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Chapter Text

(Thursday the 8th of March, 1972 continued. Somewhere, Someplace.)

Holding up a hand, Sonya glared at the metal mask wearing Mist of ancient and terrible origins. "No. You should have cleaned up something. You knew I would be here, that I raise other Mists, that this is not alright. Checkerface, you are going to give me a complex. Which my godson will have to suffer through to help me fix."

He did that weird Mist fidget thing, phasing in and out of reality where he stood instead of fiddle with his hands or fingers. If she could trust his expression or… anything, physically shown of him, actually more wary than annoyed or flatly indifferent.

"A pile. Just one. Pick it up, put it away, let me pretend. You do not have to throw anything out, just get it up off the damn fucking floor, jackass. Before I freak out on Shamal, you should not be making his life harder just because you cannot do this without me and his uncle."

"…or, I could just not bring you back here."

"Whatever!" The thief bit out viciously, pointedly keeping her attention on the Ancient Asshole only. "Whatever works for you, I do not give a fuck. If this is the way you wish to live, then have at. Just… every fucking time I think back to your utterly sad bachelor cave here, I start to fucking freak out about my already insane Mists."

That expression was a creeping annoyance, making Checkerface fussily straighten out his still very likely imaginary image presented in a show of pointed indifference. "I'll take your opinion under advisement. Now then…?"

She snatched the tarot cards he copied straight from Viper's Constructed storage-memory of who was drawn what, and how the hell that worked she had no fucking idea, from midair to study herself.

In a very crappy knockoff cave of wonders straight out of a fairytale, full of junkpiles instead of mounds of gold and jewels. It was very underwhelming, in reality.

Sonya prowled back to 'her' lounge chaise, the same fake brown leather affair he still hadn't returned to some poor bewildered therapist. Which was still right next to the decidedly not matching in anything but the stud quilting red leather version, which was real leather and had dangly gold tassels all around the bottom of the upholstery.

She didn't care, it wasn't really hers, fuck off you colossal asshole.

Settling in, she eyed the cards Viper had her 'draw' for herself. Instantly realizing the less decrepit old Mist of their 'Generation' hadn't asked what the missions were.

No, the fuck asked her deck to surmise them instead.

And fuck her deck was a cheeky thing.

The Queen of Pentacles, inverted. The eight of wands, inverted. The knight of swords, upright.

Upside down queen?

Her deck was basically calling her a slut. A 'do not get addicted to whatever pleasure has you in its sway' warning. Basically trying to tell her there were better ways to manage her life and she seriously needed to sit down and think about it.

Eight upside down sticks was 'denial does not serve here'. There was a powerful chain of consequences going on and pretending ignorance would fuck if not her over than someone else.

The fuck-ass knight?

Even if she was doing the right thing, it was for the wrong reasons. A person that blames another for their own irritation and restlessness, a hot-head with a chip on their shoulder doing everything but handling their own shit. Question your motives and think about what you are doing, you arrogant combative bitch.

…or, maybe, yet again 'you slut'.

Sonya discarded the mere copy of the cards she drew to the floor, not needing Viper's lingering 'this is what this card means drawn like this, you moron' help embedded in each to know what her own drawing said here. "…this is a thing."

"Surprise." Checkerface countered, remaining where he put himself to bring them here instead of follow her to the entirely ornate armchair he got himself to go with hers. "I'm sure neither you nor I care for the mechanics of how it's possible. It is, you can, and I require your assistance to… adjust what I was never taught to tinker with. Maybe… I will not need quite so long. Or to use a child to solve a flaw in our supposedly temporary fix of a problem we should have solved ourselves eons ago."

"…with what others? You said you were the last."

"I am."

She buried her face in both hands, roughly rubbing both eyes first. "One, that is fucking depressing and also very fucking sad. Two, how the fuck do you plan on doing that?"

"If it takes earning your pity, I'll do that." Snarled the Mist heatedly, hitches of something darkly hateful and wretched underpinning his suddenly more emotional tone. "You want-"

"We owe you."

"…uh… what?"

"Me and Skull." Sonya reported flatly, still keeping her face in her hands and just not looking because then she might actually cry or some other stupid shit. This whole bullshit situation was getting complicated and stupid and she just knew it wasn't going to end prettily… but there wasn't anything else to be done. "You gave me the 'Mists can physically leave non-physical issues behind to deal with later' tip, I gave it to the brat. Shamal used it, to help him mange my fucking ass when I basically freaked out and tried to murder people I should not while Skull stopped me. So we owe you. If this is what you want, Checkerface, you do not have to do shit but ask."

He was silent for a while, not just a couple seconds or even just one minute. "…he picked it back up, right?"

"Right."

Very suddenly now in that stupid armchair, the Ancient Asshole made a few hesitantly inquiring noises that were almost a word or three but he seemed to keep changing his mind on which he wanted to get out first. "…this is… unusual. Do I have to pick? Can I add something on top? Is it not needed?"

"Maybe, knock off the 'kid in a candy store glee' first." With a sigh, she straightened up to lean against the 'head' of her lounger and scowled at the asshole. "What the fuck did you do to my head, anyway? Reborn's right, I let a mind reader into it. Then I talked to him about you and your stupidity. He should have picked up on what I am allowed to remember about this shit."

"His manifestation of telepathy is a bit… broken. Half-formed. He should be able to do so by choice, not unable to stop it at all." Checkerface lurked in his armchair like an evil overlord, fingertips pressed together and steepled in front of his mouth as he watched her back. "And you, are one of a handful of true diviners left in existence. I shouldn't have to tell you not to allow that to spread very far."

"Helen of Troy is enough of a forewarning." Sonya deadpanned with spite. "No, my stance will be 'it is chance and very stupid' to keep idiotic morons that want to know the future off my fucking doorstep. Otherwise I have a very nice hammer Renato gave me entirely too long ago that has not seen any use yet…"

Even if that fed directly into one of the warnings her cards were trying to give her. 'Pretending ignorance will not serve here', so she had to not do ignorance but… flat denial wasn't the only method available to her.

"Good." Deemed the Ancient Asshole with a fussy judgmental sniff in her face. "You are free to remember all you like about your past life, anything I find and chart out in your memories about this 'timeline' will be automatically sealed off from him and you. It will not leave your pretty little head… since you already know more than I feel comfortable with. It is not your fault, or his fault, but as I have a need… it is on me to keep it secured for us."

"For the rest of my life?"

"If need be, yes. I am forcing you to remember," Checkerface answered immediately and without a drop of mercy, "so I will be the one responsible. I'll try my best not to ruin your life."

She rubbed at the side of her face, mostly her temple, and heaved a sigh of bitter resignation. "What did you mean 'add something on top'?"

(ooo000ooo)

(Thursday the 8th of March, 1972 continued. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)

Even knowing the alternative readings and what they could have gotten, Luce still got a chill reading the layout of advice for herself from past to future. From a soothsayer less 'only what you could ever know' and more 'drawn straight from Fate' than her whole line's gift.

The Ten of Cups, upside down. The collective goodwill is damaged and fraying, you have said and done things you will regret later.

The World card, one of two cards in a tarot deck where orientation did not matter. Keep moving, know yourself, you do not have to die for it.

Page of Pentacles, learn. Study the underlying mechanism, those around you, build off it. You may be green now, you will be a master in time if you study your lessons properly.

For both herself and Lal Mirch, they were decidedly blunt terms called out for them both. Accurately blunt, even with a split in who they addressed.

Luce had to recently gut her own Famiglia, Lal Mirch got axed by her own branch of the military. She was currently lying her damn ass off in the here and now, the other woman had lied to the other Rain now here with them and said branch of the military that gave her uncalled for booting. Their 'past' card draw was very clear there.

There was nothing else to be done but keep on course, for both her and the Rain Arcobaleno. Their present.

For the future… well.

The Sky was still stuck on the 'you do not have to die' foretelling, than greatly concerned with that 'you do not know enough yet' foretelling.

Did Sonya's deck mean if she studied her own gift more she may not die, or if she learned more of those around her she may not die?

She had been recently very firmly slapped across the face that she only knew events, not the timeline. While the events that made up the timeline were important, she had literally no control on which of many might come to be. She could try to influence them, and did indeed do so one variation of time, but being able to do that had passed from probability months ago.

They were on an uncharted, unknown possibility of reality. Terrifying, yes.

Luce… may not have to die?

She knew, now, that if she did not know to look then she would not foresee. Her ancestors had known this and pointedly structured the 'duties' of the Don or Donna to help them focus on what the Famiglia needed to stay information brokers and not outed as 'seers'. Arrogantly, she had not thought she needed the same for her more personal use of her foresight.

The human mind could not store that much memory, a lifetime's worth yes… not millions of lifetimes. That was why they were gifted with foresight, not all knowing. A Giglio Nero seer had to look.

She had a wealth of more options than what she could immediately see from some months, and years, ago. The future was an ever-changing set of possible probabilities, reliant on not just what she would remember in the future but on the choices of several million other humans as they worked and lived. Uncaring, perhaps more heedless, of what loomed ahead of them.

As the Donna of the Giglio Nero had 'looked' for what she could manipulate to end up in a very specific end-point, starting there and tracing backwards, she had flatly ignored what she had not manipulated. Thinking it couldn't help her much. Who knew how many different possibilities to solve this had winked in and out of existence while she had been ignoring them?

Maybe it was the great, almost overwhelming total probability of her death in her late twenties that blinded her. She knew there were fates in the future where she would not die midway through her baby's childhood, but all she had known to look into was done because Luce had been selfish.

Viper would need a half-formed Harmony bond to Luce, to avoid Tyr on Costa's death and become free for Xanxus to snag in the future. Fon did not need one and would just resent it later for the rest of his life. Verde did not care beyond a bitter thought once or twice regardless of her choice here.

Skull and Sonya needed to agree on one before that became a complication, and Reborn would only go when he picked to go to his Sky. If Lal Mirch and Colonello did bond in time, they would not need Luce to help them avoid Iemitsu Sawada's grip.

She was just going to focus on that for now. Take a step backwards, focus on her baby and study her own foresight and how it worked. There was… literally nothing else to do but keep moving.

It was no longer reliant on just what Luce chose to do, the possibility of guiding the future was out of her hands and firmly in Uncle Kawahira's.

And her ancient, part of another race, uncle had decided he really didn't want to wait until long after her death to fix this problem.

Luce firmly stacked Sonya's cards into a neat pile and handed them with the folder on their information gathering 'mission' to Lal, her ears picking up the faint sound of a well-maintained car coming to a stop on grass outside. "…I believe I wish to spend the rest of the week with my daughter. If no one minds."

"Not a damn." Dismissed the female Rain, getting rapid nods from her male fellow in echo.

Fon and Verde flatly ignored her, Viper just checked Luce had given the tarot cards to someone else first, and Reborn remained silent but did tip her a nod.

"Skull, if you would give my office a ring and let me know your sister did return in good health when she does?"

"…uh, sure?"

"No, not just because I need her assistance to wean Aria off drawing Cloud Flames to comfort herself. I would like to know ahead of time how much of a bitch I should be to Checkerface next, if I can manage it."

The stuntman barked a laugh, leaning back on both hands as he sat on the floor instead of remain hunched forward to keep eye contact with young Vasilyev 'Vasya' Ravil Olegovich. "You did pretty damn good this round, Luce. Think I'm looking forward to what else you can get in with a bit of planning."

The Sky dipped him a short bob with a smirk. "About my only use right now. I did give Lal tips while we were hunting down that information we were 'tasked' with, so I also need Sonya's 'back' permission if and when, and if she feels like, giving it."

"I'll let her know."

Luce turned back to Lal. "Not to cut you off from choosing to admit that, but just… I'd like to keep things neat, if I may."

"Sonya already explained 'interference' in a Tutorship is basically a death sentence, no I'm not surprised you're covering your own ass here, Luce." Dismissed the Rain pointedly while paging through their card draw again, with a half sneer of distaste for being unable to argue the 'interpretation' Viper had tagged each with. "I knew you'd probably get that in before I could."

"As long as that is clear," she allowed for very dryly, "then I bid you all ciao here. You lot are wild, sometimes very well mannered, but to be blunt… I prefer my daughter's company over everyone here still."

Barely, and only because it was very comforting to be allowed into the guard of this group without expectations or demands. Reborn was not her Sun, Fon not her Storm, Skull and Sonya not her Clouds, Viper not her Mist, Verde not her Lightning, and Lal Mirch and Colonello not her Rains. They might be curious, or not for several of them, but they were equally not interested in smothering Luce to see if she might be their Sky.

Which was, to be bluntly honest here, very fucking rare with Flame users. Unattached Flame users.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say 'I believe we also would prefer you spend your time with your daughter than linger around here'." Reborn drawled smoothly in the background, still tipping her another nod on her way to the door around the dog-dug hole in floorboard made when Alek had to check to see if he could dig up his missing mistress. "Ciao, Luce. Until next time."

Luce saw Aria before she could hear her once she got out of the manse's front door, which meant the dose of murderous calmness Sonya donated had not yet worn off. Which had been a chance, yes.

Which also meant she got to take a nice long nap this afternoon with her daughter, and not need to stress out if the Storm-Cloud Donna would help her or not. Even 'knowing' the chance of it in the future, the thief was still a difficult woman to predict.

(Friday the 9th of March, 1972. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"You'll have to excuse the kid."

"Of course, Donna de Mort." Fon glanced up for a moment, mainly just to see that yes. This Italian man had brought a young woman with him to justify his excuse, who was significantly more nervous of the full-grown Cloud woman than the child one here for healing.

Then he returned his attention to the talismans in his hands. Tarot cards.

As it was not a foretelling he was uncertain how much he wished to believe what this claimed. As a description, on the other hand… it was almost a bit bewilderingly frank. To an uncomfortable degree.

Annoyingly clever of Viper, to claim a foretelling and then let them find out it was actually an estimation of them. Fon did not believe the future could be foretold, as the future was a thing crafted by many hands, and he had prepared himself to argue such upon the 'reveal'.

Sonya's art was advice from fate, not 'telling' the future. The Storm was not fully alright with being given such, his life was his to succeed or fail at himself on his own merits.

As the woman herself claimed upon being 'returned' yesterday, moody and displeased and very snappish, the practice of fortune telling was inherently flawed. Her talent was advice, which might be uncannily accurate to an odd degree but likely only useful in hindsight.

She would not be living her life by her own cards, if others wished to do so they may as long as she was left out of it. It might have frustrated Viper, but Fon and unsurprisingly Verde were seemingly both satisfied with her principled stance on the revealed topic.

It may be an odd skill she had, but the thief would live her life as she saw fit. Not by what 'fate' or others may want.

Fon pointedly folded his three cards into a sleeve before Reborn could peer over his shoulder and see them for himself. "Can I assist you?"

"Pay attention." Drawled the strange man, leaning back against the same wall he had chosen to seat himself against with a lazily watchful air. "It's polite."

"My apologies. I do not care." Announced the assassin tonelessly, much to Sonya's continuing indifference and a strange look from the Sky here seeking a strange arrangement. "It is her choice to assist or not, or even if she believes this claim. I am not required here, nor is my opinion relevant."

"And to be truthful, I kind of don't care much either." Tacked on the strangely skilled thief very dryly, refocusing on her knitting needles as she made more of the material started some time ago given the length of it. "It is weird, Cavallone."

"Trust me, at any other time I'd just tell my father no and deal with the year or two of arguments he'll pitch." Leone Cavallone admitted in a quiet tone, pulling the lady he brought with him down to be seated with him on the couch of the ground floor sitting room they had met within. "The issue is I would rather not be what kills him. He's dying, Donna de Mort."

"This is still a lie, and I am not particularly inclined to assist that."

"If he was healthy and in his right mind, this would not be a situation at all." The claim finally got her to stop knitting, and she dropped her current project to her lap to eye him dubiously. "He had a stroke, it's… killed his emotional control. Nothing else, but what he says now is getting a bit… not good. We're pulling him back from being Don in everything but name because of it, but he's still my father and the head of the family. So yes, I'm asking you to lie."

"I regret to inform you," Reborn injected stridently, sounding nothing as he claimed, "that victims of strokes can live well beyond twenty or so more years perfectly fine. He may be dying, Cavallone, but we all are dying by increments from old age."

"Not according to the family doctor. He's got, at best, a year or so more. Likely less, given his habits. Which dad is flatly refusing to believe, or modify his lifestyle to account for."

"Just get hitched, present him with the paperwork, and say 'so sorry, can't'." Sonya offered next, eyeing the other woman quietly sitting in on this curiously.

"Again, rather not be what kills dad. And knowing my luck, that will be what kills him." Leone held up his entwined hand, still folded with the presumed girlfriend's, as if to beg for another moment of tolerance. "This close to inheriting the Famiglia, anything and everything that looks like disobedience or trying to grab power I'm not yet 'due' will be used against me almost immediately when I take over. He's a difficult, hardline kind of man who suddenly went unreasonably more hardline. Yes. I'm still his son, I'd rather not bitterly argue with him the last few months of his life. Or get disowned, which would make providing for any family a bit more than just hard unless I move somewhere… less defensible for a Sky. Just for a few months, Donna de Mort. Maybe a year."

"What the hell do I get out of letting you use me like this?"

"Nothing I can guarantee right now, but a formal alliance when I am the head of the Cavallone Famiglia."

"I have a stake in Mafia School." Offered the so far silent woman quietly. "I'm willing to sign it over now, this second."

Sonya returned her attention to her fellow blonde woman pointedly.

"It's stolen, yes. I did not think you would mind."

"Also a thief, here."

The so far unintroduced woman nodded simply. "I'd rather not say why or how I got it, there's nothing to gain from it but some influence at the school. Which, I believe, as you recently acquired a Mafia School Professor renders it quite… flimsy in comparison. Sorry…"

"Are you… entirely alright with this?"

"It was my idea to ask you to do this." She countered with slight amusement. "If there's anyone in existence that will not want to steal Leone from me, it's you Donna de Mort. You have significantly better prospects in this very room. I'm not one of his Guardians, which would've made this a matter of routine instead of… at risk. We just need, at most, a year of your indulgence. Please."

"If you two elope. Right this fucking second." Sonya demanded in sheer, utter exasperation. "Bring me the marriage certificate, you don't have to say shit all to anyone, just redo your vows or something later. Then you can do… this. But yes, you are signing that over. Since it's going on offer."

"I told you it'd work!" Grabbing the Sky to kiss right then and there in front of all of them, the woman hastily bolted off through the open doorway. "Be right back!"

"…she left the paperwork in the car." Leone sheepishly offered after a bewildered second, righting himself slowly. "Um… sorry. About… all of this. Really."

"This is stupid."

"Yes."

The thief picked up her knitting needles with a scowl, which made young Vasilyev hurriedly unwind more of the silk he was minding to give her more material. "Reborn's going with you to witness and will bring the certificate back for 'appearances'. Have fucking fun."

"Need me to scrape off any of your Guardians beforehand?" Inquired the named Mafioso with a disturbingly intent grin that earned him a wary glance from the other Mafioso.

"No. Dad's tried for years to give me political Guardians, I generally flatly ignore him when he tries. All my Guardians are mine, thank you." Turning back to the woman he was seeking an accord with, the man tried for an awkward smile. "Speaking of things on offer… would you like my firstborn as well?"

"…what the fuck is with people giving me their kids?"

"Well, if you would be less good at it…" The hitman pointedly looked at the young Cloud at her side, then flicked a wrist at presumably the rest of the children in the castle behind him. "…then maybe people would stop trying to ensure you will raise them if the worst happens to them."

Sonya paused with her needles to pin him with a flat look, and Vasilyev freed one hand to stick his middle finger up at the Sun using Mafioso.

"My point." Mocked the man wickedly, turning as he touched the brim of his floppy hat on his way out of the room as well.

"I have… literally nothing else to promise you right now. Nothing that equates to how much I appreciate this, Donna de Mort." Answered Cavallone, belatedly and with a little shame to his posture and tone. "Alcina's the only one able to offer shit all tangible, aside promises for the future."

"Oh you're signing shit I can use to blackmail you both if this isn't as claimed. It'll be burned the day of your father's funeral, and we'll all never speak of this again. So think of a third party to hold your end of the contract." Flatly declared the thief as she returned to knitting. "If it wasn't out of respect to a compromised old man's last few months of life, Cavallone, I wouldn't fucking bother. Now get out."

The man went as bid. Not even returning with 'Alcina' to sign over an ornate document, before the woman also darted off to do as asked and marry immediately.

"Vasilyev, you don't have to stick near me this closely."

She got silently stared at by her current young shadow.

"I'm going back to work this week too. Either you come with me or stick around here. You have a choice, yes. But you can't keep using me like this. You have to adjust sometime."

The child set aside her current skein of undyed silk, getting up and immediately walking off.

"…where is he going?"

"Apparently, to pack. Dumbass." Sonya answered with mild irritation.

Fon rose to his full height, replacing the Cloud child as the one managing her materials while crafting. "Can I… inquire, as to why you are humoring him?"

"He was outside my reach, Fon. We all, both him and I and my old man, knew it would not be ending pretty. I offered, the last moment I could, that he could come here if he wanted." She allowed bitterly, staring at the work she had gotten through and unraveling it all with a single heavy sigh. "Can I ask what you really want today, or are we not addressing that."

First, he rewound her skein. Then set that aside and drew out the tarot cards from his sleeve to hand over.

Sonya eyed him questioningly. "Seriously?"

"I do not… believe in fortune telling. No. This is… more curious than that. I'd rather you define this than have Viper do so."

Slowly, she put down her needles again in favor of the cards. "Same order you got them in?"

"Yes."

"Three of Cups and the Five of Swords were…?"

"Upside down."

"Inverted." She corrected absently. "Well. You were a frustrating asshole, I'm sure your old man will agree there. You might be becoming less of a competitive asshole, not sure I buy that. And…"

"I do not understand why I 'got' the Page of Cups." Fon clarified ruefully with an absent shrug, as those first two were the ones he could not muster an argument against. "Viper has asked us to argue so, I do not believe I am a 'flighty imaginative and creative individual'."

"…this also means 'easily tossed around by external forces and events', Fon."

"Aa…"

Sonya returned her attention to his cards thoughtfully, studying the images depicted before handing them back with an absent shrug. "You are creative, though. Sorry to break your illusions here. It might be physically creative, and you fine-tune your art to an excessive degree. Martial arts are still an art. And you are passionate about practicing and using your art."

"Unfortunate." He scowled at the flimsy cardstocks with the brightly colored decorations, letting them go up in his Flames with irritation. Even if they were not his belongings to destroy, she did not seem to care at the destruction.

"If it makes you feel any better, the cards Viper had me draw called me a slut. I'm fairly sure twice."

"…no, that does not make me feel any better." Tugging away her current craft project to safely store on the low table in this room, the Storm swept her into his lap to firmly ensconced in his arms. "You are no slut."

"I might be doing this wrong. Or backwards. It's a high possibility. You can just ask, you know. I don't particularly like being moved by someone else." Sonya bent her spine backwards over his bicep this time instead of pressing upon them, which his shoulders did appreciate. "Fon, I have literally no idea what the hell I'm doing. With you and Reborn. Now it's not just a 'yes or no' question, someone's going to be disappointed. I can't… fix that. And I'm greedy enough to know full well what the disappointment will break, yet not willing to call it immediately without the full picture just in case I can tell early who I will fit best with."

"I've known you longer."

"And following that playground logic, he asked first."

"Why do you like him at all?"

"An unfortunate flaw in my character. I like assholes." She sighed, slinking back into his chest to settle in a loose hug. "He, and you, were never afraid of me. Or wary, or… I don't scare either of you. I appreciate this. A lot. I don't get that very often. Almost as immediately, both of you opposed me. You physically and him verbally, but I wasn't given my way just because I'm a violent bitch. Which is also kind of rare, and something I don't want to lose."

"That was not a particularly wise choice to join in on, to meet you." Fon allowed for with a single simple shrug, but as it was something he did regardless even knowing the rules of what could be allowed and what couldn't… it was and he had no other words to offer about it.

"Because it pissed me off, might've cost you something, or what?"

"Well, you were a traveling Flame user. We suspected we would not be the first to try confronting and keeping you. And that it may indeed fail, even if we knew the area better than you could."

It may have worked out for the best this way, but he would admit to some mild disappointment they had not been able to catch her. It may never have been possible with a thief of her skills, and once he learned she was indeed a Cloud too highly ill-advised to try caging her, but he was flawed enough to wish he had more time to learn her tells.

Sonya huffed in sarcastic tinged amusement into his chest. "You know, mom and the old man's going to be here at any minute? Lisa wanted to see us before they had to leave, and after the whole shitshow of a 'mission' we got delayed on…?"

"You have a doorkeeper." He countered, unwilling to let her slide out of his hold just yet. "I will have a warning."

"…to let me go, or try to hide from mom?"

"Both." Fon answered with wry amusement that made her snicker.

(ooo000ooo)

(Friday the 9th of March, 1972 continued. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"…so-"

"Thought you wanted to 'never' talk about it again." Reborn mocked to Skull's face, still getting only a mild look of aggravation for the disrespect no other man in his position would ever put up with.

Folding up the marriage certificate of one Leone Cavallone to his lady love Alcina Cavallone nee Puccia, to stick in a binder of documentations containing motorcycle deeds and several other papers the stuntman apparently found useful doing what he did, he pointedly tried again. "…so."

"I make no promises not to shoot you."

"Does she know what you're lying about?"

He thought about lying, because that really wasn't any of Skull's business. "Does she know what you're 'over-dramatizing' about?"

"Yes." Confirmed the stuntman in full getup without hesitation or shame, shrugging after a moment. "She helped."

Ditto, to be honest. Because Reborn was not an honest man, he glowered at Sonya's brother in irritation. "I told her immediately and when it became possibly contentious. Men do not spring from nothing fully grown, Skull. At the very least, I am not going to marry under an assumed name."

"Dude, don't care." Dismissed Skull heatedly and with more irritation than having attitude from an unaffiliated from his famiglia man thrown into his face. "Just… yeah, okay. I appreciate knowing I don't have to tell her myself. Just stay like that and we're not going to have problems. Okay? Okay, bye. See you… whenever the fuck I have to next."

Taking that as the dismissal it obviously was, Reborn left the man's high perch tower room first.

It might take him twenty or some years, but he had the faith he'd eventually get Sonya to marry him. Their whole lives and maybe three kids later, but eventually.

Or, given his luck with her, next weekend and because she took an idle comment the entirely right way that he didn't intend.

One never really knew with that woman.

Just look at her little revealed talent with tarot cards.

Reborn was going to get a pound of flesh out of Viper somehow, even if it killed him. That had been a bit too close to the single bone of truth in all the lies for his taste. Especially when taking Skull with him as a wildly different man than himself, for a supposedly difficult 'reading'.

'Their' past, represented in ten swords, points to the sky. In other words, you liar. 'Reframe' to start 'fresh' and it would not be as bad, you have begun to believe your own stories and excuses.

As blunt as the thief that drew them the cards.

Thankfully the other two were quite so alarming in content, just that sticky first one that let both him and Skull be clearly aware the other had been telling fibs.

To be clear, Reborn was not remotely shocked to hear the Cloud was lying about something. He was an adult, part of the Mafia, pretty par for the course. Worse yet, a showman and the underboss all at the same time. Skull made some very pretty and neat lies when he needed them, with the talent to blend them into what was or to back up his lies in some other way to make them damn near invisible.

Cherep Bazanov had not been so willing to lie and conform to Mafia sensibilities only a few years ago, the hitman knew full well where and when this lie of his had been done. Not something Reborn should know or be able to judge by, and as his Donna and sister knew full well to the point she assisted him in it… not his problem either.

Either they'll get away with it because they were skilled in setting up a believable lie hard to sort out from the truth, or the hitman would be told when he 'earned' the faith to not spoil it. Preferably the second, sometime soon. He'd rather not piss Sonya off sticking his nose somewhere neither Cloud would appreciate just because he was highly curious.

The 'Ace of Cups' drawn for them both was significantly less objectionable, if a bit… indulgent. Apparently, according to the thief's cards, both he and Skull just need to relax right now.

Not particularly something Reborn wished to do. Sonya made some very powerful enemies on Vongola's behalf, on Fon's Triad's behalf, who very likely needed regular discouragement from attempting to inconvenience the woman who rescued a little lady Sky in distress from their stupidity. Then there was her undeath, and all the idiots that might think surprise or poison or may if you stabbed enough times might work.

…well, actually. Taking a week to go get that in hand would be rather relaxing, for him.

So yes. Reborn was in desperate need of some leisurely relaxation more suited to his taste than wasting time at a tropical beach filled with twittering civilian fucks. How thoughtful of 'fate' to suggest it.

The last less immediate and more 'advice for the future' card had been… not particularly hopeful. The page of swords, again 'reversed' to hold the sword pointed up.

'Don't take a stand against another until the resentment has been cleared, you'll undermine the truth of your message'. Or, to put it succinctly, you're being overly critical of another's shortcomings.

Well, excuse him he didn't appreciate Fon attempting to steal Sonya from under him.

The woman warned him she wasn't going to wait on the hitman to get his shit together, and the airheaded assassin got in five minutes past the deadline with an 'um, actually' upset. Which left the thief very neatly pinched, caught between her promise to let Reborn sooth her heartache to bring her back to him and Fon's sudden out of the blue bullshit in need of sorting out.

An old friend of hers she was not willing to flatly shut out, not in the favor of the man who once had something with her but strangled it to nothing when he abandoned her.

Which left a tiny bit more in question than he really fucking appreciated right now.

…plus another kid. This one wasn't Reborn's responsibility dumped on her, at least. The 'Wolfpack' Cloud was very obviously short cutting his traumatized to hell situation by that almost automatic intense dislike two Hard Flame Clouds held for the other 'interloper'.

If Vasilyev couldn't muster up the energy or willpower to care on his own, he could trigger himself to hate using the thief's presence. Forced himself to focus on the here and now, not on whatever the fuck happened.

Smart of the brat, kept him moving for now until he could focus on something else. Hence, the hitman had no desire to get in the child's way until he could do without using her. He was trying to fix himself the best he could with what was at hand, he had a couple weeks of leeway to get himself there.

Maybe a month or two, because fuck. Something that could unanchor a Cloud from their home territory?

Reborn wasn't even curious. Skull and Sonya didn't even ask before immediately making room for him to occupy.

Apparently while Pahkan Arseniy worked to a more limited degree, Vasilyev wasn't willing to hang around Moscow for the similar if not as intense help. Probably because baby Cloud brat, Valera, wouldn't immediately try to adjust for him due to outside details the even younger kid likely didn't care about.

There might be a question of if Dorokhov could substitute, the Khimki Cloud. A moot one, as most Russians not needed to hang around had already fucked off back home to their own territories and responsibilities. Including vor Ziven, the first Moscow Home Tutor, and his Hard Cloud Flame Tutee.

A handful were left behind with the Russian equivalent to a Don, and Arseniy was pointedly sitting on the dumbass Sun vor that caused half the shit Reborn felt incredibly galling. Pointedly as in sitting at a hotel outside the 'Varia' territory the de Morts held for Tyr, staring at Gedeon in public and far away from anything his children saw as home.

Even though his woman and biological son were here, delightedly fussing with Cesare over the tolerantly putting up with it Donna until Skull got his ass down here as the one intending on leaving first.

"Can I give him a hint, at least?"

Tatiana leaned over to knock shoulders with her sister, sharing a secretively amused look with the younger woman to their elder's clear amusement. "Where's the fun in that, Nya?"

Valera was utterly disgusted with the both of them, forcefully removing himself from his sisters' grasp to go back to his mother. Sulking hard and tiny, pudgy, baby fat fingers still clenched around that same lock he had been toting around since Reborn caught sight of the child at Mafia School.

Lando slotted him a look, half-suspicious and entirely noncommittal as he stayed within the Mafia Land nurse's sight to keep his Voodooed leg under a medical professional's eye. The hitman merely tipped him a nod of acknowledgement, fetching himself up against the open doorway to the ground floor parlor Sonya liked to use for decently well thought of guests. "Raincheck or dinner, Sonya?"

"Dinner." Decided the thief for herself, weirdly and suddenly without her knitting project anywhere in the room she had been fussing with every odd minute she had to work on it. "I'd prefer just to do a later lunch here… but my Lackey said he finally had contracts for me to look at. I'll only be a few hours behind you."

He would also prefer Cesare's cooking if he could, but dinner with a lovely lady was a close second best. "Fon is…?"

That question got him a glance, equally noncommittal before she sighed heavily. "The old man's dojo, obviously. The battle happy dork. Yaozu uses him as a teaching aid occasionally when he's nearby, that was the plan as far as I know. Again, whatever you do Reborn, I'd prefer it if my friend doesn't have to set half the commune on fire to rid himself of you."

In any other situation Reborn might be annoyed, he was not such a brute to damage what Sonya found important enough to protect. Especially not when she decided it because his godson needed an Italian based home for her to raise him in.

…except, Lando was standing on both feet again. Leaning up against an interior wall, and with his formerly missing leg in a brace to help him walk on his own again, but whole. The little dragon lady took what Renato could never heal and replaced it with her outright fucking undeath learned from her older brother, which her sister made real flesh again.

If the ladies responsible wanted him to dance naked through the streets he'd do so happily, only asking if he could at least keep his damn hat at least.

"We… merely have a bit of business pending, Sonya. I do not intend to give you a bigger headache."

"Neatly covers your ass up to and including 'accident' there." She shot back very dryly, with an almost unwilling smirk. "Ensure your very professional and obviously gentlemanly 'business' doesn't bother my fucking people either, Reborn."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He lied through his damn teeth, but politely to the needs of the people and their various importance she had with her, as he turned to leave. "Ciao."

Until Reborn resented Fon's whole existence a bit less, it'd probably be for the best if he stuck with asking what Triad enforcers the assassin knew needed to be watched. The man was more than right to be so wary and objective to the Mafioso's mere presence around this particular thief he was good friends with.

The hitman had already broken her heart once, after all.

(Sunday the 12th of March, 1972. Verde's Materials Laboratory, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

"Mou, I expected you to be the hardest to convince."

"I only learned of my own ability to reject physical harm by burning willpower in my mid-twenties. I am used to the impossible being, in fact, somehow possible." Verde snapped in ill-humor at them, not turning around from the bundle of cloth and small glass spikes he was fiddling with. "Convinced, no. However, if what you claim is truth, the data will bear out your hypothesis. There is too little data, yet all of it substantiates your position to date. Therefore, plausible until further investigations are completed."

The amount of value in this single underground room… bolts of Flame-resistant silk awaiting testing, the crucible they utilized to create Flame focus gems to a manufactured specification and quality, the wall of information on the chemical makeup of those stones…

Viper would be getting an invitation to take from this laboratory. If it took the entirety of the rest of their lives, they would be getting something on the Lightning Arcobaleno to earn the right.

Unfortunately this situation was not it.

It had almost been perfect. Until everyone decidedly didn't react as expected of them.

Unique, but annoying.

"The use, on the other hand…" Deeming himself missing something from his current project, the man sharply rose from the wheeled stool to cross the underground vault in a few short strides of long legs. "The use I find dubious at best. I will be no party to abusing the quirk that left her with the strange ability."

"Makes you smarter than most." Viper sniffed in offense and audible distaste that was only half faked as they remained in a clear corner near the still burning glass crucible cooking another batch of those so valuable manufactured gems. "No. I am not here to see what I can twist out of your little lady love about things I am not due. That information I will earn myself, mou. I require your assistance Verde, in figuring out the percentage of accuracy she has with tarot cards."

"As they are designed to be open to individual interpretation," coming to a flat halt right in front of the Constructed image of their drawing, the Lightning turned an unimpressed and entirely judgmental look on Viper for two whole seconds of sheer silence, "quaint. And ill-advised. It may not be termed a mistake, but there are less than desirable outcomes than others still possible."

Figured that in exchange for a lack of skepticism, he had been given an undue amount of caution in exchange.

Sonya had drawn for them both the Nine of Swords, the Knight of Cups inversed, and the Sun card.

Viper was tickled pink at such a clear, applicable reading of themself and the scientist.

They had all tried to make it as difficult as possible for the card reading, they all clearly and utterly failed. Until the last of them, the still highly skeptical Storm, could not continue believing a discrepancy after clarification by the clairvoyant that drew them the cards.

