” The BIA based this determination on its finding that Trujillo Diaz presented no actual evidence (as opposed to generalized conclusory speculation) that the persecution against her father and the threats against Trujillo Diaz were motivated by family membership, as opposed to general criminal violence, which would not satisfy the statutory requirements for relief. The BIA provided the following analysis:

[T]here is no indication, beyond the respondent’s and her father’s generalized, conclusory speculation, that the cartel members who have recently threatened and/or harmed the respondent’s father were actually motivated by his [family] membership . . . . [Her father’s kidnapping] happened years after the ‘La Familia Michocana’ cartel’s attempt to recruit her brother and it was the Knights Templar, a different cartel, who kidnapped her father some 5 year [sic] later. The correlation of these events to the cartel’s actions toward her father, if any, is unclear from the evidence provided.

So according to the BIA, Trujillo Diaz failed to show a likelihood that she would specifically be targeted on account of her familial membership because the primary evidence she submitted to show this—her father’s declaration—is speculative and conclusory. The BIA found his declaration speculative and conclusory because it determined that the evidence does not connect his kidnapping to his son’s refusal to join the La Familia cartel.

But the only way that the BIA could have deemed that connection “unclear” is if it had discredited Trujillo Diaz’s father’s declaration. His declaration explicitly links his kidnapping (and the threats of harm to Trujillo Diaz) to his and his daughter’s familial ties to his son, who refused to join the cartel. In his declaration, he described the Knights Templar members’ statements that revealed the correlation between his kidnapping and his son’s refusal to join the La Familia cartel: (1) they wanted to find Omar Daniel because they were angry that he had refused to join the cartel and fled to the United States; (2) they knew Trujillo Diaz’s father was the father of Omar Daniel and Trujillo Diaz; and (3) they would hurt the rest of his family if they “could not get their hands on Omar Daniel and Maribel.” Trujillo Diaz’s father did not speculate or draw conclusions as to the Knights Templar’s motivation; he relayed precisely what they told him. Thus, the BIA discredited Trujillo Diaz’s evidence of familial motivation. And because it dismissed this motivation, it determined that Trujillo Diaz’s fear was not of being targeted because she was part of a particular social group, but rather just a general fear of crime. See BIA Decision at 4 (referring to “the generalized nature of [Trujillo Diaz]’s fear of future harm”). The BIA provided no other rationale for rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s prima facie case of eligibility for asylum and withholding of removal under the INA. Looking only to what the BIA said in its opinion, as we must, see Daneshvar, 355 F.3d at 626, we find that this was an abuse of discretion.

The BIA’s role in reviewing a motion to reopen is like a trial court’s role in reviewing a motion for summary judgment. See Haftlang v. INS, 790 F.2d 140, 143 (D.C. Cir. 1986) (“In both cases the purpose of the inquiry is to isolate cases worthy of further consideration; in neither case is the court or agency to assess the credibility of the evidence.”). Therefore, in adjudicating a motion to reopen, the BIA “must accept as true reasonably specific facts proffered by an alien in support of a motion to reopen unless it finds those facts to be inherently unbelievable.” Ibid. (internal quotation marks omitted).3 The purpose of this rule is to ensure that the applicant has had her day in court to demonstrate the truth of facts alleged. Ibid.

To discredit facts in an affidavit, the BIA, not this court, must make the determination that a declaration is “inherently unbelievable.” Id. at 144, n.2; see Reyes v. INS, 673 F.2d 1087, 1090 (9th Cir. 1982) (distinguishing prior case finding no abuse of discretion by the Board because the Board found the evidence to be inherently unbelievable). Here, the BIA did not explicitly find that Trujillo Diaz’s father’s declaration was “inherently unbelievable.” Nor did it make any findings that would indicate that it reached this conclusion. It did not find any internal inconsistencies in her father’s declaration. See, e.g., Fessehaye, 414 F.3d at 755. It did not find that her father’s declaration was “at odds with other materials” submitted by her. Ibid.; see Husyev v. Mukasey, 282 F. App’x 619, 622 (9th Cir. 2008). And the BIA made no determination that Trujillo Diaz’s father’s affidavit was incompatible with some other incontrovertible piece of evidence. See Fessehaye, 414 F.3d at 755. Because the BIA made no such determination here, it should have accepted as true the facts contained in the declaration. When this is done, the BIA’s conclusion that “there is no indication” that the cartel members were motivated by familial membership cannot be sustained.

