An Unexpected Offer

[Alisa Donnikova]

Venezia. A city of romance and the arts. Pfft, arts my tight ass. Alisa Donnikova, survivor and gun for hire, found herself in this beautiful city surrounded by the people who walked by without a care in the world. God they were making her sick. So what in the world brought her here to this northern tip of the world? Surprisingly enough, it wasn't because of her usual work. It was actually because someone had somehow found one of her works (she felt like one of her old "friends" had a hand in this), and actually wanted to buy it. Actually, buy everything that she had painted and left in that.... fuck which safe house had it been? Creta? Amestris? It probably was Amestris since that was such a shithole right now and frankly it didn't seem like it would be getting any better. They had another war happening or some shit, like she gave a flying fuck. Wasn't her problem and like hell would she get near that that... GRRRR.... Her hands tightened about her fingerless gloves, gritting her teeth against the name that flickered to the forefront of her mind. No, she was done thinking about that shmuck. He didn't rule her life anymore and she could actually say that with some pride.

Hah, pride.... Who the hell cared about that anymore? Pride got you stupid and stupid got you killed. Just like this city. How many bodies had ended up in the canals? She wasn't oblivious to it, this city still smelled like gutters caked with blood and feathers from impromptu mufflers scattered on the air. The mob was definitely here. So she would lay low, hopefully not attract any attention from any unwanted parties though she knew better than to hope for that. She always ended up finding trouble. She received a few stares on the street as she walked along, sporting her usual attire of torn jean shorts that many believed were too short for public, a black tank top, her fingerless gloves with their transmutation circles imprinted in the palm, and green combat boots that were rarely tied. Her tattoo seemed to stand out more against the prettyness of this city, but who cared? It was another form of art and anyone who disagreed could fuck off. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail though a couple of strands remained hanging in front of her ears on either side of her face. Her Cutlasses were holstered underneath her arms like always, her aura practically daring anyone questioning how open she was about her weapons.

Go ahead. Make her fucking day.

People were singing in one of the gondola's below her on the bridge that she crossed, carefully winding her way through the city while trying to ignore how odd the new language sounded in her ears. She had decided to actually learn a couple of new languages while inbetween jobs and so far they were serving her rather well. She could now actually understand what the fuck Aerugese people were trying to say to her without the use of a goddamn translator. God had that been just fucking peachy. Least she still got paid for that last job. What a waste. And they were disbanded now anyways! Well good riddance. She certainly wasn't going to miss them that much. A couple of guys were approaching her, chatting the day away as if nothing was wrong, bumping into her when they passed by. Fucking mistake buddy. A hand came down on the unexpecting mans shoulder and wrenched him backwards to meet the fist that hit him square across the jaw. His buddy was too startled to react properly and so received a knee in his solar plexus. The first started to roar at the pain and surprise as blood dripped down his busted lip, about to throw a fist back when his face met the barrel of a gun. Oops. "My wallet. Now dipshit." She spoke in a low tone, clearly not in a mood to fuck around.

They looked at each other and threw the wallet down before scrambling away, causing her to click her tongue in annoyance. "Fucking amateurs." She muttered under her breath as she holstered her gun, swiping up her wallet to replace it in her pocket. Did these kids have nothing better to do? God they were laughable. So with a fresh sigh, she continued on her way until she finally reached the gallery of some guy whose name she had already forgotten. Shit, was she supposed to look nice for this? Oh who gave a fuck, if they didn't want to deal with an artist in their relaxed clothes, then they were prissy assholes who could suck a whores cock. There were certainly enough around for them to do that. The place was in one of those old Renaissance buildings, but you could tell it had been renovated to befit whatever was inside of it. With a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and let her anger dissipate into the air, knowing she had to be civil for now. And just like that, she was in a much better mood.

The doors barely made a sound when she entered, but it was like they had someone stationed to wait for her the minute she stepped inside. A woman with a smile came up to her and extended her hand, cat shaped glasses perched upon her nose. "Hello! You must be Ms. Donnikova, correct? We've been expecting you. My name is Sofonisba Medici." Well that was... odd. "Yeah thats me. I uh.. Sorry if I've kept you waiting. A pleasure to meet you." Civil. Normal. She could do that. The woman was clearly unperterbed by anything about her. That was almost scary. She gestured for her to follow so she did, wandering deeper into the gallery until they reached the offices. Once they entered, the door was shut, Sofonisba gesturing for her to sit. Why were office chairs so comfy? "Now, down to business. We were quite pleased at what your friend Mr. Jetter showed us of yours works. Is there anything else of yours that you would like to show us before we discuss a price? I promise they will be well taken care of here, and they will have their own room!"

