Dyker Heights, Brooklyn.  It was a lovely little community with some of the best homes in all of New York City... no the least of which included the latest place that the woman who had been Aurora Luciano of Chicago, Aurora Byrne of Philadelphia, Aurora Mastrosimone of Las Vegas, Detroit, and Canada had called home.

Moving into their new home hadn't been as hard as some moves.  Billy had a dozen men who moved all their things from Detroit to the new place ahead of them.  Granted some things were woefully out of date and a few new beds and dresses had to be purchased but ... home came together smoothly and without much fuss.  However, just because their stuff was here ... that didn't make it home.  Aurora found herself missing the small cabin in the woods where they had all lived so closely.  It was a place where she good turn her head one way or another and always see her children.  In this place, even when they were all here, she might not see them when she looked.  It was massive and, despite it's beauty, Aurora did not yet feel it had the warmth of a true home.

And so, she went shopping.  Not for more decor though she had bought a frame for the only family picture she had which included all of them... an only recently developed shot they took on their first night here in New York.  Putting down the groceries on the table she picked up the picture from a pile of older photos yet to be hung and smiled at it.  God, they'd all grown so much & how old she and Billy had gotten out of seemingly nowhere!

She sighed and put the photo back down beside the pile of unfilled picture frames.  Picking up the groceries she finished her walk into the kitchen.  In her old life, she never would have had much use for this room.  Aurora had never been very domestic, but Canada had changed that.  Fifteen years of caring for her family and little else had made her as much an expert in the care of lives as she was the ending of them.  

Eggs, sugar, butter, chunks of chocolate... Billy would have a dozen cookies for his desk in town.  The kids would have some for after school snacks.  Cookies were a rare treat in Canada but when they did have them it was a celebration.  It was just the thing to remind them all that this move was a good thing.  She knew it had unsettled all of her children, and her husband in some ways, but soon they would all fall into their routines and life would be good.  She could feel it in her bones. 

Tara was at Vassar now and she'd grow there so much, just as she herself had. Brigitte was settled into her apartment in Manhattan and she'd find work as an actress before she knew it.  Gavin, well he'd taken that job at the docks.  Rora didn't like it but she understood his need to not remain idle and the work was honest and hard and it made him feel like he wasn't sitting still waiting for the world to tell him what to do.  And the twins... well, school wasn't easy for them.  She didn't like how disappointed they seemed the first few days.  Hence, the cookies.  A small pick me up, a reminder they were loved dearly and that not everything was doom and gloom.

Aurora twisted her hair and put it into a messy bun atop her head and hummed as she put away the items she wouldn't use for the cookies.  She knew she would have been happier in Philly but knowing some affairs were finally settled and being back in the 'real world' felt so damn good... she was floating on cloud nine.  Her skin was clearer than it had been in months.  Her eyes bright and hair shiny ... what difference not bathing in a basin made!  Why even her nails were looking nicer.  She'd put on a small bit of weight since getting back, expected due to better food and indulgences but she thought that it looked nice and Billy never complained when her bras filled out more.  Catching sight of herself in the reflection on the blackened glass stove door she paused to admire herself.

She was blurry, it wasn't a perfect reflection, but she could make out the important bits.  She stared for a long while at what she saw there, that vaguely visible woman looking back at her, and she swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat.  Will was right... she realized, she did look a bit like mom.  Aurora reached her hand out towards the ghostly shape, hesitated and then preheated the device for 350 degrees.

Her mom liked to cook.  Her mom would have loved to have shared this with her.  Cooking cookies for the grandkids.  In Philly...  "I'm sorry."  She said to the reflection.  A part of her knew her mom didn't care where she lived, so long as she and the kids were okay... alive... and together.  It was just a house.  It was just a city.  In time, New York would be home too, just like all the other homes she had before.  Of course, Aurora told herself it wouldn't be.  Aurora didn't intend to move ever again.  No.  She was going to die here... she and Billy, together.

She sighed and turned back to her ingredients.  It was time to make something.  That's what Mastrosimone family members did.  It's who they were.  

