Loud, lively music filled the tavern as rowdy men bellowed and roared with laughter. Reckless piano playing dulled the ears of the listeners as the spectators watched the stage where performers danced with only their undergarments on and corsets. Men cheered with lust slurred in their voices, wasting on the alcohol they gulped down their throats. The atmosphere reeked of rum, sweat, vomit, and alcohol, a deadly stench of disgust. But having developed a tolerance of such gross atmosphere.

Sitting on several tables, many *mafiosi played card games, drank, exchanged information from each other. Many gossiped as well, telling each other stories that they were supposed to keep to themselves. Such is the loyalties of the mafiosi.

The sight amused the fortuneteller who entered the bloody tavern with her devilishly handsome companion. She was tempted to gamble and fool everyone, contemplating a scheme all the while. It might do them some good, perhaps even earn some extra money they could splurge on when the time comes. But with a sigh, she pushes the idea aside, knowing that it was no time to play games. Alfieri noticed her tempted and smirked.

"Wanna play some cards?" he whispered. "I'll make sure it's fun."

The woman chuckled, suddenly pulling his face close to hers. "Don't tempt me," she hissed. "Remember what we're here for."

"But wouldn't it be just a piece of cake to win, Angelica?" he asked. "I am well aware that you are confident."

Hearing those words made the fortuneteller laugh in amusement, using her hand to cover her mouth. She was incredulous as how he was being cocky, tempted to strike him in the shin. But being in a public place made her conscious of the people around her.

"Maybe next time," she replied calmly. "Next time, I would let you play till your pocket is empty."

"You're being cold here," Alfieri chuckled.

Angelica smiles. "I'm jesting."

"Sure you are, sure you are," he chides. "You, the woman who tricked us to be here, are jesting."

She frowns.

"Just shut your loud mouth and get some information from the hunks over at the corner,"—she points at a bunch of men at a corner—"I believe they may be too drunk to keep anything to themselves."

And just as the woman said, a number of tall, muscled men were merrymaking amongst themselves. Bellowing in laughter, they continued to chug down the ale and beer from their cups which they would slam down against the table after every joke. They donned on shirts and trousers, wrist cuffs and gloves on their hands and wrists, but most importantly, the crest that was marked on their skin. It was a symbol with a scorpion.

Angelica's companion felt impressed with her observant, keen eye. It caused him to smile, and then without thinking, he stole a kiss on her cheek. And before the woman could do anything, he slipped through the crowd and hurried over to the table of drunken men.

Taking a seat beside a friendly looking man, Alfieri orders a drink from a passing waitress before beginning his little assignment. "You look mighty hearty for the afternoon," remarked the man. "Could you fill in what the occasion is?"

The drunk man smiles a toothy grin. "Oh, today a large banquet party will be held tonight by our boss!" he slurred. "He seemed to be in a mighty good mood for some reason."

"Any idea as of why your boss is such in a good mood, my friend?" Alfieri asks.

The man grinned. "I really don't know the details, but Boss said that a new woman would be added to his collection."

"Collection?"

The drunk man nods his head, letting out a slurry chuckle.

"Boss enjoys collecting pretty women, says that it's like collecting flowers from a garden," he replied.

Hearing this, Alfieri felt his curiosity aroused even more. He wanted to draw more information from the man, but knowing that Angelica was with her, he tries to get to the chase. "When's this celebration of yours?" he asks. "Perhaps I'd like to join your troupe."

"What? A pretty boy such as yourself joining Amir the Scorpion?" guffawed the man, pounding hard on the table from laughter.

Right at that moment, a number of men glared at the stranger, quickly drawing out their guns at him. From approachable hospitality, the men became as aggressive as hungry lions. Their eyes were filled with anger and irritation, immediately indicating that he was never welcomed there at all, but the man whom he was speaking to earlier on had been immediately stabbed right through the heart. His corpse leaned against his chair, his grin still frozen on his face. Meanwhile, the rest of the men slowly crept up towards Alfieri until one of the men held a dagger by his throat.

"Who are you, punk?" growled the biggest among the group.

His hairy chest was clearly exposed, it was muscled and obvious. Tattoos marred his tanned skin, along the scars that held history of his past. His deep, voice boomed with authority, and without a doubt, his companions acknowledged him. And the man's chin was covered with a shaven beard, and his amber eyes burned.

"Do you know whose table you are seated at?" he continued to bellow.

