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      His face practically lit up like the beacon; his smile wide showing off his pearly whites as he heard the small bit of Russian from the other man. Pascal honestly didn't expect a reaction out of the other man. Let alone words in his OWN language. It was slightly relaxing, only distracting him for a moment from his situation. His smile faltered as he returned to Reality Dungeon from Comfort Land. "Finally! You can speak! I was beginning to think that you were a mute, and if you were mute I would feel bad for badgering you for a respo-"

      He cut himself off as he watched the man suddenly stand form his spot. Pascal kept eye contact with the other as he messed with his sweater and then moved closer. Eye's widening at the sudden closeness, thinking 'Oh no here come the beatings'. But nothing came. The man just continued to stare, for a good minute. Pascal began to fidget under the stare. He had never been studied for this long before. No one had ever stared this long at him. Even Roland and his own parents hadn't graced him with long stares. Men at the bar would only look at him for fleeting moments, before moving in to flirt or buy him a drink. he wasn't sure whether he should find the other's stare comforting or creepy. Though assuming this man is part of the Ocello Family, he was going to go with creepy. Definite creeper here.

      Then the man snatched his hat.

      Pascal was never one to freak out or lose control over himself. It just wasn't his thing. When he was out on the job for Roland or his father, he had shot and killed men, and only ever once had he freaked out and cried. When he was interrogating their own prisoners, he had watched them beaten and broken beyond recognition and he all he had did was give them a smile before continuing. It wasn't like this. Pascal wore beanie's for multiple reasons, a small part of it was because he thought they looked good on him, and hid what he thought was ugly hair. Which was total bullshit. He looked great with or without a hat, or so he's been told. The more important reason was that he found comfort in his hats. Everyone in the Shaprio family knew that you didn't touch Pascal's hat. Roland had given his his first hat when he killed his first victim. Pascal had freaked out and Roland had been there for him. The next day Roland bought him a beanie, saying something about trying a new look. Pascal didn't know why he bought the hat, but it he figured he was apologizing for his fathers orders. Pascal was only 15 when he had shot his first victim.

      From that day on he wore beanies. It reminded him of Roland. It was a comfort thing.

      So if after being kidnapped, bashed over the head, and put in a, rather nice, dungeon-esque room hadn't worn him down, losing his hat was the last straw. When the man had popped it off his head, he caught his breath in his chest, his face instantly dropping. He completely ignored the insult, something about being stupid or dumb or whatever, and allowed himself to snap. He bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. His face had contorted into something that resembled rage. He stayed motionless in his chair but kept his attention on the man, his eyes moving between the hat in his hands and the mans face. "Give. It. Back. Now." He hissed.

      At that moment, the door opened causing Pascal to turn his attention to the three new people who had entered the room. He had to physically force himself to calm down. Releasing his lower lip from the death-grip his teethe had on it an breathed heavily. He gave the man with the long hair a wary smile, having lost most of his confidence with the loss of his hat. But he was not weak. He would persevere comfortless. Though he took a moment to look over the three men who had just walked and groaned inwardly. Of course they were all good-looking."Yestʹ vse moi pokhititeli dolzhny bytʹ nastolʹko bezumno privlekatelʹnym?" He sighed, looking to his feet for a moment before looking up as the man with the long hair stopped in front of him.

      The man had spoken in sarcasm, giving him a smile. Pascal returned his smile, there was that word. Comfortable. Pascal almost snorted at the comment. "You know it. It's been great, you know, with the head pain, the scary dungeon-like rooms, the tied-up hands." He shifted his arms in a way that made him look as though he was struggling while getting comfortable at the same time. "I'm surprised I hadn't booked a stay earlier. A five star joint like this? Totally deserves the praise." He finished, obviously sarcastic. He gave the man in front of him a smirk. Holding his gaze for only a second before dropping it towards the mans torso, his smirk following. "Ya know he won't come for me. I mean, I'm useless anyways. Just getting in trouble and what not. He didn't even send a bodyguard out with me." He snorted into a small chuckle, knowing that these were big lies. But he made it look as though he was laughing sadly at his own situation. "He's not going to risk his life or job for a screw up brother." He at least hoped Roland wouldn't risk his life for Pascal. That shouldn't be how it worked. It really should be the other way around.



      ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
      Ooc~ Translation "Do all my kidnappers have to be so insanely attractive?"
      Location~ Kidnappers Room.
      Feeling/Status~ Irritation, Anger. Missing his hat.
      ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
Corpius's avatar

Devoted Lunatic

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░░▌┋ THE OCELLO BOSS
TRY NOT TO MISTAKE WHAT YOU HAVE WITH WHAT YOU HATE
xxxxIT COULD LEAVE, IT COULD LEAVE, COME THE MORNING


xxxxxxxxxxxxxarmine x.x cello
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                                                              AND IF THE SUN SHOULD LIFT ME UP
                                                              WOULD YOU COME BACK? C'MON!






                                                              Pascal made a play at being fearlessly sarcastic, which Carmine could admire, but didn't maintain eye contact. Maybe because of the head injury, or maybe because he was lying. Could have been either and either way the Ocello boss didn't care. "Behave yourself and you might even get a room with a window, and dessert with dinner." My my, Carmine was coming off as sounding like a rather nice guy, for a kidnapper. His joke didn't even sound all that sarcastic.

                                                              "Ya know he won't come for me. I mean, I'm useless anyways. Just getting in trouble and what not. He didn't even send a bodyguard out with me. He's not going to risk his life or job for a screw up brother."

                                                              The Russian's bluff made Carmine smile, and shake his head, as he dropped down to crouch with his arms resting on his knees, so he could meet the boy's eyes once more. It meant he was no longer towering over Pascal, but the Ocello had never really enjoyed relying on height as an intimidation factor. If his words, and further actions, didn't get the job then being over six foot tall certainly wouldn't. "There is very little point in lying to you, Pascal." The Italian's voice was calm, pale green eyes locked on the other's. "It doesn't matter if your brother comes for you or not; we only took you so that your brother would know that this is a serious matter. You're here because the Shaprio family has been trespassing on Ocello territory for sometime, which is something we don't allow. Your brother has two choices; he give up peacefully and leave Albion with you and the rest of the Shaprio family, or we will kill him, and you, and remove the Russian infestation by force. We have three times as many men, and we control the arms trade of Albion. This isn't a battle the Shaprio family can win."

                                                              He ended his little monologue with a chilling, near-apologetic smile, then stood, eyes leaving Pascal to glance back at Domani. "Please don't do anything stupid while you're here- or I won't bother giving your brother a choice, I'll just kill him. Capire?" His words really weren't meant to scare or even intimidate- why even bother, when Pascal was tied to his chair with a bloodied head. It was as he'd said; no point in keeping their captive in the dark. The Shaprio wanted to know why he was here- well now he knew, for better or worse. "Domani, if you want to...get to know him a little bit better, go ahead, but don't do anything permenant? Grazie."

                                                              He patted his brother's shoulder as he turned to leave the room. Carmine had never really made it his job to 'entertain' guests like Pascal. Besides, there was important things upstairs that required his attention; keeping all of the affairs organized while their father was away was boring, but necessary work. Orders and shipments of guns, mostly. People got angry when they didn't get what they paid for.



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xx NiccoloEmilianoAgostino

Ocello Mansion / Basement wwwwwHere come the big guns... wwwww The Russian, Carmine, Domani, Luciano.
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That was slightly unexpected. Well, pretty much everything that the Russian had just done was a little unexpected. The wide grin, the reaction to him finally speaking, and all. Maybe he should have stayed quiet. He had a feeling, now that the Russian knew he could talk, he would literally never hear the end of it. He didn’t like conversing with most people, and this guy was counted in that just as much as anyone else, but as long as Niccolo was sitting here he was positive that the Russian captive would speak to him. He should have brought a book or something, that would have made it easier to stay occupied with an annoying person in the room.

