ąųdįţǫŗę (mentori) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-09-13 18:27:00 |
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Qrow had honestly hoped that when he’d agree to look into the death of the Auditore family patriarch and his sons that it would ultimately have nothing to do with the Mafia. He had hoped it would have been something simpler than that. A dispute between neighbors or an employee or client of the bank Auditore worked at who thought they had gotten a raw deal or felt slighted somehow and had gone looking for revenge that had turned into a bloody overkill. A single responsible person would have been far less complicated and far easier to deal with no matter what Ezio chose to do with the information. Discovering that the Mafia did in fact have a hand in the massacre had brought Qrow no sense of satisfaction, relief or a job well done. The Mafia complicated things. Everything was hidden within the veil of Nosa Costra. Our Thing. Outsiders were not welcome, especially outsiders sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. It wasn’t the first time Qrow had brushed up against the Mafia. Given that most (if not all) of Qrow’s experiences with the Mafia had been less than pleasant ones, the moment a Mafia connection appeared in any one of his assignments, he immediately backed off. He gave what information he’d been able to get to whoever had hired him and then they were on their own. Good luck. This time around was different. This wasn’t just any request made by a stranger who had gotten his name through some less-than-legit source. This was a colleague and, yeah, alright, a friend. Qrow felt obligated to see this assignment through. And so he did, ignoring warnings from his contacts to leave well enough alone, and cashing in favors owed to him. At least those who were still somewhat willing to return those favors despite the risk. Finally his dogged instance bore fruit. He had the answers he’d been tasked to find. And they chilled him. Now it was time to turn those answers over to the man who needed them. Qrow contacted Ezio using the same secure line Ezio had contacted him with. He left a message asking the other man to meet him at the duck pond in the park. A nice little secluded bench out of the way nestled in a small clump of trees. Qrow arrived early. He bought a bag of feed from a little stand near the entrance to the pond’s area. He made a visual check to be sure he hadn’t been followed or stalked. He was careful in his information gathering, but there were no full guarantees. Luck seemed to be on his side for a change and he had the place to himself. With his little bag of duck food, Qrow took a seat on the bench and waited. Ezio knew that Qrow would come through. Dan wouldn’t have recommended him if the man wasn’t good at his job - but he was very good. And Ezio knew that it was about time he really dig into this cold, frigid case - because it was personal, it was his family and he owed them this. He wanted to avenge them, he wanted justice for them, and most importantly - he wanted peace for his brothers and father, his mother who had never truly recovered from the loss, his sister and himself. Peace was what Ezio Auditore wanted, more than anything. So he went to the park, the very same one he’d met Qrow at to give him all the information Ezio even had - both the facts and his suspicions. It was doubtful that Templars were involved, as they had been in Renaissance Italy with the hangings that killed his family, but he knew enough about Orange County to understand that there would be some kind of parallel. Some kind of cracked mirror reflection. Arriving at the specified location, he had to smile a little when he saw Qrow with the ducks. “You are very popular, it seems,” he greeted as he approached, and took a seat on the bench beside his friend. Yes, friend - it seemed like the both of them could use one. The ducks of the area had long been conditioned to know what it meant when someone sat down on the bench with one of those little brown bags. He hadn’t even started tossing the food towards the water’s edge and already he had a collection of various ducks swarming the edge all quacking and splashing as they vied for a prime spot to scoop up the bits of food tossed their way. “Looks that way,” Qrow agreed. He glanced up at Ezio as the man sat next to him on the bench. This…felt weird. This wasn’t like meeting any given client. Ezio and Qrow were colleagues. They’d gone drinking together. Ezio had even been to Qrow’s house for an evening of venting frustrations. For the first time in a very long time, Qrow wasn’t sure how or where to start. He watched the ducks a moment as they scrambled over each other. Finally he took a breath. “Your suspicions were right,” he said quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the quacking. Again, he took no satisfaction in this. “The mafia was involved in your father and brothers’ deaths.” Another pause and another breath. “I’m sure you already know how prominent your father was at his bank. He was well respected and liked both at the bank and within the community. He helped a lot of people qualify for legitimate loans for homes and businesses at fair and reasonable rates. These types of people normally wouldn’t have been able to do that and their only recourse would have been to go through a certain Mafia family in the area. “About a year or so before your father was killed, this family attempted to gain access to the bank and take it over. They failed to do so. I wasn’t able to figure out if your father had any direct involvement in that failing. One thing about these kinds of people, Ezio, they will stop at nothing to get what they want. Your father’s death was a message and from what I could gather from my contacts in Italy, it worked. Those in