"You don't look like you're from around here," remarked another, who was bald. "Are you knew in these parts, boy?"

"Yes, I only arrived today," he replied calmly.

A skinny man roughly pats the youngster on the shoulder, making Alfieri groan a little from the strength. "How do you like Colosseum?"

"It's pretty much. . friendly," Alfieri replied nervously, wiping away the blood on his face.

"Oh? Has it now?" chuckled another. "Seems like our friend,"—he points at the dead corpse—"Has filled you in with some juicy information. Learned anything valuable, pretty boy?"

Alfieri immediately felt irritation swell up inside of him, but he quickly put his feelings aside, determined not to fail his companion who awaited him. "Only to find out that I'm quite interested to join your guild," he replied confidently, placing on a smile on his face.

At those words the men suddenly calmed down a little. For a moment they glanced at each other, wondering what they should do now that someone was interested to become a part of them. Afterwards, they stole a glance at their appointed one, who among all of them contemplated on his decision. His eyes were obviously deep in thought, his sense of duty aroused within him. Soon after a moment, a smile crept up to his face. His hands motioned the others to lower their weapons.

Relief burst inside Alfieri's chest. He felt the weigh of anxiety leave him, making him instinctively turn to where Angelica was with a victorious smile on his face. However, that smile was overcame with horror when he found Angelica's face frozen with pain and terror. Her eyes trembled violently with her mouth agape. They stared at her hands, which were both pinned on the counter with a dagger driven through each. Blood oozed from them, dripping down on the ground.

The men around her were filled with lust, hunger: extreme lechery. Some had their tongues stuck out, strings of saliva dripped from them. They no longer seemed sane, and only hungry dogs remained. One of the men already begun feasting on Angelica's flesh, slowly revealing her skin, starting with her cloak that was now left on the ground. The man's tongue slid on her smooth skin, causing the woman to tremble at his touch.

Instinctively, Alfieri left his companions and came to Angelica's side. His dagger was drawn and he began his slaughter, killing everyone who dirtied the one he came to care for. Blood splattered everywhere as bodies fell to the ground one by one. With eyes filled with hatred, Alfieri found his anger uncontrollable. His memory of seeing Angelica touched lustfully by other men.

Innocent men and women screamed as they hurried out from the man's bloodbath. The sound of the chaos attracted onlookers who would curiously peer inside, only to see a madman.

Watching the newbie with curious eyes, the men of the infamous Amir watched with serious and amused looks on their faces. They remained seated by their table, remaining unmoved despite the blood that splattered on their skin.

One of them, a small, skinny, and strange, felt a drop land on his cheek, and a wide grin instantly came upon his face. Without thinking, his finger wiped the drop of blood off, placing it into his mouth. "Their blood is rather bland," he remarked amusingly.

"Don't go tasting blood," scolded one of the men, slapping their companion aggressively.

The small, creepy man grinned. "It's my specialty. And you all know that. Deal with it."

"You son of a bitch," seethed the man, clicking his tongue afterwards.

Watching their man continue to kill the men, the leader remarked:

"He's in."

His companions' eyes widened.

"What?" they gaped in chorus.

"I said, 'He's in.'" the man repeated, his frown cut deep through his skin.

The small man grinned widely at the sound of that, letting his hands rub together mischievously. "My, my. The pretty boy's been added quickly," he sneered. "Well, putting that aside; shouldn't you be wondering who that lovely woman he is apparently defending?"

Whirling their heads around, the group saw that their friend was right. But instead of the look of pain on her face, it was worry that filled her eyes. She was bending down toward the counter, using her teeth to pull the daggers out. It was a quick reflex, because the daggers came dropping to the floor, and like lightning, her arms were around Alfieri.

"That's enough," her pained voice echoed through his ears, stilling the man.

A shocked Alfieri felt her bleeding hands tremble violently as they clutched to his bloody shirt, her chest pressed against his back tightly. Her wet tears going through his shirt, soaking his skin that was also stained with the blood of many men. Her arms hugged him tightly, seeming to never let go. He felt his own heart pound, realising what he had done. Immediately guilt filled his heart, and he knew that there was no way to atone for it. His teeth gritted in anger, feeling tears of shame brim on his eyelids.

But the sound of her voice called out to him.

"Alfieri, it's alright," cooed Angelica. "I'm fine. I saw you. So relax—I am with you."