Sharply cutting as the blades depicted, the Nine of Swords was indicative of the price of pride. For both the Esper and a man smart enough to spend years as a student and never run out of subjects to study, they both had their pride in themselves damaged to some degree by their 'peers'. Academia was no gentle sphere of learning when students were pit against one another for a professor's limited attention, and neither were shadowy enclaves of gifted individuals able to do what others could not.

An inversed Knight of Cups was… equally as cutting, but drawn second more as a warning than a description. A 'take responsibility' demand from fate itself, to not become one that looks to blame others for mistakes or problems they made themselves as represented. If not, they both would only add to the situation instead of assist in handling it.

The point of contention here was, in actuality, the Sun card rather than either of the others. An assurance that there was not a possible wrong answer to be had.

No, Viper knew better than to spread the news of Sonya's gift further than their enforced little circle. They suspected the others clearly knew the same. From Skull's obvious discomfort with his and Reborn's reading, the fact the highly dubious Fon and surprisingly accepting hitman were both chasing the thief, Lal Mirch would keep Colonello's trap shut and not want to make her Tutor's life harder, and that left Luce and Verde as the only possible unknowns.

The Donna of Spies and Information Brokers would not be the leak here, not if her line was already committed to assisting the Ranking Prince's avoidance of undesirable elements after his talent. The entire Famiglia would know so much better than just anyone else what not to do when encountering pricelessly unique gifts like this.

If only to be allowed to make use of it when there was no other possible option left.

They had thought the Frenchman would immediately and pointedly discard any evidence of 'uncanny gifts' outright. Priding himself a scientist would mean that if it did not fit logical cause and effect, he could go outside their immediate group for more information to disprove the knack.

Pleasant to be proved wrong here, though the consequences of that were decidedly less so.

Tarot cards were not clear-cut things. Even more annoying, the woman able to use them so effectively even accounting for that was unimpressed with the ability she clearly showed. Pointedly reminding everyone that while yes it was an uncanny knack she might have, fate was a fickle and ever mutating thing.

Becoming reliant on fate instead of one's own ability and choices was a poor way to live one's life.

Usually it was not required to convince the one with the talent that they clearly had it, though it was also not uncommon to need to convince a novice that the ability was not in any way bad.

They had been apprenticed to the same master. One would think their fellow ex-apprentice of Crina's would know better than to deny her own skills.

Ah well. Viper was up to the task of instructing a fellow gifted better if they required it. It'd be annoying, clearly. Skull could be taught easily, Sonya was a decidedly less flexible Cloud if she felt stubborn. Being so tainted with Storm Flame, she often felt stubborn.

For this priceless talent, they'd be pleased to obtain Nightshade's grudging allowance to ask her cards a question on the rare occasion. Whatever she thought of the one asking or the foolishness inherent in having her draw advice from fate.

Two minutes of their silent presence had the Lightning Arcobaleno giving a raggedly irritated sigh. "I will listen to your proposal for tracking percentages in this… 'art'. I make no promises on doing so."

Likely, only to 'rid himself' of Viper's presence.

Such a pity for Verde, but the Esper had no wish to stressfully figure out how to track the accuracy in a form of fortunetelling reliant on individual interpretation. The man could clearly do so, it fit the responsibilities he had taken upon himself, and would also keep things neatly contained.

Then revise it, several times, as more information was obtained to make it clearer what the cards were addressing if there was a poor question asked. A high possibility with this 'art'.

The Lightning glowered when Viper smacked down a leather journal with all known readings Sonya had provided them and their results down next to him at his workstation. Yet not disgruntled enough to prevent himself from immediately cracking it open to see what the Mist had written so far.

"Merely ask if you require me to… mou, adjust the space between entries for more information to be added."

"I have not agreed to this."

"It will be safer with you."

Verde shot them a heated, highly irritated look over one shoulder. Green eyes already lit with their Flame as voltages started to crackle against his skin and hair.

"Don't be stupid. If any catch a whisper of what she can do, mou… investigating me will be the next obvious step. Let us just… sidestep that possible annoyance here and now, hmm?"

Viper was powerful, that did not mean infallible. However, what they concluded as the most likely reactions was still of use here. Even if they had been pleasantly wrong.

Furthermore, giving it to Verde firmly put the information back in Sonya's influence. To guard and safekeep from nosey little future dead fucks prying for information they were not due.

It may be obvious that the scientist would keep track of, if only for the percentages they were honestly interested in… but from the outside looking in?

It would seem Viper would be the easier route to bribe information out of on this topic than the man that lived firmly inside her territory. Which was decidedly wrong, but not their problem if anyone was indeed that stupid.

The Frenchman curled a hand defensively over the leather journal and hunched his boney shoulders even more. "Be gone."

They did as bid.

(ooo000ooo)

(Sunday the 12th of March, 1972 continued. Talbot's Workshop, Italian Republic.)

The back of his house fell in this time, he suspected the Ancient Mist was doing this on purpose. "Can you stop breaking my house?"

Yes, it was a hovel. Compared to what everyone liked to build themselves these days, Talbot's attached single room next to his more modern and efficient workshop barely counted as a pigsty.

It was his damn pigsty, damn it all to hell. So what if people lived differently these days, this was how he lived and he damn well liked it.

"Time to wake up, Spade!" Kawahira, rudely, ignored him to sing cheerfully and with utter hatred. Slamming the dead Vongola Mist Guardian into the ground right over broken bricks.

Then doing it another seven or so more times, in rapid succession. Forcing the disembodied Mist to feel each and every one, because the Ancient One was still beyond angry and full of hate for the Dead One.

"You have two hundred and six… well. Allow me to correct that, now two hundred and five months to fix your mess!" One last slam into the ground, and completely grinding Talbot's former bricks into useless grit with the masonry, and Kawahira let Deamon Spade go.

Mostly go.

…partially go.

Talbot heaved a heavy sigh at the both of them, putting his hammer down and wiggling the chisel out of the tiara the Ninth Sky of Vongola requested him to make for his Lightning Guardian's foreign bride. Poor dear had little finery fit for her wedding being a working girl who earned her own damn finery, and the boy wished to at least ensure no one in Italy had an even slight bone to pick with what little materialistic things to pass along to her children she had while marrying into old blood.

The lady apparently replaced her to-be husband's eye, his dead eye. Damn fine work as it was, anyone not impressed with that was a damn blind fool.

Sweet couple, he really should meet them before the wedding.

"So. The number of bones in the human body?"

"I offered her all of it in one go, the woman very nearly knocked my head clean off in offense. With a surprise war hammer." Kawahira informed him brightly, while also brutally ripping Spade's remnant willpower clear in two before allowing the Dead Mist to recollect again. "We compromised just a touch. I give her a bone a month yet let her still hunt him down on her own, and she'll let me abuse her abilities. I have two hundred and five months to get this fixed and solved. Very gracious of her, yes?"

"Not sure if I should be thankful or annoyed she's dragging this out."

The old metalsmith wasn't particularly happy with Spade at all himself, but… they had known one another once upon a time. Old, old history. Not something he had with anyone else but Kawahira now.

And frankly, this was the most they've talked to one another in decades.

Well, if the Ancient One was offering to be a better and more frequent conversationalist?

Talbot wouldn't say no.

Equally as frankly, it was a better deal than keeping the murderous shade of Spade around.

…though he suspected that might be why the once-architect from another race was again targeting his hovel of a home with his excess. Kawahira had issues with shoddy constructions, and shoddy Constructions, and if the ancient other Mist would be around more then that might need to change.

Just so he didn't have to hear about it every time.

"Right. I take it Verde's back from whatever nonsense you've sent him on? I can visit the boy now, without being interrupted?"

"That's it?" 'Ripping' himself from the Ancient One's grasp, allowed to mind you, Spade forced himself as corporal as he could in this state.

To Talbot's 'vision', at least.

Less 'staggering' from the rough handling and being deprived of everything for a solid month or so, more… sans the bottom half of himself. The twisted, ragged remnants of what had once been an Italian noble born Mist Guardian focused all of himself squarely in Talbot's face.

"Before you even go there," the old metalsmith advised the Dead Mist tiredly, "I still keep in contact with Vongola, Spade. I know. I know what you've done, what you've did, and the cost of it all."

"Cost? To keep our Famiglia on top of that bloody pile of bone-"

"What did you do to Lucian Pello's parents, Spade?" Talbot interrupted with little care or pity to him, keeping the bridal tiara at the right temperature with a touch of his own Flames and the nearby burning forge. "Why, exactly, is the kid exactly square where Giotto was as a child? Why is that boy Timoteo's wife nursing a poor, now active Sky, child through that exact same trauma? A child that had been born outside the Mafia?"

Spade attempted to go check on his evil, got ripped back by Kawahira gleefully and thrown straight into Talbot's forge this time.

"I'll be back in a month, Kawahira. Do as you will, this once. Then never bother me about it again." It be annoying to learn a new layout for when he just didn't have the Flames to spare for sight, but sometimes… sometimes change was needed.

Not nice, not pleasant, but needed.

"I have thirteen different ideas for this shopfloor of yours, Talbot." Warned the Ancient One with all the pleasured glee a Mist could put in a single sentence.

"You have a month to figure it out, once I'm finished here." Talbot pointed his engraving hammer directly at Spade, more than enough of a threat to him now that had the Dead Mist hesitating half in and half out of the forge. "You… time has stopped for you, Spade. You can't grow, or change, or adapt. You've been 'keeping' Vongola the exact same over the centuries, which means it can't grow, or change, or adapt."

"It doesn't need to."

"Doesn't it? Had this been any other generation, that Lightning Guardian of Timoteo's would've had to be replaced. He knew it, we knew it, his Sky knew it. He was trying to make it work with half of his sight gone, it wasn't working. Along comes his lovely lady, she says 'no, I can fix that for you'. A foreign lady. Italy's being left behind, Spade. She fixed what we never could, in our time. That wasn't a need? Is it wrong that same man immediately snapped her up as a wife? To improve Vongola from where you've been keeping it? Were you going to kill her too?"

"With the help of a talented pair of Clouds." Kawahira interjected leadingly, even more hatefully pleased in a single second. Which meant Talbot was likely feeding into something the Ancient Other had going on right now. "Who taught the Cloud Guardian of Vongola to do it for them."

"Does that matter? She could." Logical arguments were never going to work on what was left of Deamon Spade, the old metalsmith had known this.

He still couldn't help but try.

"Were you going to kill Timoteo's sons, Spade? As you tried to kill his wife? To install a 'copy' of Giotto as the tenth head of Vongola?"

"Does refusing such baseless accusations here work at all, or have you already decided to judge me on half-complete information?"

Talbot studied the Dead Mist faking offense if not the pain skeptically, from the ragged edges of his Flames after Kawahira's abuse to the twisted spectrum of emotion he was capable of like this. "Is it even outside of what you consider 'acceptable' right now? I honestly don't know, Spade. When you figure it out, let me know. If you can in time. Your clock's finally ticking again."

Deamon shot Kawahira a heated look of such loathing, disappearing without his bones.

Poor echo of a lost moron, he wasn't going to be happy with the changes every Italian had basically ran themselves ragged to complete in time. About time, too. "A month, Kawahira."

The Ancient One took his hovel apart at the atomic level with spite. It just all collapsed into so much sandy grit in a single second.

Talbot heaved an aggravated noise of complaint, rubbing at his forehead with the hand still holding his engraving hammer. "After I'm done with this commission, please. I still needed to pack."

"Whoops." Kawahira dismissed pleasantly with a limp flick of his wrist. "You should really wear something other than rags, Talbot. You are a talented craftsman, dress the part."

…in hindsight, perhaps leaving the other Mist as a moody depressive ball of angst had been a better idea. At least then he wasn't a maliciously willful risk to everything the metalsmith had to his name. Talbot just knew he was going to regret this. "Well… as I seem to be without anything else, got any suggestions?"

"Several. Hundred. A burlap sack would be better than the rags you've charred and re-Constructed again thousands of times. Did you know… Verde has Flame-resistant silk?"

"The boy didn't tell me that, no."

"It's a bit rough around the edges still, he's trying to figure out quality control… and the spider silk was used in a knitted baby blanket for a baby Sky girl, the rest going into a knitted lace bridal veil to pair with that tiara you're working on, so there's not much of that left."

Huh… interesting. It had been a long time since there had been a development in Flame craftsmanship, and while silk wasn't exactly Talbot's sphere of crafting… there were new things to learn now. Finally. "Doesn't quite help me right here and now, does it Kawahira?"

"No, seriously. A burlap sack would be better than what you're wearing. You look like a crazed hermit."

"I am a crazed hermit." For that matter, so was the Ancient One so he had no room to shake sticks around. "I put up with you, don't I?"

"Ouch. You can't see it, but I'm just simply wounded by your accusation here."

"I can see you right now, thanks. And I know for a fact that's an outright, egregious lie."

Chapter Text

(Monday the 13th of March, 1972. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)

Sonya pinned Ganauche with a narrow look, he pointedly stepped aside and waved both hands to indicate her sister yawning sleepily behind him. Tatiana in fact ran into his hands while blindly following the scent of breakfast, turning her from just a sleepy Sun into a bewildered and not happy one. "What the hell?"

"Sorry, babe. Your sister is… suspicious."

"She's always suspicious, why is this a sudden new thing in need of rapid and broad indication of my entire sexy self?" Complained the redhead, not against sudden 'in the way' hug right then and there in the hallway to make up for his bullshit.

"Because I believe you said she said that I have to be here with you or not at all? Now I'm past 'post-surgery' recovery?" The Lightning Guardian was equally not against a sudden Sunny hug, wrapping the nurse in both arms immediately. "Um… mine?"

"Aww… you're adorable. But no, you're mine." Tatiana cooed sickeningly sweetly from safely in his arms, then reached up and pinched his cheek under his still there eyepatch. "Now feed me, bitch."

The thief exchanged a look with Vasilyev over the Italian hitwoman fetched breakfast pastries, which all seemed okay. Natalina had no fear snagging three on her way right back out the door, and Reborn had murdered thirteen fuckers immediately upon returning to the island for 'attempting stupidity against my future lady love' this weekend… so…

Sure, whatever.

"You can't come with me today," she continued in Russian for the Wolfpack Cloud, a little dryly, "this fucked up island won't let you sit in on it even if you can't understand English yet. So while Bjǫrn and I argue over what contract I even want to do, or all of them because fuck I'm bored, you can stay here with the dog or see what there's around to see yourself. Just… be aware if you're going out."

"Kid doesn't speak English yet, babe." Tatiana reported as she sank into a chair to help herself to the pastries, as her Mafioso busied himself with getting them coffee from the intimidating machine Cesare got mainly for her but Natalina too. "So… I forget, did you learn Russian?"

"Da." Ganauche answered behind her, with a bit of an accent still. "More or… less? I can keep up. Can't talk well. Rusty."

Nice to know. "…Alek has a bit of my Flames to him, both Cloud and Storm. It'll help if you figure out if you can just hang around my dog instead in a pinch."

Vasilyev roughly rubbed his face, apparently three scraps off the edge of a single Danish was more than enough for him to eat in the morning. "That… I guess, works for me."

Sonya pointedly poked his sugary jelly filled pastry with a fingertip on an unbitten edge. "Whatever is good enough, and one more bite. Otherwise…"

He chomped a bite right through the middle jam spot, then threw the entire thing across the room to splatter against the rubbish bin. Which was set against the wall separating the kitchen area from one of the many bathrooms Sonya had this place built with.

He instantly regretted it, she knew he did, more for all the excessive amount of sugar now in his mouth than for the mess. He honestly looked more traumatized about that in this second than he had all morning, so progress.

Her sister eyed the copper-haired brat pointedly and with irritation. "One of us has to clean that up now."

"That would be, I believe, me. Given the deal we have." She shot back equally as quickly. "Or Alek will lick it up. Either or."

"Eww. That better be scrubbed clean by the time I get back from work."

Ganauche set a cup of coffee, as black as Tatiana's evil heart, in front of her and looked at Sonya strangely while his fiancée eagerly drowned her early morning sorrows into it. "Can I… even ask?"

"…about?"

"The Dead One." He clarified immediately and with an anticipatory wince. "From what Viper told us when Timoteo hired them and basically every non-Italian Mist he could get his hands on to clear out the Iron Fort at least, the Ancient One ripped the Dead One out of… whatever the hell that was. Presumably, to offer to you."

She stared at him in exasperation and irritation. "You know, knowing that ahead of time would not have been admis. Instead of being surprised by it in the moment."

"Yes, okay! Yes, someone should've let you know." Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the Vongola Lightning Guardian eventually could only shove his other back there too and grimace in her face. "No one wanted to bet on what you'd do or not do. And, at the very least, everyone I asked during the whole shitshow just wanted every damn second to get rid of the Dead One's stupid bullshit first. Before you might flatly refuse, or whatever you'd pick to do!"

"…I reacted poorly." Sonya admitted bitterly and with some hateful spite he didn't deserve right now, since it was all her own damn fault. "I chucked a hammer at Checkerface's head for the interference. At first. Before I could take a second to think about it. The Ancient Asshole then modified his offer, a bone the Dead One tied itself to a month. Willing to do limbs per five years if I argued. I will get the fucker, Ganauche. It will just take me seventeen more years to get the last damn bit. Sorry."

Her feud could've been over in months. Nope, now seventeen years and whatever deaths between then and now were all on her own damn head. Because she had jumped to conclusions, shot first, and was an overly combative impulsive bitch on a 'righteous crusade'.

Exactly as her cards had warned her not to do.

She was now always going to hate the Knight of Swords. Dumb fucking asshole.

Her deck hadn't been calling her a slut twice, apparently the first shot was good enough for it.

Tarot cards, only fucking useful in hindsight.

"Lady, little sister. We know now." Ganauche hastened, stupidly, to assure her. Ripping both hands forward again as it to physically stop her or something. "That's… fantastic new. It'll be over. Maybe eventually, but no one told you it'd be coming up so kind of our fault there. Seventeen years to get in our own licks and actually fucking defend ourselves is… at least there's a time limit. What did it cost you?"

She kept her damn mouth shut and glowered.

"…Nya. Please. Tell me it's not that bad." Tatiana put her mug on the table with a quiet little clink. "Please."

"It will die. It will not bother Shamal his entire life. Or any other Mist. That has to be good enough." Flatly refused the thief pointedly and with irritation she could not help. "I am sorry, alright? Skull and I have to help, now. We cannot… we have to. Blindly, because that is not utterly fucking stupid."

The Sun tilted her head back and rapidly blinked, pressing her lips together firmly to keep her bottom one from trembling. "Fuck."

"There are five others. Maybe six." Sonya continued tiredly, not able to keep up the bitter hatred because she made her sister cry and now she felt even more sorry about her fucked up temper. "That Ancient Asshole needs us to be willing, apparently not just grudgingly there. So… possibly, I have not just fucked myself and Skull over."

Or Viper. She would bet good money, all her money, that the miserly fuck had only agreed first to get all the information out of Checkerface possible. Betting on the rest of them to drag their heels and not comply. Which she was happily pissed off with.

On one hand, fuck that Mist for not letting her know.

On the other hand, double fuck that non-Ancient Mist for playing along with Checkerface's 'cover' to prove her skill with tarot cards to her on both ends.

"…I'll let Timoteo know." Ganauche half-offered and half-stated, waiting for her to shrug first before even taking a step to the phone hooked to the wall. "Babe?"

"I'm going to work, I'm with Doctor Chitundu this morning." Refused Tatiana firmly with a wet sniff, pointedly keeping her head tilted back. "After that, though. I'm taking a half day and I'll do Lando's therapy here instead. Fuck."

Vasilyev poked two fingers into the part of her thigh right over her kneecap, and Sonya blinked at the kid's now lavender gaze. "Angry?"

"…no."

What did Skull say about his triggers…? "Excited?"

He couldn't flatly refuse that after a moment to think about it. He could only shrug in the end, looking highly confused and uncertain.

"Congratulations, I guess." Offered the thief flatly and firmly squishing any trace of pity or sorrow out of her tone, knowing without needing to ask her rage had been what triggered him. At least, in a way his Flames remembered being 'excited' by. "You've survived to become Inverted, maybe. A real shitty thing to congratulate you about, but there it is. You've survived Discordance. Somehow. Theoretically."

"I'm going to go pet your dog." Vasilyev informed her flatly right back. "At least your dog isn't insulting."

"There's no real data on injuries to one's fucking willpower, dumbass. If we can use it, we can hurt it."

"You're still the bitch here." Shot back the brat moodily and with irritation, but no real spite to him anymore.

Which wasn't just strange to her, the Wolfpack Cloud was equally disturbed by himself and what he seemed to find lacking all of a sudden. It left him flat footed just long enough for Sonya to grab the least sugared pastry from the platter of them and stick it in a paper napkin to slap in his hand.

"If you're going back to using your Flames, you will be eating more."

He glowered, torching it all in a flash of purple Flames, and stomping off like a damn teenager. It at least got Lando's lazy ass up for the day, the Mafioso's limp making his movements a bit obvious even behind closed doors.

…well, Colonello wasn't going to throw a damn fit at his little mentee not surviving a soul-deep injury. Moronic, overly affectionate, dumbass Rain he was.

Sonya told him not to get attached, Lal's idiot went and got his idiotic ass attached. Attached enough to pout when Skull and Sonya took the brat home with them.

At least that wasn't going to end in a screaming match with overly emotional bullshit she did not have the energy for. Just that one, out of the five or six other emotional bullshit situations still pending on her.

"I am going to go plan on stealing shit around the world. Anything else anyone wants to slap me with right this fucking second?"

"I'm good." Ganauche, the moron, immediately dismissed while hanging around the phone in mild irritation.

"Can we have an afternoon nap before you go?" Tatiana asked plaintively, rubbing at a slightly reddened blue eye as she looked back down at her finally. "Please?"

"…sure."

(ooo000ooo)

(Monday the 13th of March, 1972 continued. Verde's Home, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Verde could not help the double-take, or the momentary pause of actual speechless surprise. "I… was not aware you were blind."

"Mist." Talbot, presumably, dismissed shortly and very bluntly. As if by rote. "Only when I feel like it. Really would prefer just a damn phone call, boy. After a hard day's work, mustering the will to read your chicken scratch is not relaxing."

…preferably, he would be excused for strictly abiding by the traditional formalities of sounding out another expert in their field via letter exchanges. As he had not been aware this individual was… possibly without eyes of his own until this very meeting.

The blindfolded elderly man immediately responded when he took a belated step backwards to invite him inside instead of keeping him on the doorstep. The Lightning had to tentatively assume if there was anything wrong with the Mist's eyes, or not, this was merely the way he wished to present himself.

The weight of the box in his hands reminded him of the need that had this supposedly ageless and sightless crafts master calling upon his residence. "Adrik! Sir, I am uncertain how much time you have set aside-"

"A month." It was a bitter if strangely wry confession from the Mist standing exactly just far enough inside Verde could shut his front door behind him. "Intentionally, but… ach. I hate leaving work undone. What exactly is your contribution to this piece to be? I know it's somewhere in the order, but it wasn't in my section."

"The gemstones. We have an array of natural formed and mechanically created versions to select from available, depending on what you find fit to include in your work."

"…well, perfect." He sounded satisfied, not that he knew how far to trust what this individual presented himself as.

Blindness would explain the… strange color palate. Perhaps not the mohawk shock of white hair that flopped over his otherwise bare scalp to feather against his black silk blindfold, but the clothing choices on display.

"We can get that sorted today, then crack on to work." Talbot 'looked' down, humming thoughtfully at whatever his form of vision showed to him in the laboratories below. "Because to be frank here, boy… it has been entirely too long since there was something for me to learn. Refreshing to finally have something to learn."

Although repeatedly warned not to make his own recovery process harder, Adrik still took the stairs down three at a time. He very nearly face planted into the landing area at the base of the stairs upon his first good look at Verde's… 'guest', which the Lightning filed away to lecture him about later. "What the fuck?"

"Laugh all you like." Invited the elderly Mist ruefully but with no care and a dismissive wave. "It's the first 'mischief' I've gotten out of a friend of mine in entirely too long. He likes to think I can't see what I can, and I know full well what that crotchety old misfit dressed me like. I'll wear it proudly if that's what it takes to keep him going."

Lifting his head after a moment, Talbot then cocked his head to the side and… presumably squinted at the Russian in a blind variant of 'visible' confusion.

"…the hell did you do to yourself, boy?"

"Got a new lung." Adrik reported with amusement, entirely too interested in the wildly mismatched outfit this Mist had boldly invited them to find their own amusement in. "You realize… the plaid on your pants is hot pink and acidic green, right?"

"Also fairly certain it just doesn't go with this faux mink fur vest, dyed in a rainbow of colors." Sniffed their guest grumpily with an oddly fond pat to his be-furred chest. "This the same 'got a new lung' that goes with 'got a new eye' a lovely lady Sun might've happened to have done?"

"Yep. You're looking at test patient number one. Replacement lung."

"Ah… lovely work, there. Almost can't tell there was a Cloud involved, and I know there was." Admitted the ageless metalsmith calling on them to put the gemstones into the Vongola order for Tatiana's wedding, which Verde had not forgotten… but this was highly distracting.

"Adrik, can you fetch me Peter? Our gem cutter, sir."

"The reason I'm visiting in person rather than just sending it on by courier or inviting you to my workshop instead," Talbot admitted bluntly and to the point as the recovering medical patient sauntered for the door to do as asked, taking only five steps needed to remove himself from possibly being 'in the way', "I'd like to trade my metallurgy knowledge for your crystal compositions. Don't bloody damn need your how, keep it to yourself for all I care. But from the sounds of it, you now know the damn why of it."

"Indeed, a well explored science we have fine tuned to an only acceptably reliable degree. It is cut and facets now Peter has expanded into, and while I do keep up with his progress in his research to know what seems to work reliably well and what has not…"

"Need to check with your patron first to be allowed the trade?"

Verde nodded slowly, finished with recalculating his opinion on this individual and his aims to be obliging to such academic trading. Their interests had crossed suitably well, he was still dubious of Checkerface's offer but it seemed to be honestly true that this Mist had information he desired.

"Correct. The information I received was collected empirically, and while I refined the results to their base components utilizing the chemical breakdown of glassy mineral formations, the raw information was not mine. You will not be refused the trade, I am certain. The metallurgy information you hold is a lynchpin in several ongoing projects at the nonce, I would just… prefer not to 'piss' her off in not at least checking for reasonable requirements to do so."

"I was Mafia too, once upon a lifetime." He waved his assurance off absently with a single bat of his wrinkled hand and a heavy sigh. "Entirely too long ago, mind you. I still remember the hardships in getting information out of other Famiglias about this or that. Exactly why I left. Empirically… bah. I don't even want to think of the price tag that it took."

"A jewel thief." Corrected the Lightning with politeness, curiously inspecting the wooden box in his hands but refraining from opening it to see what a 'blind' metalsmith could produce. "Presumably, the only reason the study was even started. The one arranging it did not require the resources, as the 'price tag' did not matter to one that could steal the gemstones instead of need to purchase the lot slated for destruction. Would you prefer if I call for permission immediately or after we complete your work here, sir?"

"…a thief?" Echoed the elderly craftsman in bemusement and deepening wrinkles of his brow around the black band across his eye sockets. "A thief is who you will be calling?"

"Shockingly," Verde deadpanned with wry amusement, "indeed you are correct. She is the current 'World's Greatest Thief', Nightshade. If done with haste, we may receive an answer today rather than the next opportunity her Lackey has to speak with and relay her opinion."

"Well, I'll be damned. A thief." Talbot tilted his blind visage to one side, scratching at his scalp on the left side of his shock white mohawk before barking a laugh. "That's… new. I expected another professional murderer, mind you. It was always murder, with Mafia types. Hitmen, assassins, killers of other flavors, but originally murderers nonetheless."

"Cloud thief."

"Bullshit."

"I have neither bovines nor their excrement in my laboratories or within my living area."

"…hilarious. A real knee-slapper you are, boy."

The Lightning Arcobaleno waited, a little longer than he preferred, for Adrik to come back from down the lane to where Peter had returned to for the luncheon hour in his own dwelling. "Adrik, would you assure Master Talbot on Sonya's vocation and primary Flame type?"

"Thief and Cloud."

"…what the blazes?"

"Why is this a question?" Peter inquired hesitantly from firmly behind his wife's former fellow gang member, warily eyeballing the colorful elderly metalsmith.

"What the hell happened to the world?" Mused Talbot instead of addressing the Sunny Rain gem cutter's question. "Turn your back for three or four decades every five or so, nothing changes all that much. Not that much. Now nothing makes sense anymore… it hasn't even been all that long since I went back to my forge for a generation or two."

"If I may be so bold," Verde offered as flatly as he could, "presumably? Time."

He obtained a finger shake in his face from his vastly elder guest. "That's your idea of a joke, boy? Good Lord Above, find a glass of water. I'm parched just listening to you. At least this month's not going to be boring."

(Friday the 17th of March, 1972. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)

The week's take of information was slapped to the dining room table, where it instantly disappeared again. Didn't matter where they were, the moment the 'Rain' woman slapped compiled information into a surface it just went away. Supposedly straight to Viper, so she could get paid for it all.

Colonello scowled slightly but got on with hanging up the keys to Lal Mirch's jeep on the hook for them and shutting the door. "This… all we're doing?"

"Very sorry, Colonello." She shot back instantly and with bitterness, heading straight for the fridge. Hopefully for dinner, not straight for the beer. "I'm still in the middle of the information gathering phase. Literally no one is talking of anything I want to hear where I can hear it. Don't even know where the fuck to start in on this mess."

"That's a fine word for it. I've been with you the whole last week, Lal. What are we looking for?" It wasn't the first time he asked, being 'home' had the former military officer actually considering about answering this time. "I'm totally fine just hanging around in the background and keeping an eye out for you but knowing what the hell we're even doing would be nice."

"And if I knew that, Colonello, I'd tell you." Pausing to take a nip out of the white wine bottle, hopefully just to check it was decent to cook with, Lal thunked it down on the counter and fetched out the onions next. "That's the fucking damn problem."

Sweet, French Onion soup. "So walk me through it. I'd ask your Tutor, but… weird she's gone right now."

"Sonya has her own fucking life." Snapped back the woman shortly without twitching as she drew out a knife from the block they were kept in. "And you know what, if you're not fine with-"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Lal."

"You shouldn't have done this."

"Are we finally getting around to the 'you've been lying to me' conversation?" Colonello asked patiently, utterly unbothered by the seething look she shot him over a shoulder as he fetched her the pot to dump the onions in once she got them cut up. "Because if so… I'm game for that too."

Lal stabbed the chopping block with the chef's knife, point first. Then she turned to him, arms crossed under her chest and already scowling. "Yes, Colonello. I suppose I am. Welcome to my current fucking hell hole. Hope you enjoy your fucking stay, because you can't ever leave."

He rolled his eyes at her bitchy dramatics, grabbing a can of beef stock with one hand and getting the can opener out of the implements drawer with his other. "Real funny, Lal. We've had worse digs for training missions, worse assignments than 'at your own pace' in deployments, and… well, more instruction for sure but less 'because this is for your best' not just 'for our best' as decided by old grumpy warhorses."

"It didn't have to be 'us'."

"Not according to your Tutor." Colonello countered blithely, wrenching the tin can open for when it was needed and putting that on the counter to sit until then. "I was maybe a half-step behind you. Without you… it was just a matter of time until I ended up right where you were."

"I heard what she said, but what you forget here is that she's Mafia." Snapped his fellow Rain bitterly, still not continuing with the onions. "The moment she realized what you were-"

"She told me to go back, that I 'didn't' have to stick my neck in that noose too. That I could live out the rest of my life without doing this." Pausing to enjoy the mild grimace that crossed her face at getting caught out in another of these fucking lies, he wagged the two bay leaves in her face next. "No, Lal. I'm not that upset that she took Vasilyev with her. She's who he was here to get help from, and telling me not to get attached? It wasn't the first time she's been trying to cover my ass for me. You've got a really good friend in your corner, you're not making me think badly of her now."

"A professional thief. Mafia Donna."

"The nerd of history nerds, yes."

"She's killed people, Colonello."

"She's also who you shove your kids on if you can't help them anymore." He countered brightly this time, already prepared for that detail too because the 'thief' lady prepared him for the gritty nasty details. Properly, like a damn decent instructor would for novices or dumbasses without a clue. "And hell, she does it. Doesn't matter what, she'll damn well try."

Lal slid down the cabinetry to sit her ass on the floor, so… that bad. "Lethally enforced work contracts, since she's been fucking twelve."

"…what?"

"The Tutorship contract Luce 'bought' my silence with. It's a lethally enforced work contract with Sonya. If she doesn't do it, or fails, she dies. Flat out, bottom line. I've been to that 'other workstation' of hers, it's a damn trip."

They had, a lot, of seating choices all around them. Colonello was never a snooty type to turn his nose up at a bit of floor or ground when and where it was good to sit and rest, though. There wasn't anything to do for dinner until Lal finished slicing up the onions to set to cook down, so he joined her on the floor. "Well, just don't fail then."

She shot him an ugly, flat look.

"Since she's been twelve," he repeated instead, setting an elbow on an upraised knee as he made himself comfortable, "she's what now? Twenty-something? Hasn't killed her yet."

"Like that makes it any better, you fucking happy-go-lucky idiot."

"…I haven't been happy for a long while now, Lal. Not since the command structure we had back in COMSUBIN gave you the boot for no clear damn reason." Colonello rubbed a thumbnail through his hair over his bandana with a mild frown, still twisting the stems of the bay leaves between a thumb and forefinger of his other hand. "Then, mind you, the same officer of mine that got booted so unfairly started lying to me when it was clear there was something wrong with this whole… everything you were hunting into. That we all knew you were trying to pry into. You've gotten into a really bad habit of lying these days, Lal. I don't like it."

"Yeah, sorry. Turns out, I can set myself on fire. With 'willpower'. Surprise, fucker." Lal in fact did light herself on fire, burning blue Flames off the tips of two of her right fingers with a scowl for all of three seconds. "And oh yeah, on top of that I'm going to be eaten by the fucking Mafia shortly. Because I can't make a damn living in this country any other way without being 'poached' to do that instead. At gunpoint, if I want. I got a stay of execution on a technicality, and if I don't get shit nailed down fast enough it'll happen in the end anyway when Sonya's no longer the murderous threat lurking in my back pocket."

He heaved a tired sigh at her, and himself. "Yeah, no. I got this part. For fuck's sake, Lal. I didn't even know until Sonya kicked me in the balls for scaring the shit out of her that this was even a possibility. I got the 'you dumbass' wakeup call, loud and clear. And you know what? No. I'm not sorry I'm here now."

"…I can't forget she's Mafia."

"Your Tutor?"

"No, the Easter Bunny." She snapped, less bitterly sour right this second than she had been all last week. "Yes her, idiot. There's a gulf of difference between 'mildly interested only because her brother's friendly with random Rain woman' and 'invested because or else'. The amount of money, effort, and time spent on me since I 'got' a Mafia Home Tutor as ham handed blackmail payment… it's not as if they didn't do it before Sonya got hired as my Tutor. The Cloud siblings were hauling me out of my own damn ignorance for 'everyone' from the fucking start."

"Galling." Colonello guessed pretty accurately, knowing he was right when she hunched both shoulders up around her ears. "Nice of them, though."

"No. Sonya was covering their asses, Skull was being nice. You have to pass along the Vindice Laws when you find a Flame user who doesn't know. He told me to follow his lead and she'll get you squared up right… which they did. Didn't exactly stop at that. Next bullshit 'weekend', they tag-teamed the basics. Flames means you run hotter than human average, you can melt metal in your hand because somehow you're fucking immune to even the side effects of your own Flames, getting blackmailed generally means two parties agree to bury a topic but you failed to do that so you might want to get that nailed down before you get that bribe for letting yourself be blackmailed…"

"So… generally the point in where you started lying to me?" Because it took him a few weeks of simple calls and a few missed face-to-face meetings to catch on.

He assumed she finally found something and didn't want it to get away from her, after two years of seemingly nothing. Not expecting her to lie to him to begin with, it took him entirely too long to catch on. Then she pointedly was not letting him catch up.

Which, yes. Colonello understood why. Now.

He hadn't at the time, and as her Tutor pointed out to them both… the stress of trying to figure out what the hell to even do had been pushing him right into the same damn spot she had started out in.