But hey, now that the Chatty Cathy had turned into Snappy Sally when his hat was taken, maybe Niccolo wouldn’t have to worry about it. He could always hold his hat ransom and tell him to either shut up or never get it back again… that sounded like a splendid plan. The Russian seemed very attached to it, after all, and it wasn’t like Niccolo was going to cut holes in it or anything; he wasn’t one for torture, whether it be physical, emotional, or mental. Though he always did seem to end up ‘torturing’ the Ocello family’s captives with his lack of speaking and reaction. It drove most of them nuts to the point of asking for someone else to watch over them. Of course, most of the time that never happened. At least Niccolo was helpful in some way, because as we have learned, he’s one hell of a lousy killer.

A smirk took Niccolo’s lips once more when the Russian tried to be feisty with him, and he responded with a simple, “No.”, almost as if he was teasing him, before the door to the basement opened and Papa Bear walked in, followed by Brother Bear and Grizzly Bear. Carmine, Domani, and Luciano. Out of respect for Carmine, Niccolo stood from his chair and nodded his head in a silent greeting, tucking the clean end of the Russian’s beanie into his back pocket so that the blood wouldn’t get on his nice pants. He stood where he was, not bothering to move any closer to the three men that had entered the room. He knew they were here to see the prisoner, so he might as well keep his distance, because he would have been moving out of the way for when Domani decided to come in on the Russian anyways.

The comment about all of The Russian’s captors being ‘insanely attractive’ actually made Niccolo scoff under his breath. Not because he didn’t think that all of the men in the room were attractive, someone would have to be blind not to notice that right away, but because of the fact that the Russian kept bringing stuff like that into play. Constantly pointing the good looks of others was normally a good trait for a person to have, but in this situation? Niccolo wasn’t sure what it pointed to. Narcissism, perhaps, purely because the Russian was so enthused that he was the one being surrounded by gorgeous men. Niccolo was judging him so damn hard right now.

And even more so at that display of self-pity! Who the hell did he think he was fooling, going on like that? His first few remarks about the basement being a ‘five star joint’ gave away his confidence in himself. He knew that he was more than capable of surviving this (if he wasn’t beaten to death by Domani, that is) and that sure as hell showed. You could just tell that he knew he wasn’t a screw-up useless brother. How did he think that he could get away with something like that? Especially with the sudden lack of eye contact and cry-baby voice… come on. Carmine was no fool. He may not know all that Niccolo knew about people and their mannerisms, but he certainly knew enough to call someone out when they were trying to pull a fast one on him. Hell, he was a Mafia Don for crying out loud. He knew how to do this stuff. And ooh, he had a way with words, didn’t he?

That was probably one of the things that Niccolo admired most about the man, how extremely blunt and to the point he was when he got down to business. Yeah, he had his little bits of fun, such as the traded sarcasm, but when it came down to the wire there was no messing around, no antics. He spoke his peace, he allowed Domani to take over, and then he was gone, off to do his business elsewhere. He was a good guy, that one. Niccolo’s eyes flicked over to the Russian, still tied to his little chair, still unable to move all that much and probably wondering what was going to happen next. Poor guy, having to face Domani. Niccolo was a decent fighter and could hold his own in most Mafia brawls, but he wouldn’t want to get into it with Domani. That just wouldn’t be fun, and he would probably be on the ground in seconds flat. Niccolo’s attention was drawn to his brethren, and he patiently stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for orders from either Luciano or Domani, who both outranked him. Unfortunately for Pascal, his fate was in the hands of the Boss’s brother now. Niccolo couldn’t blame him if the fear was beginning to set in.


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                    ------------------------------------------
                      The soft patter of footsteps reached Luciano’s ear. The bodyguard jerked his head in the direction of the sound and saw Domani creeping up on Carmine. The older of the brothers didn’t seem to take any notice, but Luciano gave no warning. From just listening to the gossip and banter of the housekeepers, he learned that Domani was of the devilish sort. He enjoyed playing with his food. Luciano found it strange to watch the two brothers interact with each other. Fire and water. That was what it was like. One constantly threatening to put the other out.

