don't play

Kira had heard about the violence that had gone on within the city due to the organized crime. A part of her life she’d left behind a long time ago, at least until recently when she found out that the father of her child was still very much apart of that lifestyle. While she’d put distance in her own personal life, her professional one had only gotten more engulfed. Her days in shelters were often spent with the forgotten. The ones who suffered violence first hand and were often left to carry that weight on their own. Whether it came from violence directed from loved ones or from criminal activity that their partners were in — the women and children bore the weight of its impacted and were often discarded. Most of the time, their lives intertwined with that of another who had chosen a life of anger and violence. Perhaps it was for this reason that the knowledge that Damien was still involved in criminal activity and that Lyla could be affected directly rubbed her the wrong way.

As she arrived at the woman’s shelter for her shift, the brunette barely had the time to close her door when a voice echoed out. Devil. While a little dramatic, it held some sort of truth. She hadn’t been the nicest or most sane person in her past. “Still as dramatic, I see.” She quipped as she closed the door behind her and folded her arms across of her chest. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I live here now.” If anything, she wanted to see his expression when he realized that he’d have to get used to running into her. “I work here, baby. I’ve been around kids for a long time,” not her own, but she suspected he’d remind her soon enough. “But this is a woman and children’s shelter so maybe you’d like to tell me what the hell you’re doing here, hm?”

--

“Ah, okay, so just not your own.  I think I’ve got the picture.” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, mirroring her own stance.  “What? Forgotten the name of your own employer?” He arched a brow, his condescension as thick as the curls that played at her back.  “My right to be here is written all over the company that signs your checks.” Serafin laughed, rocking back onto his heels.  The man didn’t pull status often--it just wasn’t his style.  He’d much rather be the serving leader (perhaps that was fatherhood bleeding into his work life) than one that pranced around talking about it all the time, but something about the way she looked at him beckoned him to put her in her place.  

♫♬♯

                                   Crimson red was poured into the Burgundy wine glass in front of her — only the third one for the night. Last one, she promised, but her sky-like irises that’d lost their sparkle couldn’t help but admire the way the blood-colored liquid spilled inside the transparent vessel, its foam bubbling on top, washed-out and dark pink, before popping into nothing. She was reluctant to admit it ( only because of a stupid name coincidence ) but Lewis’ didn’t have nearly as much drink variety as St. Peter’s. But then again, one could argue that the vast majority of Lewis’ customers didn’t walk around with a black eye, a split lip or a limp on their right leg either. Rogues Club fighters, the blonde thought. The bar was filled with those to the point that Adelaine wondered if the bar would’ve closed down without them as loyal customers. It was easy to tell despite the fact she’d never stepped foot in the particular side of the town before. Perhaps she wouldn’t again, or perhaps she’d make a habit out of stopping by. What else was there for her to do, anyway? She didn’t have anyone; not there, not back home. Nobody who could point her to any direction and help her kick-start the rest of her life—

The man’s comment broke the echofantic silence along with the dangerous trail of her thoughts, snapping her back into reality. “Pardon?” Addie’s gaze fell on the man then, as if his question — or rather, his pick-up line — hadn’t yet landed with her ( when on Earth had she been slow like that? ). When it did, however, her eyes rolled in their sockets as a small grin flirted with the corners of her mouth. A glance around the bar would be enough to know that she stuck out like a sore thumb in there, even more so than in Lewis’. Her expensive dress and the sparkling jewelry didn’t fit well in a bar for the battered and bruised. “Aren’t girls like me supposed to have a late-night drink?” Her French accent was apparent in every word. It’d only been a couple days since she’d come in town, after all. Delicate fingers that her dad used to tell her belonged to a pianist even before she’d played the first note, toyed with the stem of her glass as if she was ready to pick it up for a sip, without actually doing so. “And what is someone like you doing here?” Head bowed on the side, pointing to the men inhabiting the tables. “You don’t have a black eye like these guys.”