If Lal hadn't wanted him feeding information back to COMSUBIN, he would've been good with just knowing that. He would've also gotten himself booted as fast, because if she wasn't trusting in it anymore he sure as shit wouldn't be.

If he didn't know what the fuck was going on and she did, then whatever call she made was probably the smarter one. Why no one wanted to accept that logic was beyond him, but it made sense to him and that was the important bit.

"The part I find the most fucked up about Sonya being my 'Mafia' Home Tutor… she said it was so I could trust her." Rounding off the whole shortened and brief story with a heavily disgusted sigh, the Rain woman palmed her forehead with one hand and glowered sightlessly across the room of the 'Arcobaleno Manse'. "About a decade of contracts under her, Sonya's not the type to fail and has been proving it for years. But no, it's lethally enforced so whomever wants to hire her or needs her expertise knows that if she doesn't do the best job possible she's fucking dead. Not because she's professional, or out of the goodness of her heart or whatever other bullshit metric. Not because she's got the experience already from her time in Moscow, either. No, if not… that's it. She's dead. You will get your money's worth, or else."

Colonello thought about it first, ticking the two dried leaves in his hand back and forth idly. "I kind of get why. Also… kind of gives this whole thing going on more sense. You can't stop lying, because-"

"I'm literally fucked without Sonya's help. Two years of work on my own, not a fucking clue what happened. Three months of being her Tutee, I know why and talked to the people who usually do it to learn that isn't how it goes in the Mafia. They know better to be that showy, I now know better to know who I'm looking for, I know what for and why if not who. That's all I need now, who. Her connections, her insider information, her fucking fortune made from stealing shit from other people to give whomever's that much of a fuck to order it. I don't even have to fucking ask, anything she deems I can use that she's got? Got dumped on my head already. Because that's what a Tutor is. If you're fucked and in a corner but with maybe one last bit of leverage, someone can hire a Tutor to get you dug out and back on your feet using their reputation and resources. Usually something hired for kids, occasionally the odd adult that needs a swift career change, generally not something widely available to just anyone off the street."

Lal reached up behind her head, frowned, then tilted her gaze up to land on Viper sitting on the table already more than halfway through slicing up the three medium sized onions. With the chopping block floating in midair, and the onion peels drifting off as they were removed to the kitchen bin.

"Hey, Viper. Thanks for adding in another onion, if you're joining us tonight."

"Her Tutor imposed requirements. Mou, I am to provide her with a hard realistic number of value for her to judge her work's worth… and in exchange I can obtain the information early before I must pay for it." Droned the 'miserly fuck' that was Skull de Mort's best friend ever, ignoring the knife stabbed into the chopping block entirely as they somehow made the produce fall apart in neat rows as soon as they peeled themselves. "So yes, you will occasionally have to bear with me as an occasional guest every now and again."

"You live here too, fucker." Lal shot back with mild irritation, just annoyed as the pot sitting on the stovetop got filled with onion slices to cook down and the knob clicked to the side suddenly to turn it on. "You've got a standing invite, just let me know to make more for you too."

The Mist not quite sitting cross legged on the kitchen table, more like a few centimeters off it but the pooling cloak made it hard to tell, regarded her quietly for several seconds. "I appreciate your strides in correcting your ignorance, with all due haste and appreciation for the value given already, so I'm throwing you a bone. Mou… Lal, a Tutor is nominally a grace given to children. Orphaned, at risk to be murdered for political reasons not their own fault and unable to defy it, mafia children with no viable options of their own. You may not find their limitations comfortable… but no one will care."

"Her problem's more finding it equally as reassuring, not all that disturbing." Colonello clarified helpfully, mildly pleased with there being something other than business that brought the Mist by. "That's what she's tripping up over."

"Well… even more progress." Sly insinuated Viper the Esper wickedly. "Mou, quite gratifying."

"Yeah, fuck you both."

"In the world you once lived within, just professionalism may have been enough. In this world, as you clearly already know, it is not. We are professional backstabbers, double crossers, and trade on the values of Violence and Blood. It is not enough that we are all professionals, mou… for that is the exact problem with why you should never trust in us. We will professionally gain your trust, lead you to a back alley, then slit your throat. If that is the job we have been hired to do, we shall do so."

"Skull trusts you." She shot back heatedly, hauling herself up off the floor in one smooth movement to check on the onions.

Despite there literally not being enough time for the pot to get hot enough to risk burning anything or for the onions to even start cooking down.

"Mou, Skull trusts in me to swindle him." Viper corrected pleasantly, idly brushing absolutely nothing off the front of their indigo… tunic-dress thing. "He finds it amusing to try to weasel out of it, but always approaches anything I involve myself in with more than enough money to lose to me or an idea of equivalent value to offer instead. I enjoy someone finding amusement in my vices, who is willing and more than able to afford it."

His fellow Rain fetched a wooden spoon, more to point in the Mist's direction than stir anything yet. "Sonya trusts Reborn."

"They are both professionals, they trust in one another about as far as they can throw the other." Countered the miser pointedly and with biting amusement. "Which is, as I've found out, why that is actually going anywhere. She can toss him clear over the mountain range if she wishes, much as she could with this entire manse, and has no need of a hitman's favor to wish to obtain it herself. He's not unaware of that, mou, and finds it bewilderingly different and very interesting…"

Colonello was just going to keep his mouth shut, here. The woman he was chasing had no damn issues tossing him down a flight of stairs and jumping the whole thing to land boots first in his gut. Which… she hadn't so much as punched him in the arm for being a 'idiot' for a while now.

Not since Sonya took him to a gun range to see if he could stop already fired bullets or not, and Skull took her to a dojo to see about her very gentle but violent looking physical correction habits. At the same time.

Equally as likely, that was another issue he really should spend a week or so of effort to wiggle out of Lal's tight lips.

He didn't really want to put it off, but she didn't really like owning up to mistakes or faults. Took a bit of time to let her process it first before she's willing to talk about it, and then she'd be bluntly accepting instead of harsh and bitter while owning up to it.

Besides, he also had so much progress in this single month alone than the years before Sonya kicked him in the balls so hard he still saw stars despite his maybe overly cautious precautions. Skull had been totally laughing at him the entire time he did the whole 'yes, Dying Will Flames are a thing and yes you are one of us too' spiel for Lal, but big brothers got that right when some random fuck terrified their little sister that badly.

Even if he hadn't intended to.

Colonello was just happy he thought maybe to protect that before Lal couldn't try to 'convince him' not to one last time. Or finally put him in traction to avoid it entirely as she had been desperately trying to convince him it was fine and he didn't have to. Which had been lies, and that kind of annoyed him more than convinced him of shit all while filing the paperwork to separate from COMSUBIN.

Lalia Murgia hadn't ever before targeted that when they had been working together, but Lal Mirch had with a gun packing live ammunition not too long ago too. Just… just in case, which…

Wrong woman he needed to defend himself against, but the right reasons it was needed.

…it was a little funny. Skull's little sister had kicked him in the balls for scaring her, and she had been as shocked as him when her shin connected and broke his groin protection clean in two. Then adorably flustered and panicky in her very stilted self-contained way while Colonello wheezily said his own damn prayers and just hoped she hadn't emasculated him entirely on her kitchen floor.

Reborn was still an utter dick, though. So was Cesare, for that matter. Not that funny, assholes.

"Viper, I don't want to hear about my Tutor's love life from you. Thanks. I'll cook you dinner, just shut up."

"Pity." Mused the Mist, turning to study Colonello instead of Lal's back.

"Before you go there, or even start." He offered with a smirk and a bastardized salute for the speculative attention. "Sonya deemed me part of Lal's influence. Therefore, I'm under her for instruction too."

"…annoying, mou."

"Anything you'd like me to snipe has to go through Lal first, then Sonya, then maybe. I don't have to take someone's word for it that someone needs to be dead." Colonello continued as he got up off the floor too before his ass went numb. "Anymore. So if you want me to take them out, you're going to have to pony up a dossier on the reason why I should want someone dead. Which I will be checking into first, yes. And if I find it isn't at least a decent reason or the price isn't good, or Lal doesn't, or Sonya doesn't, I'll snipe you instead."

Viper smirked back in his face, turning into so much indigo mist in the next second to seep away.

Lal turned her head, glacially slowly, to pin him with a hard look out of one red-brown eye.

"It's no longer 'snipe this soldier on the other side of the field because he's being a good soldier but a pain in our ass by being one', Lal." He could only shrug, putting the bay leaves he had been playing with down with the extra opened can of beef stock next to the one he opened before. "It's going to be 'because this slimy criminal asshole killed or hurt someone that shouldn't have been harmed, we need him or her gone before it happens again'. Honestly… I like this better. As long as I've got the option to say no? I'm going to snipe the fucks that deserve to suddenly develop a hole right through their damn skulls."

She sighed in disgust, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling. "You are a God damn dumbass, idiot."

"You have the next 'no' in this chain of command, beyond just what I'm comfortable with." He reminded her without care she didn't seem all that impressed by. "And yes, I will be contributing. I need to eat too, babe."

She bounced the wooden spoon off his head to clatter off and eventually land in the sink. Colonello couldn't help the bark of surprised laughter because it still didn't hurt beyond a mild sting where his bandana didn't quite cover his forehead entirely, but she hadn't punched him in the face or kicked him in the ass like he still semi-expected.

He immediately left her to it like her glare told him to, likely to be tagged in to make the soup once the onions were done caramelizing so he should get his shit squared away first.

See?

Things were almost back to normal, and that was pretty damn sweet. Lal would stress and worry all she secretly liked to over who and where, and Colonello would still put the fucker in the ground in the end. Same damn shit, different day.

…and no more regulations against dating within your chain of command or outside your rank. He might even get a date by the end of the year when they had most of everything squared away.

Bonus.

(Tuesday the 21st of March, 1972. Mafia Land.)

Reborn tisked in reproval as he folded the paper, satisfied with how that death was reported and assumed to be 'accidental'.

Real accidental, yes.

Accidental in that the explosive happy moron hadn't checked the dynamite being handed to him one last time, generally something amateurs did more than professionals. Hence, the amateur was now dead by his own bomb instead of causing a city-wide blackout in Milan. Such a pity.

The hitman was Italian, thank you. He was not particularly happy some avant-garde obsessed militant businessman was trying to turn their homeland into a war-torn fascist state.

The world did not need another Nazi Germany, and Italia's citizens did not wish to be it. His countrymen and women were being very clear, no not even homegrown terrorism would force them to be.

Yet morons will be morons, the moment said morons crossed into Mafia matters they crossed into Reborn's crosshairs. The Pesca Famiglia were up to their necks with their own anti-fascist weeding out and needed someone to track down who ordered the explosives smuggled in to be certain it would not be used in their territory. The hitman obliged his countrymen while they had their hands full trying to keep the peace.

He checked the front page he usually skipped over first, and again the headlines were full of 'Nightshade stole AGAIN'. Yes, Sonya was still bewildering people by stealing things only just checked on or watched twenty-four seven. The lovely if antisocial twit of a thief.

Nightshade's calling card was now that heat-distortion of her flower left on whatever held her target and sudden blackouts. She was not shy of using either, before or after getting her mark.

'Law enforcement' still had no idea where these 'tips' were coming from but suspected her using an accomplice, the clueless morons. Obviously the idiots suddenly coming out with all these highly identifiable 'priceless antiques', such valuable and easily tracked if sold objects, were attempting to set up 'Nightshade' to be caught by hiring her to steal all this shit in the first place. Not 'afraid' their valuables were being targeted, setting themselves up and then calling in the 'tips' when they knew the details.

By hiring her through intermediaries or third parties to 'test' their security got Nightshade to show up, which Bjǫrn either couldn't flatly refuse or his patron decided was fair enough of a job if she was being paid.

For the reputation boost, for the reward money, to deny her the 'title', whatever reason they wanted… Sonya would oblige them a chance.

All comers were equally as good, was apparently her decision on this. All comers right after one another.

They all lost the money they hired her with and the item they were suddenly 'so concerned' over at the same time, as the thief embarrassed the hell out of her detractors exactly as asked. No matter how stupid a requirement asked of her to do at the same time, and she'd ring a damn bell if need be.

No one said she couldn't flick a coin to ring it, after all. Didn't matter how many detectives you stuck in a brightly lit room to watch it, if she flicked a coin through an open window and it hit… then the bell rang. Said coin now had both sides scarred with her flower calling card, just to be that extra bit galling.

The papers had thoughtfully provided photos to admire both the slightly cracked open window and the coin she hit the bell with. On the long table she hit it on, which looked seven or so meters long given perspective by one of those unhappy officers standing nearby.

Oh how embarrassing… for them. Reborn just found it adorably petty and hilarious. They went 'on record' claiming this bit of 'arrogance' would be Nightshade's undoing in the press statements the day before… so sorry there, fuckers.

Try again.

There would be a year or two of this shit even with how fast she was binging through it all, hopefully she had a warehouse or something in mind for all the junk she was being ordered to steal. More her Lackey's worry than hers, though.

Maybe less than a year given the money she was obviously costing everyone without two brain cells to rub together to be cautious of such a notorious thief or wait for someone else to try it first, just to see what didn't work. He got the same damn treatment when Viper slapped him with 'the World's Greatest' title as Shamal gave his godmother, though his gauntlet was less… showy. Sonya obviously didn't remotely mind the challenges being thrown in her face, and was malicious enough to do all of it anyway.

Against whatever forces were being mounted against her.

If you challenge a Cloud, odds are they'd do it. Especially if it might piss someone off.

A Storm-Cloud?

Exactly to demand, one after another in an exhausting seeming row across the damn world, especially if it would embarrass someone. She was likely having the time of her life, if not pissed off and equally enjoying the chaos she was sowing in her wake at the same time.

Five years too late, idiots. If anyone had wanted to prevent the thief from becoming so good, the time to act had been before she got good enough to steal from NASA and get away with it. Before the news of her heists eclipsed even her brother's stunt shows when they happened to cross each other in the same country.

Unfolding his long frame, Reborn folded the paper to slap down on Natalina's table on his way past.

"…it had just BEEN A QUESTION, ASSHOLE!" Bit out the hitwoman venomously at his back after a startled moment of hesitation, and she swallowed her bite of lunch she damn near choked on. "I don't OFTEN work with thieves!"

She still shouldn't have been asking other hitmen that question, instead of the thief she now looked to for leadership.

Obviously, Sonya was a damn fine thief. Now Natalina had all the proof she needed to see for herself.

About two weeks of headlines and proof. A couple gaps in the news coverage for transit times, but still nine headlines twittering about what Nightshade stole next.

Reborn didn't get why she was getting so short with him, he was just helping her out a bit. As she asked. He just shot her a smirk on his way out of the restaurant she adored but he could give a miss to easily.

With any luck, good or bad, the thief was still in the middle of what she found fit to work on this month. Meaning he had an opportunity to get something already rolling before she got back, maybe.

At any other time, he'd be annoyed that their 'high-profiles' meant the hitman's every move was avidly tracked like this. Reborn very publicly hitched himself to Sonya's ass and didn't get bitch slapped for it, well before she took a hammer to everyone's expectations and biases with such glee. While she was off forcefully proving overly opinionated assholes wrong about her level of skill, Mafia Land could only look at him and Fon for their reactions.

It also let him know where the other man just so happened to be rather often, so right now it was more useful than annoying.

The airheaded assassin was pretending utter surprise at everyone else's reactions who just had to show him Sonya's work, accepting and equally discarding newspapers shoved on him to try getting a reaction out of him in the same second. With a 'you did not know? Yes, she is a skilled thief' comment to each that did not differ in tone or showcase any irritation at the many repeats.

Annoyingly, it was slightly better than what the hitman could offer for the gossips. He didn't 'have' the history with her to be smug over knowing her before she became Nightshade, just getting in before she did the last two weeks to showcase herself had to be good enough. What he could do was scoff in the face of the morons thinking it was just a level of talent that had impressed him, and not the woman herself.

…but yes, nine heists in two weeks was impressive. Reborn didn't know how long ahead of time Sonya knew she'd be here or there to do these jobs, or what she could get before the night itself. Or what Bjǫrn was getting nailed down for her while she was running around here or there with dog and child attached.

All he could do was judge it in the aftermath. He was fairly certain he worked out on which job Alek helped her with too, hopefully she'd answer if he was correct or not.

As per Reborn's bipolar luck, Fon was indeed on the island today. With Bjǫrn, annoyingly.

The Lackey was entirely too experienced and an island resident to continue talking even when he only suspected they might be being eavesdropped on, and the Lightning-Storm pinned his gaze on the hitman as he waltzed up to them in front of an apartment complex's main gated entrance way with mild annoyance. "Can I assist you, sir?"

"I'm here for him not you, Lackey."

"…one moment. Allow me to discharge the last of my duties here." The paperwork in his hand and a set of keys was transferred over wordlessly, because if anything Bjǫrn was a professional Lackey. "Again…"

"A delay will not harm anything." Fon allowed for politely as he sorted things away on his person. Keys to a pocket and the papers to a sleeve. "Appreciated."

The Lightning-Storm shot Reborn a skeptical look one last time, sighed through his nose, and regarded the assassin with resignation. "Should I…?"

"I do not believe that will assist in anything."

He was not sold, not remotely, at the polite disavowal in his face. "I better not regret this, gentlemen. Please try to murder one another outside my spheres of responsibility, if you can."

"It would be a pity." Mused the airheaded Storm thoughtfully as he studied the apartment building he was, hopefully, moving into instead of occupying a room at Sonya's. "But I also believe we both would prefer plausible deniability, just in case."

"Well, yes." Reborn agreed a little bitterly, hating he had to even once with this man. "That's why I'm starting this in public."

Bjǫrn shot them both a narrow, suspicious look before turning on his heel to go get on with his own work today.

The Mafioso turned back to the assassin the moment he wasn't visible in the street traffic. "I'd really like to punch you in the face, now."

Sonya's 'battle happy dork' paused, then thought about it. "Is accidental death by my hands acceptable to rid ourselves of you?"

"Damned if I know." He shot back dismissively with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Try if you'd like."

"…I find this offer quite agreeable."

"Well, lovely for you." Purred the hitman darkly at the entirely obvious comment. "I'll leave Leon on the sidelines if you keep your Flames to yourself."

Fon tilted his head to the side, red eyes already gleaming suspiciously brightly. "Actually… I would not mind a contest of ranged abilities."

"Leon has done nothing to you to deserve that abuse."

"…aa. Yes. My apologies to your… lizard. Gun." It didn't leave him on the backfoot for long, but the assassin still seemed a bit thrown by the sudden reminder Reborn's partner was also his favored weapon. "Does that harm… her?"

"Me and my Flames, no. You and yours? Rather not find out because I'm pissed off." He dismissed flatly and with more than a bit of impatience. "Now, where can I punch you in the face? I'm assuming you know what is safe enough from your own excess around here…"

Fon thought about it again, looking around at the still busy street some steps away and the bare minimal stretches of greenery to count as a 'garden space' provided here. "I… believe we may be best suited to going somewhere no one will mind mass property damage."

"The old port?"

"Perhaps for the best, yes."

(Friday the 24th of March, 1972. A hotel room, House of Amstel, Amsterdam, North Holland, Kingdom of the Netherlands.)

Ravil Vasilyev Olegovich petted the dog, again. Absently, and much to Alek's utter indifference, but just… because he could and the fur was right there in reach. "No."

"You can keep coming with me, I guess." Bazanova assured him first and foremost, per what had become the usual whenever she asked anything that leading. "But I travel. A lot. Skull does too. You can try him next, if you'd like."

"No."

She carefully lowered the ceiling back into place, hiding how she got back in. Then let herself fall from the high awkward looking perch on a standing wardrobe to land quietly on the floorboards on the balls of her feet and with bent knees. The weight of the tile she carefully sawed out of the solid ceiling sealed off most of the cracks in the paint, and the water applied kept the tiny chips still in place even now without her holding them there.

It'd be found shortly enough, but not tonight or maybe not until halfway through next week. Apparently.

Her 'thief tools' were still up there, nothing she had on now suggested she was missing an entire suitcase that got shipped to where they ended up at. Nothing indicated that this wasn't the outfit she 'left' the hotel room in either. She was dressed to sleep now, not in her day clothes.

Given the typical schedule they've had the last two weeks, he'd spend an hour or so walking Alek around randomly… or be the one walked around randomly, while she got it back well after they checked out later in the morning. So presumably she could get it and ship it off, because he barely saw that suitcase. Then they'd go somewhere else and do it all over again.

He sat in a hotel room, a random new one either two or three cities away depending on population density. She went off to steal something, but never brought anything back with her so he had no idea what she was stealing for seven to nine hours… once a full day.

Not unless she read him a newspaper article for him to know where they were and what might be going on. Other than that… he could go outside and wander changing streets aimlessly. No one knew shit all about him where she was taking him, but he also didn't speak the local languages either.

There wasn't much of a point.

The dog shifted a paw to keep his 'bone' made of tough and dried leather positioned as he wanted it, still gnawing on it in contentment.

A moment more of contemplation and the blonde haired grey eyed woman padded over to the bed he was occupying with her dog. Pointlessly, because he didn't really sleep all that much anymore. "If you'd rather-"

"No." She made the same damn offer every damn day, and frankly he was beyond tired of hearing it. Her castle was nice enough, there were just too many people there. "I'd rather not."

This time she actually continued instead of letting his refusal stand. "How about Colonello, then?"

"…is that even an option? I can't speak his language."

"Does that matter? Spend the summer there, however long you want. The rest of your life, even. Skull and I own a 'seventh' of it between us. But. The more you freak Colonello out by doing nothing, the more Tranquility he's going to try to smother you in. He can't control that yet."

"What about the lady you said was also there?"

"Lal… probably won't care. I think." Allowed the other Cloud thoughtfully. "Not so long as you sit there while she goes around looking for shit. Vasilyev… I have a lot of pull where I am now. I couldn't give you it before, but I can now."

"Didn't help me before." He snapped at her.

Maybe unfairly. His parents were still dead.

Sonya Bazanova shrugged a single shoulder, without an expression. "No, it didn't."

"Is that it?"

"Did I do it? Should I also answer for it?"

Vasilyev pushed himself upright, staring at her hard. "What if I say yes?"

She summoned another of her magic weapons, a battered golden ax. Then she offered it to him hilt first. "If it makes you feel better, have at."

He glared instead. He tried that, it didn't help. He tried it so much there was no longer a Wolfpack Gang left… aside him. And yes, he was keeping the name. It was his now.

Two, three months ago he would've taken the ax and thrown it at her head. Because it was offered.

Right now… he didn't want to. Vasilyev could, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying to chuck things through walls. Not anymore.

It used to be casual destruction was like itching a particularly stubborn dry patch of skin. Only in certain parts, on things that weren't important or out of place. Otherwise it grated like biting down wrong and smashing his teeth off each other. Surprising and shockingly painful.

The ax disappeared after a few seconds of him not taking it, leaving her empty handed.

"They'd be pleased to see you're still so hung up on their asses, even with them all stone dead." Bazanova informed him bluntly instead, turning to climb into her bed for at least a couple hours. "Spite those dumbass fuckers, Vasilyev. Move on, live happily on your own damn terms. Take your time to do it, ensure it'd piss them off to do whatever you want to do. But live. For your parents, if no one else."

"…how?"

"The fuck if I'd know. You're not me. My situation will not help you figure out yours, what to do about it or how to live in spite of it. The only one able to answer that question is you. Can you?"

"I'm sick and tired of moving every other day." He offered blindly, blinking a few times when she clicked off the side table lamp between the beds and left them in the dark again. "I… hate it. I don't like this."

"Alright. Then I'll get you back somewhere you won't have to leave for a different place every day."

"How do you do this?"

"Why can't I?" She shot back, shifting around in the dark.

Alek huffed hard, poking Vasilyev in the arm with a wet nose just a second before licking his chops clean. A second more to sniff just to check, then he returned to gnawing on his toy without care. On his bed, not hers.

He was going to get himself a cat. Dogs were smelly, slobbery things that took up entirely too much room. He wanted a damn cat, not just feeding the strays wherever he was. Alek was not a fan of him sharing his food with stray cats and stared at him sadly for doing it at all.

Frankly, that her dog was so sad was half the damn reason the Wolfpack Cloud kept doing it.

She hadn't been able to help. Too far away to be a credible threat to enforce his safety, without any influence to pull on with vory regardless, and basically all but exiled when she saw him for the last time in Moscow. Vor Arseniy hadn't the reach or pull, and by the time he became the Zolotov Pahkan that whole… it had become a bit more than unbearable.

Vasilyev still didn't forgive her for not being able to help him. Childishly, maybe. Sonya didn't mind, or at least didn't see the point to object to his opinion of her. Just sighed and shoved something else at him to try eating to see if he could stomach more of that instead.

Chapter Text

(Monday the 27th of March, 1972. Adelardo's Ranch, Outside Olbia, Sardinia Island, Italian Republic.)

"Rather ask you, rather than Leone or Old Man Cavallone. Got that I should, and I'll go over and speak with Leone in a bit if you're willing. Rather know that first before I bother."

Adelardo scraped his nails against his scalp at the base where head meet neck, not entirely certain what could even be a 'right' answer here.

Usually… he wasn't ever asked to help. There were occasions where it was animal centric and he got questions from outsiders, but that was more occasional one-offs questions than a request specific to be given to the Cavallone Cloud Guardian.

He made a poor Mafioso, and frankly he was fine with that. He made a 'poor' Cloud, and he really didn't give a damn about that widespread opinion of him either.

"...here?"

"Somewhere not my place. Vasilyev kind of hates me right now." Donna de Mort answered absently, more interested in making herself the black tea he kept on hand for basically hoping against hope she'd visit more than she did. "You here, in a remote ranch far from 'too many' people… or I'll ask the Superbi if they have a seaside cottage anywhere near them in a suitably defended location instead."

To be fair to the young woman, she had visited him more than expected. This was entirely out of the blue and well beyond his expectations for a Cloud that lived 'nearby', given they were not a sociable type on her Hard side of the coin. "Do I want to know why he hates you?"

"I wasn't able to do shit about his situation." Looking up from the hot liquid poured for her the thief, not a businesswoman or criminal politician, huffed a heavy sigh. "Too far outside 'my' territory, actually was my old man's. I made myself… too noticeable? Too valuable. Entirely too fast. Helped me in the moment, basically fucked over every other Cloud in the region. Dorokhov survived it, Timur the Khimki Cloud. Barely, faked his death for a good year to get back on his damn feet and 'take back' his territory. Vasilyev survived it too… just… not as well."

"I vaguely get how that might 'fuck' over another, if there's few to no Clouds but children around… I think I want the details to just make sure I can help here."

"They thought," Sonya informed him bitterly and a bit tired of the whole topic before even starting it, "that I was just a 'wild and ill-mannered' bitch of a woman. Not fairly typical if a bit strangely malleable for a 'Hard' Flame Cloud. Yes, I put a burning hole in the city and kept it lit for three days straight and threw a 'magically' appearing hammer straight through bulletproof window panes… but surely that was just because the vor who 'raised' me didn't 'raise' me right."

Palming his face in sheer dread with one hand, Adelardo blindly gestured for her to continue with the other even if he already didn't want the exact details you could assume from that little.

"So, the Wolfpack Gang suddenly had this little baby boy Cloud who popped up in 'their' territory. The dumbasses thought 'we can 'raise' him better than that bitch', except… Vasilyev isn't that kind of Cloud. He's a bit more 'there will be orderly conduct in my territory' than 'fuck the Authorities, I'll do what I want and impose my rules here' kind of Cloud. Any other lifetime, he'd be a police officer happily and with glee as long as it's for the area he claimed as his. That… didn't go over well with his 'local criminal authorities', vory defy the police after all."

"This sounds sixteen different flavors of stupid." Pointed out the Cloud Guardian with exasperation for the utter trainwreck she was setting up.

"Oh, it's stupid alright." She agreed instantly, sitting back in one of his 'front parlor meeting room' armchairs at his ranch on the edge of Cavallone territory with presumably a cup of her tea.

He wasn't looking, he didn't want to know what her expression or what her opinion on this shit was.

"The massive, line drawn in the sand fault in this situation wasn't that they tried it with him. Vasilyev's not… particularly happy at the idiocy but they were adults and he kind of respects adults and their 'opinions'. Still. Even if he also knows he really shouldn't. They tried it with him and he was more than good enough to prevent it, mostly. As long as it was him and not some other brat who wouldn't know better, he was… not fine with it, but willing to let them annoy him instead. The problem is that vory are… they do not hold property, and they do not have blood family they 'value' more than their fellow 'thieves-in-law'."

He drew his hand down his face, rubbing over his mouth with it as he met her gaze the last moment 'acceptable' for a guest of her standing. "They took everything and killed his parents to try to turn him into something he's not?"

"However did you guess?"

"The stupidest answer I could come up with, given your working parts to this story."

"Well look at that… you're smarter than the typical Russian crook. As you very obviously know full well why that was never going to work." Drawled the young woman sarcastically and with seventeen different flavors of nasty underlying her tone. "I have no desire or interests in asking the Wolfpack Cloud how it went down, or even what he thinks of basically murdering a good fifteen to twenty 'made' men however he did to kill the syndicate off. Beyond the basics Arseniy told me post Mafia School 'forum' night, don't want to know."

"…maybe… not call him the 'Wolfpack' Cloud anymore? If he's killed… well, no. He's collected it, hasn't he?"

"He would also appreciate getting a cat. Several, apparently."

Adelardo snorted, almost despite himself.

He felt pretty awful for the kid now, sure. There was still some bite left to him though, even if he was so abused he left his native territory for clearly different other pastures. He wasn't exactly sure what he felt about a 'territory-less' Cloud, or even what their reactions to one another could even be.

"I've got barn cats, though we make sure they can't breed out of control on this spit of landmass. Could happen entirely too easily. We'll have to pick him up a kitten from a pet shop or some shit."

Sonya tapped some nails gently against the mug, and since it didn't shatter and spill hot tea all over her she did it very gently. "Is that a yes?"

"…as long as it's just the kid, and for the summer. I'm… yeah, Donna de Mort. I'll pitch in for this. Not for free, mind you… but I can teach him to ride a horse and maybe care for one at the same time. Or he can wander around my part of the island the entire summer, I… really don't care. I've got the space for him if he just wants to sit tight for a while."

If it was bad, and he couldn't deal with the 'Wolfpack' Cloud face-to-face or he couldn't deal with a Cloud Guardian, there were several 'ranch hand' apartments over some of the further flung barns intended to be shelter for bad weather. They were more overnight berths than long-term living quarters, but he could refurbish one to hold someone for a couple months instead if need be. A check every couple of days, the kid could do whatever the hell he wanted there instead of living in the main ranch here with him if it was a problem.

"Then, if the introduction goes well, I'll leave him here with you tomorrow." She offered, very smartly not immediately getting down to the business end of that right this second.

As Adelardo never met a Hard Flame Cloud that survived Discordance to come out Soft on the other side, he couldn't say what even might happen. Maybe it'd be like meeting 'Skull de Mort', or really Cherep Bazanov, while teaching his sister how to even mount and stay on top of a well-trained horse.

Maybe not. All they could do is try and make note of how it went after the fact.

"Supposed you'll need to talk to Leone now?"

"…in a bit."

Different. "I'm not usually a man many want to spend a lot of time with."

"Currently," drawled the thief very tartly, unable to help hunching up defensively behind her mug, "you're a better option than going off for my 'lunch date' today. Which is in another whole hour, I expected you to need convincing."

"Yeah… I'm not that kind of an asshole."

"Funny. That's what Skull tends to say. Rather often, too."

"I have the fond belief, or delusion either or, that most Soft Flame Clouds generally realize early on the Mafia's looking for them… and then just don't bother dealing with it or revealing themselves."

Sonya hitched both bare shoulders up absently. "I wouldn't know, you'd have to ask my brother if he's met any others and what they're like."

Adelardo snorted again, intentionally this time, at that very useless offer to go get bullshitted in the face for absolutely no damn reason. Just looking at Skull made it pretty damn obvious that if you didn't have a damn reason to know, the famed stuntman would entirely lie to someone's face instead of tell the truth.

No one knew what Skull 'did' until the man owned up to it for Don Vongola, if that wasn't a damn good liar there was no way he could've gotten away with it for so long on his own.

He made himself comfortable in his front meeting room armchair closest to the door, so the lady had the time to actually enjoy her drink. "What are you putting off?"

"…Leone added in on my 'courting' mess."

"Isn't he… seeing a Miss Puccia?"

"That's what he told me." She answered immediately and with little care to his mild and confused alarm. "As I have no intentions of 'getting into bed' with a complete stranger, he can do as he wishes while I get to know him to see if I can even stand him. Though, Reborn's ahead of him in that 'line'. You'll have to ask Leone what the hell he's up to if you want to know."

He'd put money on this being all… all his Sky's idea for his son to do. For the countless time since Leone discovered he had opinions that didn't align perfectly with his father's ideas, he likely got ordered to do it regardless. Young miss Puccia would make a fine Lady Cavallone, and more importantly wouldn't come with divided loyalties to her own establishing syndicate and foreign nationals that might wander in too.

The Cloud Guardian was pretty sure the key issue here was that Alcina Puccia came from modest means, and this woman right here was of obscene riches. Horse racing had become a bit less popular this long after the post-war boom, and he knew they were starting to scale back a few operations because of it…

If this was all ordered because of a bottom line then Adelardo really needed to go visit his Sky shortly. Even if he was deathly ill, in the head.

Then again, they rarely agreed on much, even right after he became a Guardian. Omar was equally as fond of Adelardo as he found him wanting, and those visits generally ended in loud arguments these later years of his Sky's life.

"…this works both ways, right?"

The young lady blinked at him questioningly, caught mid-sip by his question.

"I can use you to escape for a little while if I help your young fellow one of us? Possibly in a year or two?"

"I would have regardless." Sonya informed him bluntly and with faint confusion painting over her pointy Slavic features. "If it makes you more comfortable to believe so, then do. All I know of two Clouds meeting for any aim, even passively social ones, is not to do so in either territory or only after taking the pain to call ahead to arrange it. I know it's less… fraught with complications between a Classical and an Inverted type. You are the second one I've ever met, and I'm still not certain what I'm allowed to ask for or where I should not."

So it wasn't just Adelardo uncertain of what to expect or even what might be appropriate here. "Mind if I tag along with your lunch dates, Donna de Mort?"

"…if you want." She dubiously answered after a pause of sheer utter confusion.

"Take the pain to arrange it ahead of time." The Cavallone Cloud Guardian paraphrased her own words back to her, which had a lot of her caustic caution clear up damn near instantly. "I have no damn idea what's even appropriate here either, so let's see about something slightly different to find a line in this sand."

The little thief thought about it for several silent seconds, draining off her mug in the meantime. "Alright."

(Tuesday the 28th of March, 1972. Maintenance Berth, Superbi Famiglia Headquarters, Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Nilda got there several minutes late beyond the few minutes for word of mouth to pass along to her, just simply because of the sheer size of the Superbi shipyards. Getting across it in good time meant cutting across several busy men trying to get their work done in their own good time.

As she was going to be late regardless, there was no point in getting in the way to the point these shipbuilders would complain to Silvino about his wife running about their workplace like a brainless twit.

"…I think you were the last straw, anyway."

"Oh no." Dimitry mocked sarcastically and with no care in his tone, as Lady Superbi finally got in range of their unexpected and surprise visitor to overhear anything. "I'm simply and utterly fucking crushed, here."

"Shut up, Mitya." Sonya de Mort snapped more to some old long-standing formula than from real affront, tipping the Italian Rain coming through the open bay doors an absent wave despite not looking away from the corrugated steel roofing this building possessed. "So since you and me were out, I took the brat to the Cavallone."

"Is that even a good idea?"

"The Cloud Guardian there is another like Cherep. Inverted. Adelardo's going to do it this summer. Still need to think up of somewhere for Vasilyev to live 'outside' my sight but inside my influence."

Dimitry smacked some oversized wrench to the top of the small motorboat's aft section the thief was lounging on top of, and the woman instantly handed him a screwdriver next from the pile of tools set next to her stomach. "Well, don't fucking ask me."

"I wasn't going to, asshole. I figured I'd ask whichever of your fuck buddies showed up when I came over. And look, one showed up."

The Russian Rain vor's head popped up, and he pinned a highly expectant and pointed look on Nilda for exactly two seconds.