God this was so fucking strange. She briefly thought of the large painting still resting against the wall in her Aerugo safe house, but her lips tightened at the thought. That wasn't going anywhere. "None that are in a nearby location. I could show you some of them at a later date with more warning." Ok that took care of that, were her works really that good? "I am surprised to hear that they will. I had no idea that someone would take such an interest in them." Oh god this civil her was scaring her. But Sofonisba just chuckled and clasped her hands together, leaning more on her desk. "There is a freshness to your work that we have not seen in a long time! Our people were positively in awe when we saw them. I'm surprised that no one has offered you something sooner!" Well thats because I kill people for a fucking living. She managed a smile and shrugged lightly, "Well thank you. So they will have their own exhibit?"

"Absolutely. Now what would you like for the whole lot? I believe we found..." Here Sofonisba paused to quickly check something on her computer, scrolling down with the mouse. Alisa couldn't even remember how many had been in that safe house. Not that many. "Ah! Yes, we found thirteen works. How does this sound?" Now she was scribbling something down on a pad of paper, ripping it off before sliding it towards the rugged woman sitting in front of her. Alisa almost fell out of her chair at the amount. She could have made that much from her fucking paintings?! WHAT THE FU--- "I... Wow, you guys are real generous." She cleared her throat and blinked, now trying to think in a business sense. Sofonisba just smiled, "We like to aid newfound artists find a foot hold in this world. Can I still reach you at the same number with any questions about details you'd like to include in the exhibit? Such as any themes, underlying thoughts you were trying to convey, background information...?" Shit.

Her head shot up at this, now completely focused on what this woman had just asked. It must have startled her a little since her smile faltered. She was quiet for a moment as she considered this Mrs. Medici. "... Yeah, you can reach me there. I assume there is an agreement I need to sign or something?" And with that there was a renewed sense of happiness from Sofonisba as she got Alisa started with all the paperwork. The rest of the transaction took all of twenty minutes which included a tour of the space where her works would be shown. You could say she was very relieved when she finally walked back out the doors with a shit ton more money in her pocket. Holy... fucking... hell.... What had just happened!!! A grin slowly began to spread across her features as she knew exactly how she was going to celebrate. TO THE BAR!!

[Guest]

Business, most likely. Otherwise, why would he be here of all places and alone? Alone, he was, with no guards whatsoever respecting the domains of signore Vincente D'Arcangelo whom he was going to visit sooner or later seeking lucrative and mutual interest for both two cities still putting into his mind, Rome's own welfare. So was he really enjoying the art and music, the festivities would offer? It could be said, it was nice to hear the music in the background and the good looking arts for his hidden eyes to see but mainly, Arts and music..For him, they were money.

Sooner or later, a visit would be made to Venezia’s Capo. But you see, The Drago was there when two Cerisians tried to mug a woman, observing the matter from afar and opting to do nothing except being idle and indifferent. The incident was concluded quickly with the flawless victory by said hardass bambina. She had a gun with her, that was quite bold for one to carry such a thing in a land known for it's cosa nostra. Emilio decided to follow her, time was business and he made sure that every second passed would bring profit to the family. So, it meant one of two things. Either this foreigner is the golden egg that he would use, or a problem that should be dealt with discreetly before it gets bigger..easy and simple.

However those two guys, they got a piece of his mind. Not reprimanding them for what they had done, but punishing for their stupidity of not choosing the right target. Other than that, Emilio made sure they wouldn’t do that again within the family domain. Whatever he did, The Drago by then had two more wallets other than his original one.

Oh ho ho, a gallery. It was one of these places of art. She entered and he followed her inside seeing how this Gentildonna Sofonisba Medici was courteously receiving the sickass Bambina. Why one with a gun was doing here. Regardless, He memorized the name well for the Drago would do business with this Sofonisba to his own liking on a later date, something that would benefit Rome in the future. By then, Emilio looked around, here and there for a minute or two. And left for the outside waiting for bambina whose fate is yet undetermined.

