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| Slipping Up | Started by: Marietta on Oct 28, '08 21:53 |
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"You're free to go then, Miss," said Officer Johnny Brown of the Detroit police force. Slowly he loosened the chains on the woman's wrists and she stepped back, turning away without a word and walking down the steps of the Detroit jailhouse towards the car waiting at the curb, accompanied by a large, well-dressed man. The officer sighed, shaking his head and turning towards the other woman who remained behind. Tilting her head to the side slightly she merely blinked at the man who finally gave a small shrug. "I apologize for all of that, M'am. Just doing my job." He spoke with a New York accent as if he thought it made him more important, when his looks and demeanor spoke of Michigan boy- born and raised. No apologies needed. Am I to assume that everything is cleared up, then? She was curt and business-like, swinging a briefcase from her hands and standing up tall in an attempt to intimidate the man. It wasn't her he was focused on, however, for Officer Brown's eyes kept darting down towards the briefcase. "Yeah yeah, I'll get to all of that." You'll get to all of that? I want a sure guarantee, Officer. I want none of this on the record. This little 'session' of detainment was all in error, am I correct? "Well yeah, geeze M'am. Calm down, it'll all be taken care of," he said, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone. Her stare was as cold as a winter's morning in Chicago as her eyes swept up and down the front steps, focusing on the dimly lit stone building before finally settling back upon the man himself. And the evidence? she asked, her voice stinging with a chill that rarely took residence within. "What evidence?" the officer asked with what he thought was a winning chuckle and smile. "Me and mine saw nothing, miss. I can assure you no one will let anything slip." Leaning in close to the man Marietta Rossi, Don of Detroit, pressed the brown leather brief case into his hands. Kissing his cheek she briefly allowed her lips to pass by his ear, hissing: See that they don't. Without so much as a backwards glance the blond woman turned on her heels and shoved her hands into the pockets of the black trench coat she wore for 'important' business. Immediately her sights were set some ten feet ahead of her; a large-built man leading away a thin, young girl towards the Black Dodge Luxury Liner Delux that Marietta had purchased just some weeks before. Clenching her hands into fists was the only way she could stop the inner bubbling inside of her stomach and chest from boiling over and turning into a fit of rage. Never before had she been this angry; never before had she been this angry with Zoey of all people. Marching down the steps after the pair she waited until Pedro, her body guard, had stepped aside from the young female to unlock the driver's side door before rushing forward to the brunette's side. Zoey leaned against the car, rubbing her sore wrists where the handcuffs had just been shackled to her moments before, her lips pursed in thought as she did so. The girl's eyes, however, doubled in size as she watched Marietta fly over with a look of murder written upon her face. God damn it Zoey! Marietta shrieked, raising her hand to strike the girl across the face, only to suddenly be pulled backwards and whirled around to face Pedro. "Marietta, please! Not here!" Wrenching her arm from the man's grip she turned back to Zoey and gave a large huff. In the car. Now. "Jesus Christ Mari," Zoey said, slipping into the back seat of the car and snapping the door shut behind her. Feeling her heart racing at a million beats per minute, Miss Rossi slowly traveled to the other side of the car, pulling open the passenger side door and crawling inside. Once her door was closed Pedro cranked the engine over and began to navigate the vehicle down the darkened roads. The trio was silent as they turned off of Samuelson Boulevard and onto Main Street, pausing slightly to allow another small white car to pass. Picking at the hem of her black skirt was only serving to destroy the hem. Nothing, it seemed, could distract the woman from the amount of betrayal she felt. When at last she could not take it any longer Marietta whirled around in her seat to face one of her closest friends and associates. Picking up her handbag from the car seat she tossed it at the other woman. "What the fuck?" came Zoey's reply as it hit her on the arm. Don't 'what the fuck' me. What happened tonight, Zoey? It's not like your men to slip up like that. It's not like you to slip up like that. You're losing your touch. "Hey, lay off her," came Pedro's voice from beside her. Darting a quick glare his way Marietta wrinkled her nose in anger. No! I'm not going to 'lay off her' while she goes out every night and plays 'wackhappy' on the Seven Cities. Turning back towards Zoey, she gestured her hand in a wave of helplessness. Explain this to me, Zo. How the hell did this happen? "I already told you," Zoey said, crossing her arms across her chest and looking, sullenly, outside the car window in an attempt to ignore her Boss. Marietta gave a deep sigh of frustration. The truth was, they had been over the situation several times already. On the phone. In the interrogation room at the jail house. In the waiting area of the jail house. The same conversation and questions kept gaining the same answers, and at this point in time Mari was starting