"Sonya, could you perhaps… not say that in public? And no, Dimitry, I'm not here to take you to murder someone today."

"…was it supposed to be a 'secret'?" Mocked the thief now, lazily amused and still not getting off the small sea craft here in need of some kind of work. "Whoops… you realize everyone knows already, right?"

"Of course everyone knows." There were a multitude of ways to make something normally eyebrow raising into something scandalous but not 'objectionable' to the overly opinionated.

Nilda 'accidentally' let it slip in the right ears that 'they' seduced a strong Rain from a foreign land to defect to them instead, whatever influence and power he had in his native syndicate as the head of the Zolotov Flame users. Silvino's preference for men was a risky complication in a society where image and the 'right' behavior could be lethally enforced, marrying her undercut a lot of his detractors for his homosexuality. For now.

Not all of them, and as his wife she had a vested interest in ensuring the more opinionated intolerant assholes had no ground to build up something… very objectionable. Silvino was her friend, her husband, and if she found no fault with him or their marriage then no one else had any right to either.

Now look, it was 'fashionable' to obtain foreign Dying Will Flame users to show off in the Mafia. Just one, preferably one that wasn't invested in anything important another Italian was focused on.

Tyr and his Varia helped no small bit, accepting foreign applicants to test out and if they survived then they were hired. That Lady Vongola was clearly aiming to collect Sonya and Skull de Mort didn't hurt, and the Ninth Generation Vongola Lightning Guardian had himself their older sister Tatiana to marry?

A fairytale 'healer Sun doing the impossible for high-ranking and influential Lightning Guardian to a Sky, so the Lightning marries her to adore and worship the rest of his life' come true to marvel and envy over for this and the next generation. It was a really adorable story of doing the damn near impossible, and the couple were almost nauseatingly cute together in a significantly less wholesome way to boot.

Tatiana's now widely known efforts for Ganauche the First made the instinctive 'eww, foreigner' reaction get forcibly buried.

At least for now.

The Italian Sky Tomaso fucking off to become English was an acid patch left behind even several years after the fact, eating through anything remotely accepting or fond of the ever dreaded 'outsiders' and their antics. Less unfortunate but still sad in a 'lost opportunity' kind of way, it was a pity whatever had been between Sonya and Tyr didn't manifest into anything more than friendly association. It looked as if it might when Sinclair died on her, for a small bit.

…then, of course, there was Reborn and Fon.

The 'World's Greatest Hitman' was clearly an Italian Mafioso. Either full-blooded, or mostly to make for a very unnoticeable difference, Italian. Who only Don Vongola had known to introduce as a Mafioso to others when he 'finally' made it back to Italia, much to his own Guardians' various levels of surprise. Whoever 'Reborn' had been before explosively showing up at Mafia Land out of the blue, the only thing known now?

He was a damn fine hitman to keep the 'World's Greatest' title thrust on him and a Mafioso, who Timoteo clearly knew of and found more than acceptable to not say who he had been before becoming Reborn.

And, the hitman was very interested in nailing Donna de Mort down in his bed for the rest of their lives. Or shimmying into hers in a very public, very 'respectable' manner in that specific example.

A significantly less 'fairytale' and more 'raunchy romance novel' kind of story come true to admire from afar, if only Fon the Eye of the Storm would get out of his way. For those well aware they had no chance a snowball did in hell at turning Nightshade's head, the younger sister to Skull de Mort and a Donna of her own right, rooting for Reborn's success with her was fast becoming a national pastime if there wasn't a local near them gearing up to try.

Foreign woman, yes. Foreign woman that moved here to raise her Italian godson properly in his native lands, a hell of a lot more acceptable than just some other random foreign-born woman off the street. The Mafiosi that knew her ex-boyfriend Mafioso clearly found her acceptable, she had all three now after fixing their specifically individual personal problems.

If Sonya wished to quietly occupy her little seaside corner of the country to raise Flame user children to adulthood in enforced safety, no one was going to stop her. Her lack of ambition in the local economy, civilian or not, made her decently tolerable as she had to be here. Opinionated to almost a fault with the slightly less local to her syndicates, but that was an entirely different problem. A Cloud problem.

She stole money from around the world, came back here to spend it. On the Cavallone, on the Superbi, on whatever her godson or her various unrelated children needed, on whomever had what she wanted because this thief did not steal in her own backyard.

Fon was a significantly stickier 'foreigner' issue, locally. He had no clear interests in Italia, and while that was nice… he had a clear interest in preventing Reborn from 'obtaining' a friend of his. Which was less appreciated, as far as Nilda had been able to hear. Understandable, as very few knew anything about Reborn to know if they could trust him or not. Still somewhat disreputable of the Storm assassin from China, for all it was for a reason no one could state was wrong.

Then again, it was the conflict that made Sonya's personal situation remotely interesting to anyone in Italia to keep it in the general gossip. Otherwise the woman was a typical home-focused busybody, as much as any Hard Cloud typically was. She made no waves on the street level, preferred to stay home and guard her children there, and went off to do evil to others outside of Italia when she wanted.

Nilda shook off her thoughts, sauntering into the boat hangar Dimitry took over to use himself to fix whatever mechanical failure he could get his hands on between other needs for him. "So you're here for…?"

"Do you have any seaside cottages somewhat remote from Genoa, but still decently defendable and not at risk if there's ever any territory disputes?" Sonya asked the ceiling more than her, with nothing in her tone to use to judge by.

"For your young little Cloud friend?" She took 'a' stab in a well lit barrel of fish, easily something assumed by the conversation she came into the tail end of. "I'll have to specifically look for one, as that's not really something I usually overlook for us. Mind if I tell Silvino?"

"Not a damn."

"If I can't find one for you?"

"…odds are, Vasilyev will see if Colonello's willing to 'mind' him somewhere local for four more years until he can 'legally' live on his own. You're an option for just in case that isn't going to work out, because it's Lal Mirch that'll decide if she's willing to let her new man be that occupied on her for so long."

Presumably, she had all summer to look before it would become a pressing issue to say if the Superbi had something for a young Cloud to use as a new 'home' base. "If I can find something, I doubt my husband will object to two Rains visiting often enough to be 'obviously minding' the child in our territory. If that'll help with this little problem."

The thief sat up to pin her with a narrow look, uncaring that knocked several tools off the perch she had placed herself on top of.

"The odds he'll cement to a corner of our territory is enough of a reward here to see about it, yes." Nilda agreed with the obvious, as denying it would do shit all for her right now. "Whatever happens, happens. I'm more interested in helping you settle him locally, because even if he never recovers from whatever drove him to you… there's always his future children to think about. If you wish to add possible future Clouds to my Famiglia's holding, I'll not stop you."

"That's kind of disturbing." She informed her bluntly.

Nilda waved that off absently. "If that's your opinion, then fine. Have it. It means I'm willing to help, isn't that enough?"

"Oh look at that, sex kitten. You can learn." Dimitry offered with a sharp smirk, deeming himself done with fixing whatever had gone wrong on that boat and slamming the outboard engine close again. "I'm so proud of you."

"Is everything that comes out of your mouth always so vulgar?"

"Yes." Sonya answered for her before he could. "Why is this remotely surprising? You have met Mitya, right?"

The vor snickered with wicked amusement in the background.

Sonya shot him a suspicious look, then her, then heaved a disgusted sigh and slid right off the side of the motorboat. "I don't want to know. Fucking off now."

"Bye, bitch."

"Until later, Sonya." Nilda allowed with a slight nod for the utterly brief and glancing visitation, a little bemused at how short and to the point this 'occasionally will catch up with me' Dimitry warned her would probably happen now and again had been. "…why does she call you 'Mitya'?"

"Pet name. She'll only do it now because it won't undercut me for us to obviously be friendly. Before… back in Moscow, she was strictly formal just so it wouldn't seem like I was taking orders or suggestions from her to the other vory. I was the face of shit, and she knew well before anything happened no one would like her in that position." Shrugging well muscled shoulders, the other Rain snatched up his fallen tools to at least toss in the general direction of where it all should go. "Even if I was. You've got five minutes to strip and shut the door, woman. Otherwise I'm making it damn obvious I'm fucking you for your walk back across the dockyard."

"Crass."

"Again, what the fuck was your first clue?"

"I'm fairly certain no one has quite forgotten how we 'acquired' you, rather than you defaulting to your fellow Soviet natives already here to settle in with." She reminded him pointedly, though she still hit the controls for the garage door to close it since she didn't wish to get fucked in public. He would if she didn't, she knew him that well to know it without needing to ask and have it proven in front of God and country. "And, as long as you don't get me pregnant, I doubt anyone will really care if Silvino's involved."

"Vory generally don't have kids, sex kitten. And since I left Russia, I'm not getting more rank than I've got to 'earn' it." Dimitry reminded her right on back, taking the pains to at least scrub off the worst of the grease and oil from his palms if nowhere else in the bare standing sink supplied in this building. "I have no issues spoiling your kids rotten, not remotely comfortable with the idea of having any myself. Besides, with my skin tone so damn different from Silvino's? It'd be damn obvious if you pop out a half-Russian brat."

Nilda sighed at his brutish manners again. "Give me just long enough, Dimitry, and I'll change your mind. Willing to risk it?"

He snorted at her, putting nice long black streaks in her sensible dark blue dress since she failed to strip as ordered before he reached for her. "If you're putting out, do what you want. I'm still getting myself a piece of you while you try. You and your husband."

She had no idea what the hell Soviet criminals were even going to do to keep their Flame user lines going, with that restriction. Wasn't her issue to try bashing her forehead against, and Sonya's previous situation was warning enough it wouldn't work without some kind of fundamental shift in culture or society happening.

Besides, she had a piece of it here to work on. Dimitry was very obliging, if also very stubborn, and more than enough for Nilda to occupy herself with if she had to meddle.

He was slightly stronger than her husband as a Rain, which made her slightly interested in getting a child from him too. Silvino got the first few until he had a son to hand the Famiglia to, but a daughter with dusky tanned skin and slightly more power would be equally nice. Hopefully she'll have Dimitry's nice wavy curls instead of Nilda's stick straight strands.

She could dream, and it was something nice to 'work' on in the meantime.

(Thursday the 30th of March, 1972. Verde's Materials Laboratory, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)

Talbot didn't exactly have sight with his Flames, he didn't see the same way as he once used to or the way other people saw things. Verde was a font of all 'current day' information on the hows and whys of multiple disciplines, and a really chatty boy to boot given any topic to speak on.

Humans saw light reflecting from surfaces to 'make out' color and shapes. Well… Talbot didn't just see light anymore.

His sight was more spectrums of various sorts these later decades. Color was a bit odd to his sight now, but he could also clearly make out the 'visual' differences in materials and the wavering point of faults in them too.

To be frank, he didn't even need illumination anymore. Habits were just long-standing things hard to break when you didn't care or need it. Heat on the other hand… after a full day next to a hot forge, he needed the extra help a fireplace could provide to keep himself warm.

His 'vision' allowed them a kind of pre-test on the crystal armor plates, a whole suit of them. Mainly to figure out failure rate to know which parts should be replaced with Talbot's metal alloys instead, if that curve or cut would just never work within the physical limitations.

Wasn't that just fantastically absurd?

An armor set, not weapons. Defensive.

Absolutely delightful.

Talbot could see the weaker fracture points even as Peter poured molten glass into the molds, and right now they were having an absolute gas trying to troubleshoot some method by which to correct the crystalline structures before they cooled and fixed in place. Then still using the fractured crystals to see what post-pour testing would reveal that to another that couldn't see the way he could while a new batch cooked.

He hadn't had this much fun breaking shit for… well, since about Vongola Terzo's generation.

So focused as he was on the stress points wavering before them, he didn't even notice for a good five minutes. Long enough she had settled on a table next to the wall and had already gotten comfortable.

Which, unlike any other Mafia-centric Cloud he ever met before, to be left waiting didn't instantly piss off the 'patron' young lady who this armor set was intended for.

Belatedly, halfway through watching the agitator testing to see what that corrected for them, Talbot finally noticed her waiting on them. Then he could only 'stare' in utter bafflement. "What the blazes happened to your Sun Flames, young miss?"

Peter instantly dropped something, being the nervous sort meant he did so fair often. Or often around Talbot. Given what he was, he was never going to take offense. He can clearly see that abuse lingering on his Flames too, so Peter could do whatever the hell Peter wished to and Talbot would politely ignore it or correct it. Depending on what and where.

"…that is an interesting question." One Miss Sonya de Mort, or Sonya Bazanova it depended on who was being asked that question, responded after a moment of contemplation. "May I ask one of my own?"

"Do I get an answer?"

"I have only half a guess, at best." She informed him bluntly and without much care. "If that's enough for you?"

"…eh, no. Never mind." He'd rather get straight answers in his ancient old age, and if she didn't yet have one then fair enough. That was bizarre, he wasn't even sure what that was doing even looking straight at it. "Bit rude of me, I suppose. The name's Talbot, Miss. On and off again a Vongola Mafioso, last retired… ach… near about Don Simora's retirement. Vongola Sesto. However long ago that was."

"Sonya de Mort. Supposedly a Donna, who does nothing, and otherwise a thief."

Verde snorted in the background, nudging the tray back in the center position on the small little machine that normally only shook up chemical flasks for him. "That is… significantly underwhelming compared to reality, Sonya."

"You have a visitor who presumably has lived since the eighteen hundreds, and all you can say is my introduction is underwhelming?"

"I only age when I run out of Flames. It was utterly bloody and stupid of me to do it when I did. Bit of advice for you and your brother, girly. Don't reject aging. Utterly boring to have to find something to do for decades on end, that you haven't already done." Now he remembered to look for them, there was that same lavender tracing on young Adrik's lungs on this woman too. One of them, the brightest tracing of expended Cloud Flames, went right through the poor dear's heart. Almost invisible around the brighter but still expended pale yellow all around it backlit by her yellow-red-purple 'inner light'. "Hope you don't mind I'm helping here, fascinating project to work on."

"…I don't mind." Slowly admitted the immortal Cloud lady in bemusement. "Of course, under the blindingly obvious 'do not inform anyone else how to get around it' clause of secrecy."

Talbot barked a laugh, though it wasn't all that funny. "Oh like I haven't heard that one before. And yes, obviously."

"That is quite rude." Verde needled his patron and boss, earning only a single shrug from the young lady.

"He freaked out Usov. He's still freaked out. I'm still trying to decide if I'm impressed or offended."

Well. Depending on a couple factors, that actually made all this passive poking here make sense. "The young man Mist trapped in a boy's body?"

"That one." She confirmed in her absently toneless way. There could be some emotion to her voice, but not very strong ones or all that much at any specific point.

Still waters ran oceanic deep with this one. There was no way any Storm could be dispassionate, they just didn't work like that. It was entirely possible for one to seem that way, he'd seen that before.

Including the split second between being seemingly dispassionate and being very passionate, like a match being struck. Generally happened at the worst times too… and Cloud Flames on top of that?

"Rude little snot."

"Yes."

"Not sorry." Talbot informed her equally as bluntly and to the point, which she seemed to appreciate. "I have no bloody idea why he would even want to do that to himself, but if he did then he can behave like it."

"Little will set Usov back on his heels these days, I believe it might have been good for him to encounter something so out there he has no idea what to do in response." Decided Sonya de Mort after a moment of thoughtful contemplation. "I do appreciate that you treated Anna differently."

"The Mirror Lady is polite." Bit odd to have that be another Mist's litmus test for others, manners. Usually those were more pointedly geared to only 'allow' certain types through as decent enough to deal with, not anyone with sense…

…actually, that made it rather more sensible of a precaution. Went all the way around back to the start of that little typical habit of theirs.

"You all are bizarre." Talbot informed the young woman that gathered up all these strangely wonderful Flame users to herself. "It's delightfully refreshing. When will your brother be back? I actually can't wait to meet him too."

No wonder Kawahira got blindsided by this generation. Hell, he got blindsided here too. Even if the others were all typical for criminal Flame users, this little pocket of it was unapologetically conforming or not conforming to their own damn taste.

Little 'Romanian trained diviner' here wasn't just some gypsy Cloud woman with immortality, no. True, sure… not quite the whole story.

"This fall. October, November, or so. He was delayed on his way out this year, odds are he'll be late coming back too."

He wagged a finger at Verde's general direction. "Let me know when."

"…very well. In the meantime, would you perhaps like to study the process of Propagation on this material? I have… several questions on the mechanics and the stresses applied via the process you may be adequately fit to answer for us."

"Of course I would."

That seemed to be the signal the young Sun-Storm-Cloud lady was awaiting, because that was when she moved off her little perch.

Talbot waited out the time she needed to be instructed in the new prototype and what care was needed in putting it on to turn his attention on the man with a minor Sky talent.

So minor he seemingly only had 'space' for one Guardian in his fractured Flames, and he already married her. He couldn't figure out if the ex-long term prisoner of some unfortunate fate knew it or not, or if he should even say something about knowing it.

His wife and Lightning Guardian was a fine example of a woman, highly defensive and struck suddenly out of the blue if she felt her Sky might be remotely uncomfortable with something. Not nearly insecure about herself or her place in Peter's life to need to hang around when not needed and in the defense of another much stronger Lightning with no designs on her Sky, so a well-loved Guardian that knew it full well.

Smart of him to 'hide' himself under the guard of a pair of Clouds. Startled him somewhat often given how fast he corrected for it, but no one looking for a Sky would even do so when the most 'eye catching' examples in this area were two immortal Clouds.

Somewhat unfortunate his Flames fractured down to Sun and Rain too, reducing his potential as a Sky to damn near nothing else.

"Peter, leave it. I'll fix it."

"…that's also rude." Refuted the man pointedly, but quietly. "You are a guest, Master Talbot."

"Don't think you want to pick that up." He countered, but not gently for this Sky did not appreciate that patronizing carefulness for the damage he was striving to overcome. "With the tongs under that crucible you use."

"…I wasn't exactly certain how to until it cooled. I'm not sure I can withstand that level of heat for even a moment." Peter confessed very sheepishly. "Just roll it over off the tongs, I can take it from there."

Talbot did as bid. Another of these refreshing examples of unspoiled Flame users, with thorny underlying reasons for being so. Still charmingly different for all the darkness around them.

He still got the drips of molten glass off the concrete floors too. Leaving that lying around was just untidy.

(Monday the 3rd of April, 1972. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)

The first thing Sonya got coming through the door was politely fixed attention from Lal Mirch, which was… new. "What?"

"Did you seriously pull the exact same shit on Colonello that you did to me?"

"And what exactly did I do to him that I also did to you?"

She fetched out a paper from a stack of them on the dining room table, fluffing it out pointedly and turning it around to show the thief Italian headlines basically losing their shit over 'Nightshade's' two weeks long spree of relieving morons of their valuables. "Didn't you also steal from NASA before you got around to helping me?"

"…maybe." That particular job was still an anonymous thief contract, even if basically everyone on Mafia Land knew who did it already. She could still get herself into trouble if she ever opened her mouth about it, so Sonya wouldn't be confirming or denying shit all about that job. "I work for a living, Lal. I have to do something to afford all my morons and everything else."

"You are fucking ridiculous." Deemed the Rain pointedly and with utter exasperation, getting up from the table to wander off for the basement door.

"Hey." A token protest, yes. It wasn't like Lal didn't have a point here.

There was no way Bjǫrn could spend the entirety of the St. Julian's payout in so little time, and while it wouldn't last much longer it had still been more than enough for a good few months of work. It's just she now had more morons to afford, and she wanted a nice cushion for whatever stupidity happened next with them.

Sonya wandered off to the kitchen herself, pulling a doggy water bowl out of Alek's doggy bag of supplies and toys. Her dumb fluffy boy knew this place well enough he didn't instantly go off to sniff around again once she had it and he knew they would be sitting tight for a bit, he put his toy bag down right in the middle of the way of everything to go jump up on a couch to nap on.

Dumbass. There were obvious changes that happened around here she could see from the damn kitchen sink. "Wasn't the light for the basement on the inside of that door before?"

"Yep." Confirmed Lal bluntly and with all the irony as she kept flicking the switch. "Halfway through last week, it swapped to be out here. So I can signal Colonello, or he can signal me, that something needs us up here. Usually for a meal. It's also all now soundproofed too, and I have no fucking idea how."

"…creepy." Sonya deemed after a moment, putting the doggy dish down on the floor for whenever Alek decided he needed it. "So what have you covered with him?"

"Basics. Welcome to the Mafia, you've been seen in my company so no there's no way in hell he's going to escape now. Idiot isn't remotely concerned a bit."

"Two Rains trying to have a serious conversation? Yeah, Lal. Rain Passivity."

Colonello opened the basement door with a wry expression to pin on his former military officer before she could snap something back. "Lal, once or twice is enough. Cleaning up and ensuring the guns are discharged fully under a strobe light is a bit difficult."

"Whoops." She answered in a flat and unconvincing tone as she flicked the light off. "If you can't do it blindfolded, you need more time down there."

"If you two can save the lover's spat for after I'm done here…?"

She got an irritated look and a quirked smirk from them. He was the first one to all but bounce over to the table, and she reluctantly followed more sedately.

"I thought you'd be hanging around, being Lal's 'Mafia Tutor' and all."

"It may come as a surprise to you, but Lal is an adult." Sonya countered dryly, not seeing a point to move out of the kitchen since they could see her clearly from right here. "And being an adult, she does not require me to always hang around over her shoulder. She has a number for me for questions in need of immediate answers, otherwise we just set aside a day or two to see about any difficulties she might have. Which this is."

"She's also damn responsible and highly focused." Colonello agreed instantly. "Good news, she trained me to be the same way."

"Yeah, I figured."

"If this wasn't just a check in for me, and more for you, I'd kick you for that." Lal informed her former subordinate with irritation. "Quit stating the obvious."

"Firstly." Sonya pointedly interrupted the both of them with no patience, raking the fingers of a tattooed hand through her pale strands in mild irritation. "You both are Rains. It's apparently difficult to do and keep in mind, but more than one Rain in a conversation brings up the risk of Rain Passivity. Where you're unable to convey the right tone and urgency to another Rain. You get 'used' to being the calmest in the room at any one time and forget that just because another Rain is calm doesn't mean they are that calm. Please, for the love of fuck, keep it in mind."

"The… 'general problem' with our 'type' you told me about before?" Planting both elbows on the table, the male Rain jerked a thumb at the female one. "Is this why she never takes me flirting with her seriously?"

"No, I never take you seriously because you do it at the entirely wrong time. Idiot."

"But you're hot when you're angry! I can't help it!"

Lal went beet red, now angry and unimpressed to go with apparently mildly embarrassed. She grit her teeth together, folded her arms under her chest, and flatly ignored the man now. Fixing her attention on the view out the kitchen window over the sink with spite.

"Apparently, your timing sucks." Sonya answered with mild amusement, because at least it wasn't just Fon's shit ass timing that caused someone problems. "Which might not be helping."

"Aww, man." Thunking his forehead to the tabletop, which made Alek raise his head sharply in the background at the weird new noise, Colonello heaved a heavy sigh into polished wood. "Okay. Thanks for the heads up, didn't know that. Well, you tried to tell me. I didn't know it went that deep."

"Rains do it automatically. You'll need to make an effort to not do it."

She earned herself a thumbs up, but he wasn't lifting his head yet.

…okay. "If Lal hasn't told you yet, her goal is to establish a paramilitary group to 'catch' all the military Flame users, instead of them being set up to be dismissed in disgrace or murdered off if not. As Flame users can't do government or military work, it'll have to be some sort of 'black bag' organization to keep you all on the right side of the Laws."

There were a number of reasons why that had never been established yet. A problem might just be that no one had a powerful enough patron to protect it's formation before some other Mafia group decided that was not alright and snapped it up whole to prevent it. Between Donna de Mort and Lady Ottavio of Vongola, Lal now had that.

If that was what her Tutee wanted, Sonya had no reason to not help her get there. However little she might help beyond just allowing it to form up under the weight of her reputation.

Again, she'd be likely getting a nice slice of profits from it as her moronic minions did what they wanted under her thumb. Lal would be another like Verde, who would wander off eventually and become something in their own rights before long. A contractually enforced one.

She had literally no issue with this.

Heaving another heavy sigh, Colonello lifted his head to give her a searching look.

"I'm an import. The military was never something I ever had to deal with." Sonya allowed with little care for the obvious accusation here. "No, I didn't know the fate of your fellows until she went looking then Skull and Usov went with Lal to go see what your branch of the military knew of Flame users. I can also clearly agree a different method is needed, whatever the local Mafia thinks. I will assist if you need it, but as an import I will be having no say or influence on what or where. Not my expertise or my place, after all."

"Thanks." He repeated himself, more sadly this time. "Seriously, lady. I know you're getting paid for it and all, but really. That's… fucking awesome of you."

"You still have to build it." She countered blandly with a shrug of a single bare shoulder. "And if it's even possible to keep going without me once I let Lal go from being my Mafia Home Student is something I can't tell you. We'll be learning together."

"That I can fight." Colonello claimed stoutly, hauling himself back upright and not leaving himself bent halfway over to lay on the table. "I can see that to fight it. So I'll take my chances here."

"Then, until such time as Lal has enough men and women, the current focus is finding who set her up and setting her up with 'underworld' contacts of her own."

They both looked at the woman in question, who was still ignoring her former subordinate.

He then turned back to her. "I just really like that I have all the pieces now. To be honest. Being left in the dark, when she obviously knew something, was basically killing me. It's not nice to wonder if you should trust in your command structure like that. Then it turns out, yeah. They knew not giving her the boot would kill her but said shit all about it being the reason. That's not… good."

"…she's alive." Sonya offered dubiously, not certain if that would help or hinder this man.

"For no fault of her own." Countered the sniper tiredly and a limp flop of a wrist. "I honestly would've been good with not being added in under you, Sonya. Just the damn explanation was decent enough for me."

"They don't have enough information to explain it. What good would admitting what would happen do, if they can't prevent or stop it?"

He rubbed a hand over the whole right side of his face. "Just knowing the risk would've been nice."

"Oh, sure. 'For reasons we have no clue about, and for doing something we can't explain, if you don't fuck off you'll die' is very… convincing."

"Frankly… that's more information than several of my old missions gave me to work off of." Colonello groused sourly, giving an absent shrug as he sank down into his seat. "I don't want to be 'reasonable' for this. It's bullshit and I'm not changing my mind."

"…if you insist."

"The Beccio or the Pesca Famiglias." Lal offered suddenly, apparently deciding she had put it off long enough.

"Pesca might be a little… too high profile for you right now. Legacy Rain syndicate, one of their men is the current generation Vongola Rain Guardian. They might be interested in 'acquiring' more Rain blood."

"Uh… what?"

Sonya eyed the very suddenly offended Colonello with skepticism. "It's genetic, the ability to use Dying Will Flames. If you can do so, then typically your children can do so. Generally how Flame users reliably gain more numbers, have kids. So… yes. That's something you'll need to be careful of."

"The Beccio, then?"

"…as far as I know, they don't have Flame users. Specifically and with intent. They might have a use for freelance Flame users like you're aiming to be." The thief could only shrug for her, rubbing the thumb of her left hand over the loops of her lace tattoo on the back of her right absently. For no reason, the ink had settled under her skin some weeks ago. "The center of the country?"

"Where I want to be, yes."

"I'll need to be with you for the initial meet-n-greet." She offered instead of commenting on that, because it didn't remotely matter to her. "To show that it's an official thing, not a 'done behind your Tutor's back' kind of shitshow. It'll give you a step up in proving the 'making a contact' needs with them but will also make them very clearly aware not to possibly 'overload' you or risk my irritation. Whichever you decide to go with."

Lal thought about that for a couple seconds, flatly ignoring the puppy dog eyes from the Rain right next to her. "You're not going to say not to try contacting the Pesca?"

"Frankly, trying for both might serve you better than one or the other one at a time. Just be upfront about it if asked. The more aware you're doing this, the safer you are from being… 'disappeared' for 'reasons'."

"Okay! That's not okay!"

"Welcome to the dark side of society." Sonya offered to Colonello darkly and with annoyance. "The parts where 'acquiring' new blood literally means kidnapping and holding people by force. Kidnappings, rape, and torture are not 'outlawed' among outlaws. It's 'can this person or their allies stop it before we lose more than we gain trying it' that prevents shit. Italy has a very 'family-focused' outlook on their crime syndicates, so the crime syndicates are weirdly family-friendly. Guess what isn't typical in the Mafia elsewhere?"

"No oversight, no safety catch, nothing will enforce good behavior but our reputation and conduct." Lal finished off bitterly, pointedly glaring down her fellow Rain now. "It's not just a different branch of the military, idiot. We're on our own here. There's nothing to fall back on, we're fucked if nothing goes right."

"Ah, we've got that to fall back on." Colonello even made a flourish of a wrist in the thief's direction. "And we're going to be what others can rely on. So there. Still not okay this is a risk for you two."

"…technically." She corrected with reluctance. "You can't impregnate a Flame user against their will, we can… 'burn' off that kind of… thing. Storms are more infamous for it, but it's still heat. It can kill sperm before that complication happens. So… as long as we have our Flames, it's not a threat. If rescued in time."

"Like that makes it any better."

"It's a complication to keep in mind, not something risked by leaving the house." Which, if a young Flame using woman didn't know that was possible… which probably did happen. Depressingly often, if she really wanted to look into it. "Look, Colonello. No, it's not okay. But because it's not okay is no reason to not be aware it's a possible motivation from others around us. Lal's a particularly powerful Rain, I'm a none too shabby Storm and Cloud myself. We can give anyone attempting to force bullshit on us extreme burns if we're not willing to put up with it, if not just snap their damn necks."

Kind of why made men with principles got popular, even if only locally where they were. Only to usually get outweighed by the made men without principles around once they got enough 'backing' or power to them, who would cross those lines and be that level of absolute asshole. Then there were the odd ones that had the power but wasn't that level of asshole… basically she could think up of about three out of everyone ever off the top of her head.

Her own damn foster father, Don Vongola if only because he had an image to uphold, and maybe Duyi Zhōng counted in a weird way.

The trick was either just finding the right balance of what asshole behavior was okay and the dickishness needed to be 'feared' in a society of habitual murderers… or resign yourself to forever being 'picked on' by the types that didn't baulk at using those base human vices to further their goals.

…well, at the very least her Tutee looked slightly vindicated by Colonello's reaction to this particular topic.

Maybe she helped a bit, that'd be nice. "Anything else either one of you need to know or check with me on?"

"Is Vasilyev okay?" Immediately asked the ex-military boy with still too much heart, like the overly attached moron he was. "He's still alive, right?"

"He's decided he hates traveling around so much and doesn't like how many people are at my place, so I put him on a horse ranch for the summer. Half to give him time to learn Italian, half to see if getting him a damn pet will 'help' him any." Rubbing the side of her face with a tattooed hand, Sonya could only shrug. "If he's okay or not is still a question, Colonello. He's alive and trying to adjust."

"Good. Told you he'd be okay."

"…did you not hear a word I just said?"

"Yeah, that's never going to work." Lal informed her very wryly, rubbing a thumb up and down the bridge of her own nose in aggravation. "I've tried. He's just stupidly optimistic by nature. Somehow. It's enduring."

"If he's still moving forward, however grudgingly or without much motivation, then that means he's improving." Colonello insisted stoutly, firmly crossing his arms over his chest. "It may not look good to any of us, but we're not him. As long as he's trying, then that's fantastic."

"So, I'll take it you won't mind visiting." If Vasilyev hated her, which… fair enough, then saddling this moronic idiot of Lal's with the responsibility might help the kid out more.

Sonya had let the brat make the choice, ask her for help just before she was more or less 'exiled' from Moscow or do it himself. He chose to do it himself and take that risk, but it had cost him his parents. Not a price he had been expecting to pay, and he understandably resented that.

Resented her.

Resented just about everything in this moment, for a choice he made himself and saw out to the bitter end.

"Of course not!"

"Do you mind, Lal?" Checked the thief first and foremost, earning basically a shrug.

"Not a damn bit."

Worked for her. "I'll get you the address when I have it."

(Thursday the 6th of April, 1972. Fon's Apartment, Mafia Land.)

…it was odd how quiet it was, living alone.

Hopefully he will get used to it. Fon vaguely remembered Sonya making the same complaint before, but not what she decided to do about it herself. Likely that meant he would become used to how quiet it was when not seeking rest in a barracks full of ten to twenty other men.

When one was used to at least low-pitched background noise of conversations or movement, seeking rest suddenly alone made it a bit more difficult than he appreciated.

It was not as if he never had his own private quarters ever before, but usually such only lasted for the duration of his hunts. Two or three days, at worst. Several days of it seemed to disturb him at some deeply personal level to restlessness.

Eventually, he got tired of waiting for what seemed to be too elusive tonight. Fon got up out of bed and went to see if one of the herbal teas he had been given by Sonya's elderly grandmother crafting circle would help.

It was at least something to occupy his hands with.

He still was not wholly familiar with his new place of residence. Equally, it was not as if he had many personal possessions in need of such space to be stored. Fon still could not help but move as if he was invading someone else's residence and not moving about his own space.

…the Storm still failed to hear the thief sneaking in. Without her canine companion, so at least it wasn't that galling when she obligingly flipped on the 'galley kitchen's' light for him. "Good evening. Tea?"

"I thought I told Bjǫrn to inform you to have this place checked over first, before moving in."

"I did." Fon insisted with concern, opening what had become his 'tea cabinet' to see what he had in stock. Which he did not purchase for himself but were gifts to 'warm' his new home, and he did appreciate the thought they were gifted with.

Mostly.

He still wasn't certain if most of them were safe to even make tea with, much less drink. "Did you locate something alarming?"

Sonya glowered at him in professional pique. "Of course not. This is your place, I would not poke around without your permission. You didn't wait for me to get back."

"…aa. No, you were busy."

She remained not happy, seated on the island counter that also doubled as a rather high table he was still not used to. "So what did you do? I hope you didn't just decide to deal with whichever fuck's old traps and caches when and if you found them. This fucking island doesn't clean those out for you, Fon. They'll just ensure the place is structurally sound and there's nothing obviously lethal left in doorways or windowsills. You're responsible for taking care of the previous occupant's… alterations."

"I inquired with Liqin and some others I worked with before to investigate this flat with me. Yes, you are the best thief I know of, but Sonya… you were busy." He remined the woman with a measure of exasperation, taking one canister of dried tea leaves and possibly orange peels to investigate.

…it didn't seem tainted, though the tin was very obviously repurposed. This was full of dried oolong, not some orange tinted blend.

"I'm checking it over in the morning." Stoutly announced the Storm-Cloud with irritation.

"I do not mind." As a matter of fact… that was a much better idea than dubious tea blends that still needed investigation. Fon swiftly replaced the tins back in that cupboard, then barely had to do more than take a single step to snatch her up. "I appreciate the care, even if you are more offended I did not ask you than concerned for my wellbeing."

There was a momentary pause of startlement on her end, and he held still until she decided if she wished to escape his grip or if she would allow him this too. "…it's not that I don't care, Fon. It's that I'm a snob, and you put yourself under my thumb. I'd appreciate the opportunity to counter the obvious shit before it can become a problem Zhōng might have issues with."

"That is still quite agreeable." It was still care, and he still appreciated it. Even if she had motives beyond just for his own sake. "Are you staying the night?"

"I can, if you want." She wiggled experimentally, aiming to slide out of his hold.

Fon allowed it, after checking to be certain she had removed her boots. "I would."

It was unfortunate he was needed in the morning, and it was quite late already. Ah well, if he woke early enough there could be some opportunity for him for… mischief.

Chapter Text

(Friday the 7th of April, 1972. Fon's Apartment, Mafia Land.)

Pressing a line of nipping kisses up the line of her throat, Fon could not help but smirk when his bedmate jerked away the best she could within such a limited space. With a groggy, disgruntled scowl for him. "What the hell, Fon?"

"You are an unkind sleeping partner." He could claim with complete honesty, for she truly was. "I do not mind feeding your greed for skin contact if you feel the need. But I will respond if you do so and take shameless advantage of me."

She couldn't help the yawn, for she was still sleepy and not wholly awake yet despite the activity he woke her with. "I took advantage of you, right. You've got some balls, Fon. I'll give you that."

Amused, he got in one last bite to the side of her neck before pulling himself from her and her arms. "You are lucky I am required somewhere in less than an hour."

