h e r m e s

The screeching voice of Thea Collins exasperated the hell out of Gio. He’s used to politicians and their empty promises and flowery words, but Collins had a voice that was just utterly irritating. He had to watch this though. He wanted to be updated about things, especially when the Mayor wants to rant about cleaning the streets and whatever other bullshit she wants to spew. 

“… and I will stand by my promise to purge Atlanta’s streets of the Mafia-style gangs that have come forth—“

Bang. A single gunshot. Chaos. Cameras were pushed to the floor as people ran aimlessly. 

Gio pried his eyes away from the TV and got his phone. A few phone calls later and he would find out the DA Alastair Wright is dead. 

The inevitable meetings and phone calls would happen soon. As far as he was concerned, everything was airtight on their side so it could only have been the Dixie Mafia’s doing. It was probably going to be a long day, and since it was the calm before the storm, he took the chance to come down to the steakhouse at his hotel to have a late lunch.

Seated alone as he cut through his medium rare, he took a swig of the red wine beside his plated before chewing down on his steak. He took a glance at the TV by the bar playing news reports of the shooting. Atlanta would be on lockdown. Everyone would be checked and vetted. Gio had to prepare, and what better way to prep than with wine and steak?

He felt someone come up to the table as he watched the TV from afar. When he finally was able to pry his eyes away from the screen, he looked up at the person. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said. 

Gwyn knew it was becoming more and more increasingly suffocating, all of them around her. She wondered, as she steadied herself on her feet–heels too high for walking but if any shorter would’ve receive question or ridicule. She felt at times everything she did was judged, in someway. Not that anyone would come outright and voice it. She was now the only Bianchi heir left. 

Ordering her own, she looked over her shoulder, a dismal look–one unlike all others she possessed. “Are you going to order something or keep standing there gawking at me?”

“Would yes be an appropriate answer to that?” He answered, allowing a small smile to pull through. Possibly the wrong time for shit-humour, but he needed the comic relief break. She looked like she needed it most. “Small black.” Handing a couple bills over, he slipped one in the tip jar absentmindedly before taking back the rest of his change. “You prefer I wear a blindfold?”

Silas was curious—those who spoke so candidly of death were—well, they were golden fucking tickets on the in. “Interesting,” He noted to begin, a small nod of his head. Silas cleared his throat. “You, uh, you think that about people who were murdered? Doesn’t seem like they had a bit of a choice in the situation.” And a lull broke before he continued. “Who’s the girlfriend? Better not let her hear you makin’ it like a chore to be here…”

“They could choose to not die--- not be so fucking selfish,” he insisted, frowning at the logic. Even he had to admit that was stupid. What else could he say? He had a point. “She’s around here somewhere probably gettin’ her ass kissed by one of the mourners. Her brother was one of the deceased.”

Surely she was hesitant in her actions, footsteps seemed to shuffle rather than walk wherever she needed to go. Head being held high was a mere fleeting dream than an option, and the idea to keep it all together—was a raging mess. Gwyn was breaking, the cracks showing from a life unlike the one she had. Choices were fair and kind to all who were offered them. Everything she had was a command. Be this—do that. As she walked towards him, hand outstretched, enveloped his arm and—her knees gave out slightly. “Sorry—“ Gwyn whispered, jaw tightening as she stood up a bit straighter. It was easy to assume her mind was a bit scattered, as they approached the cart, and she fumbled with her purse.

He helped her to the best of his abilities. Despite all human emotion pretty much MIA, he could still pretend to sympathize for her. Be a shoulder to cry on. Anything to be closer to her, really. He slid his hand into hers, steadying her automatically. 

“I got it,” he insisted, letting go to grab his own wallet. “Go ahead. I’m still deciding.” Was it safe for her to be out like this without a bodyguard following her every move? He supposed it didn’t matter much with himself there. Casting a glance her way, he handed his money over. He could protect her. He could be anything for her.

“Yeah, I highly doubt he still cares about me after what happened a few days ago. He wont even talk to me.” She said quietly. Ever since they had that fight, Mateo had been avoiding her. Calls and texts went unanswered and she was sick of it honestly. “In the long run it’s probably better. I love him..but our lives are just way too different right now to have us actually be together.” Translation, her life was way too dangerous and he could be caught in the crossfire if something ever went wrong. And she would never forgive herself. 

“He’s angry--- I think that just means he’s finding a way to get back at you--- at least that’s what I would do if I was mad at someone,” he added, not thinking. He was never really thinking. He had a gift to make things worse than they already were, but that was partly due to the other not taking his advice. He was an excellent advice-giver if he were being honest. “I heard he holed himself up in his apartment. He’s been busy with this potential murder case, I guess. Might be easier to just go crash his pity-party.”

“If I didn’t know any better—“ Silas spoke, a low chuckle omitted within his slight pause. “I’d say you’re almost jealous they got out—“ He looked over to the man with a knowing grin. “Who’re you here for?”

“Beyond jealous--- nothing I hate more than those who get the easy way out. We gotta suffer on the planet for a little while longer,” he huffed. He often thought of death as insignificant as gum on the sidewalk but he’d never been open to doing something about it himself. “Here against my will to support my girlfriend.”