to get restless and extremely annoyed. As she stared at Zoey's profile she allowed her mind to drift backwards, to a few hours earlier. The evening had been cold and the lights in the restaurant had been dim when the waiter had walked over briskly with a message. "Miss Rossi, phone call" he had said, leading the tipsy woman back to the hostess' station. She would never forget the frantic tones of Tatiana on the other end, for even now they sent chills up her spine; "Zoey's in! The police have taken Zoey!" Marietta had rushed off as soon as she had heard the news, and after countless interviews and small palm greasing sessions her gal had been released. Yet something didn't sit right with the woman. Zoey didn't make mistakes; the two officers she had spoken to before said that nothing on the scene of the homicide could have even linked back to The Riot! it was so clean... except the business card on the floor. A simple white card with an address and the time of murder on the back, with Zoey's name and phone number on the front. While they didn't have enough evidence to find a connection between the victim and Zoey, nor pin the entire thing on her, she had been detained as a 'person of interest'. Slowly a scowl worked across Marietta's eyebrows as she relived the conversation. Everyone with a brain knew that 'person of interest' meant 'suspect'. She gave another glance towards the backseat, watching the street lights reflect themselves off of the glass just inches from Zoey's face. The woman only hired the best of the best to work for her, and everything she did was a science- an art form. And furthermore the brunette never did anything without the Boss' permission. How had this slip-up happened? Zoey, she said in a much softer tone towards the younger woman. I'm not saying you did it. I just want to know what happened. Tell me. You can tell me anything. |
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How many times do I have to tell you? Zoey sighed and shook her head. She couldn't believe what was happening. A man from another crew got wacked and everyone thought she did it. The next thing she expected was to be blamed for every killing in the mafia. Her reputation for being a hitter was getting too well known, Zoey thought and looked towards the front of the car at Marietta. I didn't do it. Isn't my word good enough for you? Frustrated about being blamed for a murder she didn't commit, restless from spending hours in jail and mad because Marietta didn't believe her Zoey felt tears burning her eyes, which only made her more angry. If you don't believe me stop the fucking car and let me out. I'll go work for someone else. I don't need to put up with this shit after everything I've done for you. Behind the wheel of the car Pedro looked over at Marietta for her reaction to Zoey's demands. The Don was silent. She contemplated if she should let her irate Right Hand get out of the car and cool off, but she worried if Zoey left her sight she might never see her again. She shook her head at Pedro and spoke. "Keep driving." Then she looked at Zoey in the back seat to talk to her. "Calm down. I'm only trying to figure out what happened. I don't understand why a card with your name and phone number was found next to a dead man's body." Zoey rolled her eyes, crossed her arms in front of her and turned her head to avoid looking at Marietta. She thought about opening the door and jumping out of the moving car, but she didn't want to get hurt and deal with an injury along with everything else that was happening. If I killed the guy I would not have made the stupid mistake of leaving evidence like that. I'm a professional. I'm insulted anyone thinks my work is that sloppy. There was an ugly side of the business Marietta only saw during wars and when they had problems with rogues. It was the dangerous and dark part Zoey dealt with everyday. It was killing. When the Don wanted someone dead it was Zoey's job to make it happen. She didn't mind doing the dirty work. It was necessary in their business. Thinking about her job made Zoey suddenly figure out what was happening. It's a set up! Zoey explained it to her boss with her hands gesturing wildly and words flying out of her mouth as fast as she could think of them. Her realization quickly made her mood change from helpless to excited and ready to work. Someone else did it and framed me for it. I don't know who or why. It could be anyone for any reason, like professional jealously. It could be because I'm better at shooting so a someone figures this is a good way to take me out. Maybe it's what's his name, the brother of that guy you told me to wack in Vegas last month. I thought he was all talk with his threats, but he could've paid someone to help him get his revenge on us. Without pausing to take a breath Zoey leaned forward and put her hand on Pedro's shoulder as she talked to him. I want to see where the guy was found, the one I supposedly killed. Take us there now. Maybe the hitter left something the police didn't find. I'm going to figure out who did it then I'm going to hunt down the son of a bitch, cut his balls off and shove them down his fucking throat. She looked over at Maretta and added, with your permission, of course. Across the street from the apartment building where the dead body was found a man watched as Don Marietta's car stopped. He saw Pedro get out, look around then open the passenger door for Marietta. A moment later when Pedro opened the back door the man was surprised to see Zoey get out. He quickly walked to the phone booth on the corner and dialed a number. After hearing a familiar voice on the other end the man spoke quietly. "It didn't work. Zoey is out." The response he heard was blunt. "Oh shit." |
