Salvatore
Afternoon
April 14th
The art of evading possible pursuers was a storied one among criminals. Done wrong, and you'd be caught immediately by cops, or the criminals you were ripping off. But if you did it perfectly, you could pull a D.B. Cooper and fucking vanish.
I wasn't so good that I could claim that vaunted status, though. If anything, I was relying on the barrier I'd created to do the brunt of the work, with the conditions I'd laid into it being just restrictive enough. That was before you got into the fact that a kidnapping of this scale, of a family so close to the heart of power in the city was bound to grab some attention.
It meant that I was doing my best to drive away without gaining undue attention in the process. Unfortunately, it also meant that Angelo and I were going to have to find another way of getting around. The van had outlived its usefulness and was destined to be torched once I found a place to park in the docks.
Dinah had been quiet the entire ride away, not that I could really blame the girl. Even if I'd snatched her for a good cause, what did she have to lean on to believe that? Some numbers in her head?
She looked about as miserable a kid in her position she be, sitting in the back of the van, legs pulled scrunched up tight against her body.
This was fucked, and I felt like a particular kind of scumbag anytime I looked at her in the rear view mirror. When the alternative was leaving her to the tender mercies of Coil, though…
I'd deal.
"There's a gray hoodie in the back," I spoke, making Dinah startle at the sound of my voice. "I had to eyeball your size."
She didn't say anything as the van pulled to a stop between two warehouses, the vacant alleyway blessedly empty in the late afternoon.
Instead, Dinah looked at me searchingly for a few moments. I did my best to ignore her and focus on the mission at hand as I walked around to the back of the truck. Whatever she was looking for on my face, though, she found it.
"...Do you know how long it'll be till…?" She trailed off, throwing on the hoodie slowly, the bland gray the very least I could do to obscure her identity.
Her question was easy to understand, however. How long would it be until she could go home? I…genuinely didn't have an answer.
"I don't know," I admitted freely, moving to swiftly pack up the most overt elements of my costume and mask into a duffel bag.
The Buster Sword was so fucking big it ended up just getting wrapped up in a blue tarp. If anyone asked, I'd say it was some materials for a renovation. "How much do you know about Coil?"
"Nothing."
"Okay then," I nodded, glancing at the fuel canister I'd stashed in the back. Dinah hopped out, and I started to douse where she'd been liberally. Best not to leave any DNA traces that could get back to us. "Well, the first thing you need to understand is that he's a gigantic fucking creep."
"Trying to kidnap me wasn't proof enough of that?"
"Well, no," was my rebuttal, shaking my head idly as a trail of gasoline began to sprout from the back of the van. My slow steps were making a trail I could light up before we swiftly booked it from here. "Kidnapping you isn't even the tip of the iceberg with this guy."
She frowned, throwing up her hood slowly. "Can you…give me some actual examples?"
There was the question of how much I actually wanted to tell Dinah. Then again, I found that I didn't give a fuck about outing Coil to her. She needed to know the kind of man she was dealing with here.
"Coil's real name is Thomas Calvert, and he was an asshole long before he ever got powers," I began to explain. "Bro was at Ellisburg, and managed to survive by shooting his superior officer to get him out of the way so he could escape."
"Ellisburg… That sounds familiar."
Pulling a cheap zippo lighter from my pocket, I reached out for her shoulder and gently began to guide Dinah away from the trail of gas. "It's where Nilbog went nuts and took over a town. Now there's a big containment zone there and everything."
Note to self: Look into killing Nilbog for the likely massive bounty money.
"Oh."
"Yeah," I chuckled, "Oh."
Lazily, I tossed the lighter onto the trail of gas and began to swiftly guide Dinah away. Faster than a walk, slower than a run, as I got her into a jog. The fire didn't take much time to spread to the van, but we'd have a little time until the gas tank went up.
By that time, getting some distance between us and it would be ideal.
If you ignored my bandaged arm, Dinah's twitchy behavior, and the distant sound of a fire erupting behind us, you'd think the pair of us were just some random siblings out on the town.
Theoretically.
"Okay, so Thomas Calvert gets the power to basically create two timelines, and pick which one he wants to go with," I continued, doing my best to look casual. Dinah was doing a lot of shifting, but I didn't think she was going to run.
"That seems…strong," Dinah admitted, looking…restive, and looking back over her shoulder at where we'd just come from. "How could he ever lose with a power like that?"
I flashed her a toothy grin, applying just the slightest touch of The Strong Must Rule!, and the enhanced charisma it gave me. Using it on her felt skeevy, but if it kept her close and pacified for the moment, I'd lean on it.
"Because Dinah, Thomas Calvert fundamentally misunderstands what his power is."
Another frown creased her face, as she looked up at me. "Wait, I thought all parahumans always know what their powers do?"
"That's a little bit of a myth. They usually have a fundamental idea of what they can do, but the underlying mechanics tend to be beyond them."
There were tons of parahumans in the story of Worm who had underutilized powers like that, either because they didn't fully grasp their power or they were just flat-out misusing it. Every power had some ability to create conflict, even the simple-seeming ones like Dinah's precognition.
I'd eat my left shoe if there weren't some mechanism for weaponizing her numbers.
"Huh. So what is his real power?"
"Precognition, like yours," I tilted my head her way. "But on a different scale. His power simulates two different models of the most likely events that'll happen, picks the one he's most likely to prefer, and then Masters him into being piloted down that sequence of events."