The reason the BIA provided for rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s evidence of familial motivation was that it was “generalized, conclusory speculation.” Of course, the BIA has the authority to reject a motion to reopen when it is supported only by conclusory evidence. See Zhang, 543 F.3d at 855. But Trujillo Diaz’s father’s affidavit contained concrete, factual assertions as to the familial motivation behind his kidnapping and the threat of harm to Trujillo Diaz. He described a specific incident, the kidnapping that he suffered. He conveyed the threats that the Knights Templar members made to him regarding Trujillo Diaz and the rest of his family. And he restated the motivation behind the Knights Templar’s actions as relayed to him by them. Although broad deference is accorded to the BIA in evaluating motions to reopen, the BIA cannot deem reasonably specific evidence speculative or conclusory.

The BIA’s failure to credit Trujillo Diaz’s evidence of familial motivation permeated its order and directly led to the conclusion that Trujillo Diaz failed to establish a prima facie case of eligibility for asylum and withholding of removal. After discrediting her evidence that she would specifically be targeted because of her familial membership, the BIA found that Trujillo Diaz’s fear of future harm was merely a “generalized” fear of future harm, and not a fear of persecution that is protected under the Act. This finding resulted in the BIA’s “afford[ing] limited weight” to the declaration submitted by Trujillo Diaz’s expert, which included testimony that retaliatory violence against family members of those who refused to join cartels is widespread in Mexico, including among members of the Knights Templar, and that the Mexican government is complicit in the illegal activity of the Knights Templar.4 Had the BIA properly construed Trujillo Diaz’s father’s affidavit, it may have afforded more weight to her expert’s testimony and may have found that she established a likelihood that she would be “singled out individually” for persecution because of her membership in her family.

The BIA also determined that Trujillo Diaz’s changed-country-conditions evidence “does not support [her] contention that she would specifically be targeted . . . due to her family membership.” According to the BIA, the reports reflect that the violence in Trujillo Diaz’s hometown “stems from a territorial dispute between rival cartels, is widespread, and affects the populace in that area as a whole.” Evaluating Trujillo Diaz’s changed-country-conditions evidence in this manner was within the discretion of the BIA, and the BIA provided a rational explanation for refusing to find that this evidence showed that she would specifically be targeted. See, e.g., Mirza v. Gonzales, 148 F. App’x 467, 470 (6th Cir. 2005) (deferring to the BIA’s conclusion that articles fail to show an objectively reasonable fear of persecution). But this provides no rational explanation for rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s evidence of individualized fear— her father’s affidavit describing his kidnapping and the direct threats against his family and Trujillo Diaz. It was this evidence that Trujillo Diaz submitted to show that she individually would be subject to more than general criminal acts that affect the rest of the population. See Akhtar, 406 F.3d at 405–06 (6th Cir. 2005) (recognizing that membership in a family targeted for persecution may suffice to establish a well-founded fear of persecution if there is evidence beyond mere family membership tying the applicant family member to the persecution).

In sum, the BIA abused its discretion in finding that Trujillo Diaz failed to present prima facie evidence that her fear of persecution, or the threat to her life or freedom, was related to her family membership. Because this was the basis for the BIA’s decision to deny her motion to reopen her proceedings, on remand it should consider the remaining aspects of her prima facie case for relief. See 8 C.F.R. §§ 1208.13(b)(2), 1208.16(b)(2).

ii. The BIA abused its discretion when it found that Trujillo Diaz failed to present a prima facie showing of eligibility for withholding of removal under the Convention Against Torture.

The BIA determined that Trujillo Diaz “failed to make a prima facie showing that she will more likely than not be tortured by, at the instigation of, or with consent or acquiescence of public officials . . . upon her repatriation.” It provided two reasons for this conclusion: (1) “there is no reliable evidence that the Knights Templar would specifically target [Trujillo Diaz] upon her repatriation” and (2) “[Trujillo Diaz] has not shown that she could not relocate to another area within Mexico to avoid future harm at the hands of the Knights Templar.”

The BIA’s first rationale relied entirely on its analysis of Trujillo Diaz’s asylum and withholding-of-removal claims—i.e., its rejection of Trujillo Diaz’s claim that she would specifically be targeted because of her family membership. See BIA Decision at 3 (“[W]e reiterate that there is no reliable evidence that the Knights Templar would specifically target [Trujillo Diaz] upon her repatriation.”). Because this finding was based on an abuse of discretion in failing properly to credit Trujillo Diaz’s father’s declaration, it cannot provide the basis for denying her Convention Against Torture claim.

