Mad love (private: raimeowmeow x Gatichan ) 18

[Rhye_Meow]

Mad love

 

MC:

Name: Chris Laurent

Age:33

Position: Uke

Occupation: inventor

Appearance: brown hair, green eyes. 183cm , slim built. His knees was weak because of a former injury he sustained when one of his experiment gone wrong. He uses cane to help him walk.

Bio:

His family was rich, but he didn't like to use their money. It's because his father is known as a mafia boss. He despise his family so much that he didn't use his real name for a long time. He secluded himself from the world and just cintinued to live as a hermit at his house.

Additional:

He is a very messy person. He keep a well groomed appearance to others , but the truth is, he is very negligent to his hygiene , especially when he is emerge in his projects.

 

 

Name: Michael O'Neil

Age:33

Position: Seme

Occupation: professional assassin, strategist

Appearance: dark blond hair, blue-green eyes. 1,90m , muscular body. He works out regularly at a sport studio and prides himself for his body, as well as meets up with contact men to know what's going on in the streets.

Bio:

Michael's mother and younger brother was accidentally killed during a shootout between two rivaling mafia groups. His father has a weak health and hardly leaves his small apartment. Wanting revenge, Michael sought contact to the Laurent group and slowly began to work his way up the ladder, starting as an informant and gathering more influence the higher he climbed.

Additional:

Michael doesn't talk much unless necessary. He's a very secretive person and those around him most of the time don't know what he truly thinks. He exudes a dark and dangerous aura.

 

 

Plot:

One day, Chris received a notice that he is being kicked out of his house because his father refuse to let him lived there if he don't accept his position as a heir to their 'business'. He moved back to their family house and tried his best to avoid being part of the mafia.

 

***

 

It was a fine day today, the sun was settling in, giving the sky that beautiful orange glow. Chris wanted to enjoy the scenery for awhile, but the grumbling of his stomach insist he should get going. Dragging his pathetic luggage field with tools with him, he walked lazily at the park pavement towards his most dreaded place. "Huu, i never wanted to go back,.. but what am i supposed to do? No one buys my inventions, i can't patent them.. can't even pay for decent meal now." Chris rambled on , making the people around him nervous and walk farther away from him. Clicking his tongue, he looked at them seemingly saying, "what do you want?"

 

A few days ago, he recieved a notice from his father saying he will not give him financial support anymore, and that he needed to come home. He like to tough it out and rebelled, but he was too old for that stuff and he knew he needed help, else he'll die of starvation.. or much worst.

 

After afew minutes of walking, he arrived at the mansion with a huge golden brown gate, he looked at it closely and all he can see is 'toasted bread sticks'. He slapped his face and buzzed the door bell. "It's me Chris... i have arrived." A few seconds later, the gate opened and he walked in, he saw alot of men in suits forming a line at the side.. 'Oh, what a big welcome..' he notice. And since he is not use to these gatherings, his bad knee wobble and gave him. He stumbled while walking, face flat on the ground.. his luggage spilt open.. with his tools skittling on the ground..

"Oh..." he groaned as he sit and held his nose.. 'what a great first impression.'

 

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael heard the bell ringing and the small pocket knife he was playing with suddenly flew through the bedroom and hit the old photo of the Laurent heir exactly in the center of his head. “Wow, great shot,” Archer, one of Michael’s closest associates within the Laurent mafia group, whistled his approval. Michael barely acknowledged this as his eyes narrowed to slits. So close. He had been so close to finally stepping in as the son that the Boss didn’t have. And now, when the top of the ladder had finally come into view, the Boss’s sod of a son had returned to show his ugly face.

 

Michael blew a bubble of peppermint chewing gum and turning around suavely in his chair, glanced down the long driveway. Far off in the distance he could make a small spot moving- that had to be the son. “Let’s go and meet the prodigal son,” he smirked and snickers went up from the men gathered around him. Standing up and only correcting the way his vest fell, Michael strolled down to the first floor of the grand mansion he had begun to think of as his own. If this Chris person had turned his back on the Laurent family business, then obviously this person was a natural born killer? The perfect leader? What had caused him to leave? Had it been that he’d had moral reservations or had he been too bored to take on the business?

 

But then, as Michael coolly sauntered out the mansion, one of the last men out the house to inspect the Boss’s son, he was just in time to see Chris fantastically wobble and then fall flat on his stupid face. Quiet snickers went up, but no one dared to properly laugh out loud- after all, this was the big Boss’s son. But as the suitcases spilled out and laboratory and other researching tools went tumbling across the grass, Michael’s left eyebrow shot up. Seriously? This was the man he had been afraid of, this klutz? He wanted to snort out laughing. This useless idiot- pah; he’d kill Chris in his sleep that very night. Relaxing, because he realized in that moment that his position wasn’t in any danger whatsoever, he could afford to be nice. Stepping forward gallantly, Michael offered a hand. “You okay?” he asked quietly in his deep, warm voice he hardly ever used.

[Rhye_Meow]

Chris wanted to die that instant, either that or froze in place. Whichever comes first. He massage his left knee and wince. 'Hmm could be worst.' He said to himself as he quickly patted the ground to search for his cane. "You okay?" Looking at the source of the voice , he smiled and thought that the person was very kind. Out of all the people that was now gawking at him, only this man extended his hand to help. Without second thought, he grab hold and support himself as well, struggling to stand straight. "Thank you." He didn't know whether it was necessary to introduce himself. So he just smiled againnand began picking up the scattered tools on the ground. Bending over as he firmly held his cane. 'This will take forever.' He thought and heave an exaparated sigh..