"You're lucky I was somehow in the rare mood to put up with you 'pawing' at me." Huffed the sleepy thief, now additionally disgruntled by either some slight physical discomfort or by leaving her cold from taking his body heat from hers. "Lure me in with cuddles and bide your time until I'm innocently asleep, devious."

"All I wished for was company."

"Mmhmm, this is me entirely believing you." Sonya stole the sole use of his bed without shame or care, twisting up in the bedding he had extracted himself from to turn her back to him. "Asshole. See if I sleep over ever again."

"If you would keep your hands to yourself…" Fon couldn't even finish the outright lie as he lingered at her side, and the pointedly expectant look she pinned on him over her only non-tattooed shoulder when he trailed off made him laugh.

Despite her own words, the woman was not against more of his touch. Less interested in being kissed than appreciative of him running his hand over the skin he already abused to sooth it.

The moment he pulled away again she stretched out lazily in his bed, unconcerned and more interested in returning to sleep without him than what he was up to do. Only half covered by the sheets, which did not hide anything from him.

Greedy, hedonistic woman.

…she was very lucky he was unable to miss the conference between the Wo clan Triads' Mafia Land residents to sort out what was needed in the next three months and what could be left up to the Triad that required some resources here. Fon still counted as Wo Hop To, and up until this very moment he had not minded retaining that responsibility.

"Will you be staying?"

"Mmm… maybe." Sonya ran the fingers of her tattooed hand through her hair to order it, raking the strands out of her face to clearly see him despite not turning around to face him again. "I am going to check this place over this morning, just to rule out some future stupidity. I might still be here, I might not be, whenever you're coming back."

"I would appreciate it if you were." Especially as he would very much like to continue seeing what he can tease out of her.

She shifted to regard him pointedly again, which likely meant she was no longer in the mood to 'put up' with him. "Weren't you supposed to be answering my question, not making a bigger mess in me?"

"…as soon as I figure out how to answer your question, I will inform you."

Rolling her eyes, the thief collapsed backwards into his bed. "Great. Thanks, Fon. That's real helpful."

"Why is 'interest in a good friend of mine' not enough to build something from?"

"Normally, yes. Actually. Had you said that a year ago." Plastering her tattooed hand against her forehead, Sonya glowered with irritation at the ceiling. "Right this second, that doesn't exactly help me figure out shit all. You're comfortable, Fon. Which is nice and safe, sure."

"That is… a first." Fon did not often equate to the 'safe' choice in anything. He was not certain if he found that pleasing or not. "You are seeking something other than 'comfortable'?"

"I've done 'comfortable' before."

"…then he died?"

"Wrong ex."

"Verde."

She shrugged absently, rubbing at her forehead now. "Surprise."

Not… particularly good to hear, as the Frenchman did not retain her attention. He checked the general time by the height of the sun outside his bedroom window, pressing his mouth together as he realized if he did not start moving to leave soon he would be inexcusably late.

Which would not reflect on her well, as he was punctual under Duyi to make for some insulting assumptions to be made if he allowed that to occur.

"Does this mean you will be seeing what Reborn can offer you now?"

"No." Sonya flatly refused instantly and sounding mildly insulted, when he turned back to her she also appeared rather affronted by his question given her expression. "The only reason I'm alright with you touching me, Fon, is because you are a friend of mine. He's got a long road to get here."

"I did not mean to imply-"

"Stop there." She advised him sharply. "Let's just ignore you asked me that."

"I meant to inquire if you would be spending a concentrated amount of time with him, not asking if you were going to climb into his bed next." Fon clarified with a mild amount of irritation of his own. "I would prefer it if you would remain in mine. As a matter of fact, I have motive to keep you fully occupied in mine."

"…why is it all about sex?"

"You realize a Sun will be 'worse' than me, yes?"

Sonya rubbed her face now instead of responding.

"And novelty for a new allowance I did not expect to gain is still fairly fascinating." He continued with some rueful clarification, allowing the mistaken assumption lie dead behind them.

It was not entirely unfounded to be accused of for poor word choice on his end, given… this situation.

A lady with suitors generally did not entertain any in her bed, or theirs. Fon was also not unaware she was slightly uneasy with allowing him the liberty with herself and how it might appear to her other suitors or just onlookers, and equally aware he was being allowed it on the weight of their association rather than by favor.

Which also meant he really needed to prove he was good for more than just pleasing her physically. Preferably soon, before she decided that was all he was good for.

"Does that mean you'll eventually lose interest in screwing me every opportunity you can?"

"…I've only had two so far." He had not passed up either, admittedly. "Possibly."

She eyed him sourly. "Didn't you get up for a reason?"

Fon sighed. "Aa… yes. It will only take me a few hours, at most. I would appreciate it if you remained long enough to speak with afterwards."

"Maybe."

(ooo000ooo)

(Friday the 7th of April, 1972 continued. Fon's Apartment, Mafia Land.)

The biggest problem with having Fon as a lover was that he bit. Everything he wanted to bite, which generally was some already sensitive bits of her anatomy. Which stung, even if he tried to take the sting out of his habit by various methods and mostly by kissing where he abused her.

The second biggest problem was he was a mean one.

Not that he was inconsiderate, he'd ensure she 'fully enjoyed him' in return for putting up with the effort and mess. Twice or more at least for every once for him.

Fon cared enough to make certain of that, but not enough to stop.

Or go slower for a bit.

…or let her catch her breath.

He would very much like to watch, but he was going to keep screwing her at whatever speed and rate he wanted at the same time. Because he liked how that felt, apparently.

And she though Reborn would be an exhausting bedmate given an inch of leeway.

Sonya stole the asshole assassin's shower the moment he left, just to get clean because that was still a semi-disgusting result she wasn't all that enthused with getting. The efforts weren't great, but that she could do completely without, thanks.

Still mildly annoyed at being lured in with cuddles for that… she was equally surprised Fon somehow got her horny outside her 'usual' cycle for it. Somehow.

She knew vaguely and in an absent way it was possible, she hadn't realized it was also still possible with her very absent sexuality. Which should've been obvious, Sonya just hadn't… put the obvious together on her own when she had such difficulty getting that result.

She might not find sex interesting or all that motivating, but obviously another would not get tired or annoyed by the effort to coax that out of her if they were more interested in it. It shouldn't be surprising, as she had issues taking care of her own needs without someone more interested in it than her too.

Well, she wasn't a stranger at feeling stupid for belated realizations. Even when it was shit she really should've known about herself already.

Once she was clean again, and if that had to happen it'd be nice if the jackass would do that at night since that was when she preferred to get clean, Sonya went back to his bed.

To be frank, hers was better. Her bathroom and her bed.

…but she had new people at her place. No offense to Lando or Natalina, or Ganauche on occasion, but all the fucking offense to Viper. It'd just take time to adjust to the fact, and the lamed Mafioso was as temporary as the Lightning Guardian's occasional presence so there wasn't a point to get used to it.

Which was annoying, the thief didn't like the change she invited herself.

Sonya was a hypocritical asshole of a bitch, but that wasn't all that new.

A bored hypocritical asshole of a bitch. Her Lackey had nothing new to offer her, so either she 'slummed' it doing anonymous thief contracts or more of those 'please rob me blind, I want to try setting you up' ones.

She'd probably go do anonymous contracts by the end of the month to see if giving Bjǫrn more time would change the content of jobs 'Nightshade' was being offered. Until then… she actually never explored Mafia Land itself.

Like most residents with half a brain, she kept to 'her' side of it. Mainly the public areas, the marketplaces and only the residential area she lived in. Her guildhall, and the whole of Body Avenue, plus the hospital were enforced open public spaces. She 'got in' to the Chinatown sector because of Fon, and could get into the Slavic Soviet Bloc if she really wanted with her tattoos… probably could do the same with the bit of Little Italy here…

Unfortunately for everyone with opinions on who was allowed where here, Sonya was bored of her 'try me' contracts and exploring the mechanical island was the only current unknown left in her life.

She'd like to check it all out before Shamal came here for the summer, too.

Just to know what to tell him before he risked it out of sheer curiosity.

The thief would check out Fon's new place for him before she did it, and maybe wait long enough to see what he wanted. Then she'd go see what there was to see here she didn't already know about via word of mouth.

(Wednesday the 19th of April, 1972. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)

"BRAT!"

"Not in, Nurse Primakova."

"Seriously, Lando. Just call me Tats. That was cute in the beginning, being so formal with me, but it's been two months."

The bouncy redheaded woman still checked the boss' room and pouting mightily when she found nothing as he told her she would. "Where the hell is she?"

Lando gave up on the ledger he was working on for Cesare, roughly scrubbing a hand through his newly shorn hair. "Does she normally not go out this much?"

Tatiana made a rude noise, probably in his general direction… or her sister's. "No. Normally she's a lazy bitch who's reluctant to pull her nose out of whatever book has her attention. And I have no idea why that suddenly isn't the case or what's got her attention, because it's not any contract. I know it, Bjǫrn said she's not on anything. Bit annoying."

…well, all new to him. He wasn't remotely stupid enough to go out on this damn island until he had a more mobile ally willing to help shore up his still compromised leg. Renato might've been a guilty fucker, but he had kept in contact better than all the others had until he got fixed.

He knew the 'rules' for visitors before Natalina thought to give him the spiel. For residents might be vastly different, and he had no doubt some of those 'rules' changed if you lived here instead.

Most of his information that might've told him otherwise was out of date, after damn near ten years of being a crippled fuck. Now he was just a lamed fuck and catching up on both Mafia news and this Dying Will Flame shit.

Which, Ganauche's woman was very good at covering large chunks of one topic for him. When he thought to ask the damn question. Not just Flames, Mafia Land centric news and topics.

"She has been around." Lando offered for the mildly annoyed nurse, a bit dubious but he really didn't know much of a difference as she obviously would. "She's been doing the Friday lunch dates with Reborn, and less structured shit with Fon beating shit up."

He's know, that's what Cesare tasked him with keeping track for them when she wasn't in Italia. Sonya was not particularly impressed with the need but had only rolled her eyes and allowed him the information just to arm themselves against future accusations.

No doubt, he wasn't getting all of what she's done with each 'suitor'. If he got the official count that was perfectly fucking fine with him.

Just as long as he had it to stave off accusations of not giving the same to some of the dumb fucks with big heads thinking they deserved more than what the boss wanted to give them.

Which would inevitably happen, once the dumbasses finally got around the extra requirements she saddled anyone that wanted to try it with.

Lando was only minorly impressed Reborn had been able to flatly deny the first three he knew had asked the 'world's greatest' hitman already. That wouldn't be lasting, not if the fuck was at all smart.

Tatiana thought about it, shutting her sister's room up even if she wasn't home but her dog was. "Next time you see her, Lando? Tell the brat mom wanted an estimate on when she'd be done with that translation effort she wants."

"Sure, lady. Might be much later tonight, but I do see her once or twice a day."

"That'll work for me."

(ooo000ooo)

(Wednesday the 19th of April, 1972 continued. Mafia Land.)

It took him a few days to figure out what the hell she was even doing, but apparently Sonya never had explored Mafia Land's streets before right this very moment. If it was just to see everything there was available to any able or willing to pay, or if she had any other motive, was beyond Reborn.

The fun part was catching her, not asking what she was up to.

'Catching' the World's Greatest Thief someplace like this fucking island… was not a guaranteed objective. If it wasn't the residents of whatever sector being uppity blockading assholes, it was her roof-walking habits that took her three streets over than where he expected her to end up with no one noticing to tell him where the hell she was at now.

Then the damn woman decided this was a game on him and would not wait for the World's Greatest Hitman to catch up once she noticed he was on her shapely tail. Regardless of what kind of territory she was moving through, and he didn't always know the area better than she did.

She also gave no damn care about whose territory she was moving through, the more likely they'd object to her very presence the less anyone noticed her at it. There always was a handful that made it their business to know who moved along certain streets, but none of them gave information away for free.

He probably had days before Fon caught on, but that was the damn assassin's own fault. The trick was keeping his movements quiet or non-remarkable to the chattier gossips to keep the damn Storm out of this, which wasn't beyond him… he just didn't tend to do it to the excessively extreme degree a thief apparently did.

It just was… she was so delighted he was after her. Following her, and Sonya was adorably pleased with him when he finally did catch up. Every damn time.

Then he finally fucking asked, a week in. Like a dumbass.

"…I am not normally the one chased." Sonya admitted sheepishly with a charming little lopsided smile to pair with it, perched on a railing on top of some Greek nightclub this night. "It is unique. I do not mind if you want to… but catching up is your problem."

The men in her life, aside her brother and father obviously, were some fucking ignorant jackasses.

The woman was on her second shot at life, had sacrificed her second chance at a childhood to sort and save as many innocents as she could physically reach as fast as physically possible regardless of what was in the way. There was no fucking reason to justify why she had forgotten the damn courtesy she deserved to be lavished with, not to the point of being uncomfortable about getting it.

"Ho? Never?"

"…sometimes Skull will chase me around, usually only when I steal something from him or annoy him. Tatiana too, even less often. Other than that…" She suddenly smirked, shooting him a sly little look. "Well. My 'first' ex did it a handful of times."

…at least he did one fucking thing right, rather than just take advantage of everything he had with her before. He suspected she was referencing 'the Great Blanket Chase of Sixty-Eight' here, and as galling as it might've been for him… she and the brat had greatly enjoyed the whole farce.

Reborn sucked on his teeth as he sauntered forward to join her on the edge of the roof. "I still find this hard to believe. A pretty little thing like you, with no long line of admirers waiting in the wings willing to indulge you with anything you might want?"

"Pretty I am not. If we are going to be generous, I am rather unfortunately rat faced." Sonya delicately touched the tip of her sharp nose with a fingertip and a rueful smirk. "I have nice coloring, and I am athletically fit. Pretty is stretching it, Reborn."

"Pretty is whatever the fuck I say it is." And there was another long-festering sore under her glacially thick ice mask, Renato had been a petty little shit about not admitting the lady who had no clue he was interested in her was pretty. For dumbass, selfish reasons he also ignored Shamal faithfully trying to assure his godmother that she was. "And you clean up nicely, Sonya."

She shot him a dubious as hell look for that claim.

Earned, yes. Still galling a bit more than he honestly liked.

There was an obvious motivation Reborn had to flatter and sweet talk her regardless of what the reality was. Well… if she couldn't trust him right this second, he'd spend however many fucking years it'd take to convince her otherwise. Least he could do.

Unlike the last time he cornered her on a rooftop, the little thief was not letting herself get in grabbing range for any sneaky gropes. Disappointing. "Don't suppose you're willing to let me spice this up a little."

"My sparkling company not enough for you?"

"More than enough of a reward to do this every other night, even if you say no." Assured the hitman as indifferently as he could muster on demand, leaning his weight against the balustrade she was perched on her toes on top of facing the opposite direction. "Equally, I'd still keep stealing these little minutes with you for the rest of the month if you'd like. Unless you're scared to risk something for a little thing."

Sonya rolled her damn eyes at him, twisting to sit her pert ass on the marble fencing accent more for looks than to keep people from falling right off the two-story nightclub's roof. "I will hear you out, but I am making no promises to something I do not know."

"I want a kiss. Every time I catch you, for the rest of the month."

"Catch me." She repeated with insulting disbelief. "Reborn, I have been allowing you to catch up to me. Not dodging you… intentionally."

"I obviously expect you to suddenly put some real effort in avoiding me, of course." He slanted her a wicked smirk, with a bit of teeth for the attitude. "How confident are you in your skills, Sonya?"

"I do not like being kissed." Offered the thief next, eyeing him warily as she settled in to ponder the challenge.

"Do you not like getting some asshole's tongue shoved down your throat, any kissing, or what?"

She thought about it, for all of two seconds. "Any, as far as I have experienced it."

"Well, motive to avoid me and not make it too easy then. There's only a week and a half left of the month before we have to be somewhere specific." Reborn reminded her lazily, moderately certain she had been kissing absolute morons.

There was a chance she hadn't been, but there was no way for him to know for certain until he tried.

"…right." First, sliding further down the balustrade outside of even his lunging range, the ridiculous woman that had lived twice only to forget the small pleasures of life trying to be the most responsible lynchpin in place for all the children in a whole city only then tipped him a nod. "Fine, Reborn. If this is what you want, you can try."

He scoffed at her 'precautions', reaching into his suit jacket for the book. A first edition of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by one L. Frank Baum, a signed copy of the first printing.

"Oh you cheating asshole." The little bibliophile breathed out in sheer irritation, grey eyes wide and locked on the bit of bait in his hand.

"I, am the filthy cheating asshole thank you." Reborn insisted with all due snobbishness, taking a moment to admire the… very childish blocky print of a lion with glasses on the hard cover, in white, green, and red. "Bit odd, all the rare and valuable books I come across on my jobs. I've got quite the collection going so far… no damn reason to keep them."

He almost tossed it over his shoulder down to the street below, she scrambled to throw herself into his arms to 'rescue' the bound sheaf of half a century old paper and clutch it protectively to her chest. The hitman was very damn satisfied with this end result and gripped her jean clad hips to hold her in place straddling him instead.

"Ho? Well, look at that. Caught you."

"Blackmail."

"Bribery." He corrected pointedly.

"Now I know you have these I have a reason to figure out how to pickpocket the 'World's Greatest Hitman'." Sonya informed him bluntly, but with no regret or uncertainty in her tone as she kept her arms around the tome held safe against her bust.

"You're not supposed to make it too easy for me." Reborn reminded her smugly, earning a scowl for how easy his bait had made it for him tonight, freeing a hand from her curves to tip her chin up. "Now, I do believe you owe me something…"

"You want the kiss." She just had to argue right on back.

It took three steps to put her still bare back against an air conditioning unit, a blocky chunk of square metal sticking out of the middle of this nightclub's rooftop. She liked perches with features to duck and weave behind if need be, which was one of several methods he had to sort out where she likely would pop up next.

"The deal is a kiss, and I'd like to know what you like about kissing."

"Not a whole lot."

"Then I guess we'll have to do this methodically." Admitted the hitman leadingly, using the one hand not supporting her weight to sweep off his Mist Flame laced mental blocking fedora for a bit.

Wasn't the greatest idea right now, not with all the life below their feet. Reborn had no interest in the thoughts of those a floor or two down, especially not when the provided music was more just noise than anything legible. What he was interested in was what she thought of his kiss.

Except, she had other ideas.

She stretched up to press her lips to his jawline for one single second, slithering right on out of his one-handed pin with an interesting twist of her hips in the very next second. Ducking and rolling right on through between his legs, the Russian came up on her toes and bolted. Arms still wrapped around the bait he used to lure her in close enough, too.

Even knowing full well what she intended to do the same damn second she did, he missed snatching her back up by a hair's breadth since he had to turn and she didn't. Sonya only got a lead on him of two seconds with that tactic, but the circus trained acrobat had no issues throwing herself off a rooftop where he did.

Sonya might've landed somewhat heavily on her booted feet right in the middle of a suddenly not so crowded dance floor, and left cracks in the polished hardwood where she landed. However, she had equally little problems turning to doff a little wave in Reborn's direction safely on the ground floor of this nightclub than she had sticking that landing. "Thanks for the book, Reborn!"

Then she booked it, uncaring the bouncers for this place were not amused at the damages and aiming to throw her out. Five steps along the dancefloor to reach the bar, a single jump to get on top of the bar. A bit of glinting gold tossed to the bartender for the trouble and seven long strides just to throw herself through a high open window, venting some of the heat dozens of humans all in one single place generated even with an open rooftop.

Well. If that's how this was going to go…

…good.

Got the blood pumping, matching wits with a lovely lady with skills. The more difficult she made it, the sweeter the prize at the end would be.

Reborn settled his hat back on his head, turning away from the sheer drop with a wicked laugh.

He wondered if she was bold enough to try sneaking into his new place to see if she could find that small collection of old paper he had built up to bribe her with. Honestly, he rather hoped she was.

There was a lot he could do with a single allowance and some guaranteed privacy…

(Thursday the 20th of April, 1972. Bj ǫ rn ' s Apartment, Mafia Land.)

"…uh, Dama?"

"Any. Right now. Hurry up."

Bjǫrn obediently unlocked the bottom drawer of his work desk, riffling through the files given to Nightshade alone and picked one he knew she wouldn't be enthused by but would take her out of Mafia Land for at least a few days. "Do I want to know why?"

"Because I am a greedy bitch, that is why." Still with that oddly fixed smirk on her face, the woman snatched the offer to read through rapidly first. Like a responsible Mafia Land contractual agent, even if the barely risen morning sun she was using for illumination was still hidden behind the early summer rain squalls on the horizon. "But I am still a single-mother, I know better than to indulge myself too often."

…at least this shouldn't be that alarming. Probably.

Scraping blunt nails through his slightly shaggier than appropriate short shorn blond hair, the Lackey wondered what the hell had suddenly gotten into her. "How is this a bad thing?"

"It is still a vice that another could use against me." Sonya lectured him absently, flipping back through the three sheets of paper for the hard details again. "And he damn near did. But, if I am not here to be tempted, then it does not matter how much of a greedy bitch I am. I will be busy, so sorry."

"Supposedly, this makes sense." He stated more than asked, watching his patron and guardian in more than one way basically fidget in front of him. Sheepish, alarmed, and giddy all at the same time. "Have fun then, Dama?"

Shockingly, she impulsively hugged him. Then dove right on out of the window she had apparently been lurking out of until Bjǫrn dragged his ass out of bed for a brand-new day.

…okay.

"Okay. That happened." Bjǫrn had no clue what he did that earned that reaction, but it was still very nice to be appreciated. Not just by more money this time. "I… need coffee."

Maybe his lady's sister would know what was going on, he'd make a lunch date to catch up with her and Lando this afternoon to touch base. See what the hell they knew of recent developments that might have to do with her vice of greed, and just what motherfucker was trying to use it against her.

Ward might not yet be out of the hospital, but Bjǫrn could still knife a bitch himself. Slightly stickier to do it himself, but he knew his way through Mafia Land's bureaucracy to ensure it'd annoy no one else but himself. No matter who this asshole might be, or what they did on this island.

Though, to give his moronic hitman his due… it was a good thing Noah had a bad habit of ambushing him in the mornings when he got pointedly confronted with yet another individual that would have no issue murdering him if Nightshade wanted. It meant Bjǫrn had invested in a bathrobe to wear even if he lived 'alone', and he didn't end up doing this whole morning buck naked instead of just in a terry cloth bathrobe.

Maybe he should start getting dressed first before brewing himself some coffee in the morning…

(ooo000ooo)

(Thursday the 20th of April, 1972. The Old Sector, Mafia Land.)

"A lady who is interested does not run from her suitors either, Reborn."

Reborn paused, eyed Fon with exasperation, and then flatly ignored his semi-accusation to stroll lazily over to the single standing locker from some previous storage option.

To be frank, the assassin wasn't certain what they had already destroyed between them. It seemed to be an old Western sporting complex, so perhaps a gym?

…and half the trolly station Mafia Land once boasted of. More than just ruined now, the tracks had fouled Fon's footing and he Disintegrated more than half of what Reborn had maneuvered him across in their last bout.

"May I inquire as to what you did that sent her running?"

"You really don't know her all that well, do you?"

"I know her better than you."

He was then treated with a highly uncalled for skeptical look, as the hitman removed his floppy hat and his lizard to safely store in that single still standing tall if rusted box. Leon squirmed in his hand only long enough to get one eye on Fon before becoming biddable and willing to be placed there. Again.

"If you know Sonya so damn well, then obviously you know she's good at denying herself." Reborn drawled with little care and no interest at all, removing his cufflinks and tie pin next. "The only vice she doesn't use ten different ways to use on others… is her damn book collection. That's all hers. Her one, single selfish indulgence. Out of everything she has or can obtain. Others can contribute and use it, but it's hers."

…and herself. Fon wisely didn't state that to this man, impatiently waiting out the overdressed Mafioso stripping off all the metal and easily lost parts of his nominal outfit. "Communists."

"Might explain a few things. Not all of it." Sneered the man sarcastically, his sudden switch from absently obliging to cruel coming as no surprise this long in having to deal with him. "Sonya's not running, she's putting it off. She has one bit, and now wants to see if it's still there later. I have some books she might like and offered them to her. It will still be there when she's back."

"For free?" Fon questioned skeptically in turn, suspecting that like always he would not like whatever the hitman was not yet saying.

"Of course not." This time purring the statement at him, he grinned in his face sharply and with sharp teeth on display. "For a kiss each. Little sneak just pressed her lips to my jaw and slithered right on out of there with the first one. Smart of her, no?"

"Blackmail." Accused the Storm with mild irritation, keeping his hands flat against his forearms.

He would have enough opportunity to punch this man in the face shortly, it would do no one any good to start it too early or appear too eager.

"Bribery." Corrected the Italian flippantly with a twist of one wrist in his direction. "She has, and is exercising, the option to not play along… shouldn't you be happy she is?"

"So you require bribery to gain a lady's attention?" Fon asked instead of confirming or denying anything. "Interesting…"

"…ho? 'Require'? Hell no… but if you want some tips, Fon. Well, I can be generous… for a price." Reborn turned to face him finally, this time his belt joined the other items of apparel he deemed cumbersome to wear while facing off with a Storm using assassin martial arts master in hand-to-hand combat. "No. Aside the 'token' price for shit I don't care a damn about but she does, this isn't all for me. The lady wishes to know how much to trust my word, and I can prove that by indulging her vices when and where she wants to be. If I promise her something, it will remain promised. No matter the delay, or the other dipshit collectors that will want what I have for her to try getting a bit or two from me."

Moderately annoying of him to clarify, but at least he knew Sonya trusted his word as given already.

"Does that blow your efforts out of the water, here?"

"…giving her the formal instruction in bō staves, as she had sought as a child only to be denied for the lack of a proper instructor and then later by the constraints on her time? I do not believe so… my gift to her may be significantly more utilitarian, but highly desired by her for some time."

"Touché." Drawled the man after a moment, almost tonelessly now. "Alright, we'll call this round a tie then."

"If you insist." Fon dismissed with little care, no desire to correct him in who had an 'edge' in that competition.

The Sun grinned again, this time with a greater sharpness to him as he came up to loosely be called 'opposing' the assassin. "You wouldn't happen to know who taught her to kiss, would you? She seems to think the affection is… disquieting."

"It was not me." He had noticed the same, admittedly. He thought it was just personal preference. "So presumably Verde or Sinclair."

"…a Frenchman who doesn't know how to kiss a woman did it. Great."

"It could have been your fellow Mafioso." Poked the assassin, annoyed by the continual delay.

Reborn at least thought about the suggestion first, before opening his mouth again. "Timeline doesn't work that way. Presumably. I'll look into that. Still going to be blaming Verde."

"Good for you." Fon gave as his only warning, then attempted to scythe kick the hitman's head off.

He failed as the squirrely Mafioso ducked it easily by leaning backwards, but it was still satisfying to attempt.

(Saturday the 29th of April, 1972. Quebec City, Capitale-Nationale, Province of Quebec, Dominion of Canada.)

…no way in hell this was 'coincidence', Sonya did not buy it.

Also, she really needed to either murder or plug up whichever fucker was giving Reborn her location. He'd been doing it ever since he had been Renato, and more than twice meant she was well past due to fix that. It sure as shit wasn't Bjǫrn, her Lackey would've informed her if he got paid for that information and he hadn't told her that last night.

Yes, it might just be that they happened to cross paths on wildly separate jobs and he wasn't here to lure her in one more time before the end of the month.

But no, she wasn't at all going to assume that when it was so much more likely the conniving cheating bastard was doing this on purpose.

Worst of all… he had a British printed copy of the first three books of the Lord of the Rings with him. The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King. Left out on the café table he was biding his time at and obviously not watching in favor of a local newspaper, like the smug asshole he was.

The odds those were original first printings?

To steal, or not to steal?

Well… that was the challenge, was it not?

He unfortunately chose very well for seating. Unless she came from directly behind him, there was no way to hide from him in such an open public setting as an outdoor patio. The public in and outside of that café would also notice and see her attempt to stalk up behind him, so that was almost completely out.

Right on the way from her hotel in the direction where her next 'rob me, I'm stupid' contract had her going. Which yes, was easily acquired information from the previous day's news reporting… but her hotel was not a published fact.

Sonya had no doubt the Mafioso knew what hotel room she was staying in, to boot.

This would be playing right into his hands. She knew it. He knew it. Very likely, Reborn was counting on that 'bait' being too tempting for her to choose to not just because of that detail.

…but.

But.

She didn't have those yet. She was lacking the classics, and she knew it. Never corrected it herself, which left her open to this stupid shit.

If she was smart, she'd just find the nearest damn bookstore and buy herself new copies.

…Sonya was really fucking stupid. She wanted those, they were on offer.

They had history. Weren't 'corrected' or 'annotated' with what other dipshits thought after the author died… which hadn't actually happened yet. Hmm…

Firmly turning her back to the damn taunt, the thief slid down to sit on her ass on this rooftop and pout like a damn child.

Then got licked in the face, because Alek and Marco were littermates. They didn't differ all that much in temperament or habits, just her dog had options over his brother.

And was thankfully most of the time smarter.

One more last look, because this was already stupid and she was going to do it anyways apparently, and she turned back to her dog while scrubbing her face clean with one palm. "Okay. So. He knows what you and I look like, and he is better at disguises than I am. That is going to have to be last."

Alek cocked his head to the side, not comprehending her point.

"There are three volumes. So, in parts. One not now but soon, the next in a few hours past that, the last… possibly at the last moment possible. Too obvious?"

Her dog beat his tail a few times in return for the attention, still not understanding a damn word she said to him.

"We cannot be seen at it… which is not really much of a hurdle, admittedly." Sonya had faith in her pickpocketing skills, it was just the only skill she started her 'professional' life on.

Faith enough to go up against the World's Greatest Hitman about items he had she wanted… yes.

Getting away with pickpocketing the World's Greatest Hitman of the bribery he knew she would be after… probably not.

Frankly that took a lot of the risks out of this. There was no way Sonya would get away without blame, so that wasn't a complication she had to bother with trying to minimize down to nothing.

He also very likely wouldn't try to shoot her in the back for it, either. If she only just got away from him after relieving him of some excess book weight.

…if she had to.

That wouldn't be very fun, and kind of would be a little professionally embarrassing…

"And of course the jackass is better at this 'rob me, I dare you' shit than all the crooked but opinionated rich fucks with no clue that want to try it with me." Sonya heaved a sigh, rubbing at her forehead in irritation.

Unfortunately, that put her face back in Alek's licking range. He wouldn't do it to anyone but her, so that meant every fucking time her face was near his he licked.

Then he had the balls to look innocently friendly and adorably clueless when she glared for the treatment.

Scrubbing her face clean again, and wiping the excess dog drool off on her jeans with a mildly disgusted sneer, she huffed in aggravation. "Alright. So we are doing this. This really stupid, really dumb, utter fucking nightmare of a baited trap thing. Well… Alek. Turnabout is fair play, after all. I wonder when he is scheduled to be leaving the city…"

A clear timeline to work with would help her pick and chose her moments, because like fuck she was going to let him get away with pulling this shit. On her.

Yeah, asshole. Guess what?

She knew he kept all his paperwork and whatever he needed in that single briefcase he kept outside 'safe' territories for him. Extra ammunition, his Mafia Land I.D., whatever passport he was using, the encrypted work copy of his hit contract, most of his funds, and whatever else he might need.

Like tickets, air, land, or sea. Meaning his ferry or airplane ticket back to Mafia Land was in there too. That thing got stashed when he was actively hunting for a hit, it was only nearby when it wouldn't be risky to have all that shit on him if he got… caught.

Frankly, the ticket back to the island was the least incriminating bit on that list. The tickets always appeared to be legitimate ones, just with one easily missed watermark that told you where that ticket would take you to set them apart. The Ferrymen at least were legitimate charter boat captains too, she spoke to a couple enough to know it.

This 'I know you' thing was a two-way street, fucker. Reborn knew how to bait her in… but she knew how to check out the details on him back.

Alek licked at her neck next, the dumbass. Sonya just gave up and petted his velvety pointed ears instead of get huffy over a fairly common complication of hiding out at the same spot she put her dog at. "You are still a dipshit."

He sprawled his fluffy self out over her lap while they waited for a hitman to get bored sitting tight in full view of the public, wanting all the scritches and pets possible in the time they had.

Utterly indifferent to all the names she called him per usual, since she never varied her tone enough for him to differentiate them from her other words. She was semi-impressed he knew his name was 'Alek', because to be frank she had gotten in the habit of calling him her 'dumbass fluffy boy' recently too.

"What the hell are you, anyway? There is collie, shepherd, and something else in your blood. If it had just been Marco, I would have left it at that because that is what he mostly is. You have something… else. Not herding, not just guarding. You are a hunting dog."

Alek rolled onto his back on top of her thighs, all four paws in the air, and gazed up at her hopefully with mismatched eyes. Begging for belly rubs, since he wanted to press his luck this far.

"Yeah, thanks. You are as helpful as every other dumbass male in my life right now." Sonya still petted her good boy, because even if he wasn't helpful he was still right here.

Helping her the best he could, mainly by being fluffy and affectionate.

Not complicating her life to ridiculous levels.

Which was kind of ironic because Alek was supposed to make her job more challenging.

(ooo000ooo)

(Saturday the 29th of April, 1972 continued. Quebec City, Capitale-Nationale, Province of Quebec, Dominion of Canada.)

The single only sign the World's Greatest Thief knew he was in the area and was aware he was taunting her was coming up one book shy of the whole set suddenly. Not the first or last, the middle book in the fantasy novel trilogy that was popular in the Western world right now he 'acquired' via dubious means.

It wasn't 'technically' stealing if the previous owner was dead. It was 'redistribution' of wealth, pre-funeral arrangements.

Reborn couldn't help the smirk as he tucked the other two back under an arm. These were not slim volumes to always carry around with him.

He had no damn clue how she got one, either. Not even after wracking his mind for all the damn details he could recall about who and what was around since leaving that tiny little French café, when he knew he last had all three books. Sonya apparently was not going to make this easy for him.

You know… she was right. Being the one 'hunted' all of a sudden was a very charming turn of fortune. Not being hunted for malicious or inconvenient reasons, but by a friend with semi-friendly aims?

The hitman would be keeping this little game of theirs going. Of course, his turn was next.

Time to hunt himself a naughty thief that owed him a little something. Because Reborn never said he couldn't catch her after the fact, or had to in the act, to get his kiss. Unfortunately that deal would only last another day.

Red handed worked for him. She would immediately stick her nose into the volume she 'liberated' from him the very first opportunity she could safely, because she compulsively did so with anything new and paper she obtained by any means.

Out of order in a series, starting at the end, whatever. It didn't ever matter to Sonya.

She'd read a series backwards if that was the order she obtained it all in. Then read them all again in the right order, because why the hell not.

Adorable little bookworm of the highest order.

…who owned a dog and had to stick to large canine friendly places to accommodate Alek's attendance at her side, as she trained him as a doggy thief.

Really, Sonya. 'Nearest hotel to a local dog park' was a bit obvious. There might be multiple dog parks depending on a few factors, but in a larger city that was still easier to case than 'all of them nearby the latest challenger wanting to try out Nightshade's skills'.

'Rachel Stokes' wasn't a new name, though. Seemed to be a more permanent alias she was fond of using.

A hitman hunting the thief that was hunting said hitman… Reborn actually lost another volume unexpectedly. Though, in hindsight, that was obviously Alek trimmed down from all his fluff not some other random dog bolting across traffic to damn near ram him down. Jerking himself out of the way didn't loosen his grip but did tie down his movement to something very damn predictable that could be worked against.

Book number three was just taken out of his hand in a sharp tug, from behind in a high-trafficked area with too many possibilities walking around to immediately catch a thief in. Leaving him with only the first in the series.

Sonya could change her dog's fur length and coat colors all she wanted, Alek's eyes were a bit memorable. Made for a damn convincing husky at first glance, until you noticed the tail didn't curl right.

Too fast for Reborn to immediately cotton on in barely a second, since dogs didn't gossip or think much of what they did. Until the book was taken, he almost thought it had been an accident barely missed in front of him.

Leon's trailing cloud of Flame eating beetles couldn't carry shit all back to the hitman to pick up on the first time, but the second… canines could run faster than any muscle powered human, but not how far a shapeshifter could fly.

If she got to use her animal companion, so did he. No offense to Alek, but Leon was much more useful.