The BIA failed to explain its alternate rationale for rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s prima facie evidence of eligibility for Convention Against Torture relief. The BIA summarily rejected Trujillo Diaz’s evidence that she could not relocate in Mexico: “Viewing the evidence as a whole, [Trujillo Diaz] has not shown that she could not relocate to another area within Mexico to avoid future harm at the hands of the Knights Templar.” See BIA Decision at 3. The BIA did not state why it found Trujillo Diaz’s evidence that she could not relocate to be insufficient. Nor did it acknowledge any evidence that it considered in determining that she could safely relocate within Mexico. Though it need not “write an exegesis on every contention,” the BIA must “consider the issues raised, and announce its decision in terms sufficient to enable a reviewing court to perceive that it has heard and thought and not merely reacted.” Scorteanu v. INS, 339 F.3d 407, 412 (6th Cir. 2003) (quoting Osuchukwu v. INS, 744 F.2d 1136, 1142–43 (5th Cir. 1984)); Al Roumy v. Mukasey, 290 F. App’x 856, 860 (6th Cir. 2008) (concluding that BIA had “heard and thought and not merely reacted” where it explained the evidence presented and explained why the evidence was unpersuasive). “Cursory, summary, or conclusory statements are inadequate.” Daneshvar, 355 F.3d at 626. Here, the BIA abused its discretion by failing to provide any analysis of the relocation evidence for us to review.

On remand, the BIA should consider the evidence relating to the relocation issue, as we have instructed. See 8 C.F.R. § 1208.16(c)(3)(ii) (listing “[e]vidence that the applicant could relocate to a part of the country of removal where he or she is not likely to be tortured” as one of the factors a court should analyze in determining whether an applicant has carried her burden); cf. Rodriguez-Molinero v. Lynch, 808 F.3d 1134, 1140 (7th Cir. 2015) (“And though the immigration judge remarked that the Mexican government was trying to control the drug gangs, it is success rather than effort that bears on the likelihood of the petitioner’s being killed or tortured if removed to Mexico.”). The BIA did not discuss relocation for purposes of asylum and withholding of removal under the INA. Therefore, the BIA should address in the first instance whether Trujillo Diaz can reasonably relocate to another part of Mexico. See 8 C.F.R. §§ 1208.13(b)(2), 1208.16(b)(2); see also Gonzales v. Thomas, 547 U.S. 183, 185–86 (2006) (This “matter requires determining the facts.”).

In addition to considering Trujillo Diaz’s relocation evidence, the BIA should also consider her changed-country-conditions evidence. Although the BIA concluded that this evidence did not support her contention that she would specifically be targeted because of her family membership, it did not address the sufficiency of this evidence for purposes of showing that conditions in Mexico had changed. As we have previously explained, “a change in personal circumstances that is unaccompanied by a change in country conditions is insufficient to reopen proceedings.” Zhang v. Holder, 702 F.3d 878, 879–80 (6th Cir. 2012); see Maldonado-Torres v. Holder, 573 F. App’x 474, 476 (6th Cir. 2014) (finding no abuse of discretion where the BIA denied motion to reopen despite applicant’s allegations that cartel members abducted his brother and had made a direct threat toward applicant because applicant failed to provide any evidence of changed country conditions in Mexico). Therefore, the BIA should consider the sufficiency of this evidence on remand.

The BIA’s abuse of discretion in failing to credit Trujillo Diaz’s father’s affidavit undermined its conclusion that Trujillo Diaz had not made a prima facie showing of eligibility for asylum and withholding of removal under the INA. This conclusion also affected the BIA’s analysis of whether Trujillo Diaz made a prima facie showing of eligibility for protection under the Convention Against Torture. Further, the BIA abused its discretion in summarily rejecting Trujillo Diaz’s argument that she could not safely relocate internally in Mexico for purposes of showing prima facie eligibility under the Convention Against Torture. Accordingly, we grant the petition and remand to the BIA for reconsideration consistent with this opinion.

#case note #february 2018 #february #2018

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ask-the-phan-site · 7 years ago

Text

The Guilty Prince of Pride

>It’s time.

We’ve got a Thanksgiving day dinner to save.

Time to work!

Never thought I would see you happy to do work on a holiday.

Skull: It’s not exactly work if you’re having fun.

Wow. That actually sound smart of you, Skull.

Skull: (upset) What was that, cat!?

Panther: Let’s just go!

>Mona becomes our van and we drive off to take Reuben Valdez’s heart.

>In a neighborhood in Southern California, Reuben Valdez had just returned from a skating session (which he clearly wasn’t good at).

As always, this is as good as it will ever get... So you can stop spying on me, Tony!

>Suddenly, some nearby bushes started rustle as someone came out from behind them.

Reuben! It’s not what it looks like. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I should check in.

Reuben: ...

Tony: Okay, I made that up. But still, I know you don’t want to do it, but please consider coming over for Thanksgiving. ¿Por favor?

Reuben: Tony, I know you want us to get back together again, but I still need time.

Tony: But Thanksgiving is tomorrow.

Reuben: I know. Just give it a while.

Tony: How long is a while?

Reuben: ...

?????: I think... Now.

Tony:!

Reuben: Already?

Tony: Huh?

>A red wave came over the two cousins. When it was over, they were now in what looked like a demented skate park. The two found themselves on the highest ramp. Suddenly three creatures flew up to them.

