IDRIS

The first of Alvize's attack is brought to Idris after a meeting.

At the beginning of that meeting, there's a sense of triumph — a sense of victory that has been missing in Idris's life for a while now. When last was it that he'd felt this content and hopeful, that he wasn't constantly under a grey cloud. He almost starts to feel like his old self again, back when he had everything under control and was at the top of his world.

On their list of key members to target is Ivan Garcia, a notable figure among Alvize's inner circle in charge of their finances. Not anymore, he isn't. The unfortunate soul just met his end not even a full day ago. They carried out the attack when he least expected it. Two bullets. Two bullets was all it took to end it. A simple in and out mission. Yet the journey to get there wasn't so simple as it was tedious.

Idris knew Alvize would be on alert. He'd built himself an armor and had done the same for the rest of his trusted colleagues, Ivan included. All they truly needed was one tiny crack - a cranny with which to craft a massive hole out of. An opening full of opportunities. And they'd found one. After weeks of stalking the now deceased associate.

Carlos Ortiz is also at the top of that short list. He's the brains behind much of Alvize's plots, almost as vital as Alvize himself. They have still to design a plan to take him out, but Idris knows it will happen. It will happen because that's what the current meeting is about.

"Carlos was last spotted in Brooklyn," he lays out a couple photos of the target that were taken candidly. "He'll be making his way back to Syracuse tomorrow, which means we keep a closer eye on him. I need the squad tailing him to decrease their radius."

The two capos share a glance, one that allows them communicate discreetly. They let the silence continue on until they can no longer entertain it. Seven is first to question Idris. "I know Alvize lit the candle, but don't you think this is all too hasty?"

Now that Seven has posed the question, Six decides he will add his own fair share. "Now more than ever, we should be putting our minds together for a solution that will get us back on track. With Rand's betrayal and Five's disappearance, we should be building friendships, not waging war–"

"If you're not going to help, then I suggest you both leave." Says Idris, his tone carrying nowhere near the amount of anger currently inside him.

But Seven doesn't falter just yet. He tries again. "What we're simply trying to explain is we're at our wit's end. We cannot afford a war at this point in time."

This is a flawless derivation. With all the recent obstruction, this war is just another agent of fragility. It will only weaken the family. Engaging Alvize Tesoro on some makeshift battlefield may not be the answer, but to Idris it is the only key available to him. How could he not take matters into his own hands when they insulted him under his own roof? When they drove a knife straight into Josi?

Now the anger is as much on the outside as it is on the inside. This is not the kind of attitude he needs from his men. Idris does not need hesitation.

"If that's how you both feel," he looks each men in the eye. "You can get the hell out."

The men, now defeated, pack their coats and head towards the door, but not before giving Idris a look that showcases their disappointment.

It is in moments like these that Idris misses Rand, try as he may not to do so. The consigliere would have worked up a plan worthy of such a predicament. He would have provided a solution that would leave them all satisfied. But he betrayed him and ran head first into his own demise.

With Idris's faded keen sense, this is the only way he knows to retaliate. If worse comes to worse, he will take full accountability. This is a battleship operated by Idris and Idris alone, and if it sinks . . . Well, better to keep that possibility under wraps.

When the capos leave is when the news enters. One of Idris's associates has come to relay it. The man is a third-party market participant whose supply weighs heavily on Idris, and whose determination to sell is also heavily impacted by Idris. Or at least, his threatening ultimatums. He has no hair to his scalp, has long since lost his right ear, and goes by the name of R.J-something, a nickname Idris gave him after failing to recall his legitimate name.

The look R.J-something has on his face is both troubling and puzzling, and already it brings Idris back to that same dispiriting edge. Was someone murdered in the middle of his endeavor with Ivan Garcia? Has some other roadblock deterred his journey towards victory?

Idris waits for R.J-something to get on with it, but when he doesn't he grows irritated. "Well, what is it?"

R.J sighs. "I was supposed to sell the new batch to Nelson three days ago. But he never showed up. When I tried to get a hold of him, his partner told me he hadn't seen him either."

Idris is consumed by his own confusion. "That's nonsense. You're telling me he up and disappeared?"

To this, R.J solemnly glances to the floor. "He did, then he was found dead. They found him stuffed in a dumpster with his neck torn in half." Then he shivers, because the image certainly isn't one created for sweet dreams. He waits to see if Idris will have something to say about this shocking incident. He doesn't. "Whoever did this definitely had a grudge."