Again, I'd said it before, but if you knew what Calvert's real power was, he was surprisingly simple to plan around.
What made him most dangerous was his connections and resources. Connections like the Travelers, who would likely be coming into town by now.
Or his proxy control over the Undersiders. Hell, his private army of Tinkertech-wielding mercenaries was nothing to snooze at either. He was still dangerous, yet the worst of his excesses from canon could be avoided as long as we kept Dinah out of his clutches.
Dinah paused as the two of us walked along. I couldn't begin to tell what went on in the mind of your average girl, let alone a prepubescent one, but eventually she spoke up.
"Was I…meant to help him, then?" She guessed, looking up at me cautiously. "Do you expect me to help you with my power?"
"Nope."
The vaguely affronted and somewhat surprised expression on her face was a little too much for me. A bark of laughter escaped me, settling into a low rumble of chuckles. "That doesn't make any sense! You're a v-"
The girl caught herself, looking around furtively, before glancing back my way and speaking in a quieter voice. "A villain. You're supposed to…I dunno, be threatening."
She wasn't wrong about that. If I was a good supervillain, I would have been sniffing for a way to keep Dinah in my orbit. Or at least actively trying to charm her, to stay in her good graces. The only real application of charisma was enough to keep her around, at least until Coil was dealt with.
"The reality is, I don't think I've got what it takes to be a very good villain," I admitted with a shrug. "Never had the drive to 'hold territory', whatever that means. I like fighting, but I can be pretty lazy about looking for fights. And my brother's the one that has all the ambition between the two of us."
Jerking a thumb down to her, I shot Dinah a small smile. "If I'm being honest, if I wasn't positive that you'd get promptly kidnapped by the PRT and Protectorate, I would have dropped you off there."
The existing moles and Coil's power was too strong for anything else to happen. "I'll be checking that with my power, if it works how you say it does."
"Pretty much. Your predictions are about as inviolate as humanly possible, though giving them out by definition can change the numbers, given that it alters what you'll do in response." At least, that was how I largely understood the process.
I could be thoroughly wrong about her precognition, but it sounded correct enough. Sometimes sounding confident while you spouted complete bullshit was more important than anything else.
We were coming up to the warehouse now, as the two of us moved inside the formerly abandoned space. However, where I'd been presuming that it would stay relatively empty like before, I was met with people.
People I didn't recognize.
"Boss, where'd ya' say the booze was?!"
"There is no booze, fuck-face. He said there's water-"
"Yo boss, where's the water?! I got cotton mouth, man. I know you said no samplin' the merch, but fuuuck-"
"Shut the fuck up, Jack. Hector, Jade, go grab a couple of the twenty-four packs of water from downstairs and bring them up. Ignore my statue's dick," Angelo directed without glancing up from his magical daggers, cleaning what looked to be dried blood from the edges of the glass-like blades. He sat on a half-rotted crate, mask off and gaze lidded as he worked the rag.
I could barely see his face in the gloom.
Spread throughout the main floor of the dark factory were what could only be described as 'the shadiest of shady people'. Several goons in dark, stained clothing, wearing hoodies and baseball caps and beanies, were either moving what looked life overflowing duffle bags downstairs into the laboratory or dragging moth-bitten furniture into the room from the back entrance. A gorgeous blonde-haired, green-eyed woman fiddled noisily with a large, rusted red toolkit on the concrete floor nearby.
The only other chick, other than a tall, willowy redhead that made a quick beeline for the laboratory alongside a short Hispanic kid. Jade and Hector, I imagined.
Just what did my brother bring back to our base?
On cue, as we stepped out of the shadows and into the hustle and bustle of the factory proper, Angelo's eyes flickered up towards me.
His crimson and onyx eyes. Practically glowing in the dark, one tomoe lazily spinning in a circle within the unnatural pupils.
"Brother," he called out, a small smile forming on his lips. "You've brought a guest."
My eyes were glued onto the sharingan, because what anime fan would fail to recognize that famous dojutsu? It was difficult for me to ignore the pang of jealousy I felt at their presence, but instead of mentioning it, I huffed softly and gestured down to Dinah. "Angelo, meet Dinah. Dinah, meet my brother."
She squinted at his eyes, looking a little confused. "What's with his eyes?"
"Chuuni anime bullshit, don't worry about it."
I could tell that answer meant absolutely nothing to her, but she still nodded slowly my way. "...Okay."
In his defense, Angelo simply chuckled and stood up, sheathing his weapons at his hips. "It's nice to meet you, Dinah - you can call me Angelo. Sorry for the mess; we've recently moved into the neighborhood."
"Um, it's okay. And it's nice to meet you too." She hesitated for a moment, gaze wide and befuddled as she stared up at him. Angelo watched her, hands resting in the pockets of his slacks as she very visibly fought with a sentence lurking on the tip of her tongue.
"Speak." The command was sudden, and sharp, but the obvious amusement in his voice dulled the edges just a bit.
And it was effective
"W-why are you so pretty?!"
The clumsy, spat out question was equal parts innocent and embarrassed. There was no heat on her cheeks or shy little smile curling her lips, thank God - just plain, wholesome curiosity, and maybe even a little bit of wariness. We were in a shady factory surrounded by shady men, after all, and if it wasn't very obvious that I was a villain, Angelo - with his expensive suit, sharp daggers, and curly, slicked back hair - made it abundantly clear.
