ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴠᴀᴄᴀɴᴛ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ
***
As the night falls into the early hours of the next morning, Alessia Gotti can only think of one thing. Vengeance. The group are forced to split up and go on the r...
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3RD PERSON
KING'S DOMINION ATELIER OF THE DEADLY ARTS, SAN FRANCISCO
The metal of his belt buckle that wrapped around his lower waist, like a snake around it's victim, chimed as did the silver plated clips of his western leather boots, patterns engraving them with spirals. The polished marbled floor, that had only 10 minutes ago, been walked upon by students, was now empty, except for his walk of death. His echoes against the wooden framed walls, were unspoken warnings to the teenagers, who listened behind their closed doors.
The woman was already sitting down at her desk as he walked through the door, the heat of the crackling fire embracing him like an old friend. A small girl sat at a desk in the corner busying herself with writing, only looking up as he strode in, her dark eyes filling with a certain amount of terror, as she forcefully turned back to what she was doing.
"Well?" She asked, her ringed fingers crossed, those demeaning eyes of hers burning into his equally cold ones.
El Alma del Diablo rested his hands upon his hips, his gun visible within its holster. "They were in New York. The girl, she killed my best gun man. You better have-"
"You will be payed for that accordingly. And I assure you, once we finally catch up with them, I will let you deal with Maria, but Gotti is mine to deal with as is the others. They are my responsibility, just like this school is." Madame Gao spoke through pursed lips, her arms un-moving from their position.
"I do not doubt that you will remember your side of the deal, Gao. My son must be avenged"
"And he will be. I think we'll be seeing Miss Gotti and her friends very soon" She spoke, as a gust of wind spiraled and fell down the hot chimney dispersing into the fire, almost sounding like a scream.
~
ALESSIA
I dreamed again as the car drove further and further from my city. Once upon a time ago I used to like slipping off at night. Cause dreaming meant I didn't have to think about school, or family business. It was just...bliss. But, now dreams entailed of me being reminded over and over of the things I did wrong. I have done many wrong things, and within my head they all hit me at once. I shouldn't have let my uncle into the house all of those years ago. I shouldn't have asked Lex to help us. I shouldn't have helped Marcus in the first place. I shouldn't have stabbed Juan, or killed that guy. I couldn't tell myself any longer that it wasn't my fault. It was alright for Billy, and Petra to say that it wasn't, but it never really sunk in. I remembered that conversation I had with Billy and the others during Lock down (for I'd give anything to be back in that room, stuck together, when we didn't realise how much we needed each other). We had a choice whether we turned out like our parents or not. That choice was slipping through my hands like sand falls through a time glass. The more I fell into this, the easier it was to be like my father. To be the way I was taught, and less of the way I wanted to be.