Callie choked on her whiskey before looking over at the man next to her. “Hold up. You actually have feelings…like real feelings other than sarcasm or rage?” She asked with a laughing. Shaking her head Callie took another sip and smiled. “For real though that’s good. Falling in love and having it be returned is the best thing ever honestly.” The smile fell from her lips for a second as she took another drink of her whiskey and watched the bartender put two more shots in front of them. “Just be sure you don’t do something that can screw it up…because that shit hurts worse than anything.” Callie said quietly as she took the tequila shot. 

He couldn’t be certain about Guinevere’s feelings. He knew it would never work, but a part of him always knew they belonged together. He looked out for her. He wanted to keep her safe--- but at what point did it become more than impressing her father? At what point had it become all about her?

“Right. How’re things with you and my brother?” He could tell they were rocky, but if he could offer some insight, that’d probably be for the best. Still, love was stupid and complicated for no reason. The least he could do was help these two idiots work it out. “He talks about you a lot. Cares about you.”

Mitch let out a scoff at the response. “Yes, but how else would this town find any fun. The only thing they can do is blame a group of people that assimilate into society. I’m honestly starting to wonder if they even exist.” He knew that he shouldn’t be so sarcastic but it was a terrible second nature to him honestly. He had known Gio due to his time in the club and through that his family. Gio was a good kid and there was no way in hell that it was a wrong place wrong time thing. “The flood was bad. But i also don’t suspect that it killed as many people as we think.”

“They’ll blame us for anything, including these deaths,” he hissed, low and cruel. He thought to who might’ve been to blame for Gio’s death. He’d like to blame it on the weather and circumstances, but a price had been on the Bianchi’s heads since they moved there. It would make sense to be targeted. “Good luck proving that. I think they’re planning on having the body cremated anyway.”

“What, you don’t think I can handle my alcohol? Your brother is the stick in the mud, I on the other hand am a champ.” Callie said as she got two tequila shots put in front of them. “To hopefully not dying in this damn town.” She said swallowing the liquid. Putting the glass on the counter, she quickly downed it with a drink of her whiskey and laughed. “So you know, other than four more people dying, anything new in your life?” 

“We’ve never drank together before,” he defended, settling on grabbing his black card and handing it to the bartender upon receiving their drinks. Pietro was comfortable. He didn’t like looking wealthy which was why he often dressed like he was a struggling college student waiting on his parents to send cash for noodles. He liked not having to pay for anything while looking broke. Mateo would absolutely have his head if he found out. “I think this girl I’m in love with has feelings for me.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t explain her thought process, when it remained in a rollercoaster loop, something she couldn’t attach too. She just watched, watched him talk, dismissed looking her in the eye, and then… walk. “Peter—“ It was rare, calling him such a basic form of his name when her own tact had been to refer to his Italian name. “There’s a coffee cart around the corner.” She too invited the chance to leave, even if the leash felt tighter now than ever. “Come with me?”

He turned on a whim--- hers or his own, he’d never quite know. She needed stability, and maybe he could’ve been that for her. At the very least a friend. Gwyn needed someone, and Pete could easily be that. She’d addressed him in a friendly way--- so why was he just standing there, contemplating leaving her there? He nodded after a moment, quietly agreeing. He wasn’t the best company (too many dark thoughts), but he could be that for her if she needed it. She needed him. He offered his arm to her, wordlessly guiding them towards the cart aforementioned, uncertain if it was alright for him to talk.

“Um excuse you, last time I checked you had the deeper pockets out of both of us.” Callie said laughing slightly as the familiar face sat down next to her. “Right now it’s whiskey unless you had anything else in mind.” She said as the bartender put two glasses down in front of them. “Good to see that the storm didn’t sweep you away, I actually got worried there for a second.” 

“I’m good at what I do,” he insisted nonchalantly, shrugging. “I was thinking more tequila, but that’s a dangerous combination,” he added before a chuckle dropped from his lips. “I’m resilient, sis. Can’t kill me that easily.”

“Yeah, funerals aren’t exactly my thing either.” He said quietly as he continued looking around. “Interesting turn out though, didn’t think this many people would come.” It was interesting how much people felt the death of someone that they had probably only met once or twice. It was almost as if humans were addicted to the sadness and pain that an event like this brought. “Who do you think did it?” The rumors flying around where enough to drive anyone crazy, but Mitch also had his speculations about what happened to the four victims. 

“This little game of ‘whodunit’ is getting really old,” he added listlessly. Of course, people were going to speculate on whether it was foul-play, but it had been that way with most of the deaths in the city. People died, other’s speculated on whether it was gang-affiliated or natural causes. It was an interesting game at first, but this was about Gio. This was Gwyn’s brother. Who cared about the other three? He sighed. “Pointing fingers isn’t gonna help anything. The tensions in this city are already high--- for all we know, it could’ve just been a wrong-place-at-the-right-time sort of deal. The flood was bad.”