 

Looking at the men in suits, he akwardly open his mouth and ask."Err, could you gentlemen help me pick up my things?" Just as he was about to ask again, his father's voice echoed inside the marbled floor mansion. "Ah..Chris, such marvelous impression you are showing hm?" His father chuckled a bit and he walked slowly towards him. Chris deep sigh and fake a smile, he walked past the man the helped him, unknowing brushing his shoulders to his, and reached to his fathers hand and kiss it. "I have arrived father, sorry to make you worry."

 

His father was a large man, probably 3 inches taller than him, wears a flambouyant suit with furs, as if his scarred face isn't enoughto say he is the mafia boss. Seeing Chris, his only son returned to his side, his scary face instantly lightens and his eyes went soft. "Welcome home son." He gave him a hug, shocking everyone .

'Oh boy, what a pain.' He inwardly groan.

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[Gatichan]

Up close, Chris wasn’t that much of a wussy-boy as Michael had thought. He was, in a dorky, quiet way, attractive. Michael smiled, seeing the obvious relief in the other man’s face. No one else moved around them and inwardly, Michael smirked: it appeared that the men were loyal to him. Even when the Boss’s son asked the onlookers for help, no one moved a finger. Hearing the big Boss himself speak out, however, Michael hastily rose respectfully to his feet, careful to remove any emotions from his face. At least the Boss would have seen that Michael had been the first to extend a friendly hand out to his son. As Chris brushed against his shoulder, the tall blond bristled- he despised casual body contact, but noticing the cane just then, the thought crossed him that the Boss’s son probably really couldn’t walk by himself.

 

Michael didn’t appreciate the fact that the Boss was so openly showing his affection for his son. Of course, this was a special occasion, but still, this open friendliness and display of love filled Michael with cold fury. Thinking back to the knife he’d buried inside Chris’s photo, his hands clenched into fists inside his trouser pockets. Yes, the urge to strangulate the Boss’s son returned, but right then, it would be too obvious. So instead of continuing to watch and stoke his anger, Michael bent over and began to scoop up the weird apparatus, sending warning glares to the other men, many of who hastily stepped forward to help as well.

 

Once Chris’s things had been returned to his simple, worn-out suitcase – was the guy a scientist, or something? – Michael held the closed suitcase out to the newcomer. “Your bag,” he said casually, bowing his head to kiss the Boss’s ring. “Sir, do you need me now, or am I free to leave?” he asked. If the Boss dismissed him, it would be obvious that Michael hadn’t passed the test and wasn’t yet really considered family when welcoming the lost son; if he was accepted, Michael would be right there when the Boss’s son opened up more about him. And the more information Michael would have about his newest enemy…the easier it would be to eliminate him.

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[Rhye_Meow]

"Ah, so you have met my son hm? Chris, this man is Michael O'neil, he has served as well over the years." The boss slapped Michael's back a few times and chuckled as he introduce him to Chris. His dad, was known to have been brutal and merciless, so growing up with that kind of environment was hard for him. He never even got an approving nod from his father, and yet this man recieved a hearty laugh and slap from him. His heart somewhat felt funny as he look at Michael. He force himself to nod and smile as he clenched his bag. "Chris must be tired so i'll let him rest for a bit and we will have supper later. You will join us Michael. You'll have to teach my son a thing or two." The boss wriggle his fingers at one of the underling and points at Chris luggage, before leaving them. Instantly, four men gather beside him and offer to take his belongings.. "I only need one of you... so thank you." He almost snort at how pathetic he seem earlier. No one helped him, and now it seems it's just because he is a Laurent that's why he is welcomed at the cold mansion.

 

Just as he was about to go to his old room, he looked back at Michael and smiled a bitter smile. 'Seems he is better at me in everything, father approves, eh.' He clenched the cane tightly, and started climbing the stairs. Every step he takes, bring pains. Now, more than ever, he cursed this house. The man who took his luggage offer him help to climb, he just laugh out loud and said. "You don't need to do that. I can still walk. " though struggling, he reached the second floor and opened the door to the far end of the corridor. His old room is exactly how he left it. "You can place the bags over there." Pointing at the sofa near the tv. Soon as the man left, he walked throughthe balcony and opened it, "ah, too bad.. the sun has already set."

 

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael bowed his head again. “Mille grazie,” he said respectfully and then remained standing as the Boss exited. Making a sweep of the grounds as he usually did whenever he was outside the estate, he almost missed the look that the Boss’s son sent him. Raising his left eyebrow slightly, Michael wondered what the younger man’s problem was: he was home, his father was brilliantly blind to his uselessness and everyone was falling over their own feet to help him and look after him- it was sickening. Turning around abruptly, Michael signaled to his closer men that he wanted to be alone and so no one tried to follow him as headed into the garden of the estate, aiming for the back part. The sun had long since set and the moon was partly hidden behind a cloud. He wouldn’t be able to walk for long because dinner would require more elegant attire. Would the Boss’s son even know that?