                      He turned his head towards Carmine as the current head of the family gave his orders. “Inteso,” he replied with a small nod of acknowledgement. After Carmine opened and entered the prisoner’s room. Luciano held the door open to let Domani in before entering himself. Once all three of them entered the room, the bodyguard closed the door behind him. He stood a few feet away from the rest of them. From there, he would jump in if he deemed that the situation got out of hand. In a room with a Russian who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut and three very dangerous Italians—Niccolo, Domani, and Carmine—there were many things that could happen. Luciano just had to make sure that the Russian remained in one piece.

                      A few words from the russian language spewed from the Shaprio boy’s mouth. It wasn’t a language that the bodyguard was familiar with, but the tone that the words carried annoyed him. He pressed his lips into a thin line and stared coldly at the boy and took a step closer as the boy began to spew bitter sarcasm from his mouth. Was he really in a position to make such empty comments? Perhaps he was bluffing his way thinking that if he did so he would be pitied by the Ocellos and then freed.

                      Carmine approached the Shaprio and began to speak of the reasons behind the kidnapping. Lciano thought the ideas were well formed and solid. But he didn’t think that all would go as smoothly as Carmine was hoping. If the Shaprio family was resilient enough to continue operating in the city of Albion even though they knew that the Ocellos were the prevalent force then why would they move out just for the sake of one individuals. And personally Luciano thought that Pascal seemed expendable.

                      Silence filled the room after Carmine left. And with the torch of control now passed to Domani, the atmosphere got heavy. Luciano let out a small breath. The feeling of anticipation was sickening. “Fare come si deve, signori” he muttered towards Niccolo and Domani. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and waited until the other end answered. “We need two guards stationed in front of the prisoner’s room,” he said into phone. The guards were just a precautionary measure; just in case someone decided to come in to save the Shaprio boy.

                          translations: 'Inteso' - 'understood.' | 'Fare come si deve, signori' - 'do as you must, sirs.'

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                                              Domani held back the desire to laugh at his brother's reaction. No matter how often he jumped out to scare him it never lost it's enjoyment. It was one of the few things Domani still had to do to remind himself that Carmine is still the same big brother he grew up with. The closer they got to the mob life the more it started to seem like he would one day become Domani's boss instead. While Domani looked relaxed his reflexes were up seeing as his brother tended to lash out defensively when scared. Earning Domani a few bruises and once a broken nose that he immediately returned. It still wasn't as bad as when Domani first started sparing with Carmine. He scoffed at the size difference and although he lost more than he won he definitely made Carmine realize that he was a true threat.

                                              "Piacere mio, piacere mio. Figured you'd come to miss me by now." Carmine made that face again. Domani had to force himself not to die laughing. That annoyed face that he's still never seen Carmine give anyone else always meant that he won. Whatever the situation was Carmine always gave Domani that look when he had no form of retaliation. Domani stuck out his tongue as if responding with a 'Nahh what fun would that be.' Domani's eyes lit up a bit. Fun! He was getting permission to have fun with the Russian. Carmine was fully aware what Domani's idea of fun was and he only hoped that his brother didn't change his mind.

                                              Domani's face shifted to don an emotionless look. Normally he would come off as polite to people he didn't know but he wasn't trying to impress the prisoner. Just confuse him before he got to do what he wanted. He nodded at Luciano silently thanking him for holding the door open. Knowing that it would be very disrespectful for Luciano not to, still Domani was a spoiled brat. Opening his own door when others were around was so far out of the question. Upon walking into the room he positioned himself to the left of Carmine and slightly behind his shoulder. His eyes scanned the boy. He was kinda small, not to say that Domani wasn't but it wasn't quite what he expected. The kid looked to be about the same age as him but he lacked the same charm. Domani's eyes picked up the dark red stain matting down the Russian's hair. 'Did we really need that much force to pick him up.' He wondered, careful not to let any his thoughts interrupt his blank face.