But he only chuckled, and tossed his hand up in a dismissive wave. "You will understand when you're older, sorellina."
"My name is Dinah," the little Thinker rebutted with surprising heat, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin, "And I'm twelve years old, I'm not a little girl anymore. How old are you?"
"Heh. Never ask a man his age, little one. It's considered rude."
Dinah actually pouted. "Wha- but dad says that that's only for women, and you're not a girl! … A-are you?"
…
My brother's quiet chuckles turned into outright laughter, and much to the twelve-year-old's visible blush and chagrin, a few of the nearby, eavesdropping thugs joined in.
Personally, I was checking out the hot blonde my brother had somehow managed to wrangle into this mess. Dinah and my brother's conversation was only at the periphery of my focus. The woman was…well, she didn't feel like she fit in quite with all these skeevy ex-Merchants, so I was kind of baffled as to what her story might be.
Still, I glanced back at the duo briefly to interject.
"Back on topic - we're not planning on stowing you here for the duration of dealing with your stalker, so you won't have to worry about that." Pointing to one of the myriad pieces of salvaged furniture the makeshift crew had dragged inside, I arched a brow her way. "Wanna take a seat for now?"
Dinah shot Angelo a half-annoyed glare, one that lacked any real heat, but his attention - and ire - had already been drawn back towards his henchmen. Her lips twisted with displeasure for only a moment before she sighed and tiredly rubbed at her eyes, an unexpected yawn escaping her mouth. "Ahhh. Uhh, sure, I'll sit. My head's killing me, anyway…"
She mumbled something under her breath, rubbed her eyes again, before turning around to search for a nearby place to sit and rest. It was clear that the shady men around her made her very uncomfortable, but our presence was enough to keep her from becoming paralyzed with fear. Not for the first time, I felt a bolt of pity. But there was nothing to be done right now. Not until Coil was a nonissue.
Turning back to my brother, my hands rested on my hips as I jerked my head toward his new underlings. "Everything go alright on your end of things?"
He glanced over to where Dinah was sitting on a half-eaten couch, down to where the blonde was muttering curses to herself as she separated tools and spread them across the floor, before shrugging and gesturing towards a nearby room - one that looked like it may have once been used for storage, but was now lacking doors. As we walked over, temporarily separating ourselves from the others, he began speaking in a low, easygoing baritone.
"It went as well as it could have. I whacked Shitmark, melted that 'Trainwreck' mook, healed Sherrel, and we've got most of the Merchant's drug supply being stored down in the lab. The boys over there know the game, 'specially that Hector kid. We won't have to play the streets as hard since we've got runners now. It opens our schedule a bit."
All the while he was talking, I was pushing the intrusive thoughts from Artificer to the back of my mind. To say I was antsy to get my hands on the tools the blonde was messing around with was an understatement. When your brain was as full of ideas and possible creations like mine, you'd understand.
That, and the fact that with just some random wrench I could substitute it as a spell focus and finally access my Carian Sorceries, as well as my Night Sorceries. I was beyond excited to get going, and test them out.
Even so, there were a couple of things that made my ears prick that my brother had mentioned.
"...Wait, is that hottie out there supposed to be Squealer?" That didn't make any sense, did it? I was pretty sure she was supposed to be ugly or something. Did the story lie to me?
I mean, it wouldn't be the first time something was different to how I'd imagined it in the web serial. But still, there are differences, and then there's Taylor missing the fact that Squealer was hot.
If there was anything I could say with some surety, it was that Taylor Hebert never missed a chance to eyefuck attractive women in the story. Mainly so she could compare her build to them in a self-deprecating way, but still.
Those unnatural eyes flickered my way again, sharp eyebrows arched, and I felt a sense of… deja vu when I looked at the face of what was my brother, but not my brother's face all at the same time. It would take some getting used to. "You alright, fratello? Big titties, blonde hair, green eyes. That's her. The potion cleaned the bullshit out of her system and she showered, but that is our Tinker. "
…I mean, I was kind of obligated to introduce myself, right? Technically I was a Tinker now too, so we'd be working together in the future. Yeah, yeah, that sounded like an excuse I could get behind.
"...Well, I'll drop in to say hello in a bit," I nodded, giving my most innocent, friendly smile that my brother would undoubtedly see through in an instant. "I'm sure it was a harsh onboarding process, so a friendly face can't hurt."
Angelo gazed at me evenly, as stoic-faced as ever, before a small, smoldering flame of wry amusement warmed his features. He ran a hand through his hair, and in the split second his eyes were covered by his wrist, the Sharingan blinked into their normal hazel pools. "Sure. Mack on the help. I'll gather the boys and lay down some ground rules in the lab, so you're free to shoot your shot. Just don't forget to introduce yourself to them before you leave, if only in passing - needa let them know you're in charge too."
As if this ungrateful little brat wouldn't hit on the help if he was attracted to them. The audacity of this guinea.
"I'll make sure to put the fear of god into em'," I reassured him. "One of my new gains should help with that. Honestly, I'm pretty happy with everything the cosmic gacha rolled me. For example…"
I lifted up a hand and concentrated, before casting Prestigiditation. Being a fully-fledged Wizard, I had no doubt he'd recognize the spell easily. The ground beneath us was cleaned instantaneously, scoured of any dirt.
My grin was broad and toothy, eyes flashing with delight. "You've lost your Arcane caster exclusivity."