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| Reply by: Zoey at Oct 28, '08 21:55 | |
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Stepping onto the sidewalk gingerly into the darkening night, Marietta craned her neck backwards to stare up at the large, overbearing apartment building. Though it looked relatively inviting, knowing that a murder had just taken place less than six hours ago in that very building was not doing anything to brighten the woman's spirits. The streets were clear of police patrol men and their vehicles, and all that was left was a small wind that played about her bare ankles and a lone, discarded newspaper page of The Sugar Factory drifting along with it. A strange feeling began to play within her chest; she hoped to God Zoey was right about this 'set up' theory. She would feel like utter shit for breaking and entering into a dead man's apartment otherwise. Where in the world are we? she asked, trying to sound casual and not nervous. They were on the bad side of town, past Henry Avenue which was the marking of her 'territory'. An unfamiliar world, and one she knew very well belonged to the Irish mob in this area. I'm assuming the guy who got wacked was one of O'Reilly's men? Her question went unanswered and Marietta began to feel a bit tense. Though the woman was an established member of a mob community she was still a female, one that could be prone to attacks by drunken men looking for victims or a 'good time'. For the third time that night she felt herself wrapping her coat closer to her body. Pedro stepped around from the other side of the car with Zoey and tow, who immediately sprang forward to the darkened doorway which stood as the entrance to the building. Ha! Waiiit a second, Marietta said, giving a small snort of amusement. We're actually doing this? We're actually going into a dead man's apartment? Pedro and Zoey exchanged a glance before staring back at the blond. Giving a small sigh she followed the pair up the three short steps into the entrance. It wasn't as if she had never seen a dead body before, because she had seen more than she would've liked in her lifetime. At the age of eight she saw her first dead body: her mother, while her daddy sat nearby cleaning off his knife. Though it was something she had basically grown up knowing, it didn't make it any easier. Even in times where it meant defending her life, Marietta could not help but get a sickening, queasy feeling in her stomach every time she pulled the trigger of her gun. The lobby to the building was well lit, moderately decorated with off-white walls and beige carpeting. Marietta's eyes darted from side to side, surveying the staircase to the right that led upwards to the apartments, over to the service elevator on the complete opposite side of the room. A row of brass mailboxes stood in the wall to the side. Curious, she slowly stepped over with Zoey right behind. Each mailbox had the apartment number as well as the last name of the resident. Uh, question, she said quietly, as it was late and she did not want to break the silence of the room. What the hell was the last name of the guy who died? The officers kept referring to him as 'the victim' or 'Jimmy'. Turning to look at Zoey she scrunched her face up in worry. What if we break into the wrong apartment? I suppose we could go look around upstairs until we find the door that's been roped off. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Oct 28, '08 22:22 | |
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A hundred different thoughts raced through Zoey's mind as they walked into the old apartment building. The fact that the murder happened on O'Reilly's turf bugged her. She didn't trust the O'Reillys. They were lead by an old man Zoey never met, but she knew a few of his soldiers. They were stubborn and sleazy Irishmen who ran gambling rackets in a few bars in the poorest neighborhood outside Detroit's city limits. Zoey heard rumors they gave credit to the people in the neighborhood to get them hooked on gambling then when the people couldn't pay their debts they were killed. Zoey didn't think taking advantage of poor people was good business. Zoey glanced around the hallway and staircase. It wasn't anything special. It looked the same as a hundred other buildings where she did hits. The lobby was too bright and it was probably crowded with people walking in and out during the day. Not the best place to walk through before and after a hit. The hitter must've been known in the building or blended in well enough with other people to not be noticed. The perfect place for one of O'Reilly's men, Zoey thought as she walked over to Marietta to look at the names on the row of mailboxes. None of them looked familiar to her. Lets look for that yellow tape the cops always leave behind. They walked up the staircase to the second floor. At the end of the hall they found the apartment they were looking for. The doorway was covered with bright yellow police tape. Zoey pulled it down and tried to open the door, but it was locked. She looked up at Pedro for help. He gave the door one hard shove with his arm and shoulder and it opened then he flipped the switch next to the door to turn on the light and looked around. The bodyguard didn't like what he saw and smelled. He turned around to face Marietta and Zoey outside the doorway. "It looks horrible." He looked down at Zoey. "You've probably seen places like this before," then he turned his head towards Marietta. "But not you, Mari." Looking over at her boss Zoey could see she was a nervous wreck about being there. She was as tough as nails when she had to be, but the harshness of the business hadn't hardened her and made her immune to feeling. Zoey felt torn. She didn't know if she should let Marietta see the murder scene or keep her sheltered from the ugliness of their business. Marietta would have to make the choice, Zoey decided. Do you want to go in the apartment or wait outside in the car? |