                                              He walked sync with Carmine allowing himself to get a better look at the kid. In the corner of his eyes he saw Niccolo stand. 'So that's who was watching over him. He let his eyes look over the man to make sure that he wasn't hurt and to make sure that there wasn't much blood on him indicating that he'd have to go easy on the little Russian. He noticed the blood stained hat sicking out of Niccolo's back pocked and caught himself before giving the man a confused look. His eyes slowly drifted back to Pascal's as he heard him speak for the first time. It was something in Russian and Domani knew very little of the language. Thanks to his school and the Russian girl he was once trying to impress he took a few Russian language classes. He could barely make out the sentence. 'Does he really think that our looks are here for his benefit. He better hope he can still see us when this is over. Better yet...lets use that later.' He thought as he heard the kid talk. The sarcasm kinda annoyed Domani. He invented sarcasm and he wasn't sure that he gave this kid permission to use it. If that wasn't bad enough he lied. Like he didn't know that we all knew his brother was tearing apart the city looking for his little brother. Part of him could empathize but this wasn't the time for it.

                                              Domani's eyes never left Pascal as Carmine brook everything down to him. Part of him was excited and the other a bit worried when his brother told him to truth. Normally he would lie and tell the captive that we needed him alive but this time he was brutally honest. This wasn't a fight for the Russians and he let the little brother know it. As Carmine made his leave Domani briefly took his eyes off Pascal as he heard that he was allowed to get to know him a little better. Part of his wanted to sigh and whine once he was told that he could do nothing permanent . That meant no deep wounds and no scars; and that was no fun.

                                              He let his left hand slip into his pocket and grip the small black blade he had just for these kinds of occasions. He was going to have a bit of fun with this once before getting physical. He waved his finger at Niccolo silently instructing him to bring him one of those chairs. “It's a shame what happens to those who get brought up in this life” Domani said calmly striking up real conversation was his goal at the moment. Before playing with this one he actually wanted to see if he could get him talking. "So you think we're attractive huh? " A half smile spread across Domani's face. .


                                              Out Of Control: Translation: My pleasure My pleasure.
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      Pascal turned his head to the man, who had yet to introduce himself, as he sat down on the couch across from him. Pascal was no longer smiling. In fact he was calmly looking into the others eyes listening, taking on a sort of leader like look. Since when did the Ocello family deal with drugs? He assumed that was the reason they were threatening the Shaprio family with expulsion. Sure, they dabbled a little into arms dealings, but they hadn't gotten much out of it as much as they did with the drugs. For obvious reasons. Maybe it was more of a territorial thing, or pride thing. It was like they were the school bully, keeping all the other kids from trying out the new playground equipment. Apparently this man didn't know them very well. Of course they weren't going to leave. Just because they didn't have the numbers didn't mean they were weak. They were going end up fighting tooth and nail to impress their father.

      When the man had finished he stood, glancing to the younger looking man next to him before telling him to behave, lest he suffer the consequences. When he told the younger looking man, Domani, that he had could stay and get acquainted with Pascal if he wanted, that was when Pascal allowed himself to look away and smile at Domani. His eyes looked him up and down, taking in his soon-to-be torturer. the man looked good, if not all sorts of creepy in the way he stared at Pascal. Apparently staring was a thing in this household. He kept his smile up as the man began speaking. "I have to agree with you. Shame indeed. Maybe times should change you know?" He hinted, maybe hoping for continuing the friendly conversation. Though knowing that his attempt was in vain, maybe he was just mentally preparing himself for what was coming. He didn't wanna bleed out more than he already had.

