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part two hundred nineteen
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world cup: exomeme edition: prelims | round one | round two | round three
congratulations team a!
semi-finals 07-18 00:00 UTC - 07-20 23:59 UTC
teams: xiuyeol vs chenlay
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Re: wc!au: team dage - baccano au part3
(Anonymous) 2014-07-19 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)1930, two years ago
The Martillo family is having a celebration to honor its new capo. Joonmyun is usually too busy to go all the way to New York and visit but the Martillos have helped them out from a few scrapes in the past and the new capo, Firo Prochainezo, is a dear friend. It also probably helps that the boss has sent him out to run some few errands of his own in the area. So here he is standing in the corner, trying to hide his bandaged hand in his pockets , conscious of the red stain hanging off his collar (something prosaic like spaghetti sauce he’d had for lunch), and smiling if a little bit stiffly at some of the unfamiliar faces. They’re small-time compared to the other families in the Camorra but Joonmyun believes he’s got the most solid crew in the whole world. He’s not ashamed to be there.
He spots the head of the Martillo family about to finish talking to one of the Gandors, and Joonmyun shifts out of the dark corner to pay his respects.
“Of the Kim family, yes?” The old man greets him and Joonmyun ducks his head in embarrassment. “Rumor has it that you’re being eyed to be the next in line.”
“I’m not really sure of that, sir. I personally think I’m too young for the position.” Joonmyun says.
“It’d be a great thing if you are.”
He finds himself bowing again. “Thank you for the kind thought, sir.” The old man smiles at him, clapping him in the shoulders before attending to the other guests.
Joonmyun feels an arm thrown around his neck and it’s Firo, new fedora, new status, still fresh-faced. He’s a couple of years younger than him, younger even than Chanyeol and Jongdae, and already a capo in such a powerful family.
“Congratulations.” Joonmyun grips Firo’s shoulders, beaming back at him.
“Thanks. I didn’t think you’d actually make it, being so busy.” Firo smiles cheekily at him. “Heard what happened there. Isn’t your cousin going to fight for his right for the throne?”
“Minseok?”
Joonmyun remembers two summers ago, him and Minseok holed up in their summer mansion while they attend to their accounts, allocating resources and funds for the establishments under their turf, thinking about the people they should network with. Minseok looked at him, bored out of his mind, and said “You’re enjoying this way too much, don’t you? Joonmyun? Can’t you just give me something else to do? You’re more talented at this than I am.” And Joonmyun didn’t understand then because Minseok likes details and being in control as much as he does. Now looking back, or rather looking at his bandaged hand, they might have a different understanding of details and control.
“No, I don’t think so.” Joonmyun shakes his head. “He likes working in the background too much to be in the spotlight.”
“He’s better at knife-work than you are that’s for sure. If it comes to hand-to-hand combat you’d lose.” Firo lets go of him and gestures at Joonmyun’s left hand, half-in, half-out of Joonmyun’s pockets. “You’re getting rusty.”
“Ahh.” No use hiding it then. Joonmyun pulls out his hand and makes a face at it. “Got into a spot of trouble earlier.”
“Maybe a spot of a wine might make it better.” Firo steers him into an empty seat, sets an empty glass in front of him. “A friend brought in this rare vintage…”
5:10 pm
Pass the message.
Pass. The fucking. Message.
Jongdae stares at the closed door to the freight hold, throat feeling raw. It has gone quiet. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside. His fists hurt. His knees and feet and joints hurt. Because Kim Minseok has no decency left in his ice-cold body. Because Kim Minseok has no concern for Jongdae’s joints, or how Jongdae’s fists and feet would feel punching and kicking a door covered with a solid layer of ice, or how it is to be on the other side of the door without-
Jongdae forces himself to take a deep breath. It’s been a long time having to calm himself down like this. Just breathe. Breathe. Think of-
Passing the message. What message? Passing it to whom? Maybe he’ll just go and find Yixing and Chanyeol, say, hey, our consigliere just decided to lock himself with a bunch of mindless bloodthirsty idiots to have a talk, surely this is the brightest idea since the invention of Yixing’s beloved diesel electric trains. Yes, he’ll probably end up dead, he wants me to tell you that too because the telegram might come in a bit late.