The look of genuine surprise on his face was pleasing to no end. Angelo blinked, before smirking. "Let me guess- Artificer?"
All I could do was nod back. "Not as crazy as a Wizard, but I'm also basically a Tinker now, so…" I shrugged. "Guess I'll have to get a workshop together and pull my weight."
So far a lot of my contributions to our operations was mostly in the form of muscle. I didn't have the ability to create potions, or magical items. You could call my organization skills shitty and that was a charitable way to look at them. Honestly, at times it felt like my brother had been doing the brunt of the work to keep us afloat.
That wasn't right. The younger brother shouldn't have to do that for the older. Maybe I was being unreasonable, holding myself to expectations that my brother didn't even expect of me. Yet even so, the knowledge that I could help the operation more concretely felt good.
"Still, I get the feeling even with magical items, we'll get nowhere if we don't get some magical materials to use." Which was our real hurdle, I think. "Nothing to do for that till the System gets generous and spits some out."
Angelo snorted. "Either that, or a method to plunder other worlds. Fat fucking chance of that, though."
He paused, eyes growing dim in a way that was quickly becoming familiar to me; him browsing his internal spellbook. "Unless- No, that's too far away to be feasible. Regardless, even as a half-caster, the utility an Artificer brings is fuckin' heavy. Guess you've got an icebreaker with the squealing lady, eh?"
A snort rolled out of me. "As if I needed one. Got a few other things, too. One's a…aura, I guess?" I released the aura of dominance around me, pressing down on my brother. However, I doubted he'd be weak enough to be affected much. "I can force weaklings to the ground under my 'killing intent'. Or, boost my charisma a little."
"Oh, and I'm kind of unbreakable now."
"… Right," he murmured, deadpan, "'A few other things, too' he says. That's a package and a half, brother."
Sure enough, outside of a furrowed brow and an annoyed frown that quickly eased back into a neutral line, Angelo didn't seem very affected by the aura - somewhat of a given, considering both of us were the very opposite of weak-willed, or even physically weak.
Leaning back against the dusty wall, Angelo tapped his temple and tilted his head. "Most notable thing I got was the Sharingan. And…"
There was a woosh of wind, and the keening tear of expensive fabric, before six large, feathery black wings - similar to that of a raven's, or a crow's - tore themselves free from the confines of his black and purple suit, battering against the wall with loud 'thumps' reminiscent to an adult punching wood. Angelo blinked, pushing off the wall and craning his head back to look at the feathery protrusions.
"… Shit. That's sweet."
Ugh.
Stopping the scoff and grimace that came across my face was impossible. It was a visible cringe that came over my features, as I recoiled from the sight of his pitch-black, angelic wings.
"You're never beating the chuuni allegations."
"Bitch, don't be mad 'cause I'm beautiful," he chuckled, looking back towards me with a lopsided grin. "'Be not afraid, humans of Earth Bet.' I'd make for a fucking killer cosplay at Comic-Con, admit it."
When spread out, the wingspan had to be at least double his height, reaching out far enough to scratch the wall close to the other side of the small storage room. Smoothly, he rose a few feet above the ground, the edgy motherfucker not even flapping his wings to fly. There was a natural ease to his movement that looked almost rehearsed… probably the byproduct of his Quick Learner perk, the bastard.
"Jesus Christ," I sucked in a breath. "Please don't get us a Kill Order, or have the Fallen trying to kidnap you. We've got enough problems as it is."
My tone was half-joking, at best. Both of those were wholly reasonable concerns for anyone with a brain to have.
Angelo's face turned deathly serious, and when he blinked, his Sharingan was activated at full blast, rotating wildly in his eye sockets. I almost had to cover my face to protect myself from the pure chuuni-ness on display before me, the soft scarlet glow of his new dojutsu bathing the dark room in a dim light. "… I will never be a memory."
"I'm dissolving this gang."
"But what will you do about the second meteor?"
It was a good thing I loved my brother so much because times like this made that love tested. But we were both alive, we'd established ourselves, and almost everything was coming up Milhouse.
All in a day's work for the Bucciarati boys.
"Ah, and fratello, by the way - I have a military-grade armory now. Inside of my soul. Once this factory is magically secure to my satisfaction, I'll install it. Just a heads up."
… Okay, what the fuck?
Angelo
Afternoon
April 15th
"Snacks, snacks, snacks… Maruchan ramen, huh? Disgusting - but efficient."
Snatch.
Let it be known that I was not the type of man to go shopping for groceries. I enjoyed shopping trips, don't get me wrong - there was always this unique, almost primal satisfaction whenever you spent thousands of your hard-earned blood money on some useless luxury designer good that would inevitably end up becoming obsolete in a few months - but as far as going out and getting food? Soda? Toiletries?
I'd always had my people do it for me. The personal time of a fledgling mafia don tended to be more valuable than that.
But here I was now, servant-less and significantly more broke, pushing a squeaky grocery cart through the junk food section of Walmart like a dickhead because our one and only factory had all the living qualifications of a back-alley crime scene, yet it was now occupied by several human beings who - despite their questionable backgrounds and moral fiber - deserved a bit more than cockroaches and piss to fill their stomaches, purely by stint of being honorary Bucciaratis.
They didn't have my name. Weren't deserving of the honor. But for better or worse, they were my first recruits in this grim new world, and a Bucciarati never let their men starve.
If one ate shit, we all ate shit.
And I refused to eat shit.