      "So you think we're attractive huh? "

      Pascal's smile faltered a bit as he stared a the Italian across from him. He didn't think there were two people who knew Russian. Red began to creep up his face. Sure it was okay if he was doing the flirting, but when others flirted back he became embarrassed. Even when he was at clubs, he always felt silly when he put himself out there. It was like he was trying to attempt to be a young normal man and flirt even though he was an heir in the Shaprio family. His eyes shifted between Domani and Sir Silent. "Uh, well...you aren't half bad. I mean, for kidnappers. You all look like you have good qualities about you." He said, giving a sheepish smile to the man as he tried to lean back into his chair. He wiggled his wrists in the rope, wincing a bit as the rope began to chafe.

      "And you are certainly better looking than some of the guys in the clubbing district." He continued, glad that they weren't talking about him. "I mean, I flirt with guys at the clubs but most never look at me twice. I think it's cause when I start talking I babble. Ya know, just going on and on. Maybe it only happens when i'm nervous? Like now. Really, really nervous. And now I'm confused on whether it's because I'm talking to cute guys or the fact I might ave broken legs here in a couple of moments." He admitted. He didn't care enough to keep up his tough act. He was tired, and injured and soon to be injured more. He was't scared, just tired of pretending. So he continued to babble. "Is there going to at least be some music? I could go for some classical beating. Also can I have my hat afterwards? It's kind of a comfort thing. Unless you don't do comfort, then by all means keep the hat. How about food? I mean I can be very good, and that other guys said If i was good I could get a windowed room and dinner! I want to see if your cook is better than ours."



      ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
      Ooc~ Translation "Do all my kidnappers have to be so insanely attractive?"
      Location~ Kidnappers Room.
      Feeling/Status~ Irritation, Anger. Missing his hat.
      ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
c a f e bean's avatar

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xx NiccoloEmilianoAgostino

Ocello Mansion / Basement wwwwwAnd it begins. wwwww The Russian and Domani
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Right off the bat Niccolo could tell that Domani was more than excited to get this show on the road. He had no doubt that when Carmine had first given him permission to beat the living hell out of the Russian captive, probably behind closed doors, he might have even danced around a little bit. He loved this stuff, he lived for this stuff, and this was more often than not his job. Heck, sometimes he would do it just for entertainment. Just think of how much higher his level of enjoyment would go up because he was going to abuse the Russian, the enemy to his own family. He was probably doing cartwheels in his head right now, even though Carmine wasn’t allowing him to go to the full extent of his ability in this particular situation. Niccolo knew that he would make it work with what he was given, though. He always did. Niccolo’s eyes angled towards Domani as he wiggled his finger in his direction, and he nodded in much the same way as he had with Carmine, going back towards the chair that he had been sitting in. He pushed it over behind the Ocello man, just close enough to where he could probably sit down without even looking. Yes, Niccolo was a good boy~. He stood slightly off to the side behind Domani, crossing his arms low over his chest and waiting to see what would happen. It came as a pleasant surprise that Domani brought up the Russian’s comment on his captors being attractive, and that same cheeky glint made its way back into his eyes, though this time his lips didn’t follow up with the motion.

But oh good Lord this kid started talking again. This time he didn’t just talk though, he “babbled”, which is to say that he talked endlessly, his words coming out quickly and running together like one long sentence. Niccolo didn’t have to work so hard to read him now, what with his emotions finally pouring out onto his sleeve and the Russian actually admitting it out loud. That probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, especially with Domani heading the torture session. He was like a cat. He preferred to play with his victims before smashing them up. He didn’t want the fun to be over quickly, that was for sure. Give him your fears and what you’re feeling, and he was quick as a jack rabbit to turn it right around back at you in the most creative way he knew. Niccolo was in the basement a lot, being one of the lowest ranking members and having to watch quite a few of the prisoners, and he had seen him so some very impressive work. Niccolo wasn’t one for violence, but he would admit that Domani had a way about it. Almost graceful, really, even though Niccolo hated the sight of fresh blood in large quantities. Little bits or old blood he could do, but not much other than that. Which brought his mind right back to Pascal. He had bitten his lip earlier when Niccolo took his hat, and now that he was saying something about it being a ‘comfort thing’, Niccolo understood. It would seem that Pascal had some major insecurities. How interesting. But now he wanted his hat back? Silly boy.