She got out, the one with the ferocious tattoo. Or rather trouble found her, for she would have to contend with Emilio before going to the bar. Signorina, I do believe..those fell from you. And the Drago presented her with two wallets, later on to lit a cigar to smoke. He was a walking chimney, a walk chimney waiting to see the look on her face once she would see the identification cards present within those wallets. OK, he inhaled and exhaled waiting for her response with a very relaxed posture.

[Alisa Donnikova]

Mmm what should she get at the--- There was a cigar about. Not lit, but there and it was close. Ah shit....Signorina, I do believe..those fell from you. Alisa instantly lost her grin as all thoughts of the bar vanished from her mind, glancing down to the two wallets that were being presented to her. Had he....? She nodded to him as she grasped them both in her hands, glancing to the ID's for confirmation. Yep, it was those two shitheads. Huh, well well, wasn't this just her lucky day? No. No it wasn't, this guy SCREAMED mob and that always put her on edge. "Thanks." She murmured softly, tucking one of her new prizes beneath her arm so she could pull out her pack of cigarettes, lightning one up before the pack and lighter vanished back into her pockets. Some people wondered how anything fit in them considering the state they were in. They had no real idea.

Now that she had her nicotine (it would do as a substitute for alcohol for now), she flipped through the wallets and took all the cash they had on them which was an amount one shouldn't sneeze at. "Ok I'll bite, what does a member of the familia want with me? Because I seriously doubt you are here to give me those two dumbasses their wallets." Her brown eyes met the mobsters with a look of wariness. What was it with her and attracting criminal organizations? First the Drachman mob years ago, then the Xingese mob, RIOTE, the Yakuza before their disbandment, and now the fucking familia?! Fuck... For a survivalist she wasn't doing very well. What had her father always told her? Oh yeah, that "...joining any of these groups would certainly mean your death. But don't step on their toes because that'll end you just as quickly." Yep, that sounded about right.

She took a deep breath filled with that creamy white smoke, the smell and taste of his cigar leaking in even while she exhaled. She pointedly made sure to not blow the smoke in his direction. Her body was relaxed but that was just a facade, in reality she was completely ready to strike if she had to. Or bolt, whichever came first really. So she balanced the two wallets in one hand, the other resting on her hip as the cigarette dangled between her lips. Yea, you could say her mood had just soured again.

[Guest]

Ah, she was a cigarette creature too, good. Emilio would hear her cautious word of thanks. Presumably,That Bambina was giving away curses from the inside that would make the mummy hides in it's sarcophagus for centuries to come. Egyptians say you prayers, wait a second..there are no Egyptians within the fiction MDA world. Anyways, she was on her edge, the Drago could feel it. Strangely, Emilio was often told he looked like a lazy ass, why his charms were not working by then? he truly wondered. Indeed, presenting her with two wallets was truly a smart move. It was just like the protagonist of KOTOR being approached by a twilik telling her or him of this Datapad that fell from them giving them the vibes and plunging them through a quest.

His off hand began to dabble with his business like cellphone. Oh, touch screen was a blessing. The days of pad cellphones had ended, he was quite happy doing what he wanted with the operating system but his lips didn't smile though. Do you how much muscles you use when smiling? Too much. Energy conservation was true salvation. "Gallery XXXX, Call Sofonisba Medici, Schedule a personal appointment with her, inquire about a ferocious looking tattooed woman. I NEED INFO NOW..btw sell XXX stock, I have need for it any longer" Emilio quickly wrote as he ears gave their total attention to that Bambina.

"Ok I'll bite, what does a member of the familia want with me? Because I seriously doubt you are here to give me those two dumbasses their wallets."

She meant business, but her mind was really going too far in certain aspects. If it was up to Emilio, he wouldn't give positions to non-cerisians but that was him and only him. So no, that wasn't the reason the Drago approached her. Completely unaware of her thoughts regarding her late father's words. Emilio would go directly into business revealing one of the two reasons of him darkening her domain.

Emilio gestured for her to follow as he walk past her addressing her while ahead like a ventrue giving a newly made childe their new labors though neither was he a ventrue nor she was a childe..they were no labors, they were words of caution First, this is a cosca falzone territory..carrying weapons in the open like that is not advised. Second, Respect the Falzone..Don't mess with us, we won't mess with you, fair game. Third and most importantly..Where do you wanna eat? An arrogant Emilio turned around knowing fully that his words were aggressive but his job demanded it. However she was a new guest to La Cerisé, and the Falzone are courteous, indeed.