 

As he rounded the side of the house, Michael began to frown more and more. He was supposed to teach the newcomer something about the correct Laurent lifestyle? What a joke. It was as if the Boss were giving him a fluffy bunny rabbit and expecting Michael to turn the creature into a blood-thirsting vampire: no can do. It wasn’t possible and when Michael gazed upwards and saw the Boss’s son standing on the balcony, staring stupidly up at the moon, he had to really fight the impulse not to face-palm. Suddenly, anger got the better of him and aggressively whistled upwards. “Hey, Juliette!” he snapped, stabbing a finger up at the other guy. “Stay right where you are- we need to talk,” he commanded, stomping towards the kitchen. Right then, he was planning on giving that little jerk a piece of his mind.

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[Rhye_Meow]

"Dinner is in a few hours.. just a few hours and this hunger would be over." Chris mumbled on,trying to calm the acid that was building up behind his throat. The last meal he took was yesterday, and that was a piece of bread and soda. Well he has money, but he needed to bby new pairs of thongs, a funnel, some gloves maybe. So he kinda save that last few bills he had. Trying to pass the time, he hummed a song and tap his fingers at the balcony. Hoping the dinner calls would come soon.

 

"Hey, Juliette!" A shout came from nowhere and he looked around to see who it was. He saw that tall blond man again and he was baffled as to why the sudden change in attitude.“Stay right where you are- we need to talk,” Michael said as he banished from Chris site. Still confused, he look left to right, double checking if he was in fact the one Michael pointed out. "What's this now?" He grumpily scratch his head and entered the room. He swatted some stupid looking pillow off the sofa, and wanted to sit but stop.. "Ah, better open the door to let him come in." He the door open wide and slump on the soft couch..

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[Gatichan]

By the time Michael had ascended the stairs, he’d calmed down somewhat. And realized that yelling at the Boss’s son might not exactly be the best and tactically intelligent plan he’d ever had. Slowing his pace, Michael forced himself to breathe in and out slowly, concentrating on counting back from 7777 in nine steps. When he had reached the landing on the floor where Chris’s bedroom would be, he was back to his calm, aloof self. Fletching his teeth, he removed the golden bullet he always walked around with as a lucky charm. He needed to make this idiot feel lulled and unafraid of him- only then could Michael expose of him.

 

Glad that at least the door had been opened for him, Michael strolled through, finding the Boss’s son stretched out on the couch in front of his way in a most unmanly way. A flame of irritation went up inside his chest, but Michael cooled it down. Closing the door by coolly kicking it closed behind him, he leaned back against the door and simply studied Chris, really studied him. Inspected him from toe to head, eyes lingering on the cane beside him, the weary expression in the other’s eyes…and heard latter’s growling stomach. He frowned slightly. “You seem a little…undernourished. Why is that? The Boss won’t be happy about that,” he commented casually.

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[Rhye_Meow]

The stares of Michael unnerved Chris to the point that his hands sweated a bit. Sure,for someone who gained the Charles Laurent trust,he expected Michael to be top class. All the building up tention inside burst into a one loud growl of his stomach. He wanted to die earlier, now he might be. He bit his lips as he heard Michael's question. For a man such as him, he didn't think lies like 'i'm on a diet, or i'm fasting would work'. "First, please come in and sit down." He pointed at the chair in front of him and hoped Michael would obidge. His stomach growled loudly again and he pressed it with his left hand. His face was beet red. He can feel the heat radiating, even at his ears.

 

"Ah you see, i live alone for awhile. While it's true, that my hermit lifestyle was one of the factors of my poor health, the truth behind my state is because i am a poor struggling inventor. For a year, i haven't had any luck with my inventions. And i can only earn money from repairing my neighbor old appliances and such." Extremely embrassed,he started with the nervous tapping of his feet. "And anyways, father has paid for my rent these past few months, because my land lady contacted him. And things happen.... this and that.." he didn't know how to finish the story. "Ahm.. i know. I'm pathetic. But i won't give up on this dream." Summoning all the courage left in him, he said it to Michael as if he needed him to understand his stand.

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael was a bit surprised when the Boss’s son so politely and quietly offered him a seat. No, he certainly seemed less and less like someone who would be capable of taking over the mafia empire that his father had set up. Nodding once, estranged, Michael crossed the room to sit down coolly in front of Chris. Little by little his murder impulse was weakening as he sensed that in front of him was no opponent…or was this all just for show? Was the Boss’s son perhaps a really good actor, trying to lure Michael in, make him feel at home and safe and then, at the vital moment, attack? He frowned a bit as he leaned back, waiting for an explanation.

 

The more he heard, the more perplexed Michael became. So Boss Junior was really only that, a failed inventor? Not even successful? Why hadn’t he just had his scientific rivals executed? One word to his father and Michael was more than sure that several heads would have rolled. Oh God, could it really be that Chris was one of those dying out morally-correct people? It seemed impossible to believe, so he decided to test his hypotheses. “Tell me, Chris,” he said, skipping the formalities because seriously? This guy was a clown; that Michael had ever feared him was just laughable. “How old were you when you first killed someone? What was your desired weapon of choice- a gun, a knife, a rope? When did you steal your first car? Is this whole-?” He waved his right hand around the vicinity of Chris’s face. “- inventor story a cover-up for another secret organization?”

