GUERRERO

Just as his gut feeling had predicted, shit had hit the fan at the Vargas party. Things hadn’t seemed to calm down yet ever since. Yet, instead of keeping himself busy by working at the hotel or protecting Veronica — his aim today was something completely different. He’d picked up on a few things over the last few days, weeks even, maybe. When Nikkie approached him about this certain issue, he couldn’t let it go. That’s how Mason worked, perhaps what him good at what he did. There wasn’t much he knew, the woman still a mystery to him, though something smelled fishy. All the information he had came from reliable sources, yet he wondered what the catch was with this. His eyes had followed the brunette in question all night long, following her every move. It almost felt a little creepy, but at this point, Mason had gotten used to it. He knew it time to take action the moment he saw her crossing the street. The sun had just set, darkening the streets of Montreal as the streets roared with life. His feet dragged him in the direction of the brunette, knowing that his approach had to be somewhat sly in order to keep his presence on the low. His eyes crossed her just as he was about to cross her on the sidewalk, instead his hand swiftly wrapped around her arm and tugged her into the small alley. “Don’t,” Mason breathed out, covering her mouth with his hand, “don’t move or make a sound.” Nostrils flared as he made sure they were out of eyesight for anyone else. It was against his morals to intentionally hurt a woman who had done nothing wrong to him — then again, she was with the Ivory, which didn’t sit well with him in the first place. “This doesn’t have to get ugly if you just cooperate. Got it?”

In the matter of collected moments, her life went to shit in a handbag. Not that Veronica could say she was even remotely surprised. After all, what was her existence if it wasn’t a collection of terrible and traumatizing moments. She had made a decision to take that as nothing more than fuel to continue forward. When her mother died, when her little brother was sent away, when her twin was murdered, and every bating her father ever bestowed to her. All of it, it was fuel that pushed the wild beast inside of her mad. Her soul was like a bucking bronco just waiting for that change to be released. And yet, the release never came. 

It was like there was a poison collecting in her blood and there was no antidote to be found. The only thing the Vittori Princess could do was stick another bandaid on wound, hoping that this time it would be enough to keep the dam together. 

The new guest in her home went unnoticed by the woman, her attention was elsewhere as she tossed the shirt towards the corner of her home gym. Her muscles ached, her wounds throbbed, and body begged her to give up her unrelenting blows to the black punching bag hanging from one of the beams. But every time hazel eyes would find herself in the mirror, see the scars left on exposed flesh, a new wave of anger and hatred would take over. 

Veronica finished off another beer, before tightening the wraps on her hands once more. The heavy bass of the music that echoed through her home kept her visitors steps quiet, only helped to drive her heart rate and adrenaline through the roof. And with that, she began again. A strike here, and kick here. Blow after blow, until the stitches in her arm tore free and left the blood to drip along her forearm. What would be one more scar to add to the collection?

The loud music was a dead give away that Veronica was, in fact, home. With a sigh, Mason followed the sound of the heavy bass that echoed through the place. As he got closer, he could start to hear the hits against the punching bag. He had seen her work out plenty of times when he used to stay over at the place, though the frustration was evident from the sounds that came from the room. He could understand. After all, the frustration after losing his father was what drove him towards the Vittori. Bingo. The door was slightly ajar as he approached Ronnie’s home gym, eyes catching the movements of the brunette. 

For a minute Mason just stood there and watched her. A mixture of feelings arose at the sight of her in this form. Part of him saw that Veronica he’d gotten to know right after her brother’s funeral, the fierceness reminding him of that moment she’d drawn her knife against his throat. Though the scars that littered her body reminded him of the fragile Veronica he’d seen more times than he’d liked to. He knew the loss of Lorenzo wasn’t necessarily grief for the Vittori princess. Not the kind of grief any other would experience at the loss of a parent. As far as he knew, she wasn’t grieving his loss, but rather the pain she’d caused him. Then again, Mason had a hard time reading her ever since she returned to Montreal. 

As he finally decided to make his presence known, Mason stepped inside the room, his first goal being lowering the music that was blasting loudly through the household. As his eyes landed back on her petite frame, he caught the blood dripping on her forearm. Carefully taking a few steps towards her, he placed both his hands on the punching bag. “What did the poor punching bag ever do to you?” Nodding his towards the dripping crimson liquid, he spoke up again. “Let’s get that cleaned up, yeah?”