Emilio advised her and certainly she was by then under his radar. the second reason remained unveiled. Perhaps, it would be something that could benefit her or something equally deadly.

So what it gonna be, bambina? Emilio thought to himself, he always meant true business though.

[Alisa Donnikova]

Who was he texting? Why was he texting them? Did it have to do with her? Was he summoning back up? What were her options of escape? Were there any possible snipers or anything about? Did she have enough bullets and enough sense to get herself out of the city in record time? Such questions began to spin about in her mind as the mobster began tapping away on his phone, taking a rather deep draw on her cig to maintain her cool demeanor. Just because she was a coiled spring ready to run did not mean she wanted to be obvious about it. That was one of the last things she wanted. Don't give away your intentions to your potential enemy. It could end with your dying in a ditch, covered in petrol, on fire. Alisa personally did not like being on fire, covered in petrol, or being in ditches. She certainly didn't like being dead. Not that she had ever been any of those things, except maybe the ditch, but still. If she didn't like it in her had or her gut, then she certainly wouldn't like it in real life.

First, this is a cosca falzone territory..carrying weapons in the open like that is not advised. Fuck that, she would have her Cutlasses regardless of whose territory it was. If the fucking yakuza could deal with it, so could the fucking familia. Though... the familia was still around. The yakuza were not. Fuck this noise. Second, Respect the Falzone..Don't mess with us, we won't mess with you, fair game. Pfft, like THAT wasn't obvious. Third and most importantly..Where do you wanna eat? .... What? Alisa raised an eyebrow as she tossed the wallets into the nearby canal, personally done with them and she saw no need to return them to this man. Why the fuck did he want to know where she wanted to eat? Was he trying to pick her up? Or was it to discuss some kind of business? Or was it just an excuse to pull her aside alone somewhere to end her existence? So she crossed her arms over her chest and took another puff, her expression still as deadpan as ever as her eyes seemed to bore into him. Fuck she didn't like this.

She exhaled in a smooth stream of smoke, cracking her neck as she finally removed the cig from between her lips. "I'm more in a bar mood if thats fine with you." Was she going to piss him off? Possible. Ugh fuck. "But if you insist on food, then I don't really give a fuck. It could be pasta, could be whatever restaurant is here." She was certainly confident that if she had to escape this guy, she could do it. It would just mean not returning to this place for a long ass time if ever. She was sure that the Ms. Medici wouldn't mind. Maybe. Hopefully. God, she wouldn't have to go to the opening of the gallery would she? Stand there in some kind of god-forsaken frippery and make nice? Please say that she wouldn't. In any case, back to the bigger issue at hand. What the fuck this guy wanted.

[Guest]

Ah, The most aspect that he liked was to anticipate how his opponents were thinking, No one can read people's mind and that Drago despite being a dragon of his own was incapable of this. Still, she was acting pretty cool minded. This dangerous damsel was subtle for someone who had two cutlasses on her in a mafia zone. It was either of two things. One, that woman was truly a badass capable of fighting the mafia on her own. Or two, that woman was a truly a sickass who thought of herself capable of doing so. Emilio didn't know what of both quality to appreciate and praise. Regardless, who mess with the cosa nostra end up sleeping with the fish.

Emilio could hear the wallets being thrown into a nearby canal. Why? she could have sold the wallets, it would have brought money and money would bring power if one was smart.

"I'm more in a bar mood if thats fine with you." Oh, the bar. A hardened woman with two cutlasses -her guns- drinking in a bar. Okay, how the hell she was able to survive this? Being in a bar with two guns. Of course, she was not there to meditate the reason behind universe and existence. She was there to drink..with two guns on her hip in a Falzone territory. Liquors was not his thing. he needed his mind always awake for opportunities to hunt, his thinking was his most valuable currency. And certainly, he didn't want to wake up with an old women on his side with a 'bleh' on his face..learn form Sakata Gintoki. Though the Drago noticed though how her visage was very appealing, she was not an old woman at all, on the contrary in her prime of her youth, perhaps her twenties. And he was quite sure that most the men out there wouldn't mind waking up beside this wildly nice looking bambina after a long night of drinking..but Emilio was no man, he was a dragon. When it comes to relationships with everyone or anyone, despite his cold appearance, he honors his dealings with other people and doesn't do anything on a whim. The Drago always keep his promises, his words are absolute.