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[Rhye_Meow]

He was taken aback by the display of displease Michael was showing to him. Was it because he did something to tick him off in some way? Or maybe, he believe that he didn't belong to this house. Extemely hurt by the flood of personal questions, Chris but his lowe lips, and wrap his right hand across, holding his left arm-looking away at Michael. "I know it too, i don't belong in this house. I don't like the idea of killing someone, weapon of choice? I love guns, but only because it's mechanism amuse me. I can't even drive, i have no patience to learn it."

 

He looked at Michael's face, and look closely. "I'm one of those soft sissy, who piss when they saw their father chop up someone else's hand. Who cry when Mom doesn't show up for their graduation. You know the sappy kind of shits." His voice was trembling. And he close his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm what he is feeling. "If there's nothing else 'Michael'" putting emphasis on the man's name, Chris stood up shakily, depending his weight on the old wooden cane "i'd like to prepare for supper. I'm taking a bath and i'll see you later." He walk away from there, nursing his wounded small ego.

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[Gatichan]

Was this wimp for real?! Over thirty and couldn’t even drive? This time Michael really couldn’t avoid the face-palm and he groaned. Oh God, he was supposed to train this idiot into being the new head of the Laurent Clan? The Boss had to be kidding him- this was obviously some extremely sick joke at Michael’s expense. There was no way in HELL that Michael was ever going to be able to make the Boss’s son a killing machine. Forget it. Impossible. Out of the question- the guy was as good as dead when he stepped outside Laurent territory.

 

Getting up, Michael kicked the cane that Chris was using to support himself, rolling his eyes when he caused the other man to fall over. Prodding him with his foot so that the other man was lying on his back and could look up at him, Michael frowned severely down at him. “Well Chris, your days of being a dandy are over, capisci? As the Boss’s son, you have a responsibility to the clan and unfortunately, it appears as if I’ve lost some evil joke and am supposed to look after you. Well, forget it. I’m not going to pamper you- you either get up and learn to be a man under my instructions…or you’re going to land up with a bullet through your head, do I make myself clear?” he snarled, prodding Chris with his expensive leather shoe again before turning around and sauntering out the room, muttering “senza me” under his breath.

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[Rhye_Meow]

"...do i make myself clear?"

Chris expected some hostility, but not so much as threatening to kill him. If there's one thing in life that he is good at, that is-fighting for his dream ridiculously childish it maybe. "No, i'll make myself clear."

 

After an hour or so, someone picked up Chris for dinner. He was ready and presentable. He wore his only suit. The style was classic, a three piece one, the vest was black with intricate black glossy embroidery, the shoes he wore was old, but polished to perfection. His suit fitted well, though not expensive as his father's taste, it was fairing well. A cashmere suit, perfect for the occasion. His hair was suavely comb back, revealing his eyes and cheek bone. One last look at the mirror and he was satisfied. When he open the door, the same man who helped him with his luggage earlier escorted him to the dinning hall. For a brief second, the man stood frozen as he saw Chris, completely different from the wobbling idiot he saw earlier. They walk down the staircase seeing a few guards standing at attention. Some of the men was snickering before they saw Chris, they expected him to stumble-cause the staircase was so long. But he wore his knee brace under his pants so he was fine. He greeted them with posture and smiled. Some fake cough and stood straight.

 

Chris grew up here, so to say. So understanding how intimidation works was a little bit easy for him. Though he was very confident now, the truth was he is almost ready to piss his pants. Especially when he recalls Michael's words to him. After walking that outstretch hall, they have arrived at the dinning hall door. Before the man open the door for him, he close his eyes and breathe out. Then wore that fake smile he perfected, he confidently strode in. "Ah, here's my boy. Welcome!"his father waved his hands at him. 'Perfect, all the boss are here tonight.' He said to himself as he scan the people present for dinner-or a sit down so to speak.

"Buona sera signori." He smiled before he sit.

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael had changed into one of his standard Giorgio Armani suits that put the models whose faces were used for the campaign to shame: with his athletic build, height and good looks, it seemed as if the suit had been especially designed for Michael’s body and his alone. Watching as Chris walked in, this time actually looking almost the part of a Boss’s son, complete with a more-or-less decent suit, Michael didn’t fail to notice that the unsteady step had disappeared, as well as the cane: either Boss Junior had learned to walk, or he was using some invisible support of sorts. Pretty much ignoring the new arrival for the remainder of the delicious meal, yet another Italian perfection created by the live-in Italian cook, the only two things that Michael thought of as noteworthy was that A: the Boss didn’t ask his son to tell him about his life and B: none of the other high-ups addressed the new kid, either. These observations only strengthened Michael’s belief that the Boss himself knew what a hopeless case his son was in terms of leading the family business and that making this known to the other men around them would only cause his son to become cannon fodder.

 

Once the plates had been cleared away, the ten gathered men rose as one and simultaneously headed to the small smoking room near the back of the house. As usual, Michael took up the seat on the right of the Boss, his daring glare causing the man who usually sat on the Boss’s immediate left to remain standing and offer up his seat to Chris instead. Cigars were pulled out, cognac was passed around and finally they got down to business. “Pepe, what news do you have from the cops?” Laurent Senior asked and Michael carefully watched Chris’s reaction during the following exchanges. “The police president received our little parcel and promises he’ll make no trouble for us from no one. I think we really should thank Michael for his idea of the rotting front cat paw- that added a nice emotional touch to it and, as my informant told me, the president blanched and threw up when he saw it.” Michael offered a thin smile as guffaws and appreciative whistling went up from those gathered inside the office. “Excellent,” Laurent Senior nodded, giving Michael a rare smile. “What else is there to tell?” Michael sobered up. “One of my contact me at the gym have confirmed our suspicions that the Fratelli Giovanni are selling their shit on our turf down in the West End. I think we’ve tolerated this nonsense long enough: I say it’s time we sent them a warning,” he suggested with a cold smile.