Nah, he probably wasn’t going to get his hat back. Like, at all. Losing something that was a comfort could really ******** with someone’s head, especially if they were constantly being reminded that they couldn’t have it. See, if Niccolo went out and tossed it in the trash, Pascal would probably be very pissed because he lost a very sentimental item, but eventually he would get over it and get a new one. But now, if Niccolo were to dangle it out of his reach for a long period of time, or if he was to rip it to pieces slowly while Pascal was being tortured… that would have a more significant effect. Yeah, Niccolo was a bit messed up. This was what he learned from people watching, and this was why he continued to be useful. Being silent and staring and studying had to get him somewhere over the years, so it might as well be here. How else could he be of any use in a freaking mafia? After he sat in silence for a moment, he realized that Domani might have been feeling out of the loop in the hat situation, and he looked down to the sitting Ocello and gestured towards the beanie tucked away in his pocket.

“Non ancora.”

Now, of course everyone in the Ocello family knew how rare it was for Niccolo to speak. In fact, the insults that he had thrown at Pascal were probably the most that he had spoken in about three days. He didn’t like speaking in general, and he avoided it most of the time. So if he was speaking, he must have had a good reason behind it. He wasn’t one of the absurd youngins that galavanted around the mansion, saying what they thought would please people. He only spoke with purpose. Earlier, he spoke in order to get the Russian to shut up, and now he spoke to prove a point. He had a hypothesis, and he wanted to test it. But not yet. Non ancora.


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                                              'Gotcha!' Was the first thing that popped into Domani's head as he watched the red creep over Pascal's face. 'Maybe those Russian classes will pay off after all.' To joked to himself. He wasn't one for other languages but they tended to make his life a little easier. Carmine once asked Domani to question an asian teen who started selling on our territory. Luckily Domani knew Japanese and enough Chinese to understand all the information coming out of the mouth of Mr. I no speak Engrish well. He did the usual routine making the kid beg for his life and giving up all the information he thought would save his life before Domani took it. Domani laughed to himself. There was a lot of blood shed that day. ...pretty fun experience. It pained him a bit to know that he couldn't kill Pascal. Sure the kid did nothing wrong and it was his father's fault that he was in their dungon in the first place but that didn't matter. When you put a live rat in the cage with a snake it doesn't question or care why its there only that its now time to feed. To Domani Pascal was nothing more than a mice and he was a black mamba looking for a snack.

                                              Domani's eyes caught the Russian's slight movement. “If you don't stop playing with the rope I'll be forced to tie you up by your neck too.” The wiggling was a bit obsessive and would result in Pascal bleeding. Once Domani caught the sight of fresh blood dripping there was little he would be able to do to stop himself. Domani didn't whip the smile off his face but the killer within was losing his mind. 'If this kid doesn't shut up NOW, I'm killing him, his brother, half their family, and I'll personally get on a plane to end his father's life in front of his mother with a dull, broken spork.' Domani didn't mind talkative people but babbling pushed him over the edge. It was something evil about the way people could talk and talk and talk and talk and UGH! He stopped the urge to drive the blade of his foot into Pascal's chest when he realized what the kid was saying. He was spilling his feelings and emotions. Domani was doing a triple back flip off a diving board in his head right about now. Usually he had to start the process of breaking down his victims to find out what made them tick but the kid was just offering it up on a silver platter.

                                              He was nervous and scared. This was going to be a cake walk. The only problem that Domani had now was which of the two roads to walk down first. His thoughts were interupted once more at the talk of a hat. His eyes shot back to Niccolo. 'So that's why you have that.' Come to think of it Domani couldn't see why Niccolo didn't start ripping the hat up yet. Everyone knew that not only did he barely talk and he hated Hated HATED people who couldn't shut up. Its a good thing that he wasn't into the violence like Domani or else Pascal would have been dead before the two brothers could walk in. That would have ended badly. First Carmine would have yelled at him for ruining the plan then Domani would have to torture Niccolo just to get the energy out. And that would be more pain than pleasure. While he could detach his emotions when having fun, Domani still cared for Niccolo too much. Over the years the two of them have gotten pretty close. Nic was just Domani's adorable good boy. "Non ancora" Domani smiled. When Nic talked there was a reason behind it. Maybe he was rubbing off on his and Niccolo was plotting something with that hat.