"I. . I. . I killed. . I killed them. ." he choked. "I killed them all! I. . I. ."

Suddenly he felt Angelica leave him, her arms disappearing from his sides. But in a split of a second, he felt his shirt jerk down, later feeling Angelica's lips pressed against his own.

Surprise immediately came over him, feeling his chest tighten, the butterflies in his stomach burst. In a moment's whisper, he leaned down closer and embraced Angelica tightly, prolonging their first kiss. Soon, their lips parted, and Alfieri's green orbs found a teasing grin on Angelica's face.

"I hope you didn't enjoy that too much," she states.

"And if I did, what would you do?" he grins.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that was just to calm you down," Angelica suddenly states flatly.

"What?"

She chuckles lively, patting his cheek. Alfieri remain shocked though as Angelica continued her sweet words. "I heard that men calm down when they get a kiss from the girl they hid away in their hearts. I hope you didn't mind."

However, their happy moment was quickly ruined by the shadow that covered the light of the doorway, causing both people to glare at the tall man.

His black eyes pierced through them, emitting a powerful aura that froze the two on the spot. The man's footsteps were heavy: his steps made the wood planks tremble, the glass pieces shook, and the men inside cowered in his presence behind stoic faces. He was fully cloaked, hiding his identity like a wandering nomad. He donned on an outfit fit for his origin, and by his side was a *scimitar and a katana. The fine, clean blades glinted under the bright light, fully polished and sharpened for battle.

Upon entering the tavern while carefully avoiding the corpses, a low, heavy voice chuckled in amusement. The sound of it placed the fortuneteller at an uncomfortable position, and the newcomer was quick to notice her unease.

"So. I believe I found the one I was waiting for: Angelica of the Arcana Famiglia."

* * * * * * * *

Tumbling over and performing back flips while tossing sharp-edged daggers at the target, Enzo fought their attacker well. He felt more annoyed than challenged with the girl before him. His red eyes were as sharp as ever, watching his opponent's movements. The girl's attacks were sharp, but they were sloppy in his eyes. There were many holes where he could strike the woman before him, but her being a human of the opposite sex restrained him.

His opponent used daggers that were as long as half her entire arm. Her skills were rough on the edges which were evident every time she swiped at him, and he would dodge them each time with no problem. He swerves to the right, dodging one certain attack, and then he returns it by sending his calf at her face. However, just like him, the woman was agile and managed to avoid them with ease. Enzo didn't understand though why he needed to be the one who would do the dirty work. He and the girl continued to throw each other strikes, each bruising the other when they have the chance.

The other men were doing their part by just watching the two spar. They weren't grinning at the situation, more than less annoyed they were instead. But they were't the only ones who were annoyed.

Their attacker herself was annoyed, feeling belittle by them. She was more than happy to find them have only have one man deal with her. Hoping to get their attention, she became more aggressive and went throwing more kicks at her opponent, specifically at his face.

"Damn you all!" she yelled angrily as she continued to throw punches and kicks.

She was a pretty lass with tanned skin and dark hair with curls like ivy. Her amber eyes were gentle, but they pierced with passion so strong that she was like a vixen, only donning on a black coat and trousers since the woman bore a nearly entirely black outfit. She was shorter than Angelica, but she was also slender in stature just like the fortuneteller.

"That's not how a woman such as yourself does not fit declaring such form of language," states Enzo, glaring at her. "As a matter of fact, if you were supposed to be a thief I wouldn't come at my 'victims' publicly. More or less announce my arrival."

"Sneaking up isn't exactly my style," she states arrogantly. "And I wouldn't,"—she strikes his face—"lecture my opponents!"

"Well, I would have to agree with you that I don't normally talk, but I just can't stand fighting against women."

"I could take her out for you!" calls out Abelle, who was getting irritated. "You're wasting time on her, Enzo!"

Pietro, who stood beside him, looked at his friend nervously. He noticed that Abelle's words aroused a wilder fire inside the girl's heart, and without a doubt they could be in deeper trouble than they were hoping to avoid. He wished that Abelle wouldn't have said such careless words. If anyone he could trust making such judgments, it would only be Angelica with trustworthy deductions.

The other two of foreign blood remained neutral, only hoping that Enzo's and the strange girl's scrimmage. Azad was insistent in intervening, but the prince he attended to continued to hold him back.

Pietro sighs, scratching the back of his head nervously as always. "Shouldn't we be going now?" asked the man. "We were supposed to find a decent inn."