The cart was already jam packed with both perishable and non perishable goods - canned foods, rice, pasta, chips, jerky, instant ramen, soda. There was already a surplus of purified water packs back at the factory due to it being the main solvent for my alchemy, so there was that at least. Even then, I'd already made two trips back to my sexy new supercar, and something told me the old white lady near the self-checkout was starting to get suspicious.
I guess my, in Sal's words, 'K-Drama serial killer' attire didn't help matters too much.
I liked the color black, and I liked looking good. It is what it is. Back on our Earth, most of my casual and semi-formal wardrobe was expensive, custom-made designer clothing in mostly darker colors: Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Díor, Prada- if I had to guess, the closet in my penthouse in Cali was probably worth somewhere nearing a few hundred thousand, not including the suits. I didn't have nearly as much money on Earth Bet, yet, but that didn't mean my taste changed. I just had to temporarily downgrade.
My index finger curled over the top of my black surgical mask, tugging the thin cotton down just far enough for me to take a quick sip of the bottle of Sprite I'd purchased from the in-house Subway. With my baseball cap tugged low over my face, shrouding my tired eyes in the darkness of its rim, I could almost convince myself that my newly enchanted good looks were not, in fact, bringing me a lopsided amount of attention.
Except that was cope. My perks weren't exactly subtle.
My curly, dark brown hair practically shimmered with vitality and health. My skin was as clear as a newborn babe's, minus the beauty marks, and held an ever so slight glisten, as if someone moisturized me with 'look at how sexy I am!' cream. My clothes were too clean. Too sleek. I'd had the lingering eyes of both teenaged girls and middle-aged housewives on me the second I'd pulled my mask down back at the Subway in order to eat my Italian sub (onions, tomato, gabagool- the works).
It was flattering. At any other day, in any other world, I probably would've flashed my teeth, winked my left eye, and took someone into the bathroom for some mid-afternoon stress relief. But after the clusterfuck of crime that hit the city yesterday, right now was probably the worst time to rock the whole 'mysterious bad boy' shtick. I knew when to take my losses, and by dressing up 'incognito', I recognized that I'd accomplished the exact opposite of my original intent.
"Time to fucking dash…" I murmured to myself, dropping one last party-sized bag of Fritos on top of the veritable pile of big back activity in my overloaded cart-
Only to pause, blink, and stare at the golden-haired duo who wandered into my Aisle B7.
I almost wanted to pinch myself, just to see if I'd died somewhere in the past ten minutes of mindless shopping and ended up in sinner Heaven… Because what the fuck were they putting in the water in Brockton Bay for the women to be this drop dead gorgeous?
And why did I oh so badly want to get between the two of their bodies like the jelly in a PB&J, low profile be fucking damned?
Ah. That's right. Because I was merely a man, despite my Divine Physiology. And even if I was a god, it was almost guaranteed that I would be the God of Greed.
I was never satisfied, after all.
My shoulders straightened, eyebrows lowering, and I prepared myself for what some would call a 'Pro Gamer Move'.
Targets Acquired.
Victoria Dallon was not having a very good week so far-
Walmart was a miniature whirlpool of activity, an uncommon sight for a droll Tuesday afternoon. The aisles buzzed with the chatter of shoppers and staff, and the faint strain of some top charting pop music played distantly over the loudspeakers. One Victoria Dallon wandered through the 'junk food' section of the large retail store, her cousin, Crystal Pelham, quietly whistling along to 'Party Rock Anthem' as she pushed a cart laden with a mix of essential groceries and feel-good impulse buys.
Mostly Crystal's, admittedly, but Victoria was guilty of a few baubles and snacks too. But her miniature bag of Hershey Kisses was nothing compared to her cousin's XL bag of sour gummies, hot chips, and fifty dollar worth of essential oils. And that was just a portion.
"And this is why I don't let you shop alone," Vicky snickered, shaking her head as Crystal casually knocked a bag of Little Debbie cupcakes into the cart, "Didn't Aunt Sarah force you to buy that meal plan? There's no freaking way you keep all of this in that tiny dorm room. What does your poor roommate think?"
"Sabah doesn't mind a little extra snackage, Vic. She just gets pissy if I leave wrappers lying around. Or soda cans. Or my panties. Or my bras." Crystal paused, innocently tapping her index finger against her chin. A grin formed on her full, soft pink lips, equal parts sheepish and amused. "… I might have a problem, actually."
Vicky snorted. "You thin-"
Her retort died in her throat as a familiar figure entered her peripheral vision, walking down the aisle directly behind a clueless Crystal.
Dressed in dark, casual clothing that may have been inconspicuous on most people, but made him look like some sort of supermodel trying and failing to be anonymous, Angelo moved with an effortless grace that looked almost preternatural to Vicky's sharp eyes. A black surgical mask hung beneath his chin, revealing a handsome, chiseled visage that looked, quite literally, as if it had been sculpted by master artisans.
A gothic painting made physical.
She had only met him once, and not for very long, but he looked different now. Better. She couldn't put her finger on each minute change, but it was an unmistakable cosmetic upgrade, like all flaws and imperfections were airbrushed away, and the remnants were molded into something better. A power, maybe? He could've been a cape, him and his brother. Either that, or there was another cape lurking around with Amy's abilities.
Not that any of those thoughts helped her current predicament.