Or:
He can march into Joonmyun’s study himself, tell him to fire their god-damned consigliere because he clearly doesn’t have enough brains to save himself, let alone their family. Doesn’t even let others save him. Chanyeol could do better. Anyone would be better.
Jongdae rubs at his face, the current is strong and running wild through his hands, throughout his body. He’s useless like this. He can’t save his hyung. The freight hold is mostly made of wood and the one big door on the side needs a number of men to slide open. It’s either that or melt the ice door.
“Chanyeol.” Jongdae croaks out and slowly gets to his feet. He’s going to be smart about this. Minseok has enough stupidity to fill the whole continent. Get Chanyeol and Yixing and then they’re going to figure this out-
Jongdae hears a loud explosion tear the skies above.
5:16 pm
One. Two. Three grenades.
Chanyeol runs for it. He doesn’t care about falling off the train at this point. Or being blown to bits. There’s one pointing a grenade launcher at him and Yixing, then two cult members armed with rifles standing the next train car over, and he should really be worried about his life right now, having only his fist and his flame to fight with. What he actually cares about at this moment are his babies being in the wrong damn hands. The guy can’t even aim properly, he’s just wasting-
A rifle shot grazes Chanyeol’s arm. A mild sting, basically harmless. Once he gets both his hands on the crazy psycho with his grenade launcher and his crazy psycho friends, he’s going to wring his neck and feed their body to the train’s wheels.
“Die, die, die!” Grenade launcher man shouts in his face as Chanyeol tackles him to the ground. Yixing has very kindly taken himself to the next carriage over and stabs one rifle guy in the neck with what Chanyeol thinks is a fountain pen (fountain pen? Yixing-hyung uses a fountain pen? He can kill using a fountain pen?). Chanyeol is persevering under the crazy creepy eyes, and the crazy creepy chants about devil people and demon spawns. At least he takes comfort that his quarry this time smells marginally better than the thugs earlier.
Grenade launcher man grins back at him. All bloody teeth and acrid smell of burning flesh. Chanyeol understands why when he feels cold metal poking the back of his head. Oh.
“Devil scum, how dare you imitate the gifts of our Patron?” He’s got the pompous tone of the young and the idealistic. Chanyeol doesn’t know who this Patron is, don’t know how religions work most of the time, even the normal ones. But he’s seen the remains of the conductor’s body in the front car and that’s not sane in any way shape or form. He can hear exactly the point when the boy starts pulling the trigger. Perhaps they’d do that to Chanyeol’s body too. He hopes Yixing comes out alive so he could pick out weird flowers for Chanyeol’s coat pocket.
The bullet never comes. Instead it’s the crackle of electricity that brushes past Chanyeol’s ears and he’s never been happy to be almost electrocuted in his entire life.
“Jongdae, I could kiss you in the mouth right now.” Chanyeol stumbles up to his feet. “How did you find us?”
“He followed the explosions. It’s very obvious.” Yixing says, then stops like he has seen something on Jongdae’s face. “Where’s Minseok-hyung?”
5:40 pm
This talk isn’t going very well.
Minseok lies there face down on the floor bleeding out of his mouth, his nose, his ears. His shoulders are most probably dislocated because he can’t feel anything but radiating pain down his arms, can’t even make the tiniest movements with his fingers. He’s having trouble breathing in the pool of his own sticky blood.
Mountain man turns Minseok’s pathetic chair over. There. Better. He can now breathe through the blood bubbles on his nose.
Re: wc!au: team dage - baccano au part3
(Anonymous) 2014-07-20 02:11 am (UTC)(link)THIS ISN'T ANY BETTER
WTF
NO
IF YOU DO N'T FINISH THIS I WILL PERSONALLY COME AND FIDN YOU
NO
THIS IS HORRIBLE
ANON. WAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Re: wc!au: team dage - baccano au part3
(Anonymous) 2014-07-20 02:31 am (UTC)(link)Re: wc!au: team dage - baccano au part3
(Anonymous) 2014-07-20 02:35 am (UTC)(link)and yes. yes it was cruel :(
Re: wc!au: team dage - baccano au part3
(Anonymous) 2014-07-20 03:16 am (UTC)(link)