Sincerity graced his own grin at her accent, something about it reaching down into the depths of his gut and tugging at a feeling that he’d thought was long lost.  He didn’t think he’d heard someone use the word ‘pardon’ in any way other than ironically in his life.  “Didn’t say all that.”  Raf chuckled, turning his bar stool so that he could look at her as his drink was placed on a napkin in front of him.  “We just rarely see tourists around here.  There are much fancier places within city limits, y’know?” The man gave a little shrug, leaning back into the chair as he brought his beer to his full lips.  “Everybody likes the fuckin’ casino and the suits inside of it.” He gave another shrug.  Serafin’s eyes combed over her, noting that just about every part of her seemed soft, rounded at every edge.  Something about it made him loosen his shoulders, relax the clench in his muscles that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding all day.  “Oh darlin’, I belong here, I promise you that.”  Raf gave a belly laugh, raising the amber glass to his lips once again.  “It was just a good night for me.” He winked.  His ring days were long over, but he wasn’t lying.  Raf got himself into sticky shit regularly, he just hadn’t that day.  

—

                                  A humored snort was released as soon as the Bone Breaker heard his friend speak. “Asshole. You saw the other guy, right?” An almost empty beer bottle was brought to his lips, the liquid slipping to the left corner and leaving an annoying sting where the other man’s fist had landed, causing a small split. That hadn’t stopped him from doing his part — breaking three fingers of the knuckles that punched him — or joking about it then. After all, what the hell were all of them supposed to do with themselves at 3am if they didn’t try to make the mood just a little lighter? “Yeah..” The blond male downed the last sip of his drink before letting out a sigh and darting his eyes to meet his friend’s. So much for a lighter mood. “It counts for somethin’ though, yeah? The word’s gettin’ out.. People are gonna start payin’ up on time.” Or so he hoped. They had to. Valencia was a business that kept the town safe, not a wish granting factory. Anita Yegorova and her crew were many things, but not fools ( even if the vast majority of them would prefer a fair fight just for the fun of it than torture and punishment ). “You’ll see, your sorry ass is gonna be out of work soon.”

--

“Sure did.  Doesn’t make you look any better.” Raf dipped his head, shooting a teasing wink at his friend.  At the sight of the other man’s beer, Serafin was reminded of his own absence of one--and the fact that his mom had been on his shit lately about the extra hour or so that’d he’d been taking before picking Haven up so he’d likely have to skip St.Peter’s that night.  He tossed a look over his shoulder and gestured for a drink at the prospective street rat that had been following him around--might as well take advantage of the fuckin’ Eagle eyes that had been on him.  Wouldn’t hurt anything.  “God damn murders are drivin’ everyone’s business away.  Treasurers are even gettin’ into shit on the north side these days.” Raf grimaced, shaking his head.  “The day the both of us are outta business is the day both our lives get a whole lot simpler.” He laughed--though reality spoke of the different layers to their jobs, and the inability to get out.

——-

she purses her lips    begrudgingly ,      agape mouth fishing for words in a pound of rightful persuasion .   “   that’s not fair,    you’re like…    the captain of the ship - right?    it can go on without me ,  but it’ll sink without you ,    so…    everyone should worry about you.   ”      lilting proudly at her half-formed justification  —— odd or far-fetched as it could sound to a stranger ,    was it not expected by now ?    much like the glitter sparkling down his arms  ,   it’s the price of engagement .    “    ah ,    ”   bashfully ,    she glances at the crowd ,   familiar  &   foreign faces scattered about  ;     feathery lashes dip low  .     “    they’re not bad…   not really —— did you know some of them never even had pizza before?   most of them are just trying not feel empty or succumb to the madness of their daily routine …     i love the look on their face whenever i get them to try something new.   it’s like…     life’s still got something to offer,   y’know?    ”     there is a certain comfort  ,   a warmth in this sheep’s pelt that drapes over her skinny shoulders like a veil   ;     suits her nicely too ,     even if not her own .     she enjoys the anonymity ,   the ambiguity of playing role after role in an eternal chase to find what’s at end of the rainbow .   It’s different each time .        “    i don’t know…   i guess i just enjoy damaged people.   is that too cliché?     meh …     whatever .    at least the damaged are never dull.   ”