positions of authority were either bullied or paid to look the other way.” The words ignited something in Ezio. He remembered it with clarity, in the dreams - it was fire. A great, hungry serpent inside - dangerous because it devoured everything in its path so quickly, flickering and flaring up, scorching every bit of rational logic and leaving behind all this noxious smoke, this toxicity, within him. This was how he felt when he made the ‘decision’ to be an Assassin. Like he had no other choice. Like there was no other way. There was no other way now, than to return the suffering. It had been a long time coming. He wasn’t even embarrassed that blazing hot tears prickled at his lashes. A hand came up to wipe at his eyes and he had to take a breath - it sounded more like the barest bones of a sob that he squelched, cut off at the pass. “I assumed it was like this,” he mumbled darkly. “There had to have been no other explanation, but I am glad to confirm it now. Do you have...names?” Wiping out those in positions of authority might not happen but he at least could go after the ones who executed the hit and thus executed his kin. Qrow was no stranger to tears. Previous clients had sometimes become weepy under very similar circumstances and Qrow had thought after years of doing this kind of work the only two people who’s tears could affect him were Ruby’s and Yang’s. Apparently he was wrong about that. You old softy. Another sigh and Qrow reached into his bag and produced the trusty flask he always carried. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to Ezio to take a pull. “Here.” If there was ever a time for a drink, now would be it. It was just straight whiskey, but hopefully it would do the trick. “Yeah, I do.” He nodded. His contacts had done well in telling him what had happened and why, but as for who had been involved and was ultimately responsible, Qrow’d had to do that digging on his own. He produced a folded piece of paper which he handed to Ezio. The paper contained two columns of names. A few of the names had strikes through them. “On the left are the mafia members I believe to have had a hand in the murders. The ones I crossed off are no longer alive. The ones on the right are members of the constabulary that had an involvement in covering up the crime or at the very least knew what was actually going on.” “Grazie,” Ezio said as he took the flask. Drinking in the park was definitely called for, and the medicinal taste of whiskey meant that it would do its job - meaning, act as a salve for his frayed nerves right now, and that was what Ezio needed. Oh, the things he would do to these people... Taking the paper, he gave it a lookover to see if he recognized any names. And sure enough, he did. The surnames were what most stood out to him - two in particular. Estrada and Cevallos. They were perhaps common surnames, but not together like this - not in Italy, not with mafia ties, and it was no coincidence that they traced back to one specific name that Ezio hated. “Borgia,” he spat, like he needed to wash his mouth out with soap. “They are descendants of the family. The same ones who caused me so much trouble in my dreams.” Those names were Spanish-sounding, but Borgia was originally Borja, so long ago. And there were many Spaniards who had relocated to Italy over the years. This had long since been an impersonal endeavor. Qrow allowed himself to frown darkly at the name Ezio spat as though it was putrid. He motioned to the flask again, indicating if Ezio needed to wash his mouth and sterilize it at the same time, he could help himself. Take as much as he wanted. Qrow had more, an entire bottle even, tucked away in his desk back on campus. “I’m sorry,” he said and meant it. He was quiet a moment, eyes on the paper clutched in Ezio’s hands. The Dreams mirrored life in a kind of warped way. If Ezio was an assassin in the dreams, Qrow had a pretty good idea what his intentions were now. “Are you going to Italy?” He asked only to confirm what he already suspected. “I have a few contacts there. I called in a lot of favors to get you this much, I don’t mind calling in the rest if you’re planning on doing what I think you are.” “Si, I am,” Ezio replied right away. He had been hemming and hawing about it for awhile, while Qrow did his digging, but now? The angry Italian was certain about what he would do. “After that though, no more. I can’t - “ He paused, watching the ducks waddle to and fro for a moment. It helped center him, allowing him to grasp some more composure. Merda, he was glad no one else was around. “I cannot fall down that same rabbit hole. It took me so long to crawl out of it before in another life. Yet I also cannot let these people continue to live freely for what they did, and also continue to hurt others.” No doubt they were still connected to the mafia. It was a rather prominent presence in Italy. He took a second to feed the ducks a little before speaking again. For some reason, that was calming. No wonder Qrow liked to spend time here. “I will bring my good friend with me - Hellion, yes?” Since he wasn’t sure if Dan and Qrow knew each other by name, he didn’t want either thinking Ezio was spilling any tea as the colloquial saying went. “You do not have to call in favors if it is too much trouble - what you have done is more than enough, and I will pay whatever it is you charge and then some.” Really, the information was invaluable - he owed Qrow. Qrow had no doubt that if the Hellion went with Ezio to italy, he would be more than enough to ensure the people Ezio wanted to bury would be and never be able to crawl out of the hole again. Qrow had never met the hitman face-to-face, but he knew the man’s (or woman’s) reputation. Anyone paying attention in this line of work did. Qrow still thought it was nothing short of amazing