Sure.

Regardless, She wanted a bar and Emilio wanted business so he kept walking leading her to the nearest bar which belonged to the Falzone by the way, nice one it was. Speaking about business, The cerisian felt his cellphone vibration while hearing something he didn't understand from her, but he connected the dots as he read the message from his business-like cellphone "Alisa Donnikova, an artist, some of her works are attached, currently making more researches. Appointment made with Ms. Medici..Stock sold." Ah, a Drachman..but she had an oriental look to her for some reason. Quickly, using the touch screen features he saw her works..This Ms.Medici got her hand on a golden egg...Good, because this Ms.Medici is going to work for him soon.

After you. Signorina, Donnikova he opened for her the door and waited her to enter into a Falzone bar with two guns on her hip. The guys inside were like 'what the hell?!' but when they saw him, they knew she was his guest and he was no mere Mafioso..Emilio was a capo.

And I don't speak Drachman..

Emilio sat on the first seat on the bar where she would next to him on his right. The bartender got Emilio a cup of iced water and nuts to eat. Yeah, he doesn't drink. It was her turn to make an order of her liking.

Once, she got what she wanted on the house of course, Emilio would speak..

[Alisa Donnikova]

{OOC: I want to apologize, the coding got messed up so it looked like she was speaking Drachman. I'll still play it off like she did, but in reality she would have spoken Cerisian there. Sorry about that! }

She noticed how he glanced to the wallets when she threw them in, and she just raised a singular eyebrow as if to almost beg a challenge. What? She wasn't using them, fuck that. She didn't need or want to be tracked by anyone, and after the check that just got written for her works? She didn't need it. Seriously though, why the fuck hadn't she started to sell her works earlier?! She would have made so much bank! Though once she mentioned the bar, she could sense a shift in the mood, straightening up a little as she took one last draw on her cigarette before stomping it out in the pavement. He seemed to be thinking about this pretty heavily which she couldn't help but wonder at. What, was the bar such a complicated option that it required a PhD to decide if you could go? Or, let her guess, she wasn't somehow fit for going for whatever reason. Probably a familia reason considering he seemed so fucking uptight about it. Things just couldn't go smoothly around her, could they? No, not at all. Heaven fucking forbid.

Sure. Eh? Fucking finally. A grin slowly began to spread across her features, though there was something not particularly joyous about it. There was something almost... malicious about it, or dark. Granted you could tell that she wasn't plotting your immediate demise or anything, she was just excited in her own way. They better have something besides fucking wine or else she would punch a bitch. She followed after him with her hands stuffed in her pockets, watching him carefully as he pulled out his cell phone again. It still put her on edge to see that for she couldn't judge what it was he was doing. "Ain't this peachy..." She muttered under her breath in her native tongue, not even realizing that she had really done it. It was certainly more comfortable on her tongue than fucking Cerisian. Or Aerugese for that matter. Fuck that noise. They always spoke too fast with too many sounds and just fuck off with the honorifics. It was just tiring. Xingese barely had such things to worry about. Just the tones. After you. Signorina, Donnikova She froze just as she stepped inside, resisting the sudden strong urge to whip around and shove her gun in his face. How the fuck had he learned her last name? HOW THE FUCK HAD HE DONE THAT?!

Her fingers still danced near the gun holsters beneath her arms, forcing herself to itch her arm instead as she gritted her teeth against the shout that wanted to come out. It was his fucking texting, had to be. He was there at the gallery, he probably used some kind of contacts to figure out who the fuck she was with his fucking lackey's, and he fucking knew her full name now. Her eyes had narrowed down to slits as she stepped with renewed vigor to the bar and ignored his last statement entirely, And I don't speak Drachman.. Fucking. Bastard. She shot a guy a look who stared from her guns to her face, flopping down on a barstool beside the mother fucker who led her here. "Whiskey." And like hell this was going to end up like the last time she ordered the stuff. The bartender raised an eyebrow to her, but she just narrowed her eyes and emitted a very low, very soft growl. "Did I stutter?" He shook his head and got her a glass, blinking when she immediately downed the liquid and pushed her glass forward for more. Fuck all this noise.

It was now that she turned to face him, glancing down to his nuts and water with a scoff under her breath. What, he didn't drink like a man? Well he was just turning into less and less fun. "Alright spill it, what the fuck do you want with me? If you want to hire me for a job, then fucking say so." You could say that she was on edge.