“You ever just think that your life needs a major overhaul? Or that you need to just run away from everything?” Callie said. She was mainly talking to the bartender in front of her, but she honestly didn’t care who heard her. The news had just dropped of who died in the flood and she knew that it was murder for at least one of them. The girl didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she knew who died or the fact that she probably knew who killed them. Taking the last swig from her drink, she looked over at the bartender and shook the glass. “I think I need another.” 

“You better be buying,” he announced, sliding into the seat next to her. Things were tense these days. Everyone was looking over their shoulder, but he could be civil with Calliope. Despite their weird relationship and even weirder mutual connection. Mateo was a stick-in-the-mud and had been a pain in Pietro’s ass since moving to Atlanta, but he appreciated having someone there to give him guidance (even if he never listened). “What are we havin’?”

He was curious to see the turn out. Badge tucked neatly into his pocket, as Silas crossed the foyer of the event hall. Dressed in black to filter through the crowd, not lingering long enough, no one would ask questions. But he presumed curiosity—if four people died—at the hands of someone, there’d be a name to blame. And they would be in this building. He wasn’t about to quick announce his intentions—he was smarter than that. Moving to the refreshment stand, making himself a coffee, and standing off to the side, where he spotted someone already lingering. “Shame, isn’t it?” He commented to the person on his left. “They were all so young.”

“Nothing new,” he noted with a lulled expression, almost dazed. He hadn’t planned on sticking around, but he still hadn’t seen the body in question. He needed to. It was a gut-instinct. “Life is such a pain, anyway. Good they got out while they could.”

It’d been a few days, mingled with the news. Asking Gwyn how she felt was teetering on dangerous mixed with honesty. She was livid, even if that emotion wasn’t expelled right away. Shying away from a lot of people, those within her gang and outside, it made it easier. Sitting on the steps leading up to the hall, the cold chill sinking into bare forearms as she sat before the building, black head to toe. Her brother was dead. She didn’t care about much else now. Hearing footsteps approach, she huffed. “I’m really not interested in the company.” She half-snapped at the person approaching, without looking.

“Just came to see how you’re doing,” was really the only response he could come up with. It was ridiculous. She was obviously in pain and here he was, reminding her of it. He didn’t sit. Instead, he paused at the step above her, one black-clad leg positioned even higher with his hands tucked into his pockets. He would much rather leave if he were being honest with himself. Even he couldn’t stomach death as well as people thought he did. By his own hand, sure, but funerals weren’t his thing. “Stupid question, sorry,” he insisted, stepping down as he made his way towards the bottom. “I’ll catch you later, then.”

Death was not something that Mitch wasn’t used to. It happened almost every day in the city and the last time something this big happened was when the grandfather was killed with the two kids. Something that was done because of his club…or at least the club he pretended was his. Dressed in his black suit, Mitch stood at the back of the church as mourners poured in and gave their condolences to the family. Members of both clubs as well as police were in attendance and it made the man nervous. Noticing someone stand next to him, Mitch took a sip of his coffee and stared straight ahead. 

“There are some open seats in the middle.” 

Why had he come? Perhaps it was curiosity. Maybe he needed to be there, after all, he cared about Gwyn enough to show his support. He wasn’t close to her brother, but he did know him and talk to him like he was his own. He had a sworn duty to look after the Bianchi family. Even as a mere messenger, it was his God-given right to protect them. In a way, he felt guilty. He felt the betrayal from all sides and as the time ticked on, he felt the weight of his irresponsibility seep in like thick molasses, swallowing everything in its wake. He shouldn’t be there. He didn’t deserve it.

“I’m not sticking around,” he noted quietly, folding his arms in front of him. “Just came to pay my respects--- then I’m out.”

A simple grocery shopping trip had turned into Natalia making way to the candy aisle, it filled to the brim with Halloween goodies. She had told herself not to go down it, but she had given in… just to see if she was missing out on anything new. Even as a nurse who tried her best to keep trim and stay healthy, she had a weakness for Halloween candy. There was no explanation for it really, but somehow the chocolates shaped like whimsical pumpkins, ghosts, and bats, seemed to taste all the sweeter. And, yes, she was one of those people most deemed weird because she loved candy corn and mellowcreme pumpkins. She kept reaching for a bag of candy to toss in her basket, but halfway there put it back on the shelf. This was a repeated action more than a handful of times, and she felt her cheeks burn when someone else on the aisle took notice.

“I’m trying to tell myself no,” she chuckled, poking fun at herself as she sent them a smile. “But it’s so hard to resist! Even though I know the best time to stock up is after the holiday, when it’s all like eighty percent off.”

“Doesn’t do much good letting it sit there to expire, anyway,” he reasoned, although not completely backed up, he wanted to see her reaction. Candy wasn’t hard to avoid. Pietro’s idea of sweets had ranged and with the upcoming holiday, could easily turn to healthier alternatives. “Halloween's about gorging oneself on sweets, though. Dressing up and possibly defacing other people’s houses for lack of said sweets. What’s the point of buying it after the fun’s done? I say live in the moment.” Grabbing a bag, he opened it casually, taking the first of many chocolates. “‘Tis the season.”