that this art history professor not only knew the Hellion, but called him his good friend. Qrow just hoped that he was a good enough friend to keep Ezio from going down that slippery slope. “It’s not much trouble,” he said, turning his eyes back to the ducks. “I don’t think they would want to do any of the heavy lifting, here, but they can at least offer you a route in and out once the job is done. As for my fee,” he went on. It took him a moment to consider the time he’d spent tracking down leads, burning through favors and dealing with a organization he’d rather have nothing to do with. He had a figure in mind, but it seemed unfair to charge his colleague such a high amount, so he shaved a little off the top. Call it a discount. He gave Ezio the amount and added a bottle of liquor. Nat usually paid him that way, Ezio may as well too. A bottle of liquor as part of the payment, now that Ezio could do. He smiled crookedly, a bit of an amused twinkle in dark, cinnamon-colored eyes. He had more money than one might think, given his family’s connections - his father had left a lot in the will, and his mother descended from a long line of Viscounts and Viscontesse; one look at their villa in Tuscany spoke to the Auditore wealth and status. It would be money spent for a good cause, in this case. “Very well,” he agreed. He even had it on him now, expecting that he would pay Qrow - so he reached into his jacket for an envelope, passing it over. Inside was certainly the figure, in cash, that Qrow quoted. And he could keep the change. “That bottle of liquor will be coming also, mio amico. And a route in and out will be helpful. I am not a wanted Assassin in Italy this go at it, so I do hope I will have an easier time getting to where I need to be.” But even so, being wanted for a heavy chunk of change (by the Borgia, no less) wasn’t something that had stopped him. “Grazie,” he told Qrow. “I never thought I would be at this point, however...” Here he was. “I’ll make sure you have a way in and a way out,” Qrow nodded. No extra charge. It would have been poor form to just leave Ezio swinging in the wind over in Italy. Qrow had enough things to worry about, he didn’t need to spend sleepless nights wondering how Ezio was faring, Hellion or not. He tossed the last bits of food towards the ducks which were snapped up practically instantly, and then as if sensing there was no more goodies to be had, the ducks started ambling back towards the water and back to whatever business ducks had in a duck pond. “Life’s kinda funny that way,” he said in response to Ezio’s own musings. “Sometimes we think we’re headed on a certain path, next thing we know the path’s veering off into some completely different direction.” It was his turn to pull from his flask before screwing the cap back into place and putting it back in his bag. “It’ll all be alright,” he went on. “So long as you keep going forward.” Qrow glanced towards the Italian again, weighing his next question carefully before asking it. “Have you talked with Elijah about any of this? What does he think?” “I have talked to him, yes,” Ezio nodded. During their dinner, the one Elijah made for him - they’d talked about Ezio’s family because talking about Elijah’s was strictly off the table. It was a shame that it had to be that way, as in all or nothing, but...well, whatever, Ezio had other things to be concerned with. “He said he will support whatever I wish to do.” It wasn’t like Elijah could really scold about obtaining revenge - it was a tenant he lived by, in his own dreams. He’d also dropped everything to follow Klaus somewhere (so desperate to ‘save’ his trainwreck of a family, Elijah was), therefore, his decisions were questionable at times as well. But in this instance, Ezio felt like he was making the best decision anyway - Qrow was right, as long as he kept moving forward then things would be alright. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall back into the ways of his other self, the ways of a life long since passed. “I felt like I could not keep it from him. Of course I did not tell him who was involved, he just knows what I plan to do.” Qrow nodded his understanding. That was probably for the best all things considered. Elijah appeared to have enough to worry about as it was without knowing just who his lover was planning exacting his revenge against. So long as Ezio and the Hellion got in took care of their marks quick and got out, it was unlikely the Mafia would even know who was responsible, especially after a decade having passed since the initial murders. At least that was what Qrow hoped. As he watched the ducks swim away, he wondered if Raven would want the same kind of revenge if something were to ever happen to him. He quickly came to the conclusion that he honestly didn’t know. They’d always had a complicated relationship. She had made it clear to him that she hadn’t agreed with what he’d decided to do with his life, which was ironic considering of the two of them, he was the one walking the straight and narrow. Most of the time. Qrow dug a pack of cigarettes from his bag. He drew a cigarette for himself and offered the pack to Ezio. He didn’t think the other professor smoked, but it would have been rude not to at least offer. “Let me know when you plan to leave,” he said as he exhaled a plume of smoke. “and I’ll put you in touch with my contacts.” Usually Ezio didn’t smoke, but right now? Why not. He took one of those bleached white vices, a rolled-up coffin nail, with a thanks. And lit it, taking that first puff - it was a lot more satisfying than he anticipated it would be. “Certamente, I will,” he promised. “This is going to get interesting, I’m sure.” But then again, when were things not interesting around here? Or at the very least, a giant clusterfuck of the unfathomable variety. |