[Guest]

In his ears rattled the most pompous screams of someone he might as well consider very close to his mother-in-law, sans the apathetic contempt for a person to be in the family replaced with motherly worries that borderlines the territories of a control freak -- his mom. No puns intended. Outside his fancy old muscle car, smoking some Esparian cigars, his ears were bombarded by many womanly tattling that he found most... unmanly. It didn't suit him, he was a fucking mobster that KILLS people for a living, does horrible things! He is a murderer! Master of his underworld trade! Expert in using firearms and cutting people up in the many ways he knows how to kill them in premediated means! Yet the most powerful force to this day he couldn't kill not out of sheer invincibility but out of sheer sentiment was yes... his mom.

"LOOK MAMI! I don't care if that bloody lass says that! Yes! I don't! She gets around so bloody often, she is a liar just tryin' ta get on me wee bit of cash I got. NO! I am sure it isn't mine, if you know your feckin' sci-- sorry, minding my language, but if you know your science, BABIES DON'T GESTATE IN TWO YEARS! She gave birth way after I had my ways with her. NO! She ain't a proper one, she is a tarty slag, and again, sorry, minding my language... AGAIN MAMI! Just wave her off! I don't owe her a bloody thing... no, not at Napoli at the moment, I am heading over to Venezia... yeah, I'll be home for dinner at five... PLEASE DON'T DO THAT! I am a bona fida forty year old grown man! You shouldn't call me a baby, I am not a kid anymore. Aye aye, a wee bit soon anyways, love ya mum. Talk to you later, got some business to take care... yes, I know how to close my bloody teletalker... erm... no, I am not closing it at the moment because I have to... hear your voice one more time... no, I am not a liar, but can you hang up please? Wonderful, thanks mum, have a good one and ta-ta."

With a sigh of relief, his phone cooed to death once more to sleep till but another affair gets around, depositing it into his pocket. By Madanach's testicles, the technology of today really is a troublesome spot of bother. Pocketing the modern phone which doesn't even resemble the old ones, more akin to a sci-fi piece of crap from that Apple company than a proper one like Gelemorté's Nokia, Amico stretched his back, and scratched his itchy inner thighs for but a lease of tensions built up from the chaffing induced from standing up and walking about in a sublime way. Turning around to look at his beautiful car, and then his passenger on the car. Aye, muffled and tied to the hood with ropes, tearing up and murmuring many protesting muffles as Amico grinned at him, sizing him up from behind his shades which shows everything in what it really is -- a darker piece of crap cynical world to be enjoyed, with a tinge of spirituality.

"Sorry to keep ya waiting, git. See, consider this a FECKIN' LESSON that you DON'T MESS WITH THE FALZONE FAMILY." His shoulder tenses and prompts, his fists enclose and collides against the greaser's face, bubbling him further with bumps the size of a Pterodactyl's eggs, bruised up and bloody, the lad's pants soaked in the urinal expression of fear of what is not in his hands, "Signore Drago would love to have fun with you... back in his day, he was called crazy Dragon, you know why? Because he carved up LITTLE SHITES LIKE YOU FOR FUN! BECAUSE FECK YOU BIATCH!" And again and again his fists slam against his belly after such a tasty lie to the boy of Emilio (or perhaps there is more truth to it than it implies?), the teenage greasy wet boy dog burped blood that oozed from underneath his duct tape muffle, groaning in agony and tearing up on his bruised little pained face. Saluting him a quick one, all this in a public highway, Amico plants himself into the confines of his car with a smile.

The wheels turned, and a scowl settled on Amico's face, "Perdonami, perché ho peccato di nuovo." Murmurs blew out of his mouth, his chest inhaled and exhaled, finding but little joy in taking care of such brats. Bah, this is an irritating thing really. An irritating affair to take care of, but someone must scare that greaser straight, lest he thinks he can muscle in on Falzone rackets again with his juvenile pubescent gang of brats. Greaser style was so 1950's.

Venezia, city of old boring architecture, arts, and whatever oldness settled in. FUCKING BORING. Where was the place that Emilio was last sighted per some contacts instruction? Ah right, a gallery. Wait, since when did Emilio become a patron of the arts? The most Amico could get out of that fonzie is that he tends to look like the sort to be a lazy ass to sleep all day long, not do the work and whatever stereotypes are associated with them. But WHO CARES? He was loaded, just as he was, visiting a gallery shouldn't be a problem. All of Cerisé is Falzone territory, shame about Ballzini though, that fat piece of shit whore.