                                              "I can be very good, and that other guys said If i was good I could get a windowed room and dinner!"

                                              And there it is. Out of the second half of that ramble that was all that Domani picked up. He wanted to be a good boy. Fine lets treat him like a good boy. Domani slowly stood from his chair and walked around Pascal stopping once he got behind him. He leaned over and ran his right hand through the boy's hair. “Now do you do really think you could be a good boy? How, when being bad is so much more fun.” Domani's voice had dropped an octave as he got closer to Pascal's ear. Luckily the boy made it known that he was intimidated by Domani's looks (or all attractive boys for that matter) or he would have had to break a rib or two. It was always more fun to exploit weaknesses.


                                              Out Of Control: We all want the blood and gore but I'm keeping you all on your toes. haha.
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      At the mention of his wriggling wrists, Pascal ceased struggling instantly. He didn't want to start too soon, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be too long before he was bleeding out on the floor. He hadn't meant to babbled but he did. No going back now, and he was too tired to care. Caring was overrated. Much like sports cars. I mean seriously, what are those compensating for? Pascal almost chuckled. He was thinking about over-compensating sports cars when he should be focusing on his torture master. Ah, the finer points about ADHD. At least he wasn't twitching. When he was really out of focus, Pascal would begin to twitch, starting with his fingers. If things got really out of hand his leg would twitch and maybe one of his eyes. But he rarely lost focus like that anymore. Though he was uncertain about the future.

      Pascal focused his thoughts back on Domani as the man stood from his chair and moved slowly towards him. Pascal gave him a tired smile, his eyes were were tired and he suppressed a yawn as the Italian walked behind him. Here we go. Pascal expected a blade to his throat or the back of his neck. He was promised life, but you never know with the crazy one. Especially the handsome crazy ones. What was unexpected was the soft hand running through his hair. He leaned his head forward with the motion and moaned out in pain as the hand brushed over the wound on his head. He had to suppress a shiver crawling down his spine from the back of his head.

      “Now do you do really think you could be a good boy? How, when being bad is so much more fun.”

      Oh. There's that shiver; crawling back up his spine. He bit his lip again, wincing has his teeth hit the sore spot from where he'd drawn blood earlier. That was so not allowed. Where's the torture? The blood and the pain? Low octaves and whispering was totally cheating. And completely unwelcome. Sure he's had boys been all over him before. Kissing, making out, even lower octaves and certainly higher octaves. But Pascal has never been able to go all the way. Yeah. With an over protective brother, a Big-Bad Bodyguard, and a 'Work first, Pleasure later' dad constantly c**k blocking him. So hey, he still has his V-card. All shiny and practically new. He hasn't even been naked in front of another guy. Yeah it's that bad. Possibly another reason he goes out to clubs and flirts.

      But now he was focusing on not being turned on by the sexy enemy. Especially with the another hot enemy watching. That would be embarrassing. He needed to diffuse the situation. He needed to diffuse the situation. He needed to diffuse the-"You're going to get blood on your hands" Idiot. That was probably the silliest thing you could've said. Of course he was going to get blood on his hands. Probably a lot more than he had now. "I-I mean I'm good at following orders. Most of the time..." he added onto the end. He had not meant to stutter. He mentally cursed his weakness towards cute guys. Even if they were about to spill his blood on the gorgeous carpet...Actually, now that Pascal gets a better look at it, it could use some blood. Wasn't a very pretty carpet and maybe a little stain here or there might give it character.



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      Ooc~ Fastest post i've written ever. There are probably mistakes.
      Location~ Kidnappers Room.
      Feeling/Status~ HE NEEDS TO DIFFUSE THE SITUATION!