s e r p e n t

Luca Vitale | Bratva | Bodyguard for the Vronsky family | 35

Straight outta Italy, the Vitale family have held a powerful position within the Ndrangheta for generations and have never had a problem reminding people of that. 

Luca and his three siblings were molded to be exactly what would work for the family, but somewhere along the line, Luca decided that he wanted power over his own life and began to start observing more rather than simply doing as he was told by his father.

An honest to god piece of shit. Why? Who’s askin’?

It didn’t take long for Luca to catch wind of the poker game going on deep within the cellar, and though he’d made absolutely no effort at all to seek out Riven throughout the party, once he’d caught sight of the snapchat the other had sent him - a dimly lit room with a palm full of cards, - he knew exactly where he was headed next. Taking the emergency stairwell so as to avoid a great many others, Luca split from the concrete well into the ground floor and in the dim lighting of the corridor, he found the cellar, popping the door open quietly. At first, his only intention was to survey the room - and it reeked of spilled, warm booze. A sickly sweet scent that he immediately decided that he didn’t like. After that, however, he took note of the eight people sat around a scratched up, old wooden table and the three others that stood in various places around it, everyone watching as Riven dropped his hand of cards, face up. You’ve gotta’ be fucking kidding me... As if he thought he’d walk into anything other than Riven stirring shit up. “Looks like you all got played, ladies.” Luca notes, as he takes a few steps further into the room, stopping just beside Riv. “Figured you might have learnt that lesson by now.”

Sofia didn’t imagine spending her New Years alone at the beginning of the year. As the months crumbled closer to the end of her engagement, the woman hadn’t been focused on the meaning of starting a new year being in a way different place in her life than she had been eleven months prior. She leaned against the bar, holding a vodka tonic in her hand. She brought it up to her lips, tilting her head back to drink it in one swift motion. She placed the glass back down onto the surface, turning her head when she heard the male next to her offered to get her next drink. “Thanks,” she said softly, mostly gauging to see if the person was up for small talk or not. 

Admittedly, Luca wouldn’t always go out of his way to pay for anything, for anyone. There was something in the way the woman beside him turned the drink already in her hand empty rather quickly though. A quickened pace, and one step closer to the end of her night. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one counting down the hours until his respective Vronsky counterpart decided enough was enough. “You looked like you needed it.” He noted, with a slight gesture between the brunette and the empty glass she left behind. 

A rather potent comment rested upon the tip of the brunette’s tongue as a tall figure slipped in front of her within the line to the bar. And just when she was about to utilize the guise of the crowd and attempt a jab to his ribcage he spoke up and a sense of familiarity settled over her. “Jesus, you’re still drinking that shit…“ Maddison muttered, the man’s tone all but confirmation of yet another ghost of the past. Only this one was fortunately much more tolerable that the first. Requesting another rum and coke she wasted no time in downing the remnants of her glass before returning it to the bar as she stepped around him. “And here I thought you’d be doing time in some Italian prison somewhere by now. Should I be concerned that you’ve managed to weasel your way into Chicago?“

“Anything to numb the disappointment,” he replied, rather apt in his abhorrent disdain for the current climate and company. Shockingly enough, seeing Maddison Campbell, while not surprising, offered a semblance of relief. Perhaps it existed only in the familiarity, but still, it was something in and of itself. It only begged the question of who else might be lingering the streets of Chicago - perhaps it was an omen of time slipping thin. Snorting at the accuracy of what she’d expected, Luca shook his head, “You’re a little late to that chapter of my life, close call but... you know me.” Always willing to take a step in the wrong direction in order to come out on top. “As if you being here should be any less concerning. Is that what’s next? A Sinaloa Armageddon in Chicago? Remind me to get out of dodge sooner rather than later.”

&.

IT FELT LIKE the party barely had a pulse and Alison was hardly swimming through it, her way to escape a slow back crawl past sophisticated drinkers, the older images of herself and her friends in twenty years’ time just decked out in less glitter, all shaking for a little more of something. Her go - to gang had disappeared, no doubt off to find their dates to sneak off to cozier places amongst the venue, so it wasn’t long before the blonde found herself back in the comfort of the bar, waiting impatiently for her glass to be refilled to a point where her knuckles had gone white against its steam. The voice of someone next to her had beat her to the next punch and it took all but a few seconds for it to register, recognition settling quickly. “You’re a dick for cutting the line.” Allie turned so that her frame was now facing out towards the crowd, languid as she threw her order of a sidecar over her shoulder in one quick clip now that server began working with some previously unseen professionalism in a way that was quick to annoy her considering the previous wait. “What’s with the sudden generosity? Aiming to being a better person in ‘22?”

“It’s new years, if the bartenders attention if what you’re after, you’re not showing nearly enough cleavage, Al.” Although he did actively practice misogyny, he wasn’t blind to the way things worked in places like this. All his life he’d spent, weaving his way through the crowds of people his family entertained. Grand parties and events that were all so fucking nonsensical to the point that it was almost embarrassing for him. “You wanna’ bitch about it, bitch to someone else.” He noted, lifting his drink to his lips with something of a sardonic smirk curling at his mouth. “It’s a drink, I’m not offering to cure poverty, besides... New Years resolutions look more like something you’d be into. New life new me? Or is it, new life same bullshit, but you’re just looking to pull in more followers or whatever the fuck it is you do?”

location: grand ballroom

For the most part, the gig that Luca had worked himself into for the bratva kept him busy and better yet - out of reach of certain others. He’d yet to really find anything about it that he disliked as greatly as finding refuge among the Bratva to begin with. At least, he’d thought so, until he’d entered the extravagant ballroom and was overcome by the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head. A group of loud, middle aged women shuffled around him, giggling and asking him to save a dance, his response little more than a menial smile and unenthusiastic nod as he wove his way out of their grasp. A shiver ran down his spine, the kind that one could encourage on their own and by the time he’d reached the bar, he’d internally cursed himself - and mapped out the entire room, much to his own dismay. “Double ouzo and.. whatever they’re having..” Clearly, those beside him had been waiting far longer, and while he wasn’t one to pave the way for anyone, it was new years.