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[Rhye_Meow]

'The food isn't enough, it's too little. What kind of serving is that?' Chris isn't really paying attention to the talks about business and such. Quite frankly, he was realy bored by it. And also, scared of it a little. His mother:bless her soul always hated these part of their world, so he inherit her attitude towards the mafia world and lived by the principle. 'What you don't know won't hurt you.' His reverie was cut short when he heard the guffaws. From a quick glance, they seem to be enjoying something Michael achieved as he saw his father gave a rare smile at him. He wasn't surprise at all. At a distance, Michael exudes the an inexplicable aura, maybe someone who doesn't give shit for nothing. And upclose, he already experience that that is indeed the case. He sigh and sip the alcohol that was served at him, and groan a little as it burns at his throat. This made the men finally notice his existence. "Forgive my interuption." He cooly replied. He was about to say more but he notice one of the boss wears a gun around his suspender.

 

"Variaria." He mutter and points at it. "Excuse me?" The men leaned back and held the gun. "Variaria submachine gun. Haven't seen one up close. May i?" Chris was in a trance. If it's possible to salivate there and now, he would. "Ah. Sure.." the boss:forgetting to ask what's his name gave the gun to him and he started disassembling it, making the owner of the gun had an 'O' shape at his mouth. After, he reassembled it again in less than 2 minutes and gave it back. "Yup she's a beauty for something whose supppse to be made by FIAT. Anyways, aren't that gun too big for a hand carry? Why not try the good kinds like the classic magnum? Ah unless you like Italian guns.." realizing that he rambled on, he stop and corrected himself. "I'm sorry gentlemen, i must be tired. Please excuse my rude behavior and allow me to retire for tonight." He stood up while pressing on his knee as his support and it made a clinking sound. He bowed at his father and his father cheerily waves his hands at him dismissing him. He walk slowly and close the door behind him.

 

"Charles, may i ask you, what's the real reason why you let that son of yours back here?" Pepe question Launrent senior as he took a sip at his alcohol. Everyone fell silent waiting for his reply. Does he intend to make Chris the heir to the family?

"Bait." Charle sip his cognac and leaned back. Swirling his glass and looked at the men in front, he explained what he said. "I intend to make that good for nothing as a bait, so that Michael can succeed my family without a hitch."

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael was always calm and collected. His enemies – and yes, God knew that he had many – would have described him as aloof, unnaturally cold and emotionless. But right then, when he heard the actual plan that the Boss was following, Michael spluttered his cognac back into his glass. As “ho-ho!” and “hear, hear!” went up from around the gathered men around him, many raising their glasses to toast to Michael and Charles, Michael quickly regained his posture, but on the inside, he had begun to freeze up. As he mechanically stood up and crossed the room towards the Boss, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders and then kissing the Boss on both cheeks three times, bowing to show his deep respect as would be expected of him, Michael’s body trembled slightly. He’d known, of course he’d known that these people were savages- and over time, he’d become one himself. But that the Boss would go as far as to use his son knowingly as a shield, as an excuse for the other clans to see why he was giving the power to him, someone unrelated to him…that went a little too far. And all at once, even though he owed the newcomer nothing, Michael suddenly felt the useless and slightly suicidal desire to protect him.

 

“Boss, I’m greatly honored, but surely your son could be put to better use?” he tried to carefully probe. “Better us, yeah right!” Sergio, the boss closest to Michael snorted. “He’d be best put to use as a body!” Harsh laughter went up and Michael hastily joined in, but then gestured towards the man whose Variaria Chris had taken apart and reassembled with remarkable precision. “What about a position as weapons smuggler? He seemed to know a thing or two about guns-” “Michael please, don’t bother,” the big Boss cut him, obviously seeing right through Michael and understanding what the younger man was trying to get at. “Believe me, since the day he was born, he’s been a disappointment. He’s done nothing useful- fainted at the sight of blood, screamed when guns were pulled out instead of grabbing a knife to defend me, bawled like a baby at his mother’s funeral and went off to become an inventor- an inventor! It doesn’t become any more worthless than that, does it?” he asked the other men, who all immediately began to insult this “obviously pathetic” profession. Still, Michael didn’t let go of the matter. “What if you put him to the test?” he asked, trying to cover his desperation by looking sly. The Boss frowned, obviously tiring of this subject, but Michael pushed on. “You know…a little fun game you could play with him before you completely disposed of him. You could give him a job and watch him royally screw it. And when he does…” An evil smile began to spread across Michael’s handsome features. “My first command as new head will be to creatively dispose of him…”

 

An hour later, Michael kicked the door to Chris’s bedroom door open and slamming it shut again, ran to the bed. Grabbing a firm hold of the Boss’s son, he turned him over and unceremoniously shook him awake. “Get up! We need to talk- something serious has come up,” he admitted, his face pale and impatient as he waited for Chris to properly focus on him. “I’m afraid your old man wants you dead…and I’m the one who is supposed to kill you.”