Tall, dark, and beautiful - he was the devil that had been lurking at the edges of her thoughts for over a week now, teasing her half to death with that damned charming smirk anytime she would close her eyes and let her mind wander. The same one he wore when he pressed that flower into her hand, when his fingers slid against her palm and left behind goosebumps-
Vicky swallowed. Thickly.
'Not him. God, not him. Not today…'
"Ladies," Angelo greeted in that deep, richly accented baritone, just enough surprise pushed into his voice to sound genuine, "Seems like Fate's decided our paths should cross again, Vicky. Twice in two weeks?"
Right. Okay. They were doing this, and Vicky was totally prepared.
"Angelo," she said, forcing herself to sound neutral and not at all guilty, or excited, or happy. Unfortunately, the slight hitch in her voice betrayed her. "Hi."
The cheeky fucker could hear it, too. She knew he could. That smirk was too smug.
Crystal, the traitorous traitor, visibly perked up at the sound of his voice. She turned around with a speed that sent her long, golden hair whipping across her upper back like a curtain, looking up at the much taller man with slightly widened eyes. "And who's this?"
"Angelo Bucciarati," the Italian responded, flashing a maddeningly handsome smile in Crystal's direction. "I'm new to the city, moved here with my brother for business. You must be Vicky's sister…?"
"We get that a lot. I'm this sexy goddess' mortal cousin - Crystal. Crystal Pelham," she corrected easily, offering the dark man her much smaller hand. The way her eyes raked over his broad shoulders and tan, flawless skin was with a sharpness that reminded Victoria of a tigress staring at a fat, juicy lump of meat.
She'd seen this kind of scene on the Discovery Channel, but it had never made her stomach turn like this…
Crystal smiled, then, her plush red lips glinting with cherry lip gloss. "It's super nice to meet you, Angelo."
His eyes glinted beneath the fluorescent skylights, his smirk dimpling his cheeks and pronouncing the beauty mark beneath his right eye. Angelo kept hold of Crystal's hand a bit too long, calloused thumb caressing the shell of her palm with an unnecessary tenderness. "The pleasure is all mine, bella. It isn't often I meet a goddess playing mortal. Your disguise could use some work, though - you're practically glowing."
Bella. Italian for beautiful. She'd done some research later that fateful evening after Fugly Bob's, curious about some of the words he'd used, and 'bella' was one that she'd seen on the Italian 4 Dummies website.
Unprompted, Vicky forcibly interjected herself into the conversation, her tone sharper than she intended. "What are you even doing here, Angelo?"
It was a dumb question, and an even dumber, bitchier way to ask, but she had panicked.
Ugh!
"Grocery shopping, of course," Angelo chuckled, his deep, velvety voice like silk against her eardrums. Rather than offended, he seemed entirely amused by her bite. "I just came here to stock up on food for my new apartment. Though, I did not expect to find such beautiful company. Lady Luck's playing favorites today."
Crystal giggled, and for once in her life, the normally laidback party girl sounded genuinely pleased by a man's flirtations. "Damn. Okay, you're pretty smooth, I'll give you that."
"He's always like this…" Vicky murmured under her breath, feeling entirely out of her element as she did her best to avoid that sharp, piercing brown gaze.
Angelo's smile widened. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
A spear of heat struck her in the chest, and Victoria found her flagging courage temporarily returning, a half smile forming on her lips as she side-eyed the smug, flirty bastard. "It is when people fall for it."
"That so?" He tilted his head, running a ring-laden hand through silky, curly locks of dark brown hair. Through the vascular width of his palm, she caught a glimpse of gleaming white teeth. A dark, borderline sinful grin. "I think following your heart can only be good, Vicky. Even sugary candy can be enjoyed in moderation. I promise not to overwhelm you."
Angelo paused thoughtfully. "… Much."
Victoria gaped, her cheeks blazing red. "You-"
…
Okay, that was good. Both her upper heart and lower heart could agree on that.
And that was why this was so bad.
See, Victoria was in a bit of a pickle.
She'd never been the type to entertain the attention of other guys whilst in a relationship. Ever. Vicky was a young woman raised with morals, self-respect, and empathy for her fellow man - which was why it had stung so fucking much when, later that fateful night after Fugly Bob's, Dean had made it abundantly clear to her that they'd need another break because of what he'd apparently 'seen' (sarcastic air quotes here) when Angelo had given her that fake little flower.
"Pinks. Yellows, blues, pinks, reds," he'd spat, his voice snippy and sad as he packed away his laptop and charger, "That guy was really into you, Vic. And it seemed like you were into him. So… figure it out, I guess? Sort through your feelings. Because I-"
Can't see them.
His excuse for each and every single one of their fights, where he was the one 'wronged'. As if him not being able to see her emotions made his lack of trust and faith in his girlfriend any more legitimate and pitiable, when he shouldn't have even been using them on her in the first fucking place. The usage of her power was 'breaching privacy' - which, fair, but how do you get off on using your inability to eavesdrop into her private emotions as a reason to throw a pity parade?!
She was sick of it. Sick of crying over their constant little spats. Sick of his jealousy, and gaslighting, and the unfairness of it all. Vicky said nothing about him entertaining Vista's little crush, or leading on the multitude of jealous bitches vying for his attention at Arcadia with his passive 'nice guy' routine. She liked his charm, his empathy, his kindness… but holy shit was she sick and tired of him being a hypocritical bitch.