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| Reply by: Zoey at Oct 29, '08 13:17 | |
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The smell that was wafting from inside the apartment into the hallway was not one that Marietta found enticing to say the least. Her stomach began to turn as she imagined all the horrid things that could be left rotting underneath the refrigerator or worse- underneath the furniture. As visions of dilapidated corpses danced through her head she fixed her gaze to meet Zoey's own. Pedro was slowly making his way deeper inside the apartment, his gun drawn just in case of danger, and beyond the doorway out of the corner of her eye Mari could see him looking behind couches and an armchair for any signs of activities out of the ordinary. Outside? she echoed quietly, still staring into her friend's eyes as she mulled over the events of the night once more. How had the day gone from amazing to bad in only the matter of hours? Gulping at the thought of the murder that had been committed in this very building, Marietta knew that no matter her fears or nerves she had to see this through to the end. As far stretched as the idea of a set up was she desperately wanted to believe Zoey was innocent and free of this hateful crime. And the only way to do that, unfortunately, was to do some investigating of their own. I'll come in, she said with a nod, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets once more. Zoey merely nodded, a look of seriousness etched upon her features as she turned and followed Pedro inside. Marietta trailed slowly after, briefly pausing to slide the door back in place behind them. It closed with a click and as soon as it did the living room in which she stood seemed to grow about fifty times more silent. Her eyes widened as she turned to survey the area. A wide, white area rug lay smack in the middle of the room, drenched in splatters of what the Don could only assume was blood. Upon it laid a mahogany coffee table, and in a square pattern around it sat two blue couches and a small blue armchair. To the left of the room was a small hole in the wall through which she could barely make out a darkened kitchen. Off to the right, however, was a small little hallway. No pictures or leftover dishes or any sort of personal effects were present. That fact alone made Marietta feel uneasy and off. AHHH! she shrieked when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Immediately Zoey wrapped her arm around her and covered her mouth with her free hand. "Shhh!" she hissed. "It's just me!" Breathing heavily Mari broke free from her grasp and held up her hands in apology. God you scared me, she said in a whisper, noting that the brunette too had her gun drawn just in case of danger. Feeling she might be safer off to follow suit, she nodded her head at the girl and began to rifle through her pockets, finally feeling the cold steel of her small pistol. Wrapping her fingers around the trigger she drew it from her coat and followed Zoey- who was following Pedro- down the small hallway towards the bedroom. Her eyes slid over the cracked door to the small and modest bathroom on the way. Inside she saw nothing on the counters, no shaving cream splatters on the mirror. Something isn't right, you two, Marietta said, raising an eyebrow as she used her gun to push open the bathroom door further. She flicked the light switch several times before she looked up, realizing there were no bulbs inside the sockets. What the hell? Turning around once more she saw that Pedro had already opened the door to the bedroom. Taking a deep breath and trying to steel her nerves she stepped inside the bedroom. Her eyes quickly took in the sight of Pedro shaking his head and Zoey staring blankly in disbelief. "Holy fuck," was all the girl said. Swallowing hard Marietta allowed her gaze to drop to the bed. Bloodstains were streaked across the carpet and the ceiling, dripping down the walls as if they were still fresh. Laying in the middle of the bed was a man who looked to be in his late thirties, his chest riddled with multiple stab wounds and his face bloodied and beaten beyond recognition. What the fuck! Marietta exclaimed, not caring if the neighbors beyond the paper thin walls heard her. Oh God! her gun fell from her hand and onto the floor with a small thud and her hands immediately went up to cover her mouth. Her eyes widened as she drank in the more gruesome details- the missing hands, the jaw ripped open, shins sliced neatly up the sides. Feeling her head begin to spin in dizziness she stepped backwards and leaned into Pedro for support while Zoey stepped forward to pick up a small white card from the man's chest. Shaking it delicately to flick off the extra drops of blood she gasped and looked straight at the pair. "It's my fucking business card. What the hell is happening? I