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[Rhye_Meow]

"There we go.."Chris removed his knee braces and gingerly soak his body in the warm tub. He has already taken a bath earlier, but his knees started to hurt because he force himself to walk straight. He only uses the contraption of metal he called his knee brace whenever the situation calls for it. But as payment, his body will protest after. "Ah..." rubbing and massaging his knees, he trace his scar with his thumb. It's been years, and it's still visible and ugly. He soak there, till the water started to get cold. He got out very slowly and towelled himself to dry. Humming a song as he comb his hair. Before he went upstairs, he went into the kitchen and ask for food. The chef's were thrilled to give him some, because nobody eats alot and most of the prepared dishes goes to waste. He personally ask for the chef's contact info and they immediately click. When it comes to food, Chris will socialize, no matter how introvert he is.

Eating disgusting at his bed, he started working on his latest invention's experiment notes. Thinking where could he have gone wrong with this. He flip the page and smeared marinara sauce all over his the page. "Shit." No tissue in sight, he just lick the paper clean ans wipe the rest off his shirt. After a few hours of studying and comparing notes from experiment no.1 to 5, Chris started to feel sleepy. Seeing the mess at his bed, he just pushed it farther at his feet and covered himself with a blanket. Realizing the lights still on, he lazily stood up and close it, and plomp his body at the bed in prone position.

 

“Get up! We need to talk- something serious has come up" -"W-what?" Chris was shock at the intruder at his bed, before he could react to defend himself, he saw the face behind the voice in the dim of the light outside his windows. Squinting his eyes, he look at Michael "W-what's happening to you? You look weird."he commented.. “I’m afraid your old man wants you dead…and I’m the one who is supposed to kill you.” Michael gave him the bomb that made his head explode.

"What are you talking about? I don't understand you!" He started to scoot backwards, afraid of Michael and his crazy talk. "Father would never let me killed.. i mean why now? I've always been hated by him, but he never.. why?" He started thinking all these was plausible. To be honest, at the back of his mind,he knew someday he will be dispose. Charles Laurent doesn't need liabilities, and he is one. He looked at Michael and ask "Will you do it? Will you really kill me?"

 

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[Gatichan]

Michael sent Chris a disgusted look. “Yes, of course I’m going to kill you. I especially ran all the way up here to tell you, in the middle of the night, that I’m going to kill you. And after you fall asleep and then go for a walk tomorrow morning, I’m going to climb onto the roof and shoot you with a sniper rifle,” he replied sarcastically and flicked his fingers against Chris’s forehead n exasperation. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence. I told you already before: here, your days of being a useless scientist are over- here you need to be a man.” Standing up and moving to the other side of Chris’s bed, Michael swore when his feet slipped on some plates and upset them, causing a quiet commotion. “What IS this?!” he wondered, appalled when he thought his elegant nose caught the whiff of sauce- this eejit hadn’t seriously gone and eaten a midnight snack in bed, had he?? Carefully lifting his legs higher so that he avoided getting the rest of his trousers sullied, Michael sat down beside Chris heavily and began to speak, quietly, yet fast.

 

“It appears the Boss would like to stage your untimely death. As an unspoken rule, the power of a Mafioso goes to his immediate kin, in this case you. Since this is a dire situation, I’ll be blunt: you aren’t cut out for this life, and we all know this. So your father plans to kill you and then, left without an heir, transfer all his power to me. I’ve been working with your father for years, so I know how he operates, I was born for this situation, whereas you aren’t. But I’m against this,” Michael admitted, although he certainly wasn’t going to disclose his true reasons for this. “It’s cruel and unnecessary. So I bought you some time. I convinced your father to give you an easy mission. One of the other rivaling clans needs to be taught a lesson and he’s going to tell you to handle the job- just listen!” he snapped when Chris made to speak. “Of course you’re not going to do the job: I’LL do it for you. I just have t make it look as if you’re the one behind it all, but this way we’ll buy you some time until we decide how to get you put of this hell house unharmed.”

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[Rhye_Meow]

"Tch!" He rubbed his forehead, he was sure that was just a soft blow-but it stings. 'Here's to me, hopefully i will never have a taste of his punch'. Chris silently followed his gazed towards Michael as he walk to the other side of his bed. He wince as he heard Michael stepped on the dishes he had eaten earlier. Somehow, when he tooka closer look, he find it funny how Michael lifted his legs. But he schooled his expression because he is in dire situation now. As Michael sat down beside him, Chris instinctively moves away, but Michael just went ahead and whispered something outrageous.

 

"But i can't.." he was interuptted so he just stayed silent until Michael finish saying his plans. What Michael said was the best option they have, but something bothers him to hell. "You say that, but isn't it easier for you to just to as my father asked you to, and kill me? You said it yourself: you're cut out for this life..so what's stopping you in pulling that trigger, or stabbing that knife, or strangling me with that rope-whatever your weapon of choice then?" He move to the side and search for his crane, and stood up, minding his steps at the mess he made. "Aren't harden mafia thugs such as yourself isn't suppose to care about what's cruel? So why help me Michael hm? What's your reason for saving someone like this." He waved his hands at himself, pointing at his marinara stained shirt, and scared knee.