--

Serafin’s smirk widened into a crooked grin as he bowed his head, a laugh playing at his throat.  “Captain of the ship, huh?  I don’t think anyone’s ever flattered me that hard in my life.” The laugh emitted, receding after only a few seconds.  “That’s one way of thinking of things, but another would be it bein’ my job to take care of you guys.  Can’t have it turnin’ into one big circle jerk.” Raf laughed a heavy laugh as he leaned against the marble counters of the bar.  His eyes combed over her, taking every little inch of how done up she was.  It was hard for him, to look at her and not see the idea of his own daughter choosing to put on shows for strangers, to choose a life like his own.  He respected the women he worked with and their ability to make that choice for themselves, but he’d seen enough to know he wasn’t wrong to worry.  

“Damn, kid, you’ve always got some sort of nuanced way of thinking of things, don’t you?  Most people see privilege and bore and lil birdie sees complexity and shit she can alleviate.”  She really was one of a kind. “Bet you and Rowan would spin each other out.” The way he spoke of seeing shit beyond what was at the surface reminded him of his ex girlfriend, though he’d always had less patience for it with her.  

He was in the zone, fueled by pure adrenaline and passion. The buzzing hum of the crowd cheering sat in the back of his head, overcome by the regulated breaths he took every time he swung. It felt like the fight had just started, but it had gone a few rounds and all at once he was being pulled off his opponent. “Get up and fight you fuckin’ coward.” He huffed as he was being pushed to the other side of the cage. But the match was over and the judges were unanimous, he won. He left the ring with a couple of beats on his chest for fan fare and headed to the back to get patched up.

“Ayyye.” He drawled out, still a bit breathless from the fight. A smirk graced his lips and he breathed a short laugh through his nostrils. “You know all I do is win. They need to find me some better competition.” Axel eyed the man and sent the aide away after the applied the last butterfly bandage to his cut. He could do the rest himself. “I know that look man, what’s up?” His eyes looked up at him for a brief moment then back to his hands where he started tearing the tape off. “Or should I have a drink in my hand first?” He stood and moved to his locker, grabbing a cigarette from the pack in his bag and lighting it. It wasn’t good for his lungs, but it felt good and that was all he cared about.

--

Serafin gave a slight dip of his head at the man’s words, shoulders rising as if to refuse contest.  He wasn’t wrong.  Between Lev and Axel it was extraordinarily rare for anyone to beat the house when in the ring.   “Need to throw more soldiers in the ring so at the very least they get somethin’ out of it.” Raf mirrored the other’s laugh.  “Or at least bring in some professional out of towners.  Tourists are gonna stop buying tickets if they can guess what happens.” He chuckled, averting his eyes at his correct guess of why Serafin had really been there.   “Ain’t that bad, but I do owe ya one.” The shot caller shot the other man a crooked grin before looking over his shoulder to gesture to the street rat in the hallway for a couple of beers.  He’d pay later.  “There are some punk ass teenagers swiping money from our cut at Fine Choice.  LT doesn’t want to pin in on the old man who runs it yet, but something has to be done.” Raf gave a shrug of his shoulders.   “I know we usually leave it to the rats and new soldiers to drop warnings but this ain’t their first one and we need it to be dealt with...delicately.” Serafin sighed, taking a hand over his short hair as he finished.  