Reuben: !

Tony: ¿¡Que son esos!?

>The Shadows try to get at them, but then, three gunshots are heard and the Shadows are gone. The two looked down to see us. Reuben then tries to take his skateboard down the ramp but stumbled a few feet near the ground. He was alright. Tony had no idea what was going on, but he knew this would be a good time to get ready for what was going to happen.

Tony: Hold on, Reuben.

>On the ground, we confronted Reuben.

You should be more thankful for familia.

Mona: (whisper) Nice use of the word. Guess learning with Futaba really paid off.

Fox: (also whisper) Thank you.

You have shunned many people who tried to help you that it’s costing you such.

Some families have their problems, you don’t have to be one of them.

That’s why we came here. To save not only your family’s Thanksgiving, but yours as well.

Panther: Your family lives in grief and so do your true friends for not accepting their help when you need it most.

I know that path that you’re going through. It is not a good one. Trust me.

Skull: So it will be out job to stir you from that path.

Joker: And that is why we will...

Phantom Thieves: Take your heart!

>Reuben was silent for a moment until he finally speaks.

Reuben: ... Then take it then... Take my heart... ¡Toma mi corazón!

Joker: ... Alright.

>Reuben closes his eyes. I get closer. But as I did... Four bird-like creatures swooped down.

Reuben: !

Joker: What!?

>We got a closer look at the creatures. They had human heads. One was a woman who looked like some kind of mother. Another was a middle aged man with combed hair and a mustache. Another was a young woman with tied up auburn hair. And the fourth was a young man with a goatee, pieced nose, and a tattoo of a tear drop under his eye.

Queen: Are those... Reuben’s cognition of the people he knew?

Reuben: D- Dia Maria. Dio George. Sammi. Chato. I... I’m sorry for failing... Failing you all...

Cognitive Maria Valdez: You betrayed us!

Cognitive George Valdez: How could you abandon our son like this!?

Cognitive Sammi: Now I’m the only one there for him! But I can’t do this alone!

Cognitive Chato: Which means I’m the only one you can turn to, homes. You don’t have anyone to help you.

All Cognitions: You’re a loner! You don’t have anyone!

Reuben: ...

Joker: That’s not true! It’s true he made some mistakes in the past, but it’s not too late to make up for them.

Reuben: ... Are you... sure?

Crow: Like I said, where you were, I was there myself.

Reuben: What?

Crow: I was offered help to do something I knew I couldn’t do on my own and I paid the price for it. I accepted it, but they wouldn’t give up on me. I finally accepted their help and redeemed myself. And if I’m right, the same could be done for you.

Reuben: Really? I can... be with... everyone again?

Skull: You just gotta believe, dude.

Queen: It may take a long time and there will be a few bumps along the way, but you’ll see that it’s worth the journey.

Reuben: ... I...

Cognitive Chato: You dudes are waiting your time. This boy stabbed a lot of people in the back. It’s only a matter of time before he does the same to you... Then again, why wait for that, might as well just get it over with. Shall we?

>The murder of cognitions then swoop down on us.

Oracle: Persona!

>Oracle’s Persona scans them.

Oracle: They’re all weak to Fire. You can take care of this, Panther.

Panther: I’ll see what I got. Persona!

>Panther’s Persona uses Maragi. Three of the creatures got hit and were down. The one known as Chato dodged it. We managed to beat the three downed ones and they were gone.

Reuben: ! Why!? Why did you just-

Oracle: Get a hold of yourself. That wasn’t really them. They’re illusions created from your cognition. Your aunt and uncle are still dead and your friend is safe. And you’re safe as well.

>Cognitive Chato then swoops down with a major Dive which knocks us all down. Then he pins Reuben down with his talons.

Oracle: Oh no!

>Reuben knew this would be the end. He closes his eyes as Cognitive Chato readies to claw him to death... Until...

??????: Like I said: Back off, Chato!

>We all looked up.

>The strange new character descends on a hi-tech skateboard and attacks Cognitive Chato.

Panther: Who is that!?

Oracle: I believe that is who the locals call “The Condor”.

Queen: I’ve heard about him. He’s a skateboarding hero. He managed to take down the mercenary, Taipan.

Cognitive Chato: Stay out of this!

>Cognitive Chato tries to slash at Condor, but he is too fast to catch him and dodge every attack.

Condor: Now for this!

>With one swing, Condor knocks down Cognitive Chato with a Critical Hit. Queen gets back up and fires her revolver at Cognitive Chat, ending him swiftly.

Queen: That should do it.

>We all get back up, but then, I noticed something. Reuben was starting to panic at the sight of Condor.

Condor: Reuben, it’s okay. I won’t let you get hurt.

Reuben: !

>Condor tries to get closer to Reuben. He reaches his hand out, but Reuben, as if he felt he was being attacked, pushed it aside.