Suddenly a dagger grazes his cheek, causing him to yelp in surprise. Pietro teeters fearfully with his hand on his cheek, feeling blood ooze out of the wound, dripping down through his fingers. His Blue eyes trembled in fright as he darts his eyes at the attacker, who gazed at him with hatred.

"Don't get too comfortable," she arrogantly stated. "I was only just warming up,"—she plays with her daggers—"If your teacher, that woman who came with you earlier on didn't teach you not to underestimate your enemies, then you're serving the wrong master."

"She is't our master!" Jahan yells angrily.

"Oh? Then what is she?" the woman asks. "If she isn't your master, then who is she to you, boy?"

Anger swelled up inside of the prince, and without a thought he grabbed a couple of daggers from underneath his garments. But before he could hurl them at the girl, Azad quickly stopped him by placing his hand on his master's shoulder. Jahan frowned a little at his attendant for being so restraining, but he withdrew without saying a word.

"Prince, I believe that we should fall back for now," he calmly whispered into the prince's ear.

The prince's eyes widen at this. "What?"

"For now, I believe the best course of action at this moment would be to get away from this woman," Azad repeats.

"Why do you think that?" Jahan asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at his attendant.

Becoming more serious, he continues, "If you have not noticed or taken that woman's words, it seems that she's only here to stall us."

"What?!"

"Just as I thought," remarked Abelle, interrupting the two. "We should get out of here quickly. I'm pretty sure that if my deductions are correct,"—he pushes back his glasses—"the real target is probably that fortuneteller if not all of us."

"Then what's taking them so long?" Pietro asks with a panicking tone, doing his part to keep an eye on Enzo who was continuously sparring the girl.

"They're probably gathering their forces to capture as all!" cried Pietro, sinking to his knees in despair. It made his childhood friend sigh exasperatedly, feeling very embarrassed. Without a second thought, he struck Pietro hard on the head, making the boy cry out in pain. Looking up, he saw the angry eyes of Abelle, seeing that the bespectacled man was at his limit of patience.

Pushing back his glasses, he sighs once more. "Idiot. You really are an idiot," he hissed angrily.

"Abelle. ."

"Idiot!" the bespectacled man yelled once more. "Do you really think that that fortuneteller really sent us here to be slaughtered?! Do you think that the Arcana she gave to us was meant for nothing?! Well, not that I give a damn about that, but, bloody hell! I will not allow us to end here, and I wouldn't care more or less about the hooligans that live here, but we will not allow our precious time to go to waste. So man up, Pietro! It's about time that you stand up like a man! Or would you rather live being pushed around for the rest of your life?"

His harsh, but true words moved his friend into tears, causing tears of shame to roll down the man's cheeks. He felt his heart moved, glad to see his friend so passionate about something after a very long time.

"Abelle," he sniffed. "You're pretty cool after all."

His friend frowns.

"Idiot." He strikes him on the head again. "Stop saying cheesy stuff here and think of a way to get rid of that woman!" Pointing at Enzo's attacker, Abelle immediately pulls out a pistol, surprising everyone else.

Pietro gasps. "Where did you get that?!"

"That fortuneteller sneaked it to me before we left Tiburio. I was rather surprised, but she knew that I'm proficient with a gun," he calmly replied. "If anyone has an idea before I pull this trigger then I'm all ears."

Pietro groans. "Now's not the time for that! You might hit—"

A loud sound of a released bullet interrupts him, echoing through his eardrums. Glancing at Abelle, Pietro quickly realizes that his friend showed off his skill by shooting down a flying bird, which drops in front Pietro. The sudden sight of the dead bird surprised Pietro, making him scream loudly, causing Enzo and his opponent to actually pause for a moment.

But at that same instant though, a purple cloud engulfed them like ink in water from their front side where the woman and Enzo fought. Everyone immediately held their breaths once their vision was clouded, and before they knew it, tiny darts struck their necks, causing them all to become dizzy, their vision blurring, and soon causing each one to crumple down to the ground.

Azad, who was the last to lose consciousness, heard footsteps approach each one, and the sound of tinkling metal rang through his ears. Then before his vision darkened, a black rose was placed in front of him, and the laughter of the gypsy woman was the last thing he heard.

~~~

*mafiosi is the plural of mafioso, a member of a mafia

*scimitar is a backsword or sabre with a curved blade, originating from the Middle East.

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