But then again- maybe she was being a bitch herself? Dean was sensitive, and she knew that going into this. She wore the pants in their relationship, always being the one to initiate the kisses, the foreplay, the sex - because most of the time, Dean was just too damn thoughtful and hesitant to actually make a play. Had she actually expected him to say no to her taking the flower?
Had she actually wanted him to?
I think following your heart can only be good.
'Ughhhh!' Vicky internally groaned, furiously shoving away at the brain worms plaguing her mind. She was supposed to be enjoying her R&R after yesterday's dumpster fire, hanging out with her awesome cousin and buying random shit at Walmart, not agonizing over her stupid fucking feelings.
"Too much? Don't go passing out on me, signora…"
Instinctively, the blonde heroine inhaled at the barest hint of musk - and boy, was she happy she did. Deep, fragrant, expensive, but with the barest aftertone of leather and aftershave… Angelo, suddenly so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body, had a scent so painfully over the line and in her wheelhouse that Vicky had to stop herself from moaning like a slut.
… Okay, obviously not, but damn if his cologne wasn't doing things to her-
'Damn it. Bad Vicky. He asked a fucking question, girl! Stop being a fucking wet blanket!'
It wasn't his fault she couldn't stop thinking about him.
Well, it was, but she didn't have to be a bitch about it.
"… You're insufferable," Victoria sighed, but the wide, wry smile on her lips and in her voice took any and all actual bite out of her words. Softly, yet firmly, she placed her manicured hands on his broad, muscular pecs - totally not as an excuse to grope him - and applied just enough weight to ease him back a couple steps.
Not because she necessarily wanted him further away, but because the scent of his cologne and natural musk was enough to make her wet, and conflicting feelings or not, she couldn't just do that to Dean.
With that same small, too-cool-for-school smirk, Angelo easily went along with the slight push.
"Insufferable? Maybe. But you haven't left yet." His eyes twinkled, a youthful energy bright and passionate in his otherwise lidded gaze. "Truthfully, I think you like being challenged. Overwhelmed. It's cute how you're afraid to admit it."
A shiver raced down Vicky's spine, leaving goosebumps and tingles in its wake. Her heart pounded in her chest hard enough to make her lightheaded. "You don't know me. Not like that."
"But I will," Angelo insisted, and distantly, Vicky realized that he'd gone and invaded her personal space again. Only this time, she couldn't find the strength to push him away. "And when I do, you'll see that I'm right. You should never be ashamed of wanting something… more."
Something more.
In her mind, she saw a flash of someone's face. Young. Fair skin, short blonde hair. Kind. Fairly cute, in a Boy Scout way.
Plain. Unexciting. Hypocritical. Weak.
Her heart squeezed inside of her chest, and Victoria was frozen in place, feeling very much like a bunny staring a predator dead in the face as she locked eyes with the smirking young man.
Licking her lips, she opened her mouth to say something. Anything-
"Hey."
Crystal cut through the remarkably tense air of Aisle B7 with a sharp clap of her hands, ducking around their bodies and offering a dazzling, vaguely bemused smile. "Not to interrupt- actually, totally to interrupt - but are we grocery shopping or starring in a rom-com? Because if it's the second one, I want to know my lines too. Feeling a bit left out here."
Vicky jerked back as if electrocuted, the magical spell between her and the dashing Italian casanova breaking in an instant. Her hands flew back to her sides, palms still pleasantly scorched by the warmth of his chest. "We're grocery shopping! All the groceries, yeah. Mom wanted, uh, milk. And tampons."
If the words came out a bit more breathless than intended, it wasn't her fault. Blame Mr. Pheromones!
Angelo's predatory gaze traded victims as he coolly regarded Crystal, that damned smirk never shifting from his sharp features. "My apologies, I'm not one for neglecting my responsibilities. We can have our own scene whenever you'd like, Miss Pelham."
"I- You, but…" Crystal, normally so nonchalant and confident in the face of others, found herself stumbling over her words for the first time since the conversation started. She recovered quickly, a hint of pink flushing her face with warmth. "Heh, okay, maybe I deserved that one. You, sir, are god damned carnivorous. Not satisfied with just one hot blondie?"
He shrugged easily, leaning back against his grocery cart. "I am Italian. We of all people know what good eating looks like."
'Don't look at us when you say things like that! Or do. I don't fucking know anymore, man.'
Judging by the increase in pink on Crystal's face, and the way her nonchalant nerves were very visibly beginning to turn into goo, she was probably on the same wavelength. The older woman parted her lips to shoot back, thought better of it, and quickly leaned towards Vicky, hiding her mouth behind her palm.
"Be strong," she whispered theatrically, flushed but smirking, "This is a battle of attrition, Vic. He's the raid boss. How're you holding up?"
Vicky rolled her eyes, but not before a giggling snort managed to leak out. College dormitory life was so not doing her cousin any favors, video games being her most recent vice. "I'm fine. This boss isn't too hard."
Even as she whispered that, her gaze caught his. Angelo winked and waggled his eyebrows, his smirk twisting into a roguish grin, and Vicky's eyes widened at the blatant innuendo. She walked right fucking into that one.
Crystal side-eyed her with clear doubt on her face. "Riiight. You're too far gone, girl. But I know just how to beat this guy," she continued her theatrics, glancing back at his watchful, amused form with fake caution.
"And just how are you going to do that when your face is as red as mine?"
She winked conspiratorially. "Easy. You surrender. Watch."