Reuben: No! Stay away! It’s not time yet! ¡SÓLO MANTÉNGASE ALEJADO!

Condor: Reuben...

>Suddenly, a loud monstrous sound came from overhead. We were horrified by what we saw next. Flying overhead was a giant condor wearing the same face covering helmet as Condor.

Skull: What the hell!?

Cognitive Condor: DON’T TOUCH HIM! HE’S MINE TO FINISH! REUBEN MUST DIE!

>Cognitive Condor then swoops down with a major Magarudyne. Thankfully, we all dodged it.

Crow: Is this... Is this how you see Condor, Reuben? Some vengeful monster out to get you? Why?

Reuben: ...

Skull: Either way, if we get rid of this guy, that should be it. Then let’s do this. Persona!

Crow: Then so be it. Persona!

>Both Skull’s and Crow’s Personas use Megaton Raid on Cognitive Condor. However, it had little effect.

Skull: It resisted!

Crow: Oracle, try to get a clear scan!

>Oracle’s Persona tries to scan it.

Oracle: (groans in frustration) I can’t do it. That helmet must be jamming my scans. You’ll have to get rid of it before I can do a full scan.

Crow: Right. Skull, let’s keep at it!

Skull: Whether it be in a dream or reality, I’m with you. Let’s keep going, Captain!

Joker: I’ll help too.

>I change Personas.

Joker: Persona!

Fox: Persona!

Mona: Persona!

>My Persona uses Rising Slash, Fox’s Persona uses Brave Blade, and Mona’s Persona uses Miracle Punch while Skull’s and Crow’s Personas continue to attack. We could barely put a scratch on it.

Mona: What the hell is that thing made of!? Adamantium!?

Condor: ... I’m helping.

Mona: Huh!?

Skull: Are you sure you want to be working with a bunch of thieves?

Condor: I know you targeted Reuben for something I just know it’s for something good. I want to see you succeed in that.

Joker: ... Alright.

>Condor begins using the skate ramps to get higher and attack his cognitive self. After for what seemed like forever, we managed to put a crack on the visor.

Condor: ¡Aquí vengo!

>Condor makes one mighty leap on to the crack which completely shatters the visor. What we see next shocks us.

Queen: That’s... That’s...

>Behind the visor were the eyes... of Tony Valdez.

Oracle: It’s... It’s Valdez!

Panther: Reuben sees the Condor as his cousin? Why? Unless...

>We all stare at Condor. He knew there was no hiding it now. So he did the only thing he could do... He takes his helmet off... It was indeed Tony.

Panther: No way!

Skull: Tony Valdez... is the Condor?

Noir: This makes no sense.

Tony: I guess I have a lot to explain, but it looks like it will have to wait.

Mona: But I think we have enough time for this explanation. I think the reason why Reuben’s cognition made Tony a monster is because he believes Tony is blaming him for something he did.

Tony: Reuben?

Reuben: ...

>Flashback to some years ago.

>After getting beat up by Chato’s gang which ended with him getting a shiner, Reuben was weakened.

Chato: Now you remember, homes. If you don’t want to make me do that again, make sure that big shot cousin of yours loses. I bet a lot on Z-Man and I don’t want to lose that bet. Comprender?

Reuben: ... Si.

>Later, Reuben waited outside the tent Sammi was fixing Tony’s skateboard. Then, Sammi came out with Z-Man. Reuben doesn’t know why here was there, but now’s not the time. He went in with no one looking, took a socket wrench and loosened the wheels on the board.

>Back in the present.

Reuben: I... I loosed the wheels on Tony’s board. I made him loose that day.

Crow: Reuben.

Cognitive Tony: THAT’S RIGHT! YOU SABOTAGED ME! YOU BETRAYED ME! I WAS ON MY WAY TO BECOMING A SUPER STAR! BUT YOU! YOU STABBED ME IN THE BACK! HOW CAN I EVER FORGIVE YOU!? I WILL KILL YOU!

Reuben: ...

>Reuben was on the verge of tears. But the real Tony takes him by the shoulders to get his cousin to face him.

Tony: That’s not true! I know I was upset about what you did, but I don’t blame you. I don’t want you dead. I mean, look at that thing. It doesn’t even look anything like me.

Reuben: ... But...

?????? ??????: But it’s true. You do what me dead.

Tony: !

Reuben: !

>Something emerged from the shadows nearby. It was another Reuben, but his eyes were golden. We knew right away who this is.

Queen: Why would you think that?

Noir: Tony seems to be telling the truth. Why would you believe he wants you dead?

Shadow Reuben: Because I betrayed him... And I’m not sorry.

Fox: What!?

Shadow Reuben: I betrayed him... Because I was scared. That’s why I’m not welcomed in this family.

Reuben: ...

