#ftwstorm

A smoke break. Standing under the Vittori awning, Julian watched with curious eyes as hell broke loose. Thunder shook the trees next to him, rain all but coming down sideways as he let out a cloud of smoke. He certainly preferred it to the scene that was unfolding in the hotel. There were too many people stealing the oxygen out of the room, with their complaints and fear. Julian didn’t care for it. The storm was entirely out of his control so if he died... well, he was something of a cockroach, so it was unlikely he’d meet his end tonight. 

When he’d made his way to the door, a firefighter tried to hold him back- you can’t go out there- sputtering out of his lips while he considered whether or not Julian was insane. A quick scoff and a push left him watching the door slammed behind Julian. 

He’d booked a room pretty early on, expecting things to get grizzly as the hours neared to the storm's landing. A suite, champagne, top-shelf liquor were all included in the package because fuck, if he was going to have to spend a night in he’d do it with some damn dignity. Hidden on his person was a nice packet of blow, for when things really began to feel abysmal. Taking another long drag of his cigarette, he heard the door open but kept facing forward. It looked like his time alone was going to be ruined, although whoever was ballsy enough to be out in the storm with him could prove to be interesting. “Didn’t you hear it's not safe to be outside right now?” He smirked, eyes watching the lightning above paint the sky. 

The clouds outside hung threatening and ominous, waiting to let loose hell on Montreal as Emilia made her way inside the bar. This was, oddly enough, one of the last places she would want to be right now. The twinkling lights, pop music and overall mood of the bar did little to settle her anxiety. Nor did it help that the building looked like it was threatening to blow over. Emilia looked down at her phone, letting out a small breath out. 30% battery, signal was still there, it could be worse. There wasn’t much open space left, but she managed to find a little table off the corner of the bar to call home. Emilia didn’t like situations like this, ones that were out of control. Where they all had to wait on the world to decide what would happen to who. Especially when she the people she cared about were scattered to the wind, with only phones to make sure they were alright.  Rubbing her face, she closed her eyes. “Global warming fights back...” She muttered to herself.

The fire continued to rage on throughout the rest of the warehouse that had once belonged to the Ivory Syndicate, surely leaving them with nothing more than ashes and rubble by the time the storm ended and morning reached them. There was nothing more that Kai could do, unless the higher ups intended for him to stand out in the pouring rain watching it truly burn to the ground. Having lost service moments ago, he’d reluctantly decided that it was time to move, to find shelter from the storm that seemed to be never-ending.

Part of him urged him to risk trying to get into the Vittoris hotel, while another part pressed for him to seek shelter at the bar that truly should never be considered a safe house ever. But in the end, with the hood of his jacket pulled tightly over his head, even though it offered no protection from the rain, he hurried his way to the firehouse. And he seemed to have made it just in time. Bursting through the doors in time to see one of the Vittoris slimebags knock his fist into the head of an Ivory, Kai hardly hesitated in acting. Curling fingers tightly into the palm of his hand, he spun the man with its mate just as he pulled back for the punch.

Scotty: R u alive?

Scotty: What's this about a fire at your warehouse?

Scotty: Ur not being fucking funny asshole

Dermot: yo wht the fuck is going on

Dermot: do u have cass with you???

Hector had a bar towel, drying off his hair, squeezed in behind the corner of the bar. He had blocked the bases of the doors, and the inside of the bar was as packed as the sandbags that blocked them. Behind the bar was the only place he could stand without being in the way. Hector was distracted, worried about the amount of people inside, the fire capacity sign clearly posted next to him. 

55 max capacity. The amount milling around exceeded that by at least 20, and about half of those weren’t taking the storm warning seriously. Hector was so caught up in the thought of what can go wrong when he was tapped on the shoulder, caught off guard by the question. “Huh no, I’m not- I’m not a bar tender. Sorry.”

The Vittori, the beating heart of their rival crime outfit, was the last place the Ivory Syndicate Consigliere wanted to be. Yet the firehouse was filled when he got there, and Wolf hadn’t received word that he was welcome in the King’s residence. Maybe word from the meeting with Zephyr had reached Milena’s ears, and she was punishing him for the doubt he had excised with the Irish Underboss. Or maybe Wolf had simply been overlooked and forgotten, as he often was. Either way, he was made to go to this viper’s pit.

He was currently sitting at one of the dining area’s tables, watching the burning of the warehouse unfold through frantic texts sent to him by Cassidy Page. He could only seethe from afar, a tick developing in his jaw from each further text. All those doubts had come back again, and Wolf felt powerless stuck in here, watching his back for any Vittori aiming to make a retaliation. Feeling eyes on him, he looked around, before finding the source. 

“Is there something I could help you with?” It was said in a cool tone, clearly screaming, don’t bother me.