Idris keeps to himself for what seems like eternity to R.J. Then he dismisses the associate who seems more happy with the command, because the choice of silence Idris has chosen to withhold does not carry on well after such heartbreaking news.

Now Idris has been left to his own devices. He gets the urge to throw something, and with how consuming his anger is, nothing in the room is off limits — not even the grand piano. But almost as soon as it started, the anger begins diffusing, which gives way to a second wave of frustration targeted not at the news but at himself. He's so broken down that he can't even properly build up some indignation.

Idris cools his head and brings his mind back where he was before R.J's news. He knows who the perpetrators are, but this is only one single venue out of many. He will weed out the issue before it escalates any further like he always has. So he doesn't give himself up to that same anger that ate him up only minutes ago. 

Idris brushes it off for now and continues adding to the plan against Carlos Ortiz, as it has now turned into an act of retribution over the dismantled venue. He has no idea this is only the first of a series of drastic events.

~《¤》~

DAMI

That night, Dami meets up with Josi in a parking lot that now hosts less cars than usual. People don't visit there much anyway, which is precisely why they chose that spot. The car sits next to a street light that has grown dim from age, sandwiched between a couple other vehicles that have been left to collect dust. Perfect. Nothing too conspicuous.

Quite odd that Josi is out at such an hour. She'd even initiated the meet-up time, which threw Dami for a lot more loops than usual. Idris must not be in his right state of mind to allow Josi out this late. Or perhaps she managed to weasel her way out somehow. It's Josi. Creating plans are her forte.

Suffice to say, Dami is happy. Not in a way that screams smiles and all things rainbow, but in a way that makes her look calm. Cool. Much more at peace. Revenge has been good to her.

And as she sits in the car under that dim light, she notices the same change in Josi. It seems as the days tick by, she's become much more . . . unfeeling, but today the content is apparent. She even gives Dami a smile that wasn't expected.

"Lunch today was great," Josi begins. "I never knew lasagna could taste so good."

Dami is not a lover of lasagna. Anything else pasta related would far suffice. "Try carbonara. Much better." Though, she's found no appreciation in mundane meals.

It is in the weather Dami has chosen to turn her attention to. Autumn has never been a suitable season for her. Too cold. Too dry. Too full of gloom. But now she has come to appreciate it. How could she not when it is in this very instant that her enemies drop down like flies drawn to a trap?

Now she's come to the person who will help fuel that appreciation. "How was Five?"

In some corner of Dami's mind are the perfect words to describe it. But no matter how much she itches that part of her brain, the words still will not materialize. So she sticks to that feeling only. That feeling of pure bliss. That feeling which has eclipsed those murky woes of the past.

But it is only temporary — like a craving that must be fulfilled — or in time, those same murky woes will return. So Dami sits there in the passenger seat of Josi's car, searching for the next stabilizer to provide her relief.

"He didn't make it very far," Dami tells Josi. "Lasted minutes only."

"Where did you leave the body?"

"In the care of a very good pet of mine."

Josi deciphers this instantly and shivers. What a brutal way to meet your end.

And another such way has been constructed by the assassin. Hence why she's smuggled her way into that parking lot at such an odd hour.

"Six will be visiting his family in about three weeks' time. He'll have security with him, but it should be kept to a minimum since he won't be at the discretion of the public." Josi hands Dami a card detailing the exact date, time, and location. Then she takes a break and scans the assassin over. "Won't his home make the process more complicated?"

Dami shakes her head. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

This one could prove more tricky than the rest so far, because unlike the others there may be witnesses present. But it won't come as a burden. It's all part of what she has planned.

"I heard the Verdonnis are in some conflict with Alvize Tesoro." Says Dami, now playing with the card in her hands. "What did you do?"

The silence is what draws Dami in at first. A silence that begs to be filled. Then Josi smiles at her. So full of life, yet devoid of emotion. So overflown with joy, and something else that tips Dami off. Malice? No, something more pleasant. Then perhaps spite? Plausible. The thing that ties it all together, though, is the slight lift of Josi's eyebrows.

Sadism. Josi is enjoying this.

"This is so much fun, Dami."

This is the sentiment that has journeyed alongside Dami since she brought the first Verdonni scumbag down to his knees. It is fun. Consuming. Exhilarating. Addicting. It's gratifying.

Dami sends a hand through her hair, then brings her head down and smiles to herself, which soon turns to a grin, and then a chuckle. How truly amusing it all is. So amusing that she's looking forward to the next catch and what they will bring her.

Dami sits there on the edge of cloud nine, fully aware that there will never again be a greater joy, and that when it all finally ends, it will be disappointing.

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