 

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[Gatichan]

Without blinking, Michael reached into his vest and pulling out his loaded Glock. Hardly looking at where Chris, he shot three times. The bullets whizzed past Chris’s left ear, close by the right side of his neck so that he definitely felt the rush of air, as well as between the sliver of space between his cane and leg. His face remained impassive at the other man’s reaction and when Michael next spoke, his voice was deadly. Of course no one came running because Michael had used a silencer. “Question me once more or taunt me, and I really will do just that. But believe me when I tell you that I will make an example of you by killing you in the worst and slowest way that I know. Figlio di puttana- I am the only person standing between death and life and instead of falling on your knees to thank me, you start acting cocky and appeal to my conscience. I don’t have one, so don’t bother,” he snapped, rising off the bed and aiming his gun at Chris’s heart, slowly walked around the bed, just like a panther stalking his prey.

 

“I have nothing killing an enemy worth my time, but you are laughable. You don’t even justify the category of “Annoying”. I step over people like you in one stride, but I don’t usually hurt them unless they really piss me off. You are no danger to me- I was planning on taking over this clan anyway, but this is even better. The ultimate humiliation for the big Boss: his worthless son, who he’s just openly admitted to wanting to have dead, will suddenly prove to actually be a natural born killer. With me pulling the strings in the background, we could revolutionize the clan and bring your daddy down, little by little, and it will be the person he least expected who will plunge the knife deeply into his chest,” he smiled evilly, placing the end of the silencer against Chris’s neck. “So. Wise up. Get some sleep and tomorrow at seven in the morning- sharp, mind you, I hate stragglers, go down to the kitchen and wait there for me: we have a lot to talk about. If you’re not there….” Michael pulled the trigger…but nothing happened. His smile became angelic. “Just kidding.” Flicking his fingers against Chris’s head as one would a small child, he sauntered out the room without another backwards glance.

 

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[Rhye_Meow]

"W-what the hell just happen?" Chris slump down the messy floor and held his chest. The beating of his heart was ignominious, if anyone is present with him right now.. they would suspect he had some kind of drum set inside his ribs. He looked at his trembling hands and started with the nervous laughter. "Why?" He clutch his boxer shorts and tears started flowing, falling at his hands. His father wants him dead for a man who wants to use him. Chris can't wrap himself around the mess. "What do you really want?" He question Michael's real intentions. He thought for sure he will be killed but he was spared and now what? What will happen to him now.

 

The night past very slowly and when the dawn finally breaks, Chris was already ready. He didn't even slept a wink. Thinking what kind of life awaits for him at the hands of his father and Michael. "Like i said... i really hate this place." He opened his bedroom door at exactly 6:15 am and walk the marbled hallway. The tapping of his cane can be heard till ground floor. By the time he reached the staircase, he heave a sigh of exaperation and went down. The whole thing took him 10 minutes more or so. "Good morning." He greeted a few men he saw downstairs that was smoking just outside the open door. The men nodded at him but didn't pay much attention. Before heading out to the kitchen,he wipe the beads of sweat that dribbled at his forehead and started to painfully walk again. By the time he reached his destination, he open it and saw it was still empty. "Hm." 6:31 am . Still early, he drag his body to sit near the window and rest his elbow at it's sill. He close his eyes as he bask in the early morning light. "This waiting thing is killing me." He mutter udner his breath.

 

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[Gatichan]

“But it’s a nicer way to die than the ones I proposed yesterday, isn’t it?” Michael spoke up, smirking when he stepped out from the pantry, where he’d already been standing since ten past six. He was an early bird and had wanted to test just how motivated Chris would be to save his bacon. Apparently a lot, if the Boss’s junior was prepared to stand up so early. Walking forward, he tossed Chris an apple. “Eat that- it’s going to be your breakfast until we come back to officially eat at eight,” he commanded bossily as he selected another red apple from the magnificent glass bowl at the center of the kitchen counter. Placing a finger to his lips to indicate that he didn’t want Chris saying anything as they stepped out, Michael nodded at the men waiting outside. “The Boss’s son asked me to show him around our territory, bring him up to date with the new boundaries and nookies,” he announced in an offhand voice. He saw faint surprise in their eyes, but none of them dared to question him, so slowing his step to match Chris’s slow one, Michael finished eating his apple and tossed the core into the garden when they had reached the large garage. Selecting an inconspicuous car, he nodded for Chris to get in, closing the door on the other man before walking around to slid in behind the wheel himself.

 

Once they’d driven out the heavily guarded front iron gates of the Laurent estate Michael led the car straight towards the highway and got on. Not saying anything at all until he had put several kilometers between the Laurent estate and themselves, Michael eventually pulled over at a small, unspectacular rest stop, where they were alone. Parking the car, he remained silent for a while longer, gauging his words carefully. He still had to find out if there was anything that Chris had going for him, or if his desire to save the Boss’s son had only sprung from a moment of insanity. Turning eventually to Chris, Michael pursed his lips. “Is there anything, and I really want you to think hard about this…anything at all that you’re halfway good at? I mean, you seem to know something about guns…but can you shoot? Are you good at coming up with plans? Can you disable a car if necessary? Or, make a bomb, eventually?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound so desperate.