paint her in blue and pink  ;    flashing colors adhere to her pale skin like ink spilled on a canvas .     all dolled up  ,     lashes  curled for war and tamed mane unleashed  ,      she breathes the scent of the night as if it belongs to her  ,     wafting a scent of docile femininity .     doughy cheeks powdered pink rosé   &     eyes wide like the moon ,      she tightens the strings around her waist   &   climbs up her heels into the sea of fluorescent lights  .      it’s a    different kind of rabbit hole ,      murkier   &   darker  ,      emptier   ,      and without much guidance ,    she thinks .         but she can make it  .     she can find her way  .      and she could never understand why alice would leave wonderland to begin with  .      “    hey there,  serafin !     ”    she chirps excitedly ,   heels hopping   -     wavy locks bouncing down her freckled back .     “    yeah ,   always  .       you don’t gotta worry about me …    it’s nice ,   though .    ”      words cushion against her tongue  ,    soft like plum feathers  ;     she has a way with them  ,     and with making her eyes crinkle like tiny diamonds in the sky .     “    you okay?    ” 

-

A deep chuckle played at the back of Serafin’s throat at the girl’s words, his head dipping just slightly toward her.  “If I ain’t gotta worry about you, you ain’t gotta worry about me, doll.” This wasn’t his scene--she knew that, she had to know he was only there to check in on her, to make an effort.  The blinding lights and pulsing music set his nerves on fire and did nothing for him in the way of a relaxing night cap.  St.Peters would always be superior in his eyes.   Raf took a glance around, nodding toward the lanky suits and slicked back pretty boys that lined the room.  “This actually your type when money ain’t involved?”  He asked, curiosity peaked.

LOCATION: St. Peter’s 3am

It had been a long ass night, and that was without anything having gone wrong.  He’d left his tracks all over town twice over, and was on his last stop--finally, a selfish one, before he’d drop by his mother’s house to retrieve a (hopefully) dead asleep Haven.  Serafin sauntered to the old rundown bar, hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he made his way to a bar stool, only a seat’s distance away from a pretty little blonde that stuck out like a sore thumb.  He shot Fred a nod as he walked in, knowing she’d know what to pull from the cooler for him--he was there almost every night and only ever deviated from his typical order when shit had gone south.  

“Aye darlin’, what’s a girl like you doin’ here so close to closin’ time?” He shot the other a grin, letting her know his teasing was all in jest.  One glance around them would let her know she was a rarity in the place, only rivaled by Fred’s sister  a few days ago who’d stuck out for an entirely different reason.

MItchell shook his head rolling his eyes, because at least on the phone he didn’t have to fake his facial expressions. “Of course I listen to you SJ. I listen to you all the time. But if all he did was run on the property, no need for a basket.” He said as he heard him talk about catching the guy. “Alright now a basket.” He said shaking his head. “Really SJ? You want come by and grab a beer when you are done with that?” He asked the other man.

--

“You know my ass would already be stopping this, but I can’t set foot on school property bein’ on parol.  Silly little trespassin’ charge would land me back in prison.” He grumbled, eyeing the kid as he landed a punch to the dealer, Serafin trying to yell his name to get his attention as he did.  “Shit yeah, I do, I’m gonna need one after I kill this kid.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Who the fuck is sponsoring this kid?  Did they miss the rules lesson?”

Mitchell shook his head. “If you are calling me, then you did something or you were involved with someone who did something.” He sighed when he said the elementary school. “Gift Basket? What happened?” He asked. He need more details if he was going to have to cover with the school. “Why can’t you ever call just to ask how my day was or if I want to get a drink?” He asked the man on the other phone. “And for the record, I always answer my phone that way.” He said to him a smirk in his tone.

--

“I just fuckin’ told ya, I watched a street rat trespass on school property to chase a dealer, that’s why I’m callin’.” Serafin rolled his eyes, pausing to peek around a tree to see if he could still spot the young Valencia member.  “It’s like you don’t even listen to me.”  Raf grumbled, squinting so he could see--in the distance he could see his street rat had backed the other into the wall.  “Fuck--he caught him...make it a big basket.”  He joked, running a hand over his scalp.  “You sound like a little bitch, Mitch, but I’ll do better I promise.  Happy?” He teased.  