Not even twelve hours had passed since wheels had touched runway, and Alex was already being greeted by a familiar face. Not one she was particularly fond of, nor cared to see, for that matter, but she found a smile curling her lips anyway. “Mason,” she answered before flagging the bartender, resisting the urge for fingertips to graze the spot where a bullet had pierced her skin at the hands of the other. 

“You are aware of who owns this establishment, aren’t you?” A known Vittori member rarely stepped foot beyond the threshold, not willingly at least. “Are you brave or just stupid?” she asked, tumbler rising to meet her lips. The taste of gin met her tongue, sliding easily down the throat she now cleared. “Or perhaps, you’re looking to make a career change? What with the Vittori family dropping like flies, soon you’ll be in need of a new job, right? There are just two orphaned children left in that line, or am I mistaken?” Alex may have freshly arrived in town, but she was far from clueless on the recent happenings. 

His name rolling off her tongue somehow brought him some sense of satisfaction — no matter how twisted that sounded. Though the smile that accompanied it unsettled him. Mason simply acknowledged her with a curt nod, quickly thanking the bartender for the glass of beer. A chuckle slipped past his lips as her question reached his ears. They both knew he was aware of the territory he was currently on, hence why the follow-up question hadn’t surprised him. “Perhaps a little bit of both, Alex — I guess we’ll find out.” With a simple shrug, he brought the cold glass up to his lips, the taste of beer lingering as he’d set the glass back on the bar. 

Mason couldn’t help but scoff at her next set of words. “A career change?” He simply shook his head, a grin worming its way onto his features. Almost on instinct, he leaned in a little closer as he dropped his voice so the spoken words would remain between them. “I’d rather shoot a bullet through the roof of my mouth than ever join the fuckin’ Ivory.” Leaning back again, putting some space between the two as he took yet another swig of his beer. 

kane laughed towards the berating comment. He didn’t tolerate the Ivory much better, but ah, they had to test their patience tonight. The hitman was quick, steadily making his way towards the exit as their designer shoots clattered against the marble steps. Kane kept his weapon drawn, but not raised. He didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. His tongue feathered between his lips as he turned around the corner. It seemed the fighting remained on the first floor mainly with a few stragglers in the garden. He stepped out, holstering his gun as they made their way past an array of fighting. None of it was his men: Vittori or not, he didn’t care.

He looked aside. “Did you have any patience before?”

The question made him chuckle, eyes remaining focused on their surroundings rather than on the other male as they slowly but surely made their way through the chaos. “I’ll have the time to be patient when I’m buried six feet under,” Mason remarked, one corner of his lips tugging up as he spoke. While the two of them got along, he knew to be cautious when it came to the business side of things. He’d had his suspicions — not necessarily about Kane, more so about the Vargas Empire. A certain gut feeling. The brawl that broke out only further confirming that feeling. “The Vargas sure know how to throw one hell of a party, hm?”

It seemed just his luck, as his usual laundromat had closed for a few days right when he needed a quick wash of his clothes. Things had gotten sort of messy at the Vargas party — whether that was the food or blood he’d spilled. Walking up to the place he’d looked up, his eyes fell on the name of the place. Suds. Stepping foot inside the place, Mason placed his bag with clothes on the counter. It wasn’t until he noticed the brunette that his brows furrowed together, lips pursed as confusion hit him. Though it was quickly replaced by an empty chuckle.  “Wouldn’t ever expect to see a Capo hustling at a laundromat... Jackie, was it?”

Change was gonna come. That much was clear. From the moment Lorenzo Vittori had drawn his last breath were going to change. Hell, things had started to change from the moment he’d been put in that hospital bed. This was the calm before the storm. Mason knew to trust his gut feeling when he felt things brewing at the Vargas party. Something was... off. He couldn’t place it. The timing, the short moment of chaos — he couldn’t quite put it together, but it nagged at him. 

While those thoughts brewed in the back of his mind, he knew that with the loss of the Vittori boss he needed to see her. It felt odd, to have the key to her house in his hand even though they hadn’t had any form of communication over the last few months. As much as Mason put the blame on himself for that, she hadn’t reached out either. Part of him wanted to flesh out where her head was at, but not in this moment. While the elder Vittori had been nothing but a piece of shit to his daughter, Mason had been through the loss of a parent. Not just one, but both of them. It wasn’t easy. 

As the key unlocked the front door, Mason carefully set foot into the once familiar place. There was no sense of relief washing over him anymore as he eyed the place. It brought a certain sense of deja vu, bringing him back to the night he’d found Veronica battered and bruised. He remembered the rage that flowed through his veins at the sight of that. Closing the door behind him softly, his feet dragged him further into the living space. “Veronica? You here?”