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[Rhye_Meow]

Looking at the apple at his hands, Chris wordlessly walk beside Michael. Shrugging his shoulders he ate his apple ans thought that it's kindda sour for his taste. As Michael opened the car door for him,he immediately knew this was his execution day. He was sure Michael change his mind about helping him live. He was reluctant to get in but he go for it anyways. Could he fight him off? Ofcourse he can't. Bracing his knee, he sat at the passengers side and wait for Michael to drive. The half eaten apple at his hands started to change color. He wanted to ask, but Michael's expression on his face warns him not to make this blunder.

 

When they stop at a rest, Chris fidgetted at his seat and look at his surroundings. Is this where im gonna die? Isn't this kinda, populated? They remained silent for a few moments and Chris inwardly groan. 'Yes.. this waiting is really gonna kill me.'

“Is there anything, and I really want you to think hard about this…anything at all that you’re halfway good at? I mean, you seem to know something about guns…but can you shoot? Are you good at coming up with plans? Can you disable a car if necessary? Or, make a bomb, eventually?” Chris pause at the question. He searched at Michael's eyes and knew he was serious at saving him. Either extremely happy or relieved or both, he swallowed his saliva trying to hide the fact the he is inches away from crying likea sissy. He stick his thumb nail at the apple and think what he was going to answer. Finally, he exhaled and said "I am good at guns, shooting it is not a problem. It's just understanding ballistics and that is easy for me. I'm probably better with most people because i understand guns and how they are manufactured. I'm not sure about what kind of plans do i have to make so i dont know. If bombs.. then yes i do know. I haven't tried but it will be easy. I have a Phd at Physics, and engineering is it's cousin, so i can work a car. But i don't have the physical strenght to do that alone." He taps his knees and gave a weak smile. "I think to sum it off, i'd be good at guns. Shooting from afar."

Chris wanted his mouth to be occupied so he started eating the rest ofhis breakfast.

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[Gatichan]

Michael listened carefully, nodding slowly. It was something. “Well, we’ll concentrate on your shooting skills in a moment. And about bombs- you really have a PhD in physics? That’s admirable.” He had to admit that he was grudgingly impressed. “I would have liked to have gone to university myself, but my life took a different turn…” His gaze softened minimally as he gazed out the wind screen of his car, lost somewhere on the horizon. Memories were threatening to come up, but he forced them down- right then wasn’t the time to become nostalgic. Focusing on Chris again, he nodded once. “If you can make bombs, we can use that to your advantage. I want you to prepare a laboratory when you get back to the house. Use one of the rooms on the upper floors, one that can be locked with a special lock and tell no one the combination. I want you to start working on small bombs, devices that won’t immediately attract attention, but that are deadly…like a bomb inside a cell phone, or one inside a telephone book. We’re going to use that to our advantage.”

 

He nodded towards Chris’s leg. “What did happen to your knee?” he asked, now really interested. His hunch had been correct: there was more to the Boss’s son than his weak outward appearance. Perhaps really not all was lost. He listened, nodding, and then removed his seatbelt. “Well, the beauty of being a Boss is that you don’t necessarily have to get your hands dirty, but tell someone else to do the job. That can also work for us. Come on, get out- I want to test your shooting skills,” he said, climbing out the car and looking around, confirmed that no one could see them from the highway. Leaving Chris to somehow get out by himself, Michael reached it the boot of the car to pull out three old cans of Coke. Calmly walking towards some recycling containers several meters away, he placed them all in a row. Returning, he removed his Glock again, without a silencer this time. “Here.” He placed the gun inside Chris’s seemingly limp hand. “I want you to take aim and shoot. Don’t worry about the noise- the highway sounds will drown everything out. All I want is for you to shoot those cans as best you can. Don’t worry about where you hit them- we’ll worry about precision later: right now I only want to see what stuff you’re made of.”

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[Rhye_Meow]

He felt a little bit happy when he heard the word 'admirable' from Michael's mouth. But he was startle at the sudden softness in his tone. Does he really wanted to study? He wanted to ask but he didn't want to break the moment. He was thinking over the bomb thing Michael has suggested . To be honest, he was nervous about this, but he didn't dare question Michael's plan and nodded his head along. 'Ah actually i wanted a room at the first floor'is what he wanted to say but his voice seems to left his body at the moment.

 

“What did happen to your knee?”

This question rang in his ears, he wanted to say 'no comment' but this man is saving his life right now, so it's better to be open. "Ah, it was 3 years ago, i made ...hmm.. It was for a power conservation machine, basically i invented or tried to invent a device that will use nuclear power into compact devices. I had a partner then- and someone funding us. But he .. well he sold me off and tampered with my machine...and..."he dont know how to finish his explanation. He always try to shove that part of his life at the back of my mind.

 

His heads was in the clouds and he heard 'shooting skill'. "W-waa what?" He got outside and look at Michael who handed him the Gloc. His hand trembled but not because he was scared, but he saw Michael's magnificent gun. He took it and cock the gun and mutter "Desert eagle 1911 G model, good for short and long range,high quality carbon steel and the slide. "he aimed and miss one can by a graze. He looked at it again and took his time. He inhaled and exhaled slowly and check the surroundings, he mutter again "atleast 7 meters away, no wind. Left angle ..aim and-" he shot and hit one. He smiled happily and looked at Michael and said "i hit one,.." he looked in front again and aim. He hit the last one but only graze it. He smiled and gave Michael back his gun. "She's beautiful."he said smiling widely.

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