Sonya was too fast for even Leon in hummingbird form, but the dog wasn't so quick. He just followed the suspiciously green hawk a few blocks, coming out to a quietly empty back forested corner of a neighborhood dog park.

Very quiet, as in not even birds were chirping quiet.

"Two out of three is actually very impressive." Reborn allowed for her due, but he knew the risk at challenging her at what she was the best at would lose him at least one if not all of them in short order. "Color me very fucking impressed, Sonya."

Sudden dog lapping led him to the base of an oak tree, where Alek was busy drinking down water from a shallow metal bowl. The freshly styled as a husky canine wasn't any fonder of the Sun than previously, but at least was only warily watching him from the corner of his brown eye.

Warmer, but not hot yet.

Reborn glanced around suspiciously, and then looked up at the branches nearby.

Weirdly, Leon hadn't come down yet. As a matter of fact, there was suddenly a lack of green hawks around.

…she either bribed Leon, or was trying to bribe Leon, or lured Leon away somehow. That crafty bitch.

Would that work?

Reborn snapped the fingers of his free hand the three times to order Alek to obey him, since apparently this was going to end 'boys versus girls'. While the canine was not best pleased at the order, he did stop lapping water and licked his jaws clean while waiting for his next one.

"Go fetch your mistress, Alek. Where's Sonya?"

The dog immediately put his nose to the ground to sniff that out for him, apparently an order he did not remotely mind getting. Alek circled the tree a few times before picking up on something else, and wandered off immediately with little to no care if Reborn would be keeping up or not.

He would, even if she'd be annoyed to lose that dog water bowl if it didn't stay there.

They didn't go at all that far, but annoyingly Cloud-tainted dogs didn't need to respect normal limitations either. With one bound Alek could clear fences taller than the Sun using hitman, not need to find other ways around whatever trail this was. He had slightly more difficulty getting into the courtyard of some apartment block.

"Thanks for the books, Reborn. It is really nice of you to keep giving these to me."

"Don't even want to try for the last one?"

"First one." Sonya corrected wickedly, three books in one arm and holding a small dish with water in it Leon was more than happy to splash around in her other. "You might want to check that 'first' one. I stole them in order, thank you. I thought you would appreciate that."

Reborn immediately looked, suspicious and well aware she was going to stay put to enjoy his reaction if it was true. One of the books in her arm didn't have the dustcover on it, and sure enough… it had been removed and placed on a volume of poetry of all fucking things. Then left in his possession. "You swapped this out first, stole the second, and then just snatched and grabbed the third."

"But since it looked as if I only stole the second, and snatched the third, you thought you still had one left to 'catch' me at." Entirely too pleased with herself, the thief hugged 'her' new books to her chest and batted her eyes at him prettily. "Nice try."

Reborn rolled his eyes, slipping the red hardcovered book of American poetry from the dustjacket sleeve. It didn't appear all that impressive or interesting, so he handed that back to her to keep if she wanted too. "Slight catch here, Sonya."

"Hmm?" Arms full of books, one hand still holding Leon's water dish she so thoughtfully provided for his partner to take a break in, she couldn't do more than blink when he slid a hand around the small of her back to fist into the cords tucked neatly into the waistband of her jeans.

"Caught. Red handed."

"…ah."

"Devil's in the details, woman."

"Bullshit. You are standing right here." Disgruntled and now highly annoyed, Sonya shoved Leon's water dish in his face.

"Not falling for this distraction tactic again, no." His partner was perfectly happy in her correctly sized tub, that got set on a nearby park bench for her to fully enjoy while they had the time. Reborn was not letting go of Sonya's corset strings, maybe not ever if she really wanted to press him today. "Time to pay up. You now owe me three."

"Do I even want to bother asking for a raincheck?"

"Here and now, or… in front of your brother, in front of Fon, and… well. Hell, why not on the orchestra stage of Vongola's Christmas Ball too?"

Sonya regarded him with tangible irritation now. "You are such a petty little shit."

Reborn shrugged that off easily without a drop of shame. She was too, she stuck around 'for' his reaction to being stolen from that allowed her to be caught. "Could be four. Twice in front of Fon, then."

"I bought this one!"

"Do the dustcovers count as their own parts in this?" He wondered next with a smugly wicked smirk.

"Net." Flatly denied the Russian thief, taking the single step of leeway her own corset ties allowed to put her new books down next to the still wiggling chameleon's bath far enough away to be safe from water splashes.

Turning back, she hooked a knee over his hip and used that and his arm wrapped around her to haul herself up to plant her lips over his.

Reborn immediately backed her fine ass into whatever fucking tree was nearby, easy to do when most of her weight was balanced on him to give her enough reach to 'get it over with'. Gave him something to press her back against, and that was all he wanted with her kissing him.

Also let him not allow her to get away with 'pressing her lips against him counted as one kiss', which she did entirely try to do again. Predictably.

Well, the poor woman had been stuck kissing morons who had no idea how to do it right.

He gently licked her bottom lip, sipping until she opened up on her own. He waited for her to experiment, to see what she might like about the whole affair instead of invade such a contrary and stubborn woman and expecting that to work.

Their first kiss.

The second was less gentle, and Reborn showed her what he liked. Since she was still learning, and he had all the patience for teaching her this topic. He coaxed her into his mouth, sucked on her tongue when she obliged him, then got himself in hers with any strong twinges of distaste making her pull back.

Which meant he could go full out for their third.

One hand gripping her ass to angle her, he ground his seemingly semi-permanent hard on into her as he repeated the steps less slowly. Earning himself a slightly muffled noise of surprise, but as she knew what would be happening she was not against participating instead of just enduring the process. Rounding the whole thing off with sipping at her bottom lip again, because she liked that.

"…well, at least you do not taste like spit right now." Sonya muttered irritably the moment he pulled away for the last 'owed' time, in reflex rather than she felt that way. Still annoyed, mostly at herself for not realizing the loopholes before Reborn could use them to catch her by.

The hitman placed his hat firmly back on his head, sneaking one last taste of her lips before that annoyance got focused on him instead and she pulled back.

Hmm… actually, this was a much better place to have their first few kisses than on top of some Mafia Land den for drugged up dancers. Quieter, at least.

"Do I want to know?"

"…Verde tasted like spit, and to be honest neither of us were at all that interested. I suspected it might have been that which was my problem…"

"…but you think the same thing with Fon."

"Mildly annoying when you do that, Reborn."

"I find Fon's whole existence annoying at best, right now. I need the help to not actually try murdering your current boy toy." Drawled the Mafioso semi-sarcastically, not allowing her down yet. "But by God is that man annoying."

"…I do not honestly care what you think of my friend." Sonya informed him bluntly and with the remains of her annoyance, shifting up since he wasn't allowing her down to get more comfortable pinned like this. "And-"

Reborn shut her up with his mouth, getting himself bitten warningly on his tongue as she started getting fed up with both him and the situation. "No, I knew when the airhead suddenly said something this was a risk. Just so you're aware of this, Sonya… I have no damn problem stealing you from him if I have to. I've come too far now to pull back, chasing your oblivious ass."

There was a momentary pause of actual damn surprise on her end. He didn't greatly care why she was surprised, and a bit of thought would probably work it out to yet another of these damn 'she forgot because no one had the damn manners to treat her like the hardworking competent lady she was' issues. "That is not… smart."

"I am very damn stupid when it comes to you. Unless you tell me no, you'd like to slum it with that overly trained chunk of muscles for the rest of your life… I'm not going to stop. He'll just have to deal with me, too."

He suddenly planted her back on her own damn feet, forcing himself to step away before he spent the next three or four hours just kissing the woman as stupid. She didn't have a great tolerance for kissing, but only if he wasn't forcing it on her would she not mind.

The hitman had no damn issues coaxing her into being willing to indulge him as often as he wanted, something to work on while he waited for her to get fed up with airheaded Storm assassins who had no damn clue what to do with her. Sonya let him go with some thoughtful silence, one hand held defensively in front of her reddened lips as he recollected a freshly bathed Leon and got maybe five more steps.

"…oh, and. If you want the rest of those books… I'm willing to negotiate terms any time you want."

"Son of a bitch."

"Probably." Reborn allowed with a bark of a laugh.

Chapter Text

(Monday the 1st of May, 1972. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)

"Tatiana! Help!"

First, the named nurse tasted the soup she had on the boil for dinner.

…needed more pepper. White pepper, preferably. "Did you finish that thing for mom yet, brat?"

"Oh for fuck's sake! I will buy a bottle of aspirin and get it done tonight!" Sonya whined behind her, the clatter of claws on hardwood heralding Alek's presence before the dog appeared like magic at Tatiana's hip. "Tats, please. I do not know what to do…"

The newly husky-fied canine was pleased to get a small chunk of chicken out of the dumpling soup, licking her fingertips 'clean' in thanks. "Okay. Go get comfortable, I'll be there in a little bit. Let me feed your morons before we get entirely distracted."

Her bratty baby sister went, without another word. That serious, then.

"I will accept that from the little dragon, Tats. I don't have to accept that from you." Lando pointed out from the kitchen table he had already covered with various bits of paper and dossiers with Natalina's help.

"Am I feeding you?" Tatiana countered carelessly, tossing the wooden spoon down to land in the sink with a clatter and pulling a bowl down from the cupboards.

"…yes."

"Then you're whatever the hell I want to call you." She insisted brightly, getting a ladle out too before unplugging the crockpot.

Ganauche would be late tonight, he had some sort of conference-review thing with the CEDEF going on. Natalina would be back in minutes, presumably, so she could help herself. Which just left the man with an entire new leg in need of a bowl, as apparently Tatiana would be eating late tonight too.

She intended to, but it was a good thing she made soup instead of something less tasty some hours after being made. Easy to reheat, too.

Lando was not pleased she took the red wine bottle from on top of the fridge for herself and her sister, even more annoyed she put down a glass of milk for him to drink with his chicken and dumpling soup.

"Bones, hon. You have so many new bones and went through so much calcium and proteins to get that leg back. You still have an iron deficiency making up your formerly missing blood volume, as a matter of fact you just need more of everything as your body evens out from surprise restoration after basically freaking out on us about it. Drink up, nurse's order."

"I'd prefer something I can get my damn teeth around." Grumbled the man who had formerly been scraping by and now got rather depressed when the meal options on offer were mainly soup, as he did that more than he was comfortable with while trying to stretch his funds to cover this or that life need. "But thanks, Tats."

Cesare had his fellow trained up nicely. He always thanked her for a meal, before even tasting it.

Semi-sweet, sort of more stupid. He had no idea if it was even something palatable for him to eat yet.

He'd still eat it even if he didn't like it, too. Even if it wasn't something he could stomach all that much of, the absolutely silly 'tough' man. This Mafioso would eat bricks if she ever half-assedly seasoned it with enough salt and pepper, and probably still thank her for that as well.

Padding on, the canine was happy enough to hang around Lando's knees now in hopes of tasty chicken bits and didn't need to be 'let out' yet to avoid him breaking more doors, Tatiana went to go see about whatever problem Sonya had now.

Odds were, boy trouble that the adorable dumbass only realized now she was neck deep in.

If she was coming to the nurse to panic about it, and not sitting on it to dump on Skull's lap for help in sorting it, then it had to be boy trouble.

Pretty awesome she hadn't fucked this up somehow, after years of trying to hook her sister up to some ass or another for stupidly shallow reasons.

"Reborn said he is not going to stop." Sonya hissed at her the moment she got through her baby sister's bedroom door, striving to be calm and unbothered as always but critically failing a bit given her wide grey eyes.

"Not until you're married and firmly out of the dating game. Preferably, married to him." Tatiana confirmed the obvious for her brightly, offering the wine bottle to her first since it really looked like her sister needed a drink. "This 'courting' thing might seem antiquated and bullshit to us, Nya… but. Italians? Italians with old traditions and blood? All's fair in love and war, and they went and made it into an art."

Originally more to… 'bury the hatchet' than because anyone really wanted to marry this or that so-and-so. With such a family-focused Mafia society, ending a feud between two syndicates normally did result in a marriage. A joining of two 'families'.

Of course, two former enemies would not be very trusting with their unique and oftentimes Flame-able women marrying a previously hostile Mafioso and vice versa. It was a coin toss which party would be the one to murder the other in those cases, and even Flame-less women still had options to remove unwanted husbands if they were smart enough to get it in before the Mafioso had the chance to rid themselves of conniving bitchy wives.

So, courting became a thing. A publicly watched affair, sometimes lasting a year or more, where two parties tried to bury their prejudices to get along before being hitched together for political reasons. Where they were judged to get a general estimate on how honest their respective groups were being to the old traditional arrangements to stop hostilities.

Otherwise, small bit of great hate-sex and possibly a murder in short order would inevitably happen.

Reborn the World's Greatest Hitman obviously had no hostile or otherwise dealings with the 'de Mort' famiglia in need of watching to see if he was behaving himself. Nope, the man was doing it, saddled himself with those restrictions and rules, because he wanted to. To prove to anyone that wanted to know, and the woman herself, exactly what he was and how far he'd go to get what he wanted.

That was Sonya, by the way. If no one caught that, like apparently this little thief had completely missed.

"Since Reborn decided to 'court' you, he basically said to anyone and everyone 'I'm chasing this until she gives in and gives me everything'. Half to warn off… um, competition, and half to… 'call dibs', I guess. To warn everyone he's fully willing and is able to go through anyone that wants to try objecting or snatching you for themselves. He's committed enough to go to war for you, if need be."

"This is so stupid." Sonya sighed out, plastering a tattooed hand against her forehead instead of take the offered bottle.

Tatiana shrugged and took the first nip, because Ganauche finally found a red wine she liked and it was tasty. Gave her a nasty fucking headache if she got her fine ass drunk off it, but a little bit now and again was nice. "You, well… more he, has competition now. By the way. More than Fon, I mean. There's… six? I think Lando said, men who would very much like to add in and see if they wouldn't be more your speed. All they need is to talk to your original two horny men to be 'allowed' by your own rules."

Her baby sister sat on her bedspread first, then flopped over to play dead.

Amused, she wandered over to join her in bed. "So? What finally clued you in? Because… had you bothered to ask any of your Italian morons, they would've told you all this. Fuck, Nya. Cesare basically gave marching orders to Dante, Natalina, and Lando to help him 'handle' all this. You didn't realize he knew something you didn't?"

"I did not expect this much!"

"Why the fuck not?"

"No one is this interested in me."

Tatiana propped herself up on an elbow, half to plant the open wine bottle on the end table next to her sister's bed. "Nya. The vory we dealt with in one single corner of Moscow were a bunch of chicken-shit morons. They were more scared of our old man than willing to risk a girl who didn't at all seem interested in that kind of foolishness when you were both fucking busy and not even there. You didn't pay them attention, so your handful of 'fuck you're hot, can I bang you' admirers didn't say shit. Had it been one of them, this 'pile on' shit would've still happened the moment you might've appeared to think about it. Some guys honestly don't need to rub their dicks on a girl to inform them they're interested… but apparently you just have to be different."

To be brutally honest here, aside Reborn and Fon?

All her 'possible' men knew shit all about Sonya. If they were smart, they knew 'Donna de Mort' and 'Nightshade' and were chasing that.

She got flipped off, in her face. "I got catcalled and flirted with, I know this. But if they were afraid of Arseniy's reaction to trying shit all with me, not worth my time. Besides, none of them wanted to even get to know me. It was all physical, and that's… not really all that interesting to me."

"But now it is?"

"No." Sonya stoutly refuted flatly and with heat, making Tatiana's evil little heart palpate in sisterly glee.

Someone was getting some more than she already admitted to her, recently. "So… which one are you fucking?"

"Still Fon. And fuck is Fon a horny bastard." She instantly admitted, sounding just exasperated and weirdly without hesitation or dislike to go with her words. "I thought Reborn would be exhausting… yeah, I no longer believe that."

"…baby sis, male Suns are generally well aware they want sex more than most people can even put up with." She advised her poor, oversexed little sister with all the fucking amusement. "If Reborn isn't well aware he wants to fuck you more than you'd like and has compromises in mind or is willing to not until you want it… don't think Storms generally have that little 'Activation problem' to worry about. You'll need to tell Fon what amount of sex is okay for you, not just expect him to want it at the same rate you do. Saying nothing and just trying to 'endure' it is not nice to him."

The only still active thief between the two of them made a rude noise, rolling over to cuddle with Tatiana's chest. "Yeah, got that. He just snuck in another on me by surprise. I am going to be more careful with what I let him do to me now. Fucker used cuddles to lure me in and get his hands on me."

"Smart." She had to allow for the assassin's due here, because yes. That'd work on any Sun, or Sun tainted, Flame using woman. Fuck, Sun Flame using men too. "So what did Reborn do that finally clued you in he has no intention of stopping regardless of who you're in bed with?"

"…apparently, the asshole knows I'm 'with' Fon." Even sarcastic finger quotes were used here before Sonya went back to her laying down hugs she liked to call 'snuggles'. "Told me he was willing to 'steal me' from him if he had to. Then used books he challenged me to steal to bribe me into range to kiss stupid. Just kiss, then set me down and walked away."

Ooh. Using her Storm habits against her. Bold choice, given Reborn knew all the ins and outs of being a Sun and how to use that better.

"Are you using Fon to see if Reborn would fuck off?"

"Not intentionally. Happy accident. Fon, and I, are still trying to figure out if he just wants a convenient fuck buddy or if he wants me. Figured if I could answer that much, then maybe this could get sorted in a few days… but no. Nope. He is physically incapable of answering one single question I ask if it is not worded exactly and to the point I want answered. Otherwise he will give everything but."

Huh. "Maybe he just needs more time to put it together for you?"

"Is it fair to give him more time?" Sonya countered immediately with tired and bitter regret, planting her face in Tatiana's cleavage herself. "Reborn's already past that point, apparently. If I let Fon develop something that will break our friendship if I end up choosing someone else… but that is no damn reason to not give him time to sort shit out. I should not have to default to one or the other, for any other reason than I want something with them."

"I'm sorry to say, Nya… you're not getting out of this cleanly or without hurting someone. And that's not your fault." She hugged her sister to her chest strongly when all she got in return was a long sigh, rubbing her bare back with both hands. "So if it has to happen… yeah. I agree with what you're doing. Start with who you know longer, sort it out properly and with all due care, then move to the next one if he's not what you want. Fon made the choice to try it here and now, if he's not fully aware of the chances of maybe not 'winning' your heart then he's a dumbass idiot. He brought that on himself. Reborn also has to know, with what he's doing, that he opened up himself and you to that."

"…how about neither?"

"Your choice."

The Storm-Cloud literally pondered it for a long couple of seconds, and the Sun hoped both men at least knew that there were limits with this woman. If Sonya got fed up too much with their antics, she'd put a sudden and abrupt end to everything so she could walk off free and clear instead. Alone maybe, but without having to make a choice about a life partner she wasn't even certain she needed or wanted.

This far into a professional thief's career, there were obviously times when you just had to cut your losses and move on with whatever the hell was left. To reposition, to try a different method, or just to walk away from it all.

Of course, this was also a Mafia Land contractual agent. Probably a life-long one. Several of them, in fact. 'Failure' was not something this island accepted, so the island's agents did not accept that outcome when they put their evil and devious minds to something.

Maybe she, and Bjǫrn, should go and have a little chat with both of Sonya's more persistent admirers. Just to warn them, if they didn't know, that there was only so far this situation could be stretched out to before it snapped clean in half.

"Just focus on Fon, Nya. All you can do, really. One at a time, trying to handle both at the same time will easily get you in over your head way too fast. Get in mind some very solid boundaries to keep to for Reborn, too. Just in case."

The utter brat blew a wet raspberry into her chest. Down her cleavage.

"…this means war, bitch."

"Bring it."

(Wednesday the 3rd of May, 1972. Mafia Land.)

With yet another cracking noise that echoed, this bō split cleanly down the middle and exposed the steel core it had been reinforced with. "…perhaps not."

"I am really hard on my equipment, Fon. That might just be an enduring complication." Sonya twisted the ruined halves, extracting the metal to likely use against him instead. "I think… maybe, a Propagated one will be more… durable."

"Your charm weapons do not break at a similar rate?"

"Does not matter if they break, I just make new ones from the master copy." A pause, and the woman then frowned thoughtfully as she critically examined her own form instead. "Actually… I never had one break on me. I think. A Sky can cut through them, they have lost form on me, but never broke before."

Tossing the length of steel to the forest floor instead, she continued on her way to the stock of staves he had acquired for her to break. As the practice katas for bō practitioners sometimes required strikes at a blocking opponent and she was indeed very 'hard' on the weapon of choice, but now she selected one to copy instead of to learn with.

Fon patiently waited, examining his staff and the breakage already apparent where she had struck out at his. "Could you not simply use any length of wood to Propagate? I still do not mind you breaking them, to be clear. I obtained them with that intent, to make the process easier on you. I merely ask to see if such is possible."

"Proportions are a bitch and a half. Yes, I can fiddle with them with Cloud Flames." Sonya informed him easily and without guarded care another Cloud might have when clarifying on their ability, selecting the lacquered black staff he suspected she wanted for herself to copy. "It is just more of the same Flame, after all. Layering them like that makes the end result less… stable. Those break. I could build up length or width the same way Skull builds himself back up, but that is significantly more intense and focus-heavy for me to do."

He sharply hit the middle of his staff with the heel of his palm, causing it to finally give up under the abuse and split in half there leaving him with two parts of a former whole. Steel core and all. "I will require a new one as well, on your way back. Is that… layering fragility because you form two or more of the same copy within each other, or another reason?"

"…I honestly do not know."

The Storm did not mind her frequent distractions, as they always tended to be in the nature of exploring and refining her own abilities as their intent here was. This very curious woman was easily distracted by such, and equally was pleased at his curiosity sparking her own. Even when there were no results to be shown for it.

These lessons will take months at this rate, just to familiarize her to some of the katas for bō wielders for her to select a school to dedicate to first. Fon equally did not mind that either.

They both enjoyed the process of refining their skills and learning new ways to apply them. Doing so together was an equally enjoyable way to spend some unclaimed hours. He did not normally use weaponry so susceptible to burning up in his hands, but that did not mean he refrained from learning the forms when learning new schools of fighting.

It was a complaint she had against him, an 'inability' to teach another. Well, Fon was just not used to teaching novices and what was acceptable there as he was with teaching other senior students of the same master.

Equally hopefully, this would address some of that 'useless' label she also liked to apply to him.

Sonya did not seem to mind his corrections, but then again the woman was… very durable.

Fon pointedly refocused on his sparring partner's experimentations instead of dwell on how far he had pressed that feature of her already, determined to not rely on the basely physical allowance he had been gifted in this competition.

…competing with a Sun for a woman's attention meant some cheating may be required. He was not that principled, if he was forced to be honest. Not remotely honest all that often either.

He still caught the new staff tossed at him from an entire forest clearing away, distracted or not.

"Right, this will break." Sonya warned him, utterly innocent of the Storm's preoccupation before her return. "But it should break in three, I want to see what is left."

Fon blinked at her end result, once the black lacquer Propagation was close enough that he could see her alterations in detail. "…how did you get them to form interlocked as that?"

"…why can I not?" She countered with audible confusion, studying the same for a moment.

Instead of 'layering' them one at a time to an obstructionist point by making the staff too thick in one direction, the woman had formed up three equally as far into each other as any one specific Propagation. Retaining the circular shape of the weapon's shaft the best she could, but such left it with three semi-defined 'lobes' still in need of gripping around.

Which was a little too thick for her small hands to hold comfortably.

"I believe… I might be better suited to using that than you." He allowed after another moment to study the altered weapon, offering her the one she tossed to him instead. "You will be more clearly able to see the damages if it is being used against you, rather than needing to split your attention to study it."

The thief still sulked slightly, but apparently agreed with his reasoning and allowed the trade easily enough.

Fon just felt better with the clearly compromised weapon in his hands rather than hers. She was the one learning, it was his responsibility to ensure all care that could be taken was so she could learn safely.

The weight was uniquely different than expected, instead of the expected heft of three reinforced bō staves it barely weighed the same as a similar length of unaltered wood. With this way of… expansion, it left the composite weapon as balanced as a single one would be.

He took the measured step back and to his left, turning to fully face the woman who made it.

Her first offhand swing, from the ground up to crack against his chin if not warded off, broke through it almost instantly. Fon had to drop the shattered parts and dodge backwards awkwardly, mainly by twisting around her strike instead of neatly evading.

"…Fon. I told you it would break."

He examined his palms to be certain that while pinched, he had done no permanent harm to himself. "Yes. Yes you did."

"You dork." Sonya abandoned the experiment, mostly if not in spirit as the remains of her Propagation remained littering the ground, to step forward and inspect him in concern. "Are you okay? I did not hit you, right?"

"You have still failed to do me major harm." He assured her evenly and when that predictably failed to assure the thief, he tugged her into his arms for a hug so she would not be left to just hover in her thwarted care. "I am fine. My palms were pinched as I gripped the fractured remains too hard, but that was my own mistake."

Sonya reached up to poke at the side of his neck, drawing back the finger to show him the blood. A minor cut judging from the amount, if anything.

"…not entirely unexpected, when there is such a risk of splinters. It will stop bleeding shortly."

"I should have hit downward, but I did not want to risk your knees to large sharp splinters." She admitted equally as bluntly, deciding his hold on her was to her taste right now and burying herself into his chest. "If there would be any, which there were."

"That would be quite a lot more uncomfortable." Perhaps this was where they should cease for the day, Fon liked to keep his risks of death to once per day if he could.

Also, he was vindicated in desiring to be the one to wield a compromised weapon. She might be able to 'heal' from such damages using her brother's ability, but Fon was of the opinion the siblings had done so for him entirely too often already.

It still remained a disquieting ability. To know or witness their injury or death, and yet for them both to ignore the pain and grievous bodily harm through sheer willpower and continue on.

His reaction speeds saw him through the testing fine enough. "Tea?"

She snorted into his chest. "Seriously?"

"After your brother had me melt metal to make a grappling hook for him by hand, I figured out how to boil a kettle in a similar way. Ceramic and metal."

"You mean after you saw Reborn do it, you then got competitive and stubborn about learning how to do the same damn thing."

…yes. "Regardless, I did bring along tea to have as well. If you would like."

"Yeah, sure. Fine. Let me go poke the splinters of a Propagation for a bit while you make it."

He did not wish to let go. Fon did so when she pulled away herself, and only then went off to where he left the small basket of tea making supplies he brought with him out here.

"…these are hollow, not solid constructs." Sonya informed him in surprise in mere moments, shifting through her slowly melting shards of Propagation that she presumably could not hold for long in that state. "Even weirder, you can easily poke a finger through the insides out."

"Indeed?" One was tossed at him, already fizzing away from the outside edges in as it lost the structure they had been formed with. Fon poked his own finger through the bright lavender purple side to show on the false lacquer one, as easily as if there was nothing there. "…strange."

"Not… really." She refuted slowly, seated with no care in the middle of the scattered remains and inspecting two fragments in turn. "It is why Skull's ability is so damn hard. He does it cell by cell, not in large chunks or groups. I think… I think this is just how Propagation works. One-sided force fields or something in a predetermined shape, but when you form up multiples you compromise these weird insides in a way they do not normally strain against."

"So when one is moved in a way another should prevent, it all falls apart where they intersect?" Hence why she was so confident her tri-Propagated bō would break, that he did not heed as strictly as he should have. "Curious."

"Why can we not do this without a structure to 'copy'?" Wondered the thief next.

Not something Fon could answer for her, so he opted to settle in a less disturbed section of the day's clearing to make tea in. "Why can you not form a compounded copy without that flaw?"

It wasn't information he could use, mainly. Outside another rare chance to fight a different Cloud, perhaps. That did not mean the information Sonya liked to seek out and poke was of no value, Fon could easily see himself dealing with a young Cloud or two in the far future.

Tian of the former Green Dragons was not a young man any longer, someone either independent or neutral would need to learn his information to pass on in the generations to come. He did so now out of duty, but only when someone had a new Cloud to bring to him for that information.

Perhaps… Sonya might like to meet him?

It would mean taking her into China once more, and… well, perhaps later. He would be looking into that shortly, but preferably Tian would not mind coming out of China instead if Fon explained the situation.

"…that needs practice." Decided the Storm-Cloud belatedly, causing him a bit of confusion until he remembered the question he posed to her. "Do you mind if I experiment with that for now, Fon?"

"Not at all." The injuries to his palms were starting to form blisters, and while he could continue past their formation it was quite unpleasant to do.

She would likely be further displeased if he tried, as well.

"I think I need to obtain a 'charm' sized bō for you to Propagate for us instead for future lessons. If you would not mind."

"Not a damn."

"That also means if you wish, you may select from the store of them which you would like to keep for yourself." Fon invited peacefully, amused as she went straight for that black lacquered example to take. "If you now know the size you would appreciate learning on."

"This one." Sonya needlessly informed him, hugging the shaft of the bō to her generous chest.

"Aa… of course."

She had been very pointedly avoiding that one in their attempts to find the right length and size for her, though she lingered on a second longer over it each time she selected a new one to test. It may have been an educated guess, but he was still satisfied he had guessed correctly.

"I have two additional questions." Fon allowed as the tea brewed and she admired her new acquisition. "Firstly… is there a standard weight to Propagations?"

"…weight?"

"The one you handed me was the weight of a single bō without a reinforced core, despite being presumably three interlocked."

Sonya regarded him slightly sheepishly, a rueful smile on her lips. "Uh… Fon? I… am not good at judging weights. That is something you will have to ask Verde to figure out."

"Then I take it you would not be able to answer if that was due to copying just the lacquer, or the wood and lacquer, rather than the entire weapon plus the steel core."

She pondered his words. "Those are… some actually damn good questions, Fon."

He eyed her warily as she then turned to plant a hand on her hip and regard him pointedly. "…yes?"

"Now if you could only answer questions as succinctly."

"Ask one I can answer for you, then."

"Do you want kids?"

Fon blinked, slightly taken off guard by the bluntly short question. "I… would not mind fathering a child or two. If I have the choice to do so."

"I want at least one. Mostly for the experience, less so for the child, so until that changes it will likely be in a few more years. I want to want a child before even planning for it." Sonya informed him equally as bluntly, setting her new bō to lean against a tree trunk on its own before prowling across the clearing back to his side. "So there you go, you did manage to answer one question so far."

"It is not that I do not wish to answer your previous question, it is that I cannot." Allowed the assassin ruefully as he handed her a cup to hold for when the tea was finished brewing. "I did not… expect to be allowed, therefore I had little forethought in speaking up. Not by you or my Mountain Master, who is already allowing my sister to dwell outside his reach to learn a valuable trade to return with. She has yet to return, therefore asking for more is not… wise."

"But you did."

"…yes." An allowance given less on his own merits and more for her own. "My intent with speaking up when I did was to inform you that you do have options, you do not need to settle with just anyone."

She eyed him warily this time, mildly suspicious given the twist to her lips now. "If you did not think you could, then why say something?"

"Frustration." Fon admitted bluntly, unable to do more than shrug for a moment. "I had a fond hope you might be amenable when I was less… constrained. But then you did not turn Reborn down flat as I expected, and I realized you were not as fine alone unsupported as I thought. Asking you to remain so in the face of opportunity is cruel, and I will not ask that for no guarantee I can give in turn."

The thief sighed instead of ask him another, allowing him to pour her tea first and settling back to ponder it as if it had the answers she sought.

"I am… aware I am on borrowed time-"

"You are on 'borrowed' shit all." Sonya flatly interrupted pointedly, shooting him a less than pleased look. "You are on my time, and my time is not borrowed. It is bought, or it is gifted."

He belatedly lowered the teapot to sit on the ground again and cradled his tea in his hands despite the irritation it gave his blisters. "…not that I wish to further annoy you, but did I buy it somehow?"

"If that makes you feel better, sure." She offered unconvincingly. "I do not care if this takes a full year, Fon. I want you able to tell me what the hell it is you want. I am fully aware the longer I make Reborn wait the more annoying the fucker will be, and I will deal with that if I have to. You said something, and the very least I can do is figure out what first before I commit to options that cannot be taken back."

"…aa."

"You may not have a lot of time, but you do have some." Sonya reinforced pointedly, sipping at her tea and making a pleased hum to find it was a spiced black variant. "If that helps."

It did. "You do not sound… pleased with that."

"Is it fair to give you more time here? I cannot 'guarantee' shit all myself, just that I will hear you out."

"That is precisely what I asked for." Fon countered mildly, still warmed by her as always exacting care in everything brought to her to deal with. "I do believe that is fair enough."

She remained unconvinced and uneasy, returning to her tea with a stubborn frown.

Not particularly pleasing. He shifted to seat himself on the ground as well instead of remain on his knees, setting his tea aside for the moment. "May I hold you?"

As she previously claimed, Sonya immediately slid over to allow him that on request. "How bad are your palms now?"

"I have done far worse to myself." Allowed the Storm easily, showing the right palm and the growing blood blister there for her own information as he settled her comfortably in his lap. "It may still be tender when we are… forcibly recollected, but it should not remain so for long."

"…shit, Fon. I can ask Tats-"

"One has to learn moderation somehow." He countered with amusement before she could finish the offer, wrapping one arm to hold her across her softly armored belly. "I will not say no if your sister will not mind, but when I injure my hands I take it as a sign to perhaps spend a few days resting instead. It is not an ill-timed injury to need haste to be seen to."

"At least you can learn moderation."

"It took some… time, admittedly."

This made her laugh, and she finally settled fully to enjoy both the tea and his company. Which reminded him, he rescued his from growing cool on the forest floor.

"Since you are on my time right now, and it was me who provided the cause, I want to ask Tats to heal this. You should not have to suffer it because I am overly curious."

"Fair." Fon gave in with simply, dropping a kiss to the top of her head that seemed to not be a gesture she often got from the wide grey eyes blinked up at him in surprise. "I was curious too."

She huffed at him, settling into his heat firmly to enjoy that across her bare back as well.

…well, the assassin had promised to keep her warm before. He did not mind being held to that promise.

(Thursday the 4th of May, 1972. Mafia Land.)

While there were dog salons and pet amenities on this island, Sonya was not a faceless or nameless visitor able to risk that with minimal trouble. She could also scrub down her damn dog herself, but if she did Alek would whine at her until she spent hours just letting him lean on her somehow for 'comfort'. Preferably she would be petting him during those comfort hours too.

Instead, she took her fluffy dumb good boy to the beach the last day they could spend on whatever the fuck they wanted. Alek got his coat scrubbed clean of the last of his temporary dye job by the waves and he wouldn't whine at her for rinsing out his fur once they were home again.

He tried to get away with skipping his rinse once, the salt drying on his skin drove him nuts trying to scratch it all. Now if they went to the beach, he was not at all against a doggy bath post-beach play time.

"Is it me, or Lando? Or Viper? Presumably, I haven't even seen that… Mist."

"Yeah, you wouldn't." Tatiana offered to Natalina wryly. "Nya put out that she didn't want to hear them, so of course the dumbass went the whole distance and ensures no one can hear them. Shamal will be the only one able to tell if they are in or out."

"It is not you, it is me." Sonya informed the hitwoman very dryly next, sitting slightly apart from the other women because Alek had no care to who he was splashing with seawater in aims of having her throw his ball back into the surf again. "You have heard Clouds are contrary difficult assholes to deal with, right? I am not all that different…"

"The Storm side of you doesn't help a damn."

"Thank you, peanut gallery. Shut up."

The Sun laughed wickedly and made no such promises as she let her head fall backwards to ensure her neck tanned up evenly.

Waiting for the Italian woman to look at her, the thief could only shrug. "I invited you, and Lando is temporary. It is a change, and I am not… easily accepting of changes, even ones I have made myself. It took me months to switch to the condo, and I remained for as long as I could sharing a flat with my sister even once I had it. I could make the effort right this moment, but then there will be another period of awkwardness as I miss his presence when he leaves to go back and support Cesare for me."

It meant she wasn't paying attention to her dog so when he came bounding back for yet another round of fetch, he barreled right into her. Floppy wet dog fur went everywhere, and so too did the water he was soaked in.

Alek did not care he knocked Sonya over, and he dropped his ball to lick at her neck and face as per his usual when he was magically in range to try it.

At least most of his doggy-safe dye job had leached out of his pale fur, and the two other snickering assholes she was here with got water slung in their direction too by the whipping of his tail.