Tony: That’s only because Chato didn’t give him a choice. Reuben, that double is wrong. I know you are sorry for what you did. And I forgive you... You just need to forgive yourself.

Reuben: ... Are you... sure?

Tony: As a wise surfing physical therapist once told me, “The body heals only after the mind heals.”

Reuben: Tony...

Cognitive Tony: YOU WILL DIE!

>Cognitive Tony prepares to swoop in again. We get ready for the attack. However, Tony takes his board and uses it to stop its claws.

Reuben: I know I messed with Tony’s board because I was afraid if I didn’t, Chato would kill me.

Shadow Reuben: And why didn’t you want to die?

Reuben: I... I lost my parents when I was young. Dio George and Dia Maria took me in. They cared about me. Even Tony.

Shadow Reuben: But then he left. You decided to leave on your own as well.

Reuben: Yeah. Guess I should have given it more thought. The moment I moved into Chato’s hood, he ruled me and made me do things I’m not proud of.

Shadow Reuben: That’s when you realized how easy your cousin had it. You came to hate him for it.

Reuben: Now I know different, but I was to proud to admit it. Now he no longer has things easy and I should have supported him and he would support me. If anyone does deserve the blame, it’s me.

Shadow Reuben: Are you sure?

Reuben: !

Shadow Reuben: Tell me, did you really want Tony to lose to Z-Man?

Reuben: ... No.

Shadow Reuben: Whose idea was it for him to lose?

Reuben: ... Chato.

Shadow Reuben: Who was the one who cheated at that card game?

Reuben: Chato.

Shadow Reuben: Who convinced you to get revenge on Tony?

Reuben: Valeria.

Shadow Reuben: How did you end up in a way that made you hate Tony?

Reuben: I think... fate.

Shadow Reuben: So, who is really to blame for?

Reuben: ... Actually, after all the things you asked me... Chato seems to have more of the blame.

Shadow Reuben: And what about you and Tony?

Reuben: ... Neither of us deserve the blame. Things just happened... I... I just need to deal with it.

Shadow Reuben: ... Then you know.

Reuben: ... Yes. I know. I know now.

>Reuben looked over to his cousin who was fighting Cognitive Tony and losing.

Cognitive Tony: WHY DO YOU DEFEND HIM AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO YOU!?

Tony: Because... I already hold a grudge against someone. I don’t have room for another! In fact, I don’t think I’ll have hold a grudge against familia.

Cognitive Tony: THEN DIE! I HAVE NO NEED FOR A FORGIVING ME!

>Tony knew that one more hit would mean the end and the boots Sammi gave him won’t help him this time. He’s never fought something like this before. Cognitive Tony raises his wings ready for the final blow. I tried to get my Persona ready to save him... Until something unexpected happened.

Reuben: NO!

>Reuben quickly takes his deck and skates between Tony and the cognition. Its claws were just about to his Reuben until a sudden burst of light came and blinded us. When the light faded, we were all surprised by what we saw next. Reuben was holding Cognitive Tony back by the claws with...

What the eff!?

Holy-!

That blade!

I know! That’s-!

I didn’t think they were real!

Oracle: And yet here it is.

Fascinating! I can’t believe I’m actually seeing one.

Tony: Reuben? How?

Reuben: ... It’s a long story.

>Cognitive Tony keeps pressing harder on Reuben’s Keyblade until his Shadow walked up to him.

Shadow Reuben: Reuben Valdez, you know forgiveness. You have forgiven Tony. And you have forgiven... yourself.

Reuben: I know... I forgive you. You and Tony. Tony, I forgive you.

Tony: (smiling) I forgive you too, Reuben.

>Shadow Reuben smiles with satisfaction at the display as he turns to light. Then, that light entered Reuben’s Keyblade causing it to change.

>Reuben then effortlessly pushes Cognitive Tony off. Then, with one high leaps, he strikes Cognitive Tony’s helmet, completely destroying it and exposing his head.

Reuben: NOW!

Oracle: I’m on it!

>Oracle calls back her Persona so she can go Ultimate.

Oracle: PERSONA!

>Oracle’s Ultimate Persona scans Cognitive Tony now that his helmet was gone.

Oracle: Got it! It’s weak to Nuclear and Psychokinesis. Almighty works too.

Queen: Then it’s our turn now. Noir, you ready?

Noir: Always.

>They both go Ultimate.

Noir: PERSONA!

Queen: PERSONA!

>I also go Ultimate.

Joker: Pillage him, Satanael!

Crow: I won’t let you go at it alone. I may not have my Ultimate Persona yet, but I will fight.

>Queen’s Ultimate Persona and my Ultimate Persona both use Atomic Flare while Noir’s Ultimate Persona uses Psiodyne and Crow’s Persona uses Megidolaon. Before we knew it, the cognition was finally on the ground, lifeless. Reuben looked at his Keyblade.