That seemed like a fundamentally horrible idea, but Vicky found herself going along with it regardless. She was usually much more extroverted than this - maybe not as outright flirty or teasing as her more experienced cousin, but definitely gregarious enough. But right now, she couldn't bring herself to make that plunge. Not with that corrosive guilt biting at the back of her mind.
But Crystal had no such reservations, so she let her lead.
"Tell you what, Angelo - you're charming. Stupid hot. Maybe a little cocky, but that isn't always a bad thing. You seem like the type to go for what you want without coming up with excuses, or pussy-footing around the point. Am I right?" She sauntered closer to him as she talked, her earlier confidence coming back with gusto, and the taller young man watched her with lidded eyes that very blatantly consumed every inch of her voluptuous body.
Vicky didn't know what was happening, but the earlier tension was back with a fucking vengeance. Her stomach was in knots. Jealousy, excitement, arousal, guilt, confusion… There were so many feelings, it was nearly dizzying.
"The chase is a large part of the fun," he admitted, flashing teeth, "But yes, I'm very persistent when I find something I want. I don't often give up until it's mine."
Crystal grinned smugly, tilting up her chin. "And you want both of our numbers, don't you?"
Angelo didn't miss a beat. "Naturally."
"That's a big ask. Some would even call it straight up arrogance," she gave him an exaggerated once-over, before licking her lips. "But it's also bold. And I like bold."
Victoria's jaw dropped. "Crystal!"
"What?" Crystal asked innocently. "I'm just saying, he's got guts. He knows what he wants. And we're all single, right?"
Single. She was, wasn't she? At least right now…
Angelo met Vicky's gaze, his face schooled into an unreadable expression, though his tone was light. "Your cousin understands the value of risk and reward, Vicky. Perhaps that's a lesson we can all learn. And if the risk is my humiliation, but the reward is potentially more afternoons spent in the company of you two…? I'll take those odds."
God. This fucking-
"You just never turn it off, do you?" She crossed her arms over her plush chest, shooting him a glare that she didn't quite feel. Maybe it was that traitorous smile curling her lips?
Angelo smirked, not breaking eye contact as he handed his phone over to Crystal. "I have a habit of keeping things turned on."
"Ooh. That was a spicy one," Crystal chuckled, swiftly inputting her number. After a brief second of hesitation, she held the phone up to her face at a nice aerial angle, made a kissy face and the peace sign, and snapped a quick selfie. "There. Let's see if you survive the second number."
She passed the phone over to Vicky with a wink.
Victoria looked down at the small device like it was a live grenade, her mind whirring with a cacophony of thoughts and feelings so conflicted and jumbled that she could not decipher any of them. The smartphone was a slim, black thing - probably a few years old, if she had to guess. Something from a pawn shop. She saw her face in the reflection of the glass, flushed and conflicted.
"Vic," Crystal urged, her tone light but encouraging. Understanding. "If you're still-"
Hell. No.
Exhaling sharply, she quickly flicked on the screen and navigated to the contact book. It was remarkably empty, only having 'Brother' and 'Crystal ' filling up the topmost spots. That didn't make much sense considering… everything that Angelo was. No family, no friends, no girl friends?
But she put it to the back of her mind for now, and put her contact information in. Just a plain ole' Vicky. She thought about taking a selfie like Crystal had, maybe putting a yellow heart and a sunflower or something equally as cheesy and cute, but just giving him her number was a lot for her right now. At least until she can leave, breathe, and try to sort through her feelings with her cousin/therapist.
When she handed him his phone back, her hand touched Angelo's, sending yet another pleasant jolt through her heart. This time, though, she was prepared for it - which made seeing him twitch all the more pleasing.
God, she was beaming again.
Angelo took a moment to glance at both women, his smirk softening into something more intimate and genuine. Pushing off of his cart, he bowed his head slightly.
"Grazie, belle donne," he said, his rich, velvety tone curling around the words like a warm embrace. "For your trust, your captivating company, and the honor of your numbers. I've never known a Walmart to double as a gold mine, but here we are."
As he straightened, his gaze lingered on each of them in turn, nothing more than a few seconds of eye contact, but to Vicky, it felt much longer. More personal. As silly and soap opera as it was, in that moment, she really did feel like they were the only two people in this loud, cramped ass store.
And then he half turned, one gloved hand on his shopping cart, and winked.
"Until next time, Crystal… Victoria," he added, his voice dropping just enough to make their names sound like promises.
"Stay safe, handsome. Don't get distracted staring at my contact pic, alright?" Crystal leaned against the nearby shelf of chips, knocking over a large bag of Cheetos and completely ignoring it.
Vicky swallowed, waving. "I'll see you around, Angelo. I hope-"
What? I hope to see you again? What kind of simpering goodbye was that?!
Before she could bite her tongue and try again, the darkly-dressed man had already begun pushing his cart, leaving behind the scent of his cologne and his low, husky chuckles.
"Buon pomeriggio, bellissime."
And just like that, he was gone.
Vicky hated the way her stomach immediately began to miss his presence.
Crystal nudged her shoulder from the side, pulling her out of her thoughts before they could begin wandering amok. Her naturally sultry voice was oddly serious, despite the smirk in her words. "So, are you going to text him first, or am I?"
Vicky groaned. Because of course this was going to be a thing now.
"Let's just go check out your freaking junk food," she grumbled, a half-exhausted cackle slipping free from her lips. "Afterwards, you've got a lot of explaining to do, missy."
"Gulp."
Today was going to be another long day.