-Interlude due to the boring descriptions given driving around a city that is tighter than a virginal nun's **** ******* ** ****** ***** *** ******** *** with a ***** ** **** ****** ** ************************** and so on and so forth-

"OH FECK! There is Emilio! And he hired a Xingese quickie!" Gasps to himself in great amusement, now this is absolutely GOLD, Emilio, prim and proper lad with someone whom has the looks of someone from a red light district, short shorts and army get up and all that shite, with the two going into the bar, Amico had to think quickly of this chance discovery. Now here is one problem. A) There is a canal that stands in between Emilio and him, and B) He didn't care to look for some road around the canal. Now thinking like a sensible man, Amico spotted a ramp, could be proper-like, placed the gear at reversal, backed away a good distance and then...

VRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!

The engine roared like a mighty dragon horny for the souls of mortals. The car burst in speed, and soared like an eagle gracing the skies-- or just a turtle pretending to be an eagle thrown into the sky. What illusion of freedom was soon disrupted by crashing into a bar, breaking what brick works was there as stony rubble fell on the car and dusted it up. Making for a bit of a reversal and stepping out of the car right in front of the two within the bar filled with bewildered patrons. Taking a quick glance at the greaser.

"Meh, wanker had it coming anyways." He shrugs apathetically, flexing his sore chest (thankfully he was wearing a seatbelt, the airbag having puffed up on his face that he had to wade through), dead douche wasn't his problem anymore, which SHOULD mean this is a social visit, pulling out his loaded piece that is his DAMNED PISTOL and waves it around those the bar, sending them all running, "Consider this PRO FECKING BONO from Amico Oscar feck motherin' Sant in getting your drinks fer free." Says the Crieg and a half to the Drago, "Also get rid of the shemale tart, we got some shite to discuss, and don't mind m'entrance. This was me quickest and most LOGICAL way to get ta ya before ya get a handle from that thing." He shrugs once more with such eloquence that'd make a noblewoman blush, for such is the gentle ways of Amico, the most softly worded and gentlemanly of the mafioso.

---

Amico's F-word counter: 6

[Guest]

From some reason, Emilio felt that whiskey was the water alternative for Whiskey in Alisa's condition. She was extremely frustrated, being easily ticked off by the Drago's antiques and mannerisms. "Alright spill it, what the fuck do you want with me? If you want to hire me for a job, then fucking say so." he wasn't aware that qualities for manhood has deteriorated that much. Drinking doesn't make a man, actually to his opinion it degrades him, because what make a man was his words and they pretty much falter under the domain of liquor.

The Drago kept her to his right side, it was no a coincidence though. He was left handed and it was easier that to pull the gun from it's holster to pull the trigger to his right while hidden beneath his jacket, if that Alisa decided to go naughty. Keep your allies close, your enemies closer and hot crazy chicks on your right side.

Actually..I was after.. Emilio heard it coming, a black omen. He foresaw it, people in the future dying as the soul of the mechanical menace driven by it's dreams of grandeur that someday it would have wings. But the Capo retained his composure of steel while his hand on the ready, the Imperatore reign reach all.

Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmm..

*Crash*

"Consider this PRO FECKING BONO from Amico Oscar feck motherin' Sant in getting your drinks fer free." Emilio turned around away from the bitter eye candy and saw him with his car's half body inside the now recked bar..Now that was an entrance that would cost them a heft money to repair, his mind began to calculate the collateral damage.but Amico broke the awkward silence, that probably befell the dwellers of this unholy place.

Amico Oscar Sant..a soldatos hailing from Napoli, he is new to the Falzone but certainly not new to the trade, I didn't meet him before but heard about him. That man should have been an underboss by now. That Amico respected that omerta, a quality that I respect like his half cerisian blood..they call him the butcher The drago thought to himself.

"Also get rid of the shemale tart, we got some shite to discuss, and don't mind m'entrance. This was me quickest and most LOGICAL way to get ta ya before ya get a handle from that thing."