…also, she was wearing a swimsuit. Who cared if he got her wet?

"Alek, off." Ordered the Storm-Cloud with exasperation, straining a little to keep his tongue out of her face and more importantly her mouth. "Great help you two fucks are."

"Were we supposed to be helping?" Tatiana drawled sarcastically, stretching out her toes in sequence just to be that tiny bit more of a bitch right here and now. "Whoops…"

Natalina snickered guiltily, but also wasn't budging her ass an inch to 'help' any either.

Sonya grabbed the ball that ended up at her hip and tossed it so the backspin would prevent the damn thing from getting too far out and being lost to sea. Because Alek would chase everything thrown, no matter how bad an idea it was. Her dog tore off after it, digging rude sandy paws into her gut to push off her with.

That was going to need either a dip or more water to wash off, and she didn't feel like dumping a water bottle over her stomach so a quick swim it was. "Sit, stay, good girls."

"Oh, oh. I'll give you a 'good girl', Nya." The smile that bloomed over her sister's face was evil incarnate. "Enjoy your dip, bitch."

First, Sonya grabbed her damn towel to take with her closer to shore. She had no doubts her sister would dump something sticky and probably ice cold all over it behind her back, especially if that would annoy her.

The hitwoman just gave her a wave, mildly distracted by watching a disturbance further down the boardwalk for them.

By the time she got back, two more tosses lengthwise down the beach for Alek that made him dodge around family groups and little Mafia children, that distraction had reached them.

Tatiana was paging through papers curiously much to one man's glee, and Natalina was holding some fuck at gunpoint. Where the hell that gun had been up until this point?

Was beyond a simple thief.

Said fuck went pale the moment he locked eyes on Sonya padding back. "Oh… no…"

The man her sister was humoring brightened just as quickly. "Oh, yes! I take it you are this lovely dear's sister, then?"

She eyed him, then shot the nurse a look. "What the hell, Tats?"

The smirk she was then treated to was not encouraging, and the papers were handed to her. "Can we do this, Nya?"

"It's just a suggestion!" Shouted the man being held up desperately, kind of sort of waggling his hands in the air since he was not lowering them because Natalina was not lowering her gun. "There's no requirements here, just say no and I'll get him out of your way ladies. Please…"

That highly annoyed this other still unnamed man. "My fine, if nervous, fellow-"

"You have no idea what that is!"

He blinked, then turned entirely too quickly and eagerly. "…should I? Are you famous, dear?"

"Infamous." Tatiana corrected like the evil bitch she was, while Sonya finally got interested in whatever the hell she was holding that was so confrontational. "Do you even know where you are, sir?"

"Mafia Land. Yes… bit… more wholesome than I was expecting." Announced the man who sounded like he came from somewhere between Poland to Austria, simply and to the point despite the four looks of complete disbelief his claim earned him. "Excuse me, how terribly rude. I am Franzi Näf, photographer and connoisseur of lovely women. You are?"

In other words, paired with the information in her hands, this sleezy man shot pornographic photos for R-rated men's magazines. Somehow, he got on Mafia Land to try it here… and the island gave him a bureaucrat to try to run herd on him while attempting to entice highly paid criminal women to let him take pictures of them naked. To publish, in multiple 'editions' according to this 'contract'.

"…Nightshade. Equally, as charmed as you are." Not.

Turning to her sister as peppy and connivingly clueless finally got a damn clue, Sonya flapped the papers in her hand once. "Seriously, Tats?"

"Read what it's for before you say no, brat." Tatiana stoutly ordered, arms crossed under her generous bust which did distract the porn photographer for a few seconds more than at all polite. "Yes, most of my motivation here boils down to wanting to make Ganauche's eyes pop out… and everyone else's. Tiny bit to pull you down with me into sheer sin icon status, since you are a bitch sometimes. But it's for a good cause."

"Really?" Natalina demanded with all the skepticism, the gun not wavering a damn from keeping the Mafia Land internal agent under clear and steady threat from a contractual one. "A good cause. This bullshit?"

"For the kids. Who end up being born to women that have no idea what the colors of Flame means, what the best is for Dying Will Flame brats, or how to care for them. If you can't get your tits out for another woman's benefit or to help the kids, who can you do it for?"

"…admittedly, to be very clear and transparent here, I have no idea how to do that. I was mostly hoping to find someone to do that for me, Miss Nightshade." Näf instantly interjected very damn sheepishly, wincing when the nurse suddenly pulled a gun on him too from their tote bag of supplies and doggy toys. "I'll be quiet now."

"Luckily for you, we do know how to do that." Sonya drawled sarcastically, kind of… really disgusted by this 'contract' in her hands. There were so many stupid fucking loopholes and omissions it wasn't worth the saltwater the cheap paper could maybe soak up, much less the ink it was typed with. "Like everything I do, Tats… this has to go through my Lackey first."

"Sure! What he'll offer then will be a shit ton better written than that piece of crap is. I'd feel much safer with that."

"Sometime next month, since I am spoken for this weekend and however fucking long."

"Even easier."

"You ask Galina if she would like to join in."

"Eeh… that's a bit more difficult, but sure. Maybe her husband won't mind showing off his wife."

Sonya sighed through her nose, already foreseeing the issues she might end up with if she humored her sister by participating in a pornographic photo shoot. "Natalina? Would you prefer to remain the muscle for any other women that might join in, or would you like to participate as well?"

"Depends on the terms your Lackey gives us." Decided the hitwoman damn near instantly. "I'll see about it then."

"…fair enough." The thief held out the six pages of shitty legalese, pinched between forefinger and thumb, just in time for her dog to race back again with his ball in his mouth. "Take these idiots to Bjǫrn, if you would. The faster that shit is corrected, the better I will feel."

"With pleasure." Natalina smiled at both of the men, without anything pleasant or humorous about it, gesturing with the barrel of her pistol as she snatched the papers in her remaining free hand. "March, assholes."

"…I am not comfortable with the idea of spreading my legs for a camera." She had to admit while working the ball out of Alek's jaws carefully enough he would not lose a fang.

"Okay. Are you fine with partially clothed? Well… 'just' panties, really."

Sonya absently gestured to her outfit as it was currently, soaking wet and barely more than scraps across certain bits of 'inappropriate' anatomy. When at home or at least in front of people she knew she did not mind being naked, in public was still a… she knew it was not appropriate, at least. That was the only hard limit she was semi-sure of in need of minding. "That I will do."

Tatiana tapped her fingertips, of the hand not wrapped around a lowered gun of her own, against her lips thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to be taking over the kind of pictures we're going to be giving. A mix of topless and nude will just have to be good enough for that sleezy prick. And if he complains… well. I'll just have Natalina and the other women take over his company by force."

"He may just be the photographer, not the editor or owner of any particular magazine."

"He got here somehow, I don't think they'd let some big-mouthed moron in if he didn't have the right assets or connections to back it up. Or sponsor. But, we hook his balls up to enough car batteries and he'll sign anything to get us to stop." Countered her sister without a drop of care or concern. "And if not, well. Nothing says we can't publish it ourselves… with whatever money he has to his name."

"Take Bjǫrn with you. He will at least ensure you have all of it to spend as you like. And maybe not let him live all that long. He seems the type to try backstabbing those that do him wrong, even if that will only make his situation worse."

"I'd like to dig into him, first. Just to ensure he's just not moronically 'excited' at the chance to get criminal women in front of his camera lenses, but yeah. No. If he is always this level of sleezy slimebucket, and that shit piece of contract work is normal for him, I'm totally going to kill him afterwards and confiscate the negatives. Eww."

Sonya tossed Alek's ball one last time, just to keep her dumbass formerly fluffy boy from continually licking at her hand curled around it. "Confiscate them anyway. You are explaining to Shamal why his godmother and zia are plastered all over a porno magazine. Maybe tell Skull at the same time?"

Sniggering, Tatiana reached out to hug her only once before letting go again and repacking her piece back into their supplies bag. "Oh… oh his expression though. You are now forgiven for the 'good girl' comment. That thought is going to keep me warm and snug at night for months."

"This counts as an early birthday present. Since I foresee that getting buried under your wedding preparations."

"Deal. Thanks, Nya."

She eyed her sister skeptically.

"Just think of Tasty Muscle's reaction, or hell. Even Reborn's."

"The odds I will be able to catch either reaction to me 'baring my tits' in a porno magazine is very low, Tats." Furthermore, she had no doubts her imagination would utterly fail to match reality. Maybe if she paid Viper enough, she might get pictures. "You are very lucky this is for a good cause."

"I know, right?" Insisted the bubbly Sun nurse with evil glee. "Instead of any public service announcement or whatever other shit that would out us, a hippiefied girly mag? Those horny assholes that like them will spread it to all four corners of the globe without help, which means more of the women that might end up in this position can easily access the 'right' information to help them figure shit out."

"If they realize the information applies."

"All we can do is try, Nya. Even one or two 'successes' will make the whole effort worth it."

Sonya sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose absently. "How long do you believe we can keep using 'free love and hippies' as an excuse to hide Flame user information in?"

"Pff, forever. Might need to throw in some 'Bohemian Naturalisms' in there too, to mix it up now and again. We treat it like the Zodiac or some shit near civilians, no one will notice it has a whole different and more immediately practical use."

(Saturday the 6th of May, 1972. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)

The first sign of the others wasn't anything Lal Mirch had been expecting. While she was sitting at the dining table nursing her very first cup of coffee for the day, and sourly expecting to be snipped at by bitchy hitman for the 'shit quality' of her military styled black brew, Sonya darted through the front door at speed. Slamming it open and leaving it that way without care.

Chased in not only by her gleeful dog, but her brother too. Skull cursed viciously when he just missed grabbing her heel before she bounded up the stairs and scrambled to follow without even a 'ciao'. Alek slid on the floorboards with a noisy racket of claws on wood, almost running in place for three seconds before finally being able to change his momentum to follow.

Lal sipped her coffee, wondering what the 'issue' was today.

Colonello came down next, excited the idiot. Even more stupidly, he stood at the base of the stairs. "Is it starting? Should I go set up?"

He squawked in surprise when his shoulders were used as a springboard by thief, then he got damn neatly plucked up and spun out of the stuntman's single-minded way. Which did at least get him out of the path of charging dog still chasing the siblings, even if the both of them were faster than he could keep up with.

Sonya bounced off the floor, grabbed the hanging light fixture over the dining room table to swing herself clear, then spring boarded off the cupboards using her boots right on back over Skull's head. Skidding with his own momentum before he could correct for it, he used the lower cabinets the same damn way to give himself a boost to keep going without losing all that much ground.

Then they both darted outside in short order.

Alek yelped in more surprise than hurt when he slammed into the wood, scrambling and flailing to get traction on heavily waxed floorboards again. By the time he muscled enough to even reach near the front door, the Cloud siblings were back and racing up the stairs again. He then went that way too, even if it was clear he was never going to catch up.

The female Rain just heaved a sigh, exhausted just watching the both of them.

Alek on top of that?

At least Marco wasn't here to bark up a storm while failing even worse than his brother at keeping up.

"…Lal? What?" At least keeping his back plastered against the basement door, Colonello vaguely pointed in the direction of the Cloud siblings with one hand and wide blue eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

"Sonya annoyed Skull." She reported absently, wondering if she should get up to pour herself more coffee or order him to do it for her before he went out to try and snipe Checkerface in the head for them. "They're having a… disagreement."

"That's a disagreement." He parroted stupidly, sounding torn between being bewildered and highly amused. He barked a laugh and raked his fingers through his hair as he apparently decided to be amused as all hell. "Seriously? About what?"

"Who knows? They'll get around to airing out grievances eventually." Lal immediately leaned backwards so she and her coffee weren't 'over' the table anymore, because by prior experience she knew the moment Skull cornered his sister on some kind of furniture that'll happen. Likely, when he was holding it and his sister off the ground. She didn't feel like cleaning up a shattered mug and spilled hot coffee this early in the damn fucking morning, the sun wasn't even out yet. "But yes. You should go out and set up if you want a crack at this too."

"…in a minute." Colonello insisted, entirely distracted by the siblings' antics. "I want to watch this."

"They do it about once or twice a month when they're 'home', idiot."

"I've never seen them do this before!"

She just sighed again, draining the last of her mug and getting up to pour herself more.

Admittedly, yes. The siblings were circus acrobats, they could use everything and everyone in their way to dodge and avoid each other and do it with skill. It was an impressive display… the first few times.

By the seventh or so time you got 'caught up' by rubbernecking at the whole 'scuffle', you learned to let them do their thing and just keep doing whatever you were interrupted from. They'd usually leave you alone if you weren't in their way, and you could at least catch part of it safely enough.

This time, when Sonya hit the base of the staircase, she did a cartwheel one-handed to the side to change her momentum. She still slid slightly in Lal's direction, but she darted off to the living room couches and armchairs instead of using the kitchen again.

Skull apparently flipped before even descending the staircase, because he landed sideways and already facing the same direction. One of his heavy boots still slid out on him, but a single touch of one hand on the floor had him instantly correcting for that before he ended up doing the splits right there. "…Nya…"

"I didn't know you were there!" Insisted Sonya hastily, and to be frank very damn falsely.

"Bullshit, Nya. With my promotional work?" Seizing the sectional his sister was seated on the far end of it like she hadn't been darting about, he hauled the entire thing into the air to tilt her towards him.

Which didn't, as every time he tried it, work a damn.

She backflipped over the arm her back had been against, darting under where the couch once sat to scramble right back past him.

Then they went outside again, Skull throwing the couch back into place with no care to anyone watching and the heavy thud of it hitting the floor.

"…apparently." Lal then offered to Colonello in hopes that would get his ass in gear, returning to her chair to continue drinking her damn coffee at. "Sonya ended up working in the same city Skull was performing in."

He just scratched at the back of his neck next. "How would he even know? Did she tell him?"

"Headlines." She stated flatly as the dog finally got to the ground floor, spending a second looking bewildered at not finding either sibling for a second.

A second was all it took for Skull to lift something probably entirely too heavy for anyone else to do as easily, his sister to dodge him again, and for him to throw it back to where it should be without care for the racket or if it would land right.

Which was usually the case, somehow.

Alek bolted for the still open front door, got surprised by his mistress bolting over him, then her brother, and slid right on out of the door as he still couldn't get enough traction on his paw pads to change his direction that fast.

"…the only headlines we got that skipped reporting on Skull's shows was that one…"

"Nightshade." Lal confirmed for her former student, though he was still an idiot. "Sonya's 'working' name. Didn't we tell you that?"

"…uh, no." Colonello informed her bluntly back, now just bewildered. "No one mentioned that to me. The 'Donna' de Mort thing, yes. An infamous thief? Nope, no one said shit to me."

"Well, there you go." She offered blandly and with little care, because she had been warning him and he didn't listen to her. "Reborn, the World's Greatest Hitman. Sonya, Nightshade. Fon, the Eye of the Storm. Still don't… really understand that one. He's an infamous martial arts master, won the Underworld Martial Arts Tournament three times now. Viper, the Esper. No fucking clue either. Had that moniker long before I ever met them. Skull's the odd duck out, Colonello. Fuck, even Luce is a Donna too."

He eyed her suspiciously, suspecting bullshit. "The Underworld Martial Arts Tournament."

"There's also an Underworld Cooking Tournament."

"…what the fuck?"

"Apparently, it's very cutthroat." Lal repeated what Cesare had told her about it, when the Mafioso was trying to get a rise out of her. Sonya's right-hand and personal assassin was not sold on the quality of the female Rain's character, even now. And frankly she liked it that way. "I have no doubts the Underworld Martial Arts Tournament is equally as cutthroat. I've never been to either, don't want to, but yes. These are things."

He made a highly disbelieving, whiny noise at the back of his throat.

"They were forced or started underground, Colonello. Despite that, they still like doing things everyone else does. Competing against one another? Are you seriously that surprised?"

Then the Mafia got entwined in it all, or maybe it even started out that way. Lal didn't care, all it meant in the end was that both Tournaments were as bloody and vicious as everything else the Mafia touched. Likely the 'anything and everything goes' kind of competitions now.

At least this finally reminded him what he was to do this morning, and with one last huff he pushed off from the basement door. Had to pause for the siblings to dart down past him again, and bolted up the stairs despite the fact the dog was still running around too.

Sonya tossed a packet at Lal on her way by, opting to just go out the still open door this time instead of trying to duck around her brother using any more furniture. It slid down the table under the force it had been thrown with, coming to a neat halt by her hands.

…yeah, but. She'd have to put down her coffee to pick that up, and that opened her back up to the risk of broken mugs and spilled coffee.

She debated it until Alek reached the ground floor again, then heaved a sigh and put her mug down to pick the document envelope to see what the hell this was. Colonello clattered right on out after the dog with his sniper rifle before she even finished the handwritten cover page to fully read through the contract for all details and the reason why.

So Lal read it, despite the first damn page of the contract making her want to light it on Flames and dump it in the trash immediately.

There were two packets, one for Luce. Which halved what she had to read before setting it on fire.

…if they didn't get an adult female Rain by the deadline, then maybe. She'd be opting into all the clothing options available, but fuck. It was a tidy paycheck on offer, regardless of what optional restrictions a woman might want for their turn. And all negatives were going to be turned over to Nightshade for disposal, so it wasn't like the pictures would be used more than this single once.

From tactical officer in the Goddamned military to being offered stupid amounts of money to do porn, fuck her life.

Then again, if what Sonya had covered for her about young Rains and what Tatiana covered with Galina about young Lightnings were all true…?

Yep, there was a need. Kind of shitty this was how Mafia women thought to address it.

Anything to toss down that deep dark pit of ignorance was at least something.

She still wasn't all that enthused by the offer in her hands, but maybe Sonya had a better pitch or more detail to make this less… debasing. If only her brother would stop being 'offended' at being upstaged one single time and chasing her around to let her make the damn pitch.

…though, if the thief had informed her brother she was maybe doing this then Lal was a canary. Skull was only offended, not panicked.

Tucking everything back up in the envelope and tucking that under her thigh for safekeeping, she went back to drinking her damn coffee and waiting for everyone else to bother to show up.

Odds were, Verde first. Then Reborn, probably. Viper was likely already here just not in the mood to deal with two hyper Clouds playing chase plus dog. Luce sometime after the hitman, and of course Fon would not bother at all until forced to.

Lal took a decent swig of her cooling coffee this time, absently watching on as Sonya chased by Skull chased by Alek ran in again. Aiming for the basement this time.

She was not cleaning the damn floors, or at least not alone. Those two could damn well help, and if Colonello succeeded in sniping that Ancient Asshole he was fucking helping. If this 'weekend' went bad, she'd offer up some damn toothbrushes.

Fuck, if her moronic and idiotic former student failed to snipe Checkerface… she'd probably still give him a toothbrush to scrub the floorboards clean while they were gone.

Chapter Text

(Sunday the 7th of May, 1972. Salem, Oregon, United States of America.)

"No, we are not doing the porn." Sonya immediately refuted in exasperation, sipping gingerly at her Mai Tai just to see what the hell it even tasted like. Lime and rum were all she could identify in that sweetly acidic mess, honestly. "As far as I know the arrangements and I had a damn say in the offer put together, the actual porn is going to be done by professionals… or the enthusiastic amateurs that might volunteer. I, my sister, and presumably any other women with the ability are going to be… single picture types. Close ups, in either erotic poses or in the nude as far as we are comfortable with, more importantly with the 'identifying' eye coloring. Wear whatever the fuck you want, what we need for this are the eyes."

"Not what your paperwork says."

"That's a generic copy of the contract being offered, Lal. The base rates and shit. It's supposed to allow and cover for anything the women being approached may want covered, not be exactly what you have to do. You will get a personalized copy that will cover everything you are willing to do and what you are not… with all due protections you might want, if you agree."

Lal Mirch sighed out heavily, which made her shoulders slump. "Oh thank God, okay. I can do that much for you."

"You do not have to." Protested the thief flatly, also disposing of her unwanted alcohol as the Rain already did with her Bloody Mary by giving it to the 'slumming' Lightning hanging around her with an uncomfortable scowl on his face. "We will likely find others of your type, you're not all that rare."

"The porn part I was highly uncomfortable with. If we're not expected to do the deed while being filmed, then I'm okay with a single pinup girl pose or two. Shit, that's downright tame in comparison."

"Yeah, I also will not be participating in that part either." She admitted, putting her hands under the park bench affair to ensure her dog wasn't getting overheated in the shade and otherwise pet him as he would prefer.

Luce tapped her fingertips on their tabletop sheepishly with a tiny twist to her lips. "I'm afraid… stretch marks and a crunched stomach are not very sexy. If I hadn't just had a baby… I still would have said no, but I would have felt much worse about not volunteering my time for this."

She rolled her eyes, hard. "I was not expecting either of you to instantly volunteer. My sister is excited about the prospects of posing for a pornographic magazine, which rather means most women will bauk at the very idea. Again… though you saying no is kind of stingy Luce, I didn't expect shit."

"What I can do," allowed the Sky very thoughtfully, "is ask around our circles to see if any young lady Skies might want to volunteer in my stead. For you. There aren't all that many young lady Skies in Italia left, but I know France has two ladies around our age and there presumably is a new one in Greece somewhere…"

Sonya pointedly gestured to her tattoo collection. "You have an image to uphold, I don't give a fuck. I am the security for this, I will personally escort whomever might volunteer in the area… and even back to whatever stronghold they have if need be. Do whatever the hell you want."

"I shall."

Lal eyeballed Verde, and his pointedly blank expression, for a few seconds while the Storm-Cloud and Sky had their little aside. "Why are you here?"

"Reasons." Deadpanned the man flatly with a snarl, downing her day-glow orange drink in a single long swallow.

"…also, I would really appreciate if you didn't tell the men before we got this shit done." Tacked on the thief very dryly as Alek put his jaw on her thighs to give her better access to his velvety ears. "Fuck knows what Skull's reaction to this is going to be, my sister promised to tell him herself. Because again, evil conniving bitch at heart."

"Verde doesn't count as a man?" Poked the Rain with sharp amusement, making the Lightning in question heave an aggravated sigh and glare off into the middle distance than look at any one of the three of them.

"Verde is mine, being a smart boy in a region he once had difficulty in by sticking close to his most friendly associate willing to step in for him, and not a dipshit male with opinions that I am honestly not all that fond of right now."

"Forgive me for even asking," interjected the Sky next with hesitant curiosity, "you are not currently fond of your own brother?"

"The dork knows it will be weird and noticeable if we never professionally cross paths. Once or twice is coincidence, any more or none is suspicious." The less said about Reborn's smarmy smug smirk at her setting every one of Fon's big brotherly protective instincts off, which put Skull's back up in bewildered suspicion, the moment they got dumped on the West Coast of America… the better. "It's not my fault criminal misbehavior is more 'newsworthy' than his show."

As Viper decided they didn't count as male or female, Sonya was just pissy with them for being a freeloading asshole. Still.

…speaking of. "Not that I'm omitting you, Viper. I just figured as you dislike anyone asking after your gender you wouldn't want to participate in something explicitly intended to use the female form to cater to male libidos."

She didn't get an answer, so… maybe she might've offended the Mist by not giving them a contract to basically throw away the moment it was given. Maybe the miserly fuck just wanted nothing to do with the whole affair, too.

Who knew?

Not her.

Unless Viper informed her, she never would either.

"Any other seriously distracting questions you two want answered right this damn second?"

"I was always going to say no." Luce informed her politely, if rather to the point, dismissing the whole affair with a single shoulder shrug and sipping at her neat gin. "But now I know your motive and reasons for offering, I am more settled with offering my contacts to make up for the rather more difficult piece of the puzzle you are trying to assemble refusing."

"I have another option to ask, I just really don't want to ask that option and open her up to the risk. She's not settled with a whole array yet."

She earned a single simple nod.

"…I'm wearing some damn fucking shorts, and if you want a better 'light blue' you can damn well get one." Lal then stated firmly and with all the sharpness. "But fuck, I want better gear before next month. This'll… help me afford it, and I'm very relieved it isn't to do porn but just give a picture or two."

"The issue is we may not be able to find a prettier one than you, Lal. Which is the whole reason I wanted to offer it to you if you might be comfortable with it." Sonya warned with exasperation. "So thanks. This is going to be short notice, done fast, and preferably neatly cleaned up all in the same month. I have shit to do in June, much better shit. Like your introductions to where you decided on starting, and my brat graduating from his latest school year."

"Already?" The Sky hummed thoughtfully, turning to regard the mildly surprised ex-military woman thoughtfully. "That is… faster than I expected, Miss Mirch."

"A lot of military skills translate over. I'm certainly not done," stressed the Rain pointedly and with a tiny bit of malice as she refocused on something else, "but I have more than enough to start making some momentum of my own."

"I expected at least three years to even start on something."

"Well lucky you, then." Dismissed the thief with a heavy sigh. "Are we done… wait. Lal, you didn't leave out that packet, did you?"

"I burned it." Luce admitted before the other woman could answer. "I did not believe either of you wished that to be found by someone a little… nosey. I assumed they were general contracts on offer myself, admittedly."

"…Colonello would've read it the instant we got taken." Lal admitted ruefully and with a thread of apology in her tone now.

"As long as it was taken care of, I don't care how or who."

She earned herself a single nod from the Rain before she immediately got up and stalked off first, while the Sky downed her glass to buy her a few additional seconds. With her going off in a completely different direction next, that just left Sonya and Verde plus the dog in the shade under the table.

"…thank you for being the most sensible male in my life right now."

Of course, then he eyed her suspiciously and with wariness. "I am still not inclined to 'take you back', I remain firm in my desire to not be messily murdered to resume a relationship we both are aware will not last nor be worth the effort to retain."

"Again, the most sensible male in my life." Sonya had to admit to again, rubbing her face tiredly much to Alek's disappointment. "I'd promote Alek or Cesare to that spot… but my dumbass dog likes to lick himself in public and right now I'm kind of sour against all Mafiosi in general."

"Hmm… I am not displeased to obtain this arbitrary 'ranking' by default." Verde needlessly informed her, but very tartly still. "Though equally I am a bit bewildered there is a canine on this list."

"Deal with it."

"Are you… going to do the tarot card reading as Viper presumably wishes you to?"

The thief looked down and sure enough, there was a 'mysteriously appearing' deck right in front of her on the table. "…fuck, fine. Then the men better not hear about the magazine until after it's published, Viper. Get out here and ask your damn question."

(ooo000ooo)

(Sunday the 7th of May, 1972 continued. The Grand Hotel, Salem, Oregon, United States of America.)

"Okay," Skull drawled very sarcastically, "how did this happen? You two were the only ones left without anything you wanted to do this afternoon…"

"Before you even go there," Reborn shot back heatedly and with malice, "it wasn't me. I know a shit ton better than to try to kill one of us by fire."

"It was not my fault either." Fon instantly tacked on with steel in his tone too, resuming the glaring match the stuntman only just barely interrupted. "And that sounds perfectly suited to cause an 'accidental' death of one of us."

"…guys, the hotel is still burning."

"You would claim that, wouldn't you?"

"I have no urgent reason to seek your death."

"Ho? Really."

"Although you have clear motive to seek mine."

That made the hitman pause, then huffed a sharply mocking laugh right in the assassin's face. "The only reason she's making time for you, is pity. There's no reason for her to slum it with a man who already belongs to a master who might not always value her worth."

"…dude." Skull protested, who he was protesting he had no fucking clue, but neither of them were in the mood to listen to him.

"Green is not your color." Fon offered dismissively, with a little bit of biting heat of his own. "Better me than a man who either committed a wrong so grievous or is so ashamed of his origin he murdered it."

"Oh for fuck's sake."

"Yes… real safe for her, the man who can be ordered to kill her. And you'd do it, wouldn't you?"

Giving up on getting a word in edgewise, neither wanted to listen to him a damn right now, he wondered if he should leave the two bickering assholes to go find something… probably alcoholic.

"That is not how it works, no. And furthermore, no."

"Real convincing."

"I have no need to convince you, and she knows the organization of black societies well enough to know better. Instead… may I inquire just why you seem to think your motive is not deserving of suspicion? Your arrival, not to mention your interests, came out of nowhere… were you perhaps ordered to do this? I can easily see you Italians seeking to control or chain a woman down by this method. Regardless of what she is."

Reborn scoffed with a dismissive flip of his wrist. "Because I am not that stupid, no family head is that stupid, nor do I want that headache."

"…yes, real convincing." Mused Fon rather mockingly, for all he was mostly even still in tone.

"Skull."

"Nope, not listening to this utter bullshit." Announced the stuntman on his way right back out of their little pocket, shoving his hands into his jeans and just mentally writing off that stunt suit as an entire loss. Mildly annoying, but really not all that uncommon for him. The only part of his getup he was attached to were his boots and lockpicks, and he still had those. "If this is so damn important to you then carry on, guys. But, carry on without me."

"…that is not wise. We cannot know for certain if this fire was targeted until after the emergency personnel get through with… dealing with it."

"Yeah, don't care. Especially not if you two assholes want to argue about my sister." Oh look, they had kept in mind he was here too. Yeah, real nice of them… "Going for beer, I'll be back again in two or three more hours. Or tomorrow."

(Monday the 8th of May, 1972. Bj ǫ rn ' s Apartment, Mafia Land.)

Natalina tossed the dossier on the coffee table the moment she got through the front door. "Okay, so keeping in mind this is three days of work and mostly his professional details…?"

"…why here? Why not somewhere else?" Whined Sonya's Lackey with audible depression, a hand already plastered across the bulk of his face.

"If it was up to me, Bjǫrn? I'd take this elsewhere." Allowed the hitwoman for the young man's due, because he had dug Dante out of his personal hell pit for them. She was honestly grateful for him doing it, beyond just being the money man for her new famiglia. "But Tatiana has other plans, and Sonya wanted this kept from anyone that doesn't have to know just so she won't have to hear about it."

Speaking of which, the woman engaged to a Vongola Guardian was rapidly devouring the whole packet with speed. Likely due to her shift being in another hour and she didn't have time to do more than overlook what Natalina could get before she had to run for the hospital.

The blond heaved a tired sigh, roughly rubbing that hand before taking it off his face. "Is he at least competent?"

"Näf? Hell no. He's a pasty." She corrected with all the tartness and exasperation due for that detail, taking a seat on the Lackey's couch too. "A slice of the porn industry is interested in a tax-less filming studio or three, preferably somewhere they don't have to pay their 'workers' a damn and don't have to deal with the 'stigma' of sex work by dumbass judgmental civilians."

"…that's not how Mafia Land works."

"That's not what they know. Hence, sending in a dipshit to both get that information and see what bites him clean through and why. Näf got in here by patrons and a shit-ton of bribe money, not merit or by knowing the right details." Money did make the world go round, and especially here. "His contracts aren't usually that shit, but this island wasn't going to let him offer 'his' initial one that was really some other fucker's dumb idea. It was a good three times more entrapment-laced and bullshit, whoever 'volunteered' for a 'good cause' would then be committed to getting fucked in front of a camera at least once a week for about… the rest of their lives."

Bjǫrn squinted at her in sheer suspicion. "If they were not island contracts, the contractual ladies would've murdered him for that. Initially. Out of sheer affront. We are all careful of our contracts, even the day-shift workers learn that quickly."

"Hence why the island tagged him with an internal agent and wouldn't let him offer that. What we saw was his shitty ass negotiation skills, he usually has lawyers draw those up for him. Mafia Land, obviously we're dumbass criminals with no clue and all the greed willing to sign on any dotted line for stupid money… or at least, that's what Näf's patrons seem to think."

The other woman suddenly lifted her head to glance at her questioningly. "How bad are his contracts?"

"I put three examples in there, all the information brokers I talked to had or could easily get for me."

Tatiana pouted heavily but skipped several pages to reach the extra information the Italian had supplied. Leaving a finger where she left off, but wanting that more than she wanted the background details.

The Lackey waited a beat, but when the nurse didn't ask anything else he turned back to her. "Did he know shit all about Dying Will Flame users?"

"Learned last week the moment before being sent on this deathtrap of a business trip, still has no damn clue how we 'hid it' for so long. He's a leak just waiting to happen, the moment he's not somewhere already informed."

Two or three years ago, Natalina wouldn't have cared. She couldn't use her own immortal soul to fight or manipulate shit with, so she assumed that was a Flame user concern rather than hers. The moment Sonya told Dante otherwise, the Mafioso scrambled to update her and Cesare in all haste and with all the information he could get his hands on.

Which Renato probably hadn't known when he briefed them in parts and pieces about his extra 'Sun' skills, when he got new information on it.

'Ignorance is no excuse' would've snapped her up had he not, with that mindset. Made her wonder how many non-Flame-able criminals got arrested under that clause by the Vindice, assuming the same as she had or not even knowing that was a need in the first place.

"…is it obvious he's being set up to die messily or being used as a canary in a coal mine?" Wondered the Sun Flame using nurse quietly, paging back through to where she had left off in the basic information for one Franzi Näf. "Because he is a sleaze bucket, a total one. That doesn't mean he can't be useful if we do this just right…"

The Lackey made a thoughtful hum from his desk chair. "I've dealt with worse men. He is a minnow in a shark pond though, Tatiana. Assuming a den of lawless criminals can't be worse than what he crawled out of and kept from making that realization from where he's restricted to. The island's internal bureaucracy is aware he's a dead man walking, but they still want all the money they can squeeze out of him first before he gets offed by offended Mafia women. And he has deep pockets to buy himself a handful more days to live, but not for much longer."

"A rude awakening will get him indebted to us, if we keep him alive. Don't have to be injury free, just alive." She returned thoughtfully, fanning through the papers one last time before handing them over to the Lightning-Storm to see for himself next. "If we do this other half during the photo shoot, we might just get our hands on one of his 'patrons' instead… more money, likely a bigger business to turn over to you in the end, and a much more satisfying target to murder for trying this bullshit to warn off the rest… and enough force with implicating him in a homicide to seal his damn trap shut."

"You really want to bet on that, Tatiana?"

"I'm going to be betting on you, your little hitman charity case, and his obviously petty greed." Corrected the busty redhead with a matter-of-fact tone. "He's going to need watching, of course. But the moment he realizes he was set up to die messily and without care? He'll want revenge… and who better to supply him with that on demand than the Mafia women using his assets for our own reasons?"

Her new Donna's elder sister then pinned Natalina with a sharp, pointed look.

"I want this done right. Find me the worse fucking 'patron' Näf has, whichever dirty fuck might be dabbling in human trafficking or inflicting drug addictions on their 'workers'. The greedier scumbag the better, Natalina. Then set him up to come by while we're shooting the pictures, whatever will draw him in the best. Let's give Bjǫrn's soon-to-be heavily indebted patsy a damn good reason to keep him very happy and rid him of a particularly nasty 'business associate' to ensure we're very clear what is or isn't 'acceptable' for us. And the price of defying us. Because this is 'distribution of Dying Will Flame information' between several regional groups, and the Vindice has Laws about how those are conducted…"

…holy shit. She hadn't even considered that.

"We need the eye coloring, which is the most easily spotted sign someone else has Flames if they didn't cotton on themselves." Tatiana finished with vicious satisfaction, pushing herself off the couch to likely go to work for her shift. "Which means Nya has to teach us how to trigger that at will. She'll be teaching several women from who knows what corners of the criminal underworld that little trick of hers, if they don't have their eyes matching their Flames naturally."

"She doesn't like dealing with them." Bjǫrn reminded his patron's sister in an even tone while the hitwoman had to take several seconds for herself, mainly to mentally connect the dots in information she only recently reviewed with a Mafia School Professor. "She will not be happy at this plan."

"I'll tell her. Besides, Usov deserves another crack at introductions. Since the last opportunity they gave him was a dud despite working that way in Moscow." Announced the nurse on her way out, giving the two of them a backwards wave in goodbye instead of saying anything to that effect.

The Lackey hummed thoughtfully when it was just them left. "Did you get the country I need to arrange a hostile takeover in, at least?"

"Näf's operating out of the northern part of France, on the border with Belgium and Luxembourg. I'll have to update that when I have a target that matches Tatiana's specifications." Natalina offered mildly, still uneasy at the suggestion of 'using' the Vindice's Laws like this.

Obviously, women that were in power would be less disinclined to rely on the shadowy Mafia Enforcers when their Laws crossed into their aims. Still… rather disturbing to hear it.