The whole department had been on Eli’s shit list, there was at least one dirty cop that he was aware of and those types of toxic connections went deep. He figured deeper than he had picked up on so far, so he kept what he could about the case to themselves. With a fresh cup of coffee and files tucked under his arm he was expecting the usual daggers and eye-rolls with his passing. Instead he was meeting eyes with a civilian, who didn’t look all that pleased about his arrival, his eyebrow raised slightly to look the man over. 

“I haven’t been promoted to fancy pants yet, just normal pants for now. But, to get to the actual question- yes I am a fed. One who is hoping to find that asshole,” he figured the guy wouldn’t mind his wording. “Did you have something to share? It seems a lot of people don’t know a lot or want to say less. I have coffee if you have a few minutes, mister?” 

--

A throaty chuckle escaped Serafin’s lips at the man’s words, his eyebrows knitting at the other’s easy going demeanor.  “So that’s a real title then?  I always thought it was an appropriate level for a fed.”  He joked, leaning against the window sill.  “I don’t have a lot of information, all I know is that it’s getting pinned on Valencia, and I’d be the first to know if that shit had been passed down the pipeline.” The Latino spoke honestly, head dipping toward the officer.  “We do everything we can to protect the fucking community, the last thing we’d do is attack it.”  

Tae: I'm going to pretend that didn't hurt my feelings. instead focus on the good part of that sentence. Haven loves me.

Tae: Okay~! We can get like matching uniforms, and like matching hockey masks. How good is your manic laugh?? What am I kind you probs an expert at it.

Tae: Why does Axel get all the fun. This is favoritism. I'm telling mom.

Raf: It's an honor, let's be real

Raf: You watch too many movies Ji Tae, I swear you got all your knowledge from campy horror movies.

LOCATION: red ridge police department

Serafin had been hesitant to trust anyone housed within the walls of Red Ridge Police Department since 2016 when someone they’d been working with for years, ratted on him and Valencia for a piece of shit pension plan and a new ID, but the serial killer they seemed to be dealing with put him squarely involved with them.  If they even got the slightest idea that Valencia was involved, it would lead right to Raf because of his position as head of the street level and typically the person who called for necessary violence.  That’s why he was why he was there--to talk to the one cop he knew for sure was still floating dirty amongst his peers.  

And it was walking out of his office that he spotted the fed.  He knew the man wasn’t just a regular ass cop the minute he laid eyes on him, the federal fucks just carried themselves differently.  SJ gave the man a once over, his eyes tuning to the man like a radio dial.  “You one of those fancy pants cops assigned to figuring out who the fuck is terrorizing our town?” Serafin lifted his chin, face soft despite the harness of his words--he wasn’t trying to be combative, not yet anyway.  

LOCATION: rogue’s club // 3am

“You look like shit.” The Latino shot the younger man a grin, shoving his hands deep into his front pockets as he sauntered into the backroom of rogue’s.  The weight of the later fights weighed heavy on the both of them, and Serafin knew he it.  Serafin called the shots, and Lev and the other Bone Breakers were the ones to carry them out.  Complicity weighed just as heavy.  Their banter, their chuckles, their attempts to lighten the mood didn’t cause it to waver, but that didn’t stop them from trying.  “Feel’s like we’ve bene dealin’ out more punishments than tickets to the tourists lately, brother..”  He sighed, head rolling to the side as his eyes finally met the other’s.  

Tae: Please do.

Tae: Hardly am, people just don't listen...or pay attention to me. Not that I'm sad or anything. or write it in my diary about it. or tell my therapist. or cry at night about it.

Tae: oh~ yes. We can go 80s horror movie style and make a letter out of scrapes of magazines. it'll be fun. like arts and crafts.

Raf: No wonder Haven loves your dumb ass

Raf: Jesus, Tae, let me get you a violin for this sad song.

Raf: I mean, that might freak people out given the fuckin' SERIAL KILLER we're dealing with, but keep going.