OPEN STARTER @ THE LUXURE for ANYONE

The former consigliere was surprised to find Montreal just as she’d left it — maybe a little dirtier, bloodier, perhaps. But, still the same. And, while it wasn’t home, it did house something important for the woman: memories, both good and bad. 

When she’d left just a over a year ago, Alex hadn’t quite expected to return so soon. Business had exploded in Texas, the newest location for an Ivory chapter. She was only there to lay foundations, but when it came time, she found herself easily assuming the leadership position, the role of Boss donned like a well-fit glove. However, much like the climate in Montreal, the Ivory Syndicate wasn’t welcomed by the city of Dallas. 

An assassination attempt had led the woman to lay low for a while, arriving back in the city she’d left a year earlier. Surprisingly, her first stop hadn’t been an attempt to seek of Zephyr Jackson. Instead, she found herself at an old, familiar haunt, The Luxure, gin and tonic resting on the bar before her. Suddenly aware of someone assuming the stool beside her, the woman pulled her drink to her lips. “Insane exactly how little can change in a year, isn’t it?” she asked, before taking a long swallow. 

The Luxure wasn’t Mason’s usual drinking spot, knowing he would be trespassing onto Ivory territory. But he was feeling a change of pace tonight after recent events, feeling like this place was just calling his name tonight. The tequila shots at the Dandy Pig would be waiting for him tomorrow. And as soon as he spotted a free stool at the bar, he walked over and took a seat. He’d spotted the brunette occupying the seat next to him, though she hadn’t truly piqued his interest until she started to speak. That voice was way too familiar for Mason, their encounters from merely twelve months ago feeling like it had been just yesterday. 

“Mhm,” Mason hummed in agreement, unfazed by the words. Part of him wondered if she’d already recognized him — though he doubted anyone would ever forget a person that pulled the trigger on them. “You know what they say, change is often accompanied by discomfort... Can’t imagine that would do Montreal any good.”

kane made his way towards the second floor, finding it obvious that what was stolen wouldn’t be recovered. At least, not easily. He was a good foot solider. He knew to weave through a crowd like a shadow. He didn’t intend on stopping until the tanned man poked into view. His arm dipped from one side of the wall to, gun raised as he walked carefully. With a sigh, Kane gripped against his arm and jerked him back in place as an array of bullets pierced into the wall beside him. “I’m fine. You shouldn’t be up here.” Kane told him with a sense of agency that held some memory. He wasn’t worried of making out alive, he always did; he worried about making it out in time to visit his daughter before she curled in bed.

“Are your people safe?” He asked, uncaring if they were. It was a good gesture. He reached around the corner, eyes narrow as he fired off a few shots. Blood splattered against the marble as a few Ivory men cracked their skulls against the tile. “Move.” Kane looked at him, allowing him to take lead as they weaved through the stairway.

Mason just nodded at the statement, “I know.” Though that wasn’t going to change the fact that he was there and didn’t plan on being anywhere else. At least not during this heated moment. At Kane’s question, he did a quick scan of the people around them, knowing they didn’t have much time to talk and catch up. “Think so,” he spoke, “yours?” Mason wasn’t all that familiar with the people acquainted with the Vargas Empire. He knew of them — most of them, at least. But at this moment, they had a common enemy — the Ivory Syndicate. So when Kane urged him to move, he didn’t hesitate for a second and did just that. With his finger hovering over the trigger of the gun he held tightly in his hand, Mason’s feet dragged him forwards, making sure to not draw any unnecessary attention to them as they moved. The only exception he would make was the Ivory scum that crossed their paths, the sound of empty bullet cases hitting the ground as yet another shot shrilled through the sound of the chaos. “These pinche pendejos are really testing my patience,” Mason grumbled.

“Scared? Yeah — not of like, spiders, or whatever. Used to be scared of the dark when I was younger. Don’t think I’m really scared of things anymore. Certain responsibilities, maybe. Keeping people safe.”

His lips stretched into somewhat of a smile. “That’s deep, esé.” With another sip of whatever burning liquor had been poured into his glass, Mason shrugged. “I guess having your family ripped away from you the same way you’re ripping away family from others now really... fucks you up, huh?” 

“What makes me hate a person? First off... if I hate someone, it probably means I either cared for ‘em, or they hurt someone I care for. There’s a fine line between love ‘n hate.”

“Yeah — don’t know if you noticed but I don’t really do the whole kiss ‘n tell thing. Or tell, in general, probably. If you think I’m gonna spill now, you probably need another drink, cabrón.”