thought the police said they'd get rid of it?" "Maybe they haven't had the chance to get back over here yet," was Pedro's response as he stepped away from Marietta and closer to the body. Immediately the blond began to shake her head. No... no. Something isn't right. I thought the police had cleaned up the fucking crime scene. They told me they had. Obviously they haven't, which means... "Which means someone else paid them off!" exclaimed Zoey, nodding fervently. "Someone convinced the officers to not clean up, which means they will come back here tomorrow morning with fresh eyes and come to the same conclusion again, that I'm the killer. Which means I AM being set up!" It just doesn't make sense, though. Marietta continued to shake her head in disbelief, refusing to look at the body any longer. I forked over seven hundred and fifty thousand to make this all disappear. The body, the card, the crime- everything. What the fuck is going on? In the distance the sound of the front door squealing open and slamming shut caused the trio to freeze dead and silently in their tracks. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Oct 29, '08 19:33 | |
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Even for Zoey, who had seen so many dead bodies over the years she lost count, the bedroom was gruesome. It was too messy to be a professional. Mafia hitmen didn't maul and mutilate their victims. Some of them might have cut off a few fingers to get information or cut the tongue out of a rat before killing him, but they never left the intestines hanging out of someone's stomach like the killer left the man on the bed. Zoey knew a lot of hitters who loved to kill and brag about it, but no one had ever talked about doing something as sick as the scene she was looking at. It wasn't the O'Reillys or any of the hitters she knew from other families. As Marietta questioned why the man and the mess were still there Zoey stared at the bloody business card in her hand. She only gave her card to family members in case they needed to call her at home. Being set up by one of her own people made Zoey more mad and eager to find out who framed her for the murder. Just as she was about to tell Marietta one of their people was involved a noise from down the hall startled Zoey. It was the apartment door opening then closing with a loud slam. With her gun already in her hand Zoey quickly left the bedroom. She aimed the gun down the hallway, but it was empty. She slowly moved towards the bathroom door while listening for noises in the apartment. It was as quiet as when they arrived. With her gun steady in front of her she checked the bathroom. It was also empty. Minutes later after checking the rest of the apartment and outside in the hallway Zoey returned to the bedroom. It's all clear. Someone must've been here when we got here then ran out the door. She shrugged. or it was a fucking ghost. Noticing Marietta's gun was still on the floor Zoey picked it up and gave it to her boss. The Don's hand was shaking a bit as she took it. Zoey put her steady hand over Marietta's to try to calm her down. Lets get the hell out of here before we all have a heart attack. Zoey looked around the room one more time then over at Pedro who was standing near the window. You guys didn't touch anything in here, did you? The cops will come back and look over every inch of this place for fingerprints. The bodyguard shook his head and walked across the room towards the ladies as he questioned them. "Should we send some of our people here to clean up this mess?" Marietta began to nod, but Zoey cut her off by holding up the bloody business card with her name and phone number on it. No, this card came from one of our people. We can't trust anyone until we find out who was involved in this. She looked up at Pedro and added, Leave this mess for the cops to clean up. Fuck 'em. Their hands are already dirty from getting paid off from both sides of this. Outside the building Zoey glanced across the street before she got in the car. She saw a man standing in the shadows next to a store. A look out man she guessed. As she got in the warm car she hoped the man had to stand outside all night and freeze his ass off. In her purse she found her flask and took a drink. The smooth strong liquor calmed her down enough to sit still in the car. She was still anxious to find out who set her up. In the front passenger seat Marietta was quiet as Pedro drove the car away from the building. Zoey leaned forward and tapped her shoulder then held the flask up to her. Here. Take a drink of this. Marietta took the flask, turned it up and nearly emptied it with one long drink. Zoey moved forward and put her elbows up on the back of the front seat between Marietta and Pablo. She tapped Marietta on the shoulder again. Do you really think I could have done something like we saw back there in that apartment? |
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| Reply by: Zoey at Oct 29, '08 22:22 | |