Ah indeed, Alisa is a whacked tart, to that the Drago would agree. Yo, actually this signorina Alisa donnikova AKA dirty mouthed hot bitch. The empire strikes back against the rebellious woman.. She isn't a shemail, last time I checked she was dick-less..Lies, true lies. You can strip her and see if you wish. And that would mark the making terminator 4: fall of the clothes, hilarious Sure, I am all ears, speak to me. Disregarding any erratic emotions the Xingese quicke would give pretty much enjoying himself pissing her off probably..better luck next time, Obi wan.

Regardless, Amico was a made-man of Napoli, it meant he answered to it's capo, Elisa Falzone. Still, The baptized butcher came all the way to speak with him. Emilio simply liked business despite his behaviors didn't show it. The Drago's eyes hidden beneath the dark shaded sunglasses would meet Amico's aviators reflecting the Xingese Drachman behind him while his drake was itching to stop her from doing something stupid..just like that Cretan movie.

Anyway, he was intrigued by what would happen next.

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

[Alisa Donnikova]

God this fucking stank of shit that was piled as high as the ceiling. This "pleasure visit," or whatever the hell you wanted to call this trip, had quickly shot straight to hell and she had plunged herself in inadvertently. Fucking joy. Actually..I was after.. He drifted off. Those little hairs on the back of your neck that always stood on end when something was about to happen? Yea, it was like hers had gotten a fucking electric shock and they were standing on complete end.

Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmm..

She didn't need to hear the revving engine to know that shit was about to go down. "Fuck." She muttered under her breath as she remained in her seat, downing what was left in her glass before pouring herself another as the glass shattered before her.

*Crash*

"Meh, wanker had it coming anyways." Oh great. A Creig. This was about to become a royal shit storm of anger wasn't it? This is JUST what she needed to make her day EVEN FUCKING BETTER. She didn't move a muscle as she stared with a this newcomer with a single raised eyebrow, a grimace creasing her lips tightly. "Consider this PRO FECKING BONO from Amico Oscar feck motherin' Sant in getting your drinks fer free." She sipped her whiskey and waited for some kind of fucking explanation from one of them-- "Also get rid of the shemale tart, we got some shite to discuss, and don't mind m'entrance. This was me quickest and most LOGICAL way to get ta ya before ya get a handle from that thing." Her eyebrow twitched as her eyes narrowed at the new mobster, a crack running through her glass as her grip turned to steel. To be called a "thing" from a fucking mobster? The glass shattered and promptly spilled its contents all over the floor, only a couple of shards stabbing into her fingers where they were exposed. Thank the fucking gods for her gloves. Her teeth ground together as she fought against every fiber in her being that wanted to rip this fucker a new asshole to shit from since, well, her normal antics weren't exactly advised when it came to relations with a mob.

Yo, actually this signorina Alisa donnikova AKA dirty mouthed hot bitch. Her lips tightened even further as she slowly pulled the couple of shards from her flesh with little regard for the blood that now flowed out of her hand. She isn't a shemail, last time I checked she was dick-less One. You can strip her and see if you wish. Two. Sure, I am all ears, speak to me. Three. As the last shard of glass fell against the counter behind her, Alisa raised her eyes to Emilio and his compatriot with a strange calm. She was beyond the point of outwardly showing her rage, it had gone into that quiet, cold anger that roiled and burned beneath the surface in ever dangerous tides. "I didn't realize that there were Cerisian's who couldn't tell the difference between a man and a fucking woman. Then again I'm sure you'll hop into bed with anything thats willing." She said quietly, a smirk slowly cracking that icy exterior as she leaned her elbows against the bar and crossed her legs. She would have seemed rather relaxed if not for the tension in her neck that betrayed what a tight coil she was at this point.

"But I suppose thats beside the fucking point hm?" She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, shrugging lightly as her hands turned upwards in just how many fucks she gave. "I'm sure you've got plenty of whores that can suck your cock for your gratification. The fucks I give couldn't fill this room." She spread her arms further to gesture to the now decimated bar that the three of them found themselves in. [i]"The only fuck I give is if you boys have a fucking job for me that involves killing people, smuggling goods, or some shit for a mercenary." The smirk had now faded as she looked almost boredly at the two of them. She was doing rather well. She hadn't made the mistake of trying to shoot them, set them on fire, break their knee-caps, or rip their dicks off and shove it up their asses. No, she was doing quite well for her normal reactions to such a situation. "So whats it going to be huh?"

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

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