Oriana had fled Europe with very little in terms of possessions. She had her weapons, three guns and four knives that she wore almost everyday, the clothes on her back, and a small amount of cash. The only other things she took with her were some notes on contracts: people who'd been hitlisted in the States for amounts so high that cashing one in would solve almost all her problems.

Mostly, the targets were ghosts; they'd been hiding for years, which was why the payout was so high. Most of them had probably died already, either from old age or by some other poor fool's hand who didn't know about the bounty. Tracking any of them down would be a long shot. 

But for $100,000,000? It was worth keeping an eye out. 

So when Oriana visited a diner frequented by thugs and bodyguards and heard the name "Mastrosimone"? She sat up a little bit straighter in her chair. 

Since the age of twelve, Oriana had trained every day with a group of girls to become a spy and assassin for her country. By the time they were fifteen, they were working safe, intelligence gathering missions in the field. When they turned eighteen, they started killing. For the last five years, she'd performed mission after mission until they became boring. With the exception of her escape, it had been a long time since she got excited chasing after a target. 

She was excited now.

It was little trouble isolating the guard who'd dropped the name and luring him to the bathroom for information. After knifing him, she'd wiped her blade clean and returned it to the sheath on the back of her belt.

It was midday by the time she'd cased the house. She took her time with it, knowing that it was most dangerous to hunt another predator, and that tipping off her target could make things far more difficult. According to the bounty, "Aurora Mastrosimone, previously Aurora Byrne" was the daughter of one of the best killers in the States, now deceased, and the sister of one of the best killers in Europe, whereabouts unknown. There'd been a larger hit out on her husband until recently, but that had been bought off or canceled. Aurora Mastrosimone had a reputation as a talented killer, and Oriana had no intention of underestimating her.

She'd vanished for fifteen years. What made her come back? 

The house in Dyker Heights had decent security. The houses were large, which would make it easier not to be overheard in a fight, but harder to approach. Fortunately, tall hedges seemed to be in fashion. Making her way silently into the neighborhood, she noticed a guard patrolling the rear of the building. She removed a knife and limped over toward him, clutching at her side and moaning in pain. The guard lifted his gun, hesitated, and then moved to help her. Her knife slid across his throat before he could react, and she had a hand over his mouth to keep him from shouting as she walked him back behind a bush where he collapsed. At least he'd be out of sight to anyone driving by. Moving quickly, she approached the house and disposed of two more guards in a similar faction. She couldn't hear or see any others as she peered into one of the windows. At an angle, she could see Mastrosimone, who had her back to Oriana.

Making cookies? 

Oriana entered the house like a phantom, silently closing the door behind her. She made her way to the kitchen with her knife in her right hand and her gun in her left. The knife would be preferable. Quiet. She'd need to find some proof of the kill for Mattaranzi if she was going to collect, and she couldn't do that if the cops got here in ten minutes. If she even had that long... this didn't seem like the sort of neighborhood where gunshots happened often. No, better not to risk it. She holstered the Beretta, although she kept her hand on it, and carefully held the knife as she crept toward the kitchen.

Oriana was like a cat as Aurora Mastrosimone came into view. She moved silently as the older woman hummed to herself, making cookies. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Aurora cocked her head slightly and Oriana froze, almost leaping forward and almost pulling her gun, but the woman returned to her cooking. Ten feet. Oriana readied the knife.

Then everything went to hell.

Just before Oriana made her move, Aurora closed her eyes and hurled the two biggest handfuls of flour behind her that she could hold. 

Oriana slammed her eyes shut, mostly succeeding in avoiding getting blinded, and took her best guess at stabbing in Aurora's direction. She felt the knife connect, but as soon as it did, Aurora twisted away, taking the knife with her. Not wanting to chance getting stabbed with her own weapon, Oriana took a few steps back and blinked to clear her eyes. As she did so, she had her second knife out. Rubbing the last of the flour out of her left eye, Oriana found herself facing Aurora, who'd removed the knife from her side and pointed it at her attacked.

A few drops of blood from her knife fell onto the floor.

Aurora grimaced.

Oriana grinned.

This would be fun.

Rora's heart thundered in her ears as the hitman's knife struck true through the cloud of flour.  Instinct, practiced motions done so many times that they didn't require thought, kicked in and she spun away using her own flesh to disarm her would-be killer.  Realizing her own knife was upstairs on the nightstand and her guns in their box - this was the one way to immediately arm herself. 

Years of peace, even in the wake of war, had taken a different kind of toll than she ever could have expected.  It wasn't her body, that was as ready and able to answer the call as before, she'd trained in the woods of Canada every day religiously.  No, it was the practical fieldwork that kept you thinking like a killer.  After fifteen years of being a mom and not a hitman she felt like the average adult must feel when trying to climb onto a bicycle for the first time since childhood.  She knew how to do what she'd always done... but it wasn't as smooth as she remembered it being.

As the flour settled and Aurora could finally see her opponent, she couldn't help but gape a little.  It was a woman.  Italian, lovely, and... so young!  The girl could have been Aurora herself at that age.  At this thought, Aurora became increasingly worried.  She'd gotten into the house that meant guards were dead.  That meant... she was good and in a blink, she was armed again.

Aurora lashed her hand out to the island in the middle of the kitchen snatching up the cookie sheet, pressing the small advantage she had hoping to keep the girl off guard.  Cookie sheet in her left hand she swiped towards the assassin, knocking her opponent's knife hand aside and coming in close to swipe with her own blade.  Aurora smirked as she felt the blade bite through cloth and flesh and a ribbon of red exploded in the wake of the knife passing through the air.  

The girl had got first blood on surprise, but Aurora would be damned if she didn't teach the other woman why the they called her a lioness.  She was Aurora Mastrosimone, and she had years of experience on this chit.  The girl was picking a fight she couldn't hope to win.  Aurora's lip curled upward into a near mirror of her late father's signature grin without even realizing it as Ori seemed to notice the wound she'd taken.

Lesson One: Don't attack an old pro on their home turf unless you absolutely have to...

Aurora was no longer a student.  Aurora was the master and class was now in session.  

Fuck. The old cat still has claws.

Oriana barely paused, ignoring the slice straight down the button-line of her shirt near her stomach as she leaped forward to press the attack. 

She swung her knife overhead, coming down at Aurora with a vertical motion that the older woman gracefully sidestepped; for a moment, it looked like Oriana had left herself exposed, and Aurora moved in to strike. 

Oriana's other hand had gripped the handle of another knife near the bottom of her slacks, and she swung it upwards before Aurora could avoid getting sliced in the thigh. The older woman bounced away from the follow up from Oriana, but the young assassin had obviously done some damage. 

This wasn't at all like sparring with Gavin.  It wasn't like the hits she'd done in her youth.  It was something closer to what she felt in Russia.  The girl was infuriatingly good and as the second bite of her blade landed, Aurora saw nothing but red.  It was galling that this girl half her age was getting even this good on her and other thoughts, worse thoughts, began to enter her mind.

She imagined the scene where her husband came home to find what was left of her... with the children who he was picking up from school today.  How Jack and Isabella would react upon seeing her corpse cut to ribbons before whatever horrible execution she'd been put through was done.  Her babies, the last time they'd see her, would be like that... like she'd seen Bella.

Mom.

The memory of her dead mother's corpse, so defiled by her enemies, was a blazing sun in her mind's eye and all the vitriol she'd kept locked away for so long was in an instant flash boiled and rushing out of her every pour as she grit her teeth and charged at her opponent.  "GRAH!"  She let out a sound from the lowest part of her belly, a growl - a desperate pained roar, as she bashed the cookie sheet into the woman again and again and again - almost forgetting she held a knife at all. 

The assassin fell back, further into the house, towards the door out of the kitchen and then she did the unthinkable.  Aurora dropped her knife.  The lioness pulled back her fist and let go with all the hurt and frustration that fifteen years of unanswered wrongs done to her family could fill her soul with.  It was the sort of blow that Will Bowden had taught her in her youth, the heavy sort iron fist that laid men low and made widows of their wives.  It was the very sort of punch that had put her father down in the dirt only this time, Aurora wasn't stopping.

As the other woman flew through the doorway and into the hall, Aurora pursued her, intent on finishing this bitch with her bare hands.

Both combatants were surprised as the front door swung open and Tara Mastrosimone walked in; the smile dropped from the girl's face when she saw her mother and a stranger bleeding in the hallway. Oriana and Aurora moved at the same time, but Oriana was closer and Aurora had dropped her knife; before Aurora could pick it up and move, the assassin had slipped behind Tara and held her knife to the girl's throat. With her other hand, she unholstered her Beretta and pointed it at Aurora.

"Not bad," said Oriana, wincing, "I hope I'm still as spry when I'm your age. Underestimated you. But this is over. Drop the weapons or watch the girl die."

Aurora had dropped her knife before Oriana finished the sentence, staring at her child.

Oriana spoke softly into the girl's hair close to her ear, "Just stay cool. Try to be a hero here and things get complicated. Nod- slowly- if you understand."

Tara was calmer than her mother expected her to be; whatever was said didn't scare the girl as bad as it probably should have. Tara nodded, her eyes locked on her mother.

Oriana's voice slid into Tara's ear again, "What's your name?"

"Tara." Her voice was airy. "Tara Mastrosimone."

Didn't need the last name there, really. Kid sounded like a POW reciting their name, rank, and serial number. 

Tara spoke quickly, "You're about to make a very big mistake. My-"

"Shut up. Now." The assassin's voice was so commanding in her ear that Tara fell immediately silent.

Oriana raised her voice again to speak to Aurora.

"Good. There's only three ways this plays out. Only one of them is bad for Tara here. The first option, which is what you're probably thinking right now, is that either you or the kid make a move to surprise me and you win this. Honestly, it's not impossible. But your odds aren't great. The only reason I didn't shoot you when I first walked in is because I need proof of death, and I can't get that with the cops here. If I'm actually in danger, I won't hold back. And I have been holding back. So I strongly advise against either of you getting clever. The second way this plays out is that you try some shit and I have to kill you both before I try to get what I need and get away. The third way is that you and I get in a car and take a drive, Mrs. Mastrosimone. No harm done, except to you."

"Third one," said Aurora immediately. "Tara, don't you dare move. Don't try anything. As soon I'm gone call Billy or Catalina and tell them-"

Oh. Fuck me, thought Oriana as she stopped listening.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Oriana swallowed.

Fuck.

"Catalina Rey?" interrupted Oriana, as Aurora was passing on more last messages.

Aurora nodded. The assassin sighed.

Fuck. 

"Okay, fourth option," said Oriana, narrowing her eyes, "let's say, hypothetically, I realize that I probably should have checked with my new boss, Catalina Rey, before getting excited about that hundred million dollar bounty. You kick me back my knife, I fuck off, and then we meet up some time soon with Catalina to smooth this over. Have a bottle of wine. Laugh over misunderstandings. I apologize for bleeding all over Tara's blouse and buy her a new one..."

Oriana blinked.

"Were you particularly attached to your bodyguards, by the way? Just wondering."

"If my husband learns you pulled a weapon on his daughter... there's no way you live.  I don't care how much he likes Catalina or Cat likes you.  I know my Billy.  Me, that's business.  My non-combantant kid, that's not how we do things in the Cosa Nostra."  She shook her head.  "But... you tell me who has the price on my head, and I forget who you work for.  I forget we ever met.  You get a do-over.  You don't fuck up again, and this never happened."

She nods towards Tara, "Tara's good with secrets... aren't you Tara?"

Tara nodded but didn't speak a word.

"She wasn't here.  She came after the assassin escaped.  She saw no one."

Tara nods again.  "I didn't see anything."

Aurora wanted to kill the woman who held a knife to her kid's throat but the memory of her dead father was a compelling enough temptation to try.  If she had a name she could be on a plane tomorrow - FINALLY hunting the man or woman who had stolen her father from her.  And, best of all, Billy didn't have to be in danger.  He would be here, starting up their new crew, safe and sound with their children.  All she needed was a name.

"Giancarlo Mattaranzi. I know a little bit more than that... but let's have that discussion when I'm not bleeding on your daughter. Let's both go see doctors, then set up a meeting through Catalina."

I'm pretty sure you need a doctor more than I do, but this seems like a bad time to mention that. And as a bonus, I'll also leave all that "how we do things" shit alone. Oriana's voice returned to Tara's ear.

"Our little secret. Good."

The knife slowly left Tara's throat as Oriana picked up her weapons and put them away. Giving the girl a slight push toward her mother, Oriana darted out the front door and disappeared.

Rora rushed forward and pulled Tara into her arms, kissing the girl's head and checking her throat to be sure no harm had come to her, but her eyes hadn't failed her.  The assassin hadn't cut Tara.   

"Mom..."  Tara touched the blood on her shirt.  

"I'm okay, Peanut."  She hadn't called Tara than since she was a toddler but it came out unbidden, the desire to hold her little girl was overwhelming... but Aurora admitted to herself that she needed to sit and to staunch her wounds before things got worse.  "Get me to the couch, then you'll call your father."

Tara helped her mother hobble towards the couch and stated the obvious, "He's going to ask questions."

"You just tell his secretary to give your father a message from me: Sixty-Six."

"Is that like one of Nona Bella & Aunt Tara's codes?"

Aurora sighed and nodded.  Tara having read those books was a double-edged blade that cut deep both for and against her now.  "It means our security is breached.  The person giving the message is injured but alive and the family should fall back to home."

Tara nodded realizing then that her mother meant to do all the talking for them both, which meant she really did mean to keep her father in the dark.  "Who is Giancarlo Mattaranzi?"

Aurora sighed, "A name you're going to forget."

"But mom..."

"Call your father, I need help stitching these up.  We'll talk more about that name later... for now..."  She kissed her daughter again.  "I'm just glad you're okay.  That's what really matters.  Nothing else matters so much as that.  I promise."

Tara nodded and standing up she went to the phone, dialed.

"Good Afternoon, Calico Development Group."

"Hi this is Tara Mastrosimone.  I'm calling with a message for my father Billy... from my mom.  She wants you to let him know the following... Sixty-Six."

"Just... Sixty-Six?"

"Yes."  Tara confirmed.  "From Aurora Mastrosimone."

"Alright.  I'll pass along the message."

"Don't delay.  He'll be angry if you do."  Tara warned.

"I'll take it straight to him."

Tara got off the phone and went to her mother's side to hold her hand.  For a long while, they sat quietly together.  It was Aurora who spoke first, "I suppose this is the part where you tell me how much you wish we hadn't left Canada?"

Tara shook her head, 'no' and looked up to her mom from the place she sat beside the couch on the floor.  "I'm just glad you're okay."  She echo'd her mother's words. 

Aurora reached over and brushed away a stray hair hanging in Tara's face.  "You're so quiet... I'm worried about you Tara."

Tara chuckled dryly, "I'm always quiet."

"You've never been through anything like this..."  Aurora offered.

Tara squeezed her mother's hand, "Sure I have... through your eyes, Nona Bella's eyes, Lucy's eyes..."

Aurora tilted her head to the side and looked at Tara, "And...?"

But Tara didn't answer.  Her mind wandered back to the fear of losing her mother, to the name her mother and father had been waiting fifteen years to hear ... the man who likely killed Grandpa Gavin, and lastly to the woman who had held a knife to her throat and the very strange emotions she felt about it all.  

No.  Tara wasn't exactly scared.  Maybe... but just a little.  The truth was, Tara didn't know what she was feeling right now and THAT bothered her even more than if she'd simply been afraid.