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Marietta flinched slightly at Zoey's touch, a burn gurgling in her throat from the swig of whiskey she had borrowed from Zoey. Her entire body felt as if she were sitting upon a cushion made of pins and needles; she was unnerved, unsettled. The entire evening had turned into some sort of dirty nightmare that she was not even sure she could drudge up from the corners of her own mind. From dinner, to a murder, to jail, and now... her eyes flicked upwards to the review mirror to meet the pair of the girl in the backseat. Immediately she moved her gaze downwards to her shaking hands, trembling in her lap. "Well?" Zoey prompted, still waiting for an answer. The blond allowed her mind to briefly wander back over the sight of the dead body, of the trashed apartment. Of the white fucking business card that was at the heart of the matter. Zoey was a woman who always told Marietta never to worry. 'It's taken care of' was her motto. Yet did that mean she would stoop so low as to spend dollars and man-power to chase pennies off of this poor, Irish mob? No, Marietta whispered, her chest contracting from a cold chill of fright. I don't think you were... are... capable of doing something like that. In silence the trio rode for a few more blocks, Marietta slowly recognizing the street signs as Pedro steered the car in the direction of the Head Quarters. Wait! she called suddenly, grabbing the man's arm. He looked her full in the face, noticing the worry spreading across her features and with a silent nod of understanding pulled the car over. Taking a deep breath Mari turned around on her seat, tucking her legs underneath her and facing Zoey fully. Her eyes searched out every part of the younger woman's face before she sighed heavily. "What?" Zoey asked, scrunching her eyebrows together. I don't want anyone following us. Just in case. We'll sit here for a few minutes. "Alright," Zoey said, nodding earnestly and narrowing her eyes to look out the window into the dimly lit streets. The woman felt the overwhelming urge to grab Zoey by the shoulders and shake her as she watched the girl stare into the darkness. That or hug her tightly. As confused as she felt, Marietta knew that the other gal must have been fifty times worse. It was her name on the line. Her profession. Her career. And yet she seemed so collected and confident of her innocence, Marietta knew she was in the wrong for thinking anything negative about her trusted advisor. A bitter slap of guilt hit her in a wave and the Don knew that she had to figure this out, at any cost. We need to go over this, the Mob Boss of Detroit said into the silence of the car, watching as a puff of air escaped from her lips from the air outside, slowly turning cold. With a shudder Pedro shut off the car, turning to face Zoey and Marietta in his own driver's seat. "Alright," he said, his deep baritone floating somewhere above a whisper, though it was not possible that anyone could overhear them. "Lets figure this out. A murder happens on the outskirts of Detroit. O'Reilly territory. The victim was an O'Reilly guy, from what we put together. Whomever did it tried to pin the entire thing, or at least some knowledge, on Zoey. The police detain her. We spring her out and pay the cops off. Decide to do our own investigating, where we find that the crime scene has not been cleared away, but instead has been preserved in tip-top shape. Furthermore, I don't know if either of you noticed, that apartment doesn't exactly look 'lived in', which makes the theory of a set-up that much more plausible." "Yeah, but who?" Zoey asked, sitting back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest as she did so. Pedro shrugged. "Like you said, might be one of ours gone bad. I highly doubt the O'Reilly Clann would sacrifice one of their own just for a set up. Unless he was a first-rate fuck up." Staring at her body guard in admiration, Marietta felt a tug of pride for the man. While other mob bosses were looking for the biggest men to surround themselves with, Mari had done the opposite and found a man who, though he was lacking in physical brawn, was quick-witted, smart, and amazing with a gun. "I don't think he was a fuck-up," Zoey's voice pierced her thoughts. "I got a look at the police file. He was a Made, advisor to John O'Reilly himself." Fuck, Marietta muttered, shaking her head. He'll want blood for that one. Maybe more blood than needs to be spilled. "Exactly. Which leads me to believe we're dealing with someone bigger than the Clann and the Riot," Pedro continued, staring into each of the ladies' eyes seriously. A ball was forming in the pit of Marietta's stomach as she picked at the car seat. It had to be someone on the inside. Someone who knew Zoey wouldn't be around during the evening. Someone who knew the family, and therefore could predict their actions. Someone who also had a fuck-load of money to pay off the police. Immediately her eyes brightened and she pounded the seat with her fist. Zoey! she practically screamed. Who was working tonight?! "What?" Zoey asked, leaning away from her Boss as she started to frantically and excitedly gesture everywhere. On call! Which of our guys were on call tonight? "Oh, I uh... I don't remember. Too much has happened. I've forgotten." That's it. Pedro, I don't care if we're followed. Head back to the headquarters. We need to see who is working and what they know, if anything. Without another word Pedro nodded, turning back around in his seat and cranking the engine over into life. Slamming his foot down on the gas pedal the tiny black car rocketed forward, lurching only a tiny bit as the man took a sharp corner to head back towards Henderson Avenue. I have to be right, Marietta said, to no one in particular, as she turned around as well and gripped the dashboard. Suddenly, without warning, a figure appeared in the middle of the street fifty-feet ahead. Worst of all, it was holding a gun, pointed directly at the car. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Nov 19, '08 12:49 | |