Shadow Reuben’s voice: Buena suerte, Reuben.

>Reuben nodded and pointed his Keyblade at Cognitive Tony. It faded into a ball of light.

Mona: So that’s where the Treasure was hidden.

>I then take the Treasure. It was a stuffed toy condor.

Tony: I remember that.

>Flashback.

>A young Tony and Reuben were walking through the school carnival when they happened upon a skateboarding game. Tony won, of course. When Tony was asked to pick a prize, he chose a stuffed toy condor. When Tony got his prize... he gave it to Reuben.

Young Reuben: What are you doing, cus? This is your prize.

Young Tony: Mama and Papa said I already have enough toys to last me a lifetime. Besides, when I become a famous skateboarder, I can get whatever I want.

Young Reuben: Eres un Idiota. You know that? ... Gracias anyway, cus.

Young Tony: De nada.

>Back in the present.

Skull: All this for a toy?

Tony: This toy means more to me and Reuben than you think.

>Suddenly, everything started to rumble. The Palace was collapsing.

Panther: We better get out of here.

Mona: Right.

>Mona becomes our van and we all get aboard. The Palace was gone and we manged to escape.

>Back in the real world, we were standing outside of Reuben’s house. We looked and saw Reuben unconscious on the lawn. Tony ran to him.

Tony: Reuben! What’s wrong with him?

It’s just the change of heart taking effect. It may take some time before it completely occurs.

Tony: So you’re saying he just needs rest?

Pretty much.

Tony: (sighs with relief) Thank God.

>Tony then holds Reuben on his feet.

Are you taking him back to his house? After everything we’ve seen, it doesn’t sound like this is a good neighborhood to be in.

Tony: It doesn’t matter now. Chato was arrested months ago for trafficking heroin. He was given 5 years. But some members of his gang still live here and I think it would be best if Reuben stayed at my place.

Makoto: Probably for the best.

>We get in our real world van and drive off.

>Thanksgiving day.

>At the Valdez Mansion (which we rebuilt after it was first burned down some years back), everyone was a buzz with Thanksgiving. Makoto and Yusuke were in the dinning room helping Z-Man, that is to say Zebb Zooberman, set the table, Haru was assisting Tony’s physical therapist, Dogg, with the food in the kitchen, Futaba and Akechi were in the guest house with Sammi working on something, and Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana were in the living room watching TV with the twins, Fragg and Skragg.

So this is American football, huh? ... I don’t see the appeal.

I feel ya, dude. Let’s change it.

>Skragg takes the remote and changes the channel.

Announcer: Welcome back to the Thanksgiving Day Skate Off! Hope you bros out there are ready for one heck of a feast at the skate park!

Ryuji: Now this is a bit more like it.

Ann: I don’t know. After watching the parade, everything else is starting to look less exciting. But then again, I’ve never heard of a skating competition on Thanksgiving.

There’s a first time for everything. We just have our own styles.

She’s got a point, Lady Ann. It just depends on your cognition. But I do kind of wish we could see the parade again, That sushi balloon looked good.

Ann: Really? I don’t think I remember a balloon like that.

I think this dinner is coming along. Though I did taste the turkey. It tastes a bit different. In a good way that is.

It’s a tofu turkey.

Haru: I see. Guess that saves a lot of real turkeys this Thanksgiving.

Dogg: I take it you never had tofu turkey before, have you?

Haru: My father wouldn’t allow it when he was alive. We usually have a real turkey. I guess he wanted to spare no expense. It wasn’t until I found out who he really was, I realized how off that was.

Dogg: Yes, from what I’ve heard, your father wasn’t exactly the nicest person.

Haru: If he didn’t let his greed get to him, things would have been different.

Dogg: Not much you can do about it now. All you can do now is move on and live your life.

Haru: (nodding in approval) Right! I’ll continue on until I can open my cafe. Thank you, Dogg.

Dogg: Hee! Hee! Anytime, Haru san.

Haru: Not let’s get started on that green bean casserole.

>In the dinning room, Yusuke had just folded the napkins in an almost artistic way.

A perfect display for the perfect dinner.

Makoto: Are you sure? Tony was hoping for a more simple affair.

Could be worse. You should see what I did.

>Zebb showed he had chipped a couple of plates.

Makoto: I thought we were using paper plates.

Zebb: We are. This is for the alter.

Yusuke: For his parents?

Zebb: Yes. It was Sammi’s idea. She definitely knows what’s up.

Makoto: I can see that. But I wonder what Tony would think if he sees two of his best plates chipped... By the way, where is he?

Yusuke: He and Akira are outside. When they went to check on Reuben this morning, he wasn’t there. They saw that Sammi’s jeep was gone so he must have taken it.