(ooo000ooo)

(Monday the 8th of May, 1972 continued. Bella Collina Bed & Breakfast, Amity, Oregon, United States of America.)

Sonya tapped her fingertips on her biceps. Reborn watched the clock. Fon silently sipped his tea. Lal watched the hitman closely, Verde ignored them for a copy of the local newspapers, Viper was who knows where, and Luce sat quietly on her end of the breakfast table.

They were all counting down the final few seconds before Lal's Tutor basically flipped her damn lid, predictably. Because this?

This was utter bullshit, and they were dragging this out.

At eight in the morning, on the dot, the Mafioso finally gave up. "Fine. We'll-"

"Oh no. No." Flatly interrupted the thief with venom, practically snarling her words out. "If you and Fon wish to do nothing fucking useful, stay here. By all means. He's just my brother, my second, and the other half of me. While we're chasing a mind controlling and deadly piece of rock, and you insisted he will be back by now. Viper, where the fuck is Skull?"

"Mou… interstate highway five, heading north." Reported the Mist only now sitting on her other side, tucking a piece of… tissue paper into their cloak.

"He left, on his own."

"And just why did my brother leave?" Sonya shot back exactly as sharply as the man did, turning burning red eyes on the two who had been left in charge of their security.

And frankly failed at that, since their last hotel burned down and they were now down a man too.

"No seriously Reborn, tell me why he left where it was safer for him to go elsewhere. He's not stupid, he's not unaware of our risks right now. Being shoved in this group without any intention of it outs him in a way he usually doesn't have to deal with on the road. So you and Fon pissed him off somehow, and he left instead of making a scene about it in public that would've drawn attention. What was it about that was so fucking important? Fon?"

Neither man wanted to answer her, and the Rain suspected they'd have to ask Skull when and where they found him.

Mildly disgusted with this whole farce, she shoved herself upright to go warm up the car to finally go after the stuntman. One of the two rented cars, because Skull didn't want to carjack someone if they didn't have an 'end' date. To minimize their risks, he brought enough money to afford that and hotel bills for a couple weeks if need be.

Only the Clouds and Mist were committed to doing what Checkerface wanted. So the siblings and Viper had taken on doing it and would leave the rest of them out of it if they wanted. Which yes, Lal was taking advantage of.

So too were Luce, Reborn, Fon, and Verde.

Frankly, with Skull paying for whatever need and Viper to find them what while Sonya got it… there wasn't a need for anyone else to 'help' a damn. That much was fucking fine, decent of them even. Being asked to just keep the area clear and safe wasn't a damn complicated request, was it?

"We can't 'stay' here, not…" The hitman shut up when the thief pinned him with another narrow look as she got up too.

"Obviously, Reborn. That's not quite true. Skull's not here." Sonya informed him sugary sweetly, with a nasty glare. "So yes. I would prefer you stay here. You and Fon have 'helped' enough, thank you."

The assassin just sighed as the woman sharply turned away from them to join Lal on her way out, tightening his grip on the waxed paper cup in his hands and remaining silent.

Verde, also still silently, folded up his paper to bring along with him as he too got up from his seat.

"Sonya… I am a very inadequate shot, but if you will have me I will assist." Luce offered quietly to their backs.

"No, thank you." Shot back the other Donna flatly without so much as pausing. "Stay here with them for all I care. We only just had to out what he did to your fucking Italians to conform to your damn sensibilities, and if that information stayed there I am a fucking duck. He knew it, I knew it, thanks for keeping that in mind… assholes."

Lal pressed her back to the front doors to open them and keep the thief from breaking more doors on her way, letting Sonya and Verde out while she also got the chance to see the reaction from that heatedly dismissive denial.

Viper was very likely already in the car, not having to walk from one point to another if they didn't want to.

"Get up." Reborn snarled at Fon, earning only a passive look in return. "I am not failing like this. She's getting help if she wants it or not. Skull told me tomorrow, and as he's not here yet I will find him. Since he told you that too, you're helping me."

"If you annoy her further…" Luce trailed off with a long sigh of her own at the look she was then treated to by hitman. "Very well, then. I guess I shall come too."

"She is past annoyed with us. What would make it worse is him actually being in trouble, instead of just wandering off like a moron, and us sitting on our fucking asses while he is."

Lal slipped out of there, confident she had the time to waste like that because first Sonya had to grab her dog and then she had to get someone else to open the car doors without risking their integrity.

"They're coming too, even still."

"Of course they are." Sonya countered flatly, and highly unamused. "If one of you will watch Alek for me, I can go myself and not need…"

She trailed off under Verde's pointedly exasperated stare.

"No." The man informed her bluntly, waiting patiently to be let into their rental by the rear passenger door. "Your brother is missing. I at least would prefer to assist your search than be as useless as them."

She pressed her lips together, bending to untangle Alek's leash from under a light pole she wedged it under to keep her dog in one spot. Somehow picking up on his mistress' mood, the canine kept his ears pinned back and moved swiftly to the car the moment he was unfettered. "…thank you."

"Hopefully you don't mean that quite as sarcastically as you said it to them." Lal quipped shortly as she rounded the car for the other side where the driver's seat was.

Americans, why did they put the driver on the wrong side of their cars?

(Tuesday the 9th of May, 1972. Seattle Underground, Seattle, Washington, United States of America.)

"-so, you know, if you'd like to get up at any time-"

"Skull, shut up."

"Oh good, you're alive."

Reborn slitted his eyes open, head already pounding which told him quite enough to already be instantly pissed off. He'd been drugged, and he had no memory on how or why. He sure as fuck didn't eat anything in what he could account for, though he did stop for a drink of water. A sealed water bottle had seemed safe enough at the time…

"Who else?"

"Don't know, man. All I can see is you from right here, and barely at that." The stuntman wiggled very conservatively and slowly, his thick boots swinging freely over an industrial sized vat of who knew what and both hands clamped on the already frayed piece of shit rope holding him in the air. The only thing holding him up, his own grip. "And, if I let go or get too… active, pretty sure I'm falling into acid. Think it's acid. Maybe it won't kill me… be really fucking uncomfortable, but I was hoping you'd wake up sometime soon and prevent that being a need."

…and the hitman was naked. That was… mildly annoying.

Arms chained over his head, too. Which had put a strain on both shoulders, holding him sitting upright against a wall despite being slumped over while unconscious.

"It's acidic, there's a warning on the side of the vat making it clear it's highly caustic. Or it's water poured in an acid vat, spit and see if it pops." He informed the hanging man stuck staring at a mostly featureless brick wall absently, glancing around to see what there might be to work with. "I can see Fon and… one woman."

Not the hair, which was really the only identifying piece Reborn could use to tell the Italian women apart from an angle that meant he was looking straight up their legs. Whichever woman it was shaved, and anything further than that was not something he wanted to look at since she wasn't awake to tell him to go fuck himself if she wanted.

The elder Cloud sibling did so as ordered… and it popped under his boots several times with an evil sizzle at the end. "I mean… I could risk swinging myself over it. Maybe. It's not that big. I might be getting high off the fumes and it is that big, though."

"Skull, stay there until we've got an accounting or at least half a fucking plan." Chained to a wall and buck naked. Great. "How did they get you?"

"Uh, gun aimed at the face still works on me. For one, ow. For another… memory loss isn't something I want to gamble on, even if a headshot can't kill me." Skull admitted to blandly and without a drop of shame. "I escaped on them a few times, they got pissed a few times and caught me because this place is a maze. Then they put me here and I have no idea how long it's been. Think we're underground. Not that far underground, there's these weird skylights here or there. Basement level, maybe."

"…right." He still didn't quite have feeling in his fingertips yet but Reborn pressed his head back just far enough to catch sight of something green, chained up, and also out cold down the wall to his far right. "Verde's here."

"…huh. Figured I'd hear him at least."

"Out cold, and they taped his mouth shut. Can't see anything else where I am chained up."

Skull snorted so hard he started swinging slightly. "The number of times I've contemplated that…"

"They know about our other abilities, but presumably not all of it. Right dosages for Fon, Verde, and whichever of the ladies that is… but not me." Half likely due to the fact Reborn didn't know how strong of a Sun he was, just that he was the Strongest Sun of Italia as judged by Italian Skies. It seemed to hold true outside of his homeland, and that Ancient Asshole also seemed to think so too.

He didn't heal, which was the method most Suns measured themselves… by the number of patients and severity of injuries they could see about in a day. Meaning no one else could judge how strong he was either.

Which since no one but Fon and Viper were infamous for being the strongest of their type in the world, yet, meant the others might wake up soon too. Maybe.

"Sixty percent certain whatever they got you with was aerosolized. They had the equipment for it in the van they tossed my ass into. Or they robbed a hospital to have it. Again, maybe. Don't honestly know the background details besides that they have that."

"…that'd explain some shit." Including why he, and everyone else but Skull, was naked. Keeping the residual gas from interfering with whatever dosages of tranquilizer or whatever keeping the others under.

Meant it was very likely Leon was in some distress too, unless she somehow figured out the same thing the stuntman was guessing at and shapeshifted into something nonporous. Reborn was particularly sour about that question right now. Hopefully she was fine and with his suit and hat, wherever it all was.

Sonya, Viper, and at least one Italian woman were still unaccounted for. Presumably, he still couldn't see the entire cramped space they were stuck in very well in dim lighting by one single hanging light bulb. A naked Fon was not a pretty sight he wanted to look at, either.

If the airheaded assassin would wake up, this would be a fairly simple process. Storms could melt through anything without heating up everything to dangerous levels, unlike most other Flames. There would still be residual heat, but not white-hot metal heat. Reborn would probably set this whole dusty crypt on fire if he tried melting out of his restraints, because whatever these chains were made of it wasn't iron.

Even worse, this was an old dusty room. Dry wood, wood rot, decades if not a century or two of dust, and who knows what else that could catch a spark entirely too easily.

"So, if you could not fucking wander off when we may be being targeted… that would be nice."

"Man… if you could not bitch and bicker with Fon about which one of you is less disreputable or dangerous for my baby sister, that'd also be nice." Skull shot back instantly and with sarcasm thick enough to cut in his tone. "Especially not when I have to be there. Save it for later. Or you know… don't do that. Because you both are disreputable assholes with almost zero redeeming qualities."

"…shut up."

"Reborn-"

"No, I mean it. I'm on the floor, I can feel vibrations building up. Someone's coming."

"Shutting up."

He played dead too, hanging his head forward and pulling on his already sore shoulders.

It was Sonya they dragged in next, by two women who had no interest in hanging around all that long or even checking on anyone else they had in here. They chained her to Lal and Fon, ensuring the Rain and Storm-Cloud were wrapped in the Storm's arms and therefore making it even harder for him to do anything without killing one of them. The thief's chains were also wrapped around both their necks, meaning if she even tugged a little 'hard' for her… they probably were both dead meat.

Unfortunately, she wasn't naked. Mildly disappointing. Also meant… very little good. Either they didn't care anymore, or she got hit with something less in the air and more ingested or injected. Then couldn't burn it right on out of herself… or didn't know to.

Skull somehow magically kept his damn trap shut long enough for Reborn to judge they were probably unobserved. If they hadn't known he was awake… or they didn't care about that either. "Your sister."

"…fuck."

"And it's Lal who's already here."

"…double fuck. No offense, Lal's more useful."

"None taken." Drawled the hitman tiredly, privately agreeing only because Luce had mere months to switch from working behind a desk to field work and had rather a lot to catch up on. "What the hell do you mean, 'zero' redeeming qualities? I am by far not the worst piece of shit in existence, thank you very much."

"Still a pacifist, Reborn. I'm okay that you kill people professionally, and probably on whims. And possibly when they just annoy you by breathing." The underboss of a fucking famiglia informed him sharply. "Doesn't mean I think it's right you do what you do, even if I understand it's a need to cull the 'worst piece of shit in existence' out when they do irreparable damage. I'm very not alright with murder, so sorry. No, I don't like you all that much."

"…so a little bit."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for petty little shits with aims that benefit me. Still like Fon better than you, for what that's worth. Even if I am kind of annoyed with him still."

Yeah, well… he probably found the fucking assassin even more annoying than Skull did right now. Because of course the siblings were fonder of that fucking brainless interloper than him. "Odds that your friend will-"

"Nope."

The hitman cursed softly and hit his head back against whatever concrete or plastered stone wall was behind him, even more annoyed. "You sound confident in that."

"Drugs and Vipes' type… don't often mix well. Especially not mind-altering, but tranquilizers also throw them for one hell of a loop. Being sick also tends to… not agree with them either. If Vipes got hit by whatever got you and everyone else? Yeah, no. They're out cold somewhere else, not sure where else, but somewhere else. For who knows how long."

That was less than ideal, but then the man continued.

"…where's Alek?"

A more than decent question. If Sonya or her brother couldn't provide them the ultimate muscle right now, her dog could.

And if they were being eavesdropped upon, they would assume one more male human needed to be accounted for rather than a stupidly overpowered canine with stealth skills and a perchance for biting through doors. If Alek somehow didn't get caught by whatever drug or chemical had been pumped into the air to get them, and with a canine's nose… that might just be the case.

…though the fact his mistress was here without him rather reduced that likelihood.

"Not here." Reborn offered flatly, and thankfully got nothing clarifying that little detail out of the still hanging stuntman. "What do you have?"

"Is that safe?"

"No one's coming to drug me back into unconsciousness yet."

Skull thought about it first, meaning he had something. "Lockpicks. I told them I just was a very good escape artist, not that I had them…"

That would fucking work. "Can you reach them?"

He clunked his heavy boots together pointedly. "Nope."

"Kick it."

"…blind? I'm not the hawkeyed one with perfect aim using throwing weapons in the family, Reborn. Odds are, I'll either kick them too far or nail you square in the face with it."

"Square in the face will be perfect… this once."

"And of course I can't see it." Skull instantly whined, which neatly covered the noise of him clicking off the heavy buckles that kept his boots firmly on his feet. His left boot. The zipper was pulled down by a heel, without the man needing to look down to do it.

Unseating his boot with his right toe, the stuntman paused with it half hanging off his foot.

"Last minute adjustments?"

"…bit more to your right." Reborn ordered tonelessly, resigned to maybe a broken nose or some equally if minorly painful result of letting Skull basically kick him in the face to hand off his lockpicks. If he was unlucky, anyway. "So twist, then when I say now…"

That ancient piece of shit rope did not like the twist of the hips that set the stuntman swinging, creaking ominously at the slight movement. First in the wrong direction, then it less energetically swung the man in the right one.

"…now." The boot impacted the wall too far left, but the hitman managed to swing his chains just far enough to knock it midair within his… reach. More or less. "Where?"

"Outside, kind of back behind where that jutty bone sits on the ankle. There's two hook catches that keep a flap of fabric up, it's under there."

Now Reborn just had to get out Skull's lockpicks and pick his locks using his toes. Great. "Give me a minute, this is going to be awkward."

Skull made a slightly thoughtful, semi-sarcastic noise. "I'll just keep hanging in here, man. No rush."

"Hilarious."

"I thought so."

"…what, the… fuck?"

"Hey, Lal! Good morning, sleepyhead!"

"Oh good, you're still alive." Grumbled the groggy Rain woman, highly displeased at her state but almost equally as immediately distracted by Fon's.

"You know," admitted the older Cloud sibling very wryly to the section of the wall that was all he could see right now, "I said the exact same thing to Reborn too."

Alarmingly, the woman ignored him to lay her head on the assassin's chest again. As if trying to listen to his heart, despite the chains wrapped around her neck and wrists not allowing her to get that far down his chest. "…anyone know what Fon's resting heartbeat should be?"

"…that bad?" Skull asked, markedly more serious than before.

"Damn near nonexistent right now. His heart is still beating, but it's… it's really slow."

Reborn froze, the lockpicks only half in and half out of their hiding place.

…Fon was known as the most powerful Storm in China. Able to change weather patterns if he wanted to pull out all the stops. They drugged him into a coma instead of risking him burning right through whatever would keep him docile and out of the way.

He was partially offended. Stupidly.

They took that much care about the Storm, but not him. The strongest Sun in the world with an Activated metabolism.

He was very fucking offended, actually.

…unless they had given him an equal dose, and he had been more efficient in burning it out already.

That thought made him feel better, so that was what Reborn was going to go with. "Medically induced coma, more than likely. It won't keep him down for long if they don't dose him again, but it will for now."

"Great." Lal then got to exploring her restraints and how they hooked around Fon's and Sonya's. "This is… not great."

Verde pointedly slammed something into something else, likely his feet against the floorboards given that vibration.

Reborn craned his head that way, because thief-trained man who wouldn't be creeped out by the germs and foot sweat Skull's lockpicks were likely covered in. To go with who knew what else brewing in the dusty grit layering everything and the floor. "Verde, if I kick this at you… can you catch it? One for no, two for yes."

"…uh, sorry man. My bad." Offered the elder Cloud sibling sheepishly, very obviously assuming his attempt to give the hitman his lockpicks had failed somehow.

Technically yes. Partially. Reborn could reach them, that was good enough.

The Lightning hit the floor twice.

"What's going on?"

"Reborn's got my lockpicks, Lal. But apparently he can't get a grip on them or something. So he's kicking them to Verde to use."

It strained his shoulders even worse to accurately judge the distance and force needed to cover the distance, but the hitman had a much better aim than the stuntman could hope to have from his position. The Frenchman flinched when the Mafioso kicked, but still managed to fumble the lockpicks out of his bushy hair before they slid off him and out of his reach.

"…right, while that's going on… Skull? What does it mean when your sister's eyes are purple the moment she wakes up?"

"…shit." Offered the stuntman with an alarming amount of dread. "Is she tracking movement?"

Lal bobbed herself up and down to see about it, kind of impressive core muscle control when her arms were chained to Fon's left and she had use of basically nothing to help her do it that fast. "Nope."

"She's not awake." Skull reported in that same tone. "Get a hold on her, and whatever you do… don't let go or we'll never find her again until she's better. She's either having a bad reaction, a bad trip, or whatever. She's unconsciously aware, and she will bolt on us if no one's holding her."

"Fuck." Allowed the Rain very quietly, apparently already aware that with the way they were chained up that would instantly kill both her and Fon. "Okay. Fon has that covered, we're chained together with his arms around us both. So…"

"…actually, you might be able to tempt her into breaking you guys out. Nya's shamelessly cuddly when she's not feeling well… and if she deliriously reasons you can't cuddle her because of it…?"

The Storm jerked awake in an instant, pointedly and hastily gripping both women in his arms so Lal couldn't move any further to try to put that information to use. "…um…"

"Oh good, you're alive. I was a little worried there, Fon. Your heartbeat is slow as shit."

"…I am a very… active, physically active. I have a very strong heart."

"A runner's heart." Reborn helpfully clarified for the man who didn't have a widespread grasp of Italian vocabulary for all occasions yet, flatly and reluctantly. "You have a runner's low resting baseline BPM, because of all the cardio you do. Well, that's better than what I suspected."

"…why are we naked?" Asked the assassin in a pained, uncomfortable tone and a rattle of chains on chains. Caused as he experimented with how much room to maneuver he had, pinned in place as he was.

"What?" Skull demanded heatedly. Almost kicking a sock clad foot to turn himself around, but he glanced up at the very last second and slowly lowered his leg again.

"I am." Lal allowed for tonelessly. "Your sister isn't. And Fon. Apparently, you can't let go of Sonya or she'll run. According to Skull."

The man in question made a wheezy, strangled noise at his bit of brick wall. "Why are you all naked?"

"If they aerosolized the drug they used to knock us out, likely our clothing is soaked in the same shit. If they wanted to control the dosages of whatever else they gave us, to keep us out of it for a certain amount of time, leaving us in those would have interfered. Odds are, they hit Sonya with something else and that's why she still has hers."

Verde's chains rattled as the man freed himself, and he instantly ripped off the duct tape plastered across his mouth in the next second with his new freedom. Then hunched forward, likely as all the blood rushed back into his arms and hands. "…merde."

"Can you drain the acid vat?" Reborn asked of him with no pity, because while his shoulders hurt too… Skull had been hanging there for who knows how long with a frayed piece of shit rope between him and a nasty experience that would kill anyone else.

That he had been contemplating risking for who knows how long. Before his Sun's metabolism woke the Mafioso up from his drug induced stupor to stop the semi-suicidal moron hanging there.

"Acid?" Lal repeated heatedly and with alarm. "What the fuck?"

"Skull's hanging over a vat of acid."

Unfortunately, the Frenchman was without a stitch too. Slightly more annoyingly, also his glasses. He obligingly went to see about Skull's predicament first, uncaring who could see his boney and now dusty ass at the same time.

"…there is a spigot, but nowhere to drain it to. If I do so, the acid will spread over the… floor."

Skull sighed heavily. "Right. Suppose I'm on my own."

"Don't you fucking-" Reborn bit off the rest of it when the stuntman ignored him, violently swinging his legs back and forth even if that was badly straining his rope. "SKULL!"

Predictably, that frayed piece of crap finally snapped from the additional stress.

Slamming both feet into the wall he damn near faceplanted into due to the suddenly unfettered forward momentum, the elder Cloud sibling instantly kicked off it hard enough to backflip and damn near bury himself in the back far wall instead. He hit hard enough it was damn obvious there were a couple snapped ribs still, if nothing else.

Then he hit the floor.

"…ow."

Verde blinked blearily in that direction, then blinked more rapidly as he padded back to where he woke up. Hopefully to get the damn picks and release the rest of them next.

"Miss Mirch, cease. Please." Fon asked plaintively as they all basically waited for something to happen.

"So, come here often?" Drawled the woman with no mercy or care, still trying to see Skull's body now it was almost in her sightline.

"I will set you on fire." Countered the assassin with a long exhale and his gaze fixed on the ceiling overhead. Pointedly too, as he tightened his grip further to pin her in place. "This is highly uncomfortable."

"You think you are uncomfortable… you are not pretty, Fon." Reborn snipped with heat. "And I do apologize, Miss Mirch… but I am directly below you three."

"Enjoy the view. And thanks for being upfront about it."

"It is a lovely view, if only Fon wasn't there too. Better than Verde, at least."

"Then cease looking." Verde invited sarcastically, putting Skull's lockpicks to Reborn's shackles now.

Apparently they were all made for the same key, for he already had the right configuration of picks held firmly to open them with a single twist of his boney wrist. The same moment the hitman's left shackle was opened and he was finally free, Skull raggedly started pushing himself upright.

Semi-distracting from the scientist's nightmare mishmash of a running internal monologue on several details going Lightning fast, but that was moving off now and entirely not enough to distract him from the undead Cloud's state.

With several disquieting clicks and cracks of muffled bone breakage as he straightened out, that put his teeth on edge but focused him a little better.

Then Skull stood up and opened his eyes.

"…holy shit, you all are naked!" Yelped the stuntman after a bewildered second when he finally got a look around, hastily ripping off his tee shirt and planting his other hand over his face as he blindly held out the cloth. "Uh, Lal? Shirt?"

"That would be nice, yes. Three steps forward, one to your right, one forward, then lower your arm a little… there. Thanks Skull. No point until Verde's done getting us free, but really. Thanks."

"Yeah. No problem. Happy to help." Squeaked the man sheepishly and with audible embarrassment, still firmly holding a hand over his eyes. "Sorry…"

Reborn immolated all the dust and grime off his ass, and anywhere else it got, the moment he stood up. Planting his left hand on his right shoulder, he used a quick pulse of Activation to ease the soreness there then switched shoulders to ensure hanging like that wouldn't do him any permanent harm to the nerves he obviously pinched.

Interestingly… there were vibrations under his feet again.

A lot of vibrations.

Likely, whatever monitoring they were under didn't have sound but sight. Or the stuntman slamming himself into walls did it.

"Skull, go hold the door shut until Fon's freed. We're about to have company." Invited the Mafioso quietly, steeling himself only a split second before heading over to Verde to deal with that man's shoulder issues before they developed into something long-term and nasty.

Once the Cloud blindly passed him to go do that, because that was a nice excuse to put it off another second.

Thankfully, Flame users didn't need more than a pulse of Sun Flames to solve their damn issues. Verde was a twitchy little shit under the heels of Reborn's hands, but held obligingly still when Lal pointedly and with interest raised an eyebrow at him when he nearly jerked away.

Then the hitman got the fuck out of that range, because that would give him a migraine in only a few more seconds. Fon still thought in his native dialect of Chinese dotted with Mandarin, Lal thought in Italian laced with more French than Arabic, and Verde… the Lightning's mind was an unholy amalgamation of multiple languages.

The damn Frenchman was worse than five separate people mashed together. Worse than five doctors, or more to the point scientists, mashed together.

He wanted his damn hat back, they could keep the rest of it if they really wanted. He had shit all to be ashamed of or shy about. Sonya would work too, her mind was damn near comforting it was so familiar… but she kind of rightfully hated him at this moment for losing her brother on her in a questionable situation…

Now this shit?

He'd be lucky if he wasn't paying for this bullshit for months. Even more lucky if she didn't just flatly refuse to have anything to do with him ever again.

"Reborn? Can you throw me my boot? Since you're… uh, over there?"

Skull winced, fumbling his boot a few times when it bounced off the door he was holding closed after he pitched it violently at his head. "Thanks?"

"Next time, Skull. Say something. Don't just fucking walk off."

"Excuse you, I did say things. Multiple times. If you're not going to listen, I'm not going to be the one to make you." Leaning back to keep the entire flimsy slab of old wood in place, the stuntman pulled his boot back on. "…shouldn't have gone that far, but I was pretty pissed off and Clouds tend to range… far. Admittedly. Also, I'm pretty sure I told you I didn't want to hear that kind of shit."

"Dirty jokes and insinuation, yes. I do remember." Snarled the Mafioso heatedly. "When I have someone accusing me of being a threat, slight difference."

The man regarded him quietly and pointedly. "You, Reborn, was the one to bring up that topic. When you were fully aware I was there too. Surprise, no. I do not appreciate hearing that shit about my baby sister's love life. I will leave instead, outside our territory. Shocking, right?"

"…that's what this is all about?" Lal inquired flatly, paused right before hauling on the stuntman's shirt to give both Fon and Reborn an equally flat look each.

"In our defense," the assassin offered first, still uncomfortable with the woman remaining on top of him going by his tone, "that was immediately after our hotel was set on fire with us both within it. I will admit my suspicions got out of hand, so provoked. Which was demonstratively unfounded by the next morning's reports on the cause being a fault in the wiring, yes."

The Rain and Lightning glanced between them both once, then looked at each other.

"Not… specifically unfounded. I suppose…" Verde decided uncomfortably, bending to deal with the thief's entangled chains next. "Given your career choices."

"Jesus fucking Christ, learn some patience." Muttered Lal sarcastically, finally pulling on the offered shirt to somewhat cover herself and finally get off Fon. "Remember, don't let Sonya go."

"…get us the fuck out of here," Skull offered after a moment, "and maybe find your shit, and I'll own up to Nya that this was all due to my own dumb decision to go drinking instead of staying with you two. I'll leave her being the topic out of it, I'll just say you two were accusing each other of setting the hotel on fire. Because you were. You both also tried to stop me, and I'll tell her that too if you grab that damn stupid rock."

Reborn's spine straightened with unease, almost against his will. "It's here?"

"It only had enough juice to mindfuck one person and rendered him into a vegetable, he wasn't a Flame user. Holding it also seems to work, though. And it's been here long enough several people have held it too long. So I can't say if it has burned out, or even if it can." The stuntman shrugged uncomfortably with a miserable expression, still physically barring the entrance with his bare back despite whatever was hammering against it now. "This is… this was, a geologists' training trip for surveying. For college students. They… they found a weird rock and brought it back with them… and it spread from there."

"…I'll deal with it."

"They're not Mafia, Reborn. At least at first. They're students, one teacher, six homeless people who got caught up, and three crooks with half an idea with one actually smart one that knows just enough to put the pieces together that leads them. The college professor got… uh, vegetable-ized. It's the single deep Mafia insider trying to set this shitshow up here and twigged on to us hunting it, he's a Lightning. I'm not sure from where they're from, but-"

"Skull. I will deal with it. You don't have to lie to your sister, but I do appreciate the offer." It damn near killed him to decline it, but those little lies tended to build up and spill out at even worse times for arguments or fights. Reborn would just deal with the immediate results of his decisions when they happened, healthier for everyone that way. "Are you ready yet, Fon?"

"One more moment." Carefully twisting himself around while also sitting up finally when his chains were removed, the Chinese man sat Sonya's drugged, dazed, and confused form down to gently lean into Lal's arms first. "Now I am."

"Once it's clear," the Sun informed, rather more ordered, the de Mort underboss pointedly, "take them and get out of here. Wherever here is, whatever you have to do to get out. Since they put drugs in the air, both Fon and I have to set it on fire to keep it off us while rooting this shit out. If anything catches… brick and concrete it might mostly be, but this all is so old it will burn and it'll go fast."

"They're all fanatics." Skull sighed out tiredly. "Most of them seem reasonable at first… but I've talked to practically all of them that can sound like that for a bit each until that runs out and they got… they're not going to back off or stop, I tried."

"How many times did you get punched in the face trying it?"

"Dude, I lost count around fifteen or so. Some of them don't… stop at once."

"If I may." Verde suddenly spoke up with a puzzled frown as he reassembled the stuntman's lockpick kit to hand back now there wasn't any more need of them. "I… believe, my objective was destroying their stock of stolen medical grade and highly compressed aerosol anesthesia, once Lal succumbed to it on us unexpectedly and Sonya sought to hide her in the tunnels we already searched. We found that stockpile on the way due to an unexpectedly needed detour. Which I completed before being surprised by their already issued canisters… leaving them with a limited supply to utilize. If anything 'catches', you are likely very close."

"…yeah, how did I get here?" Lal asked him in confusion, earning only a shrug.

"Sonya theorized they had set up security cameras before we split up to handle our respective aims. In a randomized and non-standard pattern she could not always safely search for down here. Likely dictated by the reach of electrical plugs from the buildings above, rather than logic. This place has been condemned for nearly a century, according to her information."

"Where are we?" Fon asked next as he finally hauled his naked ass over to Reborn to… 'clear' the way out of this little dark box. "I do not recall descending into any 'underground'."

"This is the former Seattle ground level, until they rebuilt the city an entire floor up. Some of the 'streets' were filled in with intentionally triggered mudslides directed by concrete 'sluices', some were left open as this room seems to be part of, and all of it is… not quite as abandoned as many would otherwise claim."

"She also said there's drug dens, gambling halls, flophouses, and who knows what else down here with us. It's what took us so long to cover even a tiny bit of this pit." Lal continued for their benefit with more immediately useful information, shifting to pick up the still lavender eyed thief in a few moments. "Take one wrong turn, you might end up in the middle of a knife fight between two shmucks and the now murderously annoyed betting ring around them."

"…lovely." Deadpanned the hitman, turning to the only conscious Cloud sibling. "Move. And maybe don't watch, Skull."

"Way ahead of you there, man."

(ooo000ooo)

(Tuesday the 9th of May, 1972 continued. Seattle Underground, Seattle, Washington, United States of America.)

Checking the cracking patterns on the few still plastered facades to ensure she was in the right part of this maze, Luce paused to ensure she had a double-handed grip on Alek's leash before poking her head out around the corner.

Admittedly a foolish move, had she not already known who she would find down this 'alley'. "Guys!"

Luckily for… well her whole arms, the canine was not inclined to do more for her than very reluctantly follow as far back as the leash went. Meaning he didn't realize Sonya was curled up in Skull's arms until the shirtless stuntman jogged down the narrow passageway his group only just arrived at to rejoin the Sky. "Luce! Was wondering where you ended up. And Alek! Good boy."

She couldn't help the weak, strained laugh as the impossibly strong canine surged forward to meet the only other person in existence that could physically control him. Without ripping her shoulder out of its socket or dragging her down half a 'street', thankfully. "Very, very lost. Thankfully, though… I found a dog."

"How come you didn't get nabbed with Reborn and Fon?"

"I went to the restroom." Admitted the Sky to the half-dressed Lal's semi-suspicious question. "Postpartum ah… issues. I came back to them just in time to witness them being grabbed, so I at least had something to follow. But this place is… claustrophobic and very confusing."

"If you do not mind answering, are you recovering well?" Verde inquired, very firmly remaining outside Luce's sight and behind the Rain.

"Recovering? From what?"

"…Miss Mirch, I expelled a baby. Out of my crotch. Things stretched and broke where they don't normally stretch and break. Which doesn't instantly heal either, as what was there isn't anymore and I'm readjusting for it." Luce could only vaguely gesture at her flattening belly awkwardly, shooting Skull an apologetic look for his instantly and sympathetically pained face for the topic. "I'm still healing, Verde. It's still a little… messy, as things drain."

"Do you want to sit down? Lal can carry Nya for a bit, she doesn't seem to mind her or Verde carrying her around."

"Walking is good for me." She refuted gently, with a small thankful smile for the man. "Not… this much walking, but some exercise. I will say if I get… pained."

Which wouldn't happen, they were seconds from being done here.

He tried to waggle his finger at her the best he could around his dazed sister's back. "As long as you do. Now… uh, don't suppose you know how to get out of here?"

"Not a clue. I have marks on the walls leading to where I got in, but I got a little… lost, chasing down Alek for Sonya."

"Right, thanks for that." Looking at the dog next, the stuntman studied the fixed attention being aimed at the woman in his arms. "Don't suppose she taught you how to extract yourself from a maze, did she?"

Alek wagged his tail on the cold dusty concrete floors for the words addressed to him, but otherwise sat there silently.

"No? Well… okay-"

As before, they were suddenly displaced from one cramped dark space to where Reborn and Fon had ended up. Without Viper this time and she wasn't in horrifically agonizing pain, the only real differences of worth.

"…this is significantly more skin than I wanted to ever see of any of you." Checkerface informed the whole group pointedly and with audible disappointment, hands planted on his hips and a disapproving expression on the half of his face they could see under his metal mask. "Please put some clothes on before I dress you."

"And what if I say no?" Reborn just had to immediately drawled out sarcastically, running a few fingers through his unruly hair.

The single tiny squeak immediately distracted the hitman, he turned instantly to catch Leon throwing herself at him in relieved lizard-shapeshifter glee. His hat yet again in scaled jaws, which he instantly put on.

Likely to free his hands up again.

"Uh, dude? Before you do that… where's Vipes?"

It didn't really distract the Ancient Mist, but he did obligingly make a show of nothing being up either sleeve before reaching out with one improbably long arm to touch a fingertip to one of the rings in Skull's ears. Then drew Viper out of the reflection on it, utterly unconscious and non-responsive still. "Of all possessions a friendship is most precious… yes?"

The stuntman wasn't even surprised. He just smirked fondly and shifted his sister to sit half-propped up in one arm to hold out the other to take charge of his friend too. "Thanks!"

"This should not have been so difficult for you all." Checkerface chastised them pointedly, snapping his fingers and causing several piles of belongings to pop into existence in front of those missing them. "But… well, you survived. I suppose that's good enough."

"If I may," Verde interjected hastily and before Reborn could open his mouth again, uncomfortably holding his lab coat closed with one hand and the rest of his clothing in the other defensively before his groin, "with what was Sonya dosed with?"

"…chloroform." He revealed after a thoughtful moment, turning away to deal with the sickly greenish-yellow chunk of rock left in the hands of a corpse. "She stashed Miss Rain down a blind corridor, ordered her dog to evade, and bolted to draw attention off you so you could completely destroy their stockpile of chemicals. Down here, though… she could not go fast enough to evade everything without further compromising walls or possibly whole sections and killing you and the others. They drenched an entire hallway with it to get her. Her speed kept her from getting a lethal dose, but she was breathing it in on her way through."

"Drug ring?" Fon inquired of the Lightning with mild curiosity, improbably fast in redressing himself so he was fastening his long bright red tunic-length shirt closed by the time Luce looked at him.

"Kidnapping and human trafficking, again." Lal corrected while buttoning up her cargo pants to stay on until she had the opportunity to fully get dressed again. "No one misses the homeless or the desperate, after all."

"That thing might be busted." Skull offered to Checkerface's back, not that he cared all that much but just to 'do his part' in helping the Ancient One's aims. "It didn't do anything to me."

"Possibly. Not quite. Maybe. I would not suggest you try to touch the next one, Mister Cloud part One. That will not always work."

The elder Cloud sibling winced when several of them shot him a disbelieving or highly exasperated looks. "Not intentionally!"