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When we get to the HQ I'll call every member I gave my card to. Whoever doesn't have it now is going swimming with the fucking fishes. Zoey slammed her fist down on the empty seat next to her. It made her mad to think someone she trusted betrayed her. As she thought about how much she would enjoy wacking the back stabber the car stopped. Zoey looked forward and saw the reason for the sudden stop. A man was standing on the street with a gun aimed at the car. What the fuck? As Zoey took her gun out of her purse the car was surrounded by a gang of men with guns. She was ready to start shooting, but questioned her boss first. What in the hell is going on? "I don't know." Marietta took her gun out as she answered. Next to her Pedro did the same. Before they could talk anymore and plan what to do one of the men outside tapped his gun on the window of the passenger door where Marietta was sitting. He gestured for her to open the window. Marietta put her gun on her lap with her left hand resting on it as she turned the handle on the door. "Drop your guns and get out of the car." The man spoke to The Don bluntly and pointed his gun at her head. From the back seat Zoey looked closer at the man's face and immediately knew who he was. She would make sure he died tonight. The Don, her Right Hand and bodyguard left their guns in the car as they got out. Getting a better look at the group of men Zoey recognized a few more of them, but it was obvious the one who told them to get out of the car was in charge. He grabbed Marietta's arm and pointed to a car parked nearby. "Get in. If you give me any problems I'll put you in the trunk." As he pulled Marietta towards the other car the other men pushed Zoey and Pedro to follow their boss. Zoey slowed her steps to get near the back of the pack where the dumber men usually were. She made eye contact with one of them and smiled at him. Hello, what's your name? "Joe." The man smiled back at Zoey and moved his eyes down to check her out. With a glance at the rest of the group Zoey quickly figured out her next move. I'm sorry, Joe. "Sorry for what?" He looked confused then shocked when Zoey tripped him and grabbed his gun before he fell to the ground. She aimed it at him and still had a smile on her face. Sorry for this. Zoey pulled the trigger and didn't wait to watch him die. She shot another man as he turned around and aimed his gun at her. Making her way through the group Zoey shot one more before she got to the man with a grip on Marietta's arm. She put her gun against the back of his head. Get your fucking hand off my boss. "Bitch." The man sighed and rolled his eyes. As he let go of Marietta's arm he stared at Zoey. "You were suppose to be in jail and out of our way. We should've just killed you." Zoey took his gun out of his hand and gave it to Pedro. I agree. You should have killed me instead framing me for that sloppy kill on O'Reilly's turf. It was tempting to shoot him, but Zoey knew he was more valuable if he was still breathing. She kept the gun against his head as she yelled at the other men. Put your guns on the ground now or I'll kill him. As the men dropped their guns Zoey glanced from Marietta to Pedro to introduce them to the man she was aiming a gun at. This is Billy. He's the Godfather's Right Hand Man. |
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| Reply by: Zoey at Nov 23, '08 16:52 | |
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Marietta didn't like being manhandled. At all. Already trembling from nerves of having a gun pointed at her face, and now the extreme pressure of this man's grip on her wrists was too much to bear. What if they killed her? What if the end of the line was here? The thoughts were making the blond feel frantic. Behind her she could hear Pedro struggling against the captive of a few men, as well as Zoey nearby shooting her mouth off at a few of the lackeys. Let go of me! she hollered. At every opportunity she could find she struggled against the man who held her captive, trying to stop upon his foot with her sharp, high-heeled points. "Will you knock it the fuck off already?" he growled towards her more than once. This is fucking stupid, she muttered. And it truly was. Here she was, the Don of Detroit, being lead to some strange car by some strange men, two of her closest associates- nay, friends- being strung up along in this process. This had to be all of her fault, and now she had to find a way to get them all out of this mess... BANG! The sound echoed off of the surrounding brick buildings and created a tight feeling in Marietta's chest. She couldn't quite see Pedro or Zoey, but she was pretty sure one of them had just been killed. God damn let go of me! she shrieked towards the man holding her. She could feel him turning to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening, but whatever was transpiring towards the back of the group was happening too fast. Several more gunshots hammered off, quickly- one after the other. Each one sent an equally frightened jolt through the green-eyed woman's body. She had messed this up. Somehow she had just gotten her best friends, and possibly now herself, made into fish food. Where had she gone wrong? "Get your fucking hand off my boss." Zoey's voice was deathly and chilling, yet it managed to send shock waves of relief through the Don's body. She felt the man release his grip on her arms and she stepped away, turning to face him. Marietta watched in silence as the younger woman