Zebb: Is it okay to go driving after that thing you do to people?

Makoto: I’m not sure. But for now, let’s just hope things will go without problems.

>She was right.

>Me and Tony were just about to go back inside when we heard a vehicle coming up. We saw Reuben driving Sammi’s jeep up the driveway. When he got out, we saw he had a pumpkin pie with him.

Tony: Reuben! Where were you?

Reuben: I... I was afraid... That you would for get the pumpkin pie.

Tony: Hmm, that’s true. Usually Mama or Papa would remember to bring the pie. I was afraid some one would forget it. But you didn’t forget.

Reuben: I know... I was just... Making sure that this Thanksgiving... wouldn’t suck... What with Dio George and Dia Maria gone... and Sammi having to look after you... All the time... I just didn’t think you would... Like to be alone right now... (begins tearing up) I just...

Tony: Reuben, está bien. You just fell in with a bad crowd. I don’t think I want to be alone from you.

Reuben: I know... I just... I just... (falls to his knees and begins to cry) I JUST MISS YOU TONY!

>Tony comes to him to comfort him.

Tony: (with a few tears himself) I know. I missed you too.

>After what seemed like a couple of minutes, the two cousins managed to overcome their tears and got back up.

Akira: Feel better yet?

Tony: Yes... Come on. They’d probably finished getting dinner ready.

Reuben: *sniff* Si.

>We made our way back into the house. When we got to the dinning room, we found everyone getting seated. At one end of the table, Futaba’s laptop was flashing a bit until a triple split image appeared on it.

Success!

So glad you can join us. No matter how far away you are.

Yes. It’s just a shame I couldn’t actually be there with Mikoto to eat the wonderful feast you have. All I have is conveyor belt sushi.

Morgana: Lucky.

If it makes you feel better, all I’ve got is instant yakisoba.

Fragg: Kinda makes me wonder what the old dude is having.

Futaba: Knowing Sojiro, curry with rice.

You’d be surprised how well this goes with any day of the year.

Akechi: He has a point. But still I’m glad you could be here with us.

Futaba: Thanks to me.

And who else?

Futaba: Oh, and Sammi too.

Sammi: Thank you.

Akechi: And?

>Haru glares at Akechi.

Akechi: (surprised) What I mean is... Never mind. Forget I said anything.

Haru: Good.

Tony: What’s that about?

Akira: ... Good news: Reuben brought pie.

>Everyone was a bit surprised by Reuben joining them for dinner. But Sammi knew Reuben would finally decide to trust Tony again. We all seated. As we did, we heard a slurping sound. It was Mishima.

Mishima: Oops.

Zebb: Oops is right. Because you started without us, you say Grace.

Mishima: Umm.

Boss: I invoke the Grace Loophole. If someone else took a bite after the first, they have to say Grace instead of the first eater.

>Boss takes a bite of his curry.

Zebb: Huh. Can’t really argue with that. Okay, Shades, you’re cleared.

Mishima: Thank you.

>We all put our hands together in prayer.

Boss: Heavenly Father, you know that we’re here... So I’ll leave out all the rest. Eat hardy, everyone.

Everyone: Thanks. Amen.

Boss: I was just joking about that prayer, you know?

Everyone: Sorry.

Boss: Heavenly Father, we give thanks for everything we have. The loved ones we have with us... And those who have passed.

>Everyone takes a quick look at the alter near them. There were four pictures on it with five plates. The picture in the center were of George and Maria Valdez. The picture next to it was of Futaba’s mother, Wakaba Isshiki. The picture on the other side was of Makoto and Niijima’s father. Further next to it was a picture of Akechi’s mother.

Boss: We also give thanks for the blessings you gave us over the years. Including love, freedom, and of course forgiveness. We are greatful for the time we have been given. Amen.

Everyone: Amen.

Reuben: By the way, what are you going to do with it? The toy condor. I checked my house and I still have it, but I’m guessing that’s a different one.

Makoto: That’s right. The one we took from your Palace was created from your cognition. We’ve decided to donate it to the toy drive in town. Better to give it some little boy or girl who would love it.

Reuben: Then... Maybe I should give the one I have away too.

Ryuji: Huh? Why?

Reuben: That other me doesn’t have it. I think it would make sense if I didn’t mine either.

Makoto: You don’t have to do that. But if it’s something you really want to do, we can’t really stop you.

Reuben: Bueno.

>Reuben takes out his toy condor and gives it to Tony.

Reuben: Feliz Navidad temprana.

Tony: Reuben?

Reuben: Like I said. It’s your prize. Besides, someday, I’ll win it off of you the next time we skate.

Tony: ... Estás en.

>The two cousins smile at each other knowing that their bond has been restored as we return to our Thanksgiving dinner.

>Another successful heist.

#phantom thieves of hearts #heist

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