exchanged words with this man, who even in the dim streetlights only looked vaguely familiar. ""You were suppose to be in jail and out of our way. We should've just killed you."" At those words Marietta's eyes widened in horror. A set-up? she said flatly. Though she had trusted in Zoey all along, knowing that it was indeed a set-up boggled her mind. She had always thought herself to be on good terms with many of the crews from all across America. Never did she dream that any of them would be out for Riot blood. The sound of a few men around them disarming brought her out of her catatonic state. For the first time since the apartment she finally looked around outside of her little bubble-esque line of vision. She watched in silence as tall figures, dressed in dark clothing, all put their guns onto the ground and kicked them towards Pedro, who scooped them up and away from them. All of them carried the same look of fear in their eyes; they were obviously concerned about the fate of their boss in Zoey's hands. "This is Billy. He's the Godfather's Right Hand Man." Once more the low tones of Zoey's voice brought her to attention. B...Billy? was the only word Marietta could cough out. Billy? As in Squishy's... as in God Father Squishy's Right Hand? "The one and the same," Zoey responded, pushing the gun barrel closer to the back of the man's head and giving a low growl. She felt as if she had suddenly run into a brick wall. The information spilled over her, fact by fact, slowly creating a sinking feeling in her stomach and chest. It WAS a set-up. It was someone close to them. Zoey and Marietta both had done a few odd jobs for the God Father's men in the past to get in the man's good favors, this was no secret. Yet the fact that some of them had used that against her... exploited her to get her own Right Hand in trouble or killed. And now the attempted kidnapping of Marietta herself... with Billy... the famous Billy involved... Only one fact stood out loud and clear to the woman, and from the look on Zoey and Pedro's faces, they had both come to the same conclusion. What the FUCK! Marietta screamed, all dignity gone out the window. She rushed forward, balling her hand into a fist and striking Billy in the nose hard. The man roared in anger, trying to reach out and strike the woman back but Zoey moved faster. A CRACK! sounded as she hit the Right Hand across the face with the butt of her gun, and he immediately staggered backwards. Without a moment of hesitation the gun was back at his temple. "Move a muscle," Zoey whispered loudly. "Don't tempt me." Marietta, feeding off of those words, moved forward to hit the man again but was caught at the wrist for the second time that evening by Pedro. "Don't be hasty, Mari," he said, his other hand still pointing a gun towards Squishy's followers. Spitting towards the man she ignored her body guard and stepped forward, kicking Billy square between the legs. He crumpled to the ground slowly, clutching himself and moaning. Fuck with me, will you? I don't care who the fuck you are. Or who the hell you work for. Taking a deep breath the woman ran a hand through her now tangled and stringy hair. She glanced towards Billy on the ground and stepped over him, leaning in close to Zoey's ear. The other woman didn't take her eyes, or gun for that matter, off the man for a moment as Marietta murmured. What do we do here? "Do we have a choice?" was the immediate mumbled response. Marietta sighed, resisting the urge to kick the man where the sun don't shine once more. Obviously I want to get to the bottom of this. But if we take Billy and let the rest of his men go free, it's only a matter of minutes before the Godfather is alerted. If we kill them all, though, and he finds out... he'll want our heads. And he won't rest until he gets them. She flashed a grave stare at her Right Hand, her companion, her closest adviser. Only a silent moment passed between them before she turned the corners of her lips into a grin. "You worry too much." So I do. "We'll take him somewhere we can't be found. I think I know of a place." Perfect. Ignoring the dead bodies surrounding the car, Marietta bent over to pick up one of the discarded guns. Not even hesitating to blink she held up her gun and pointed it towards the group of lackeys. There, she said, tossing her head. Over behind the car. Pedro rushed forward to Zoey, picking up Billy off of the ground and began to drag him back to their car, Zoey waiting behind with Marietta and pointing her gun at the men as well. As soon as all of them had lined up the blond gave a sweet smile. Turn around. Face the building. A small whimper could be heard from one of the men yet they did as they were told. Holding the gun up Marietta suddenly dropped the line of vision towards the car. She shot not one but both of the back tires before backing away slowly towards her own car. Zoey slipped inside towards the back seat, immediately pressing her gun against the man's temple once more. Pedro had the back door open and was winding a piece of rope around the man's wrists, his ankles already bound. Marietta forced a smile towards Billy as she slid into the passenger seat once more. Welcome, Billy. I'm sure you'll enjoy your ride. The slamming of the driver's side door alerted her to the fact that Pedro was inside the car and ready to drive. "So Zoey," he asked, looking in the review mirror. "Where to?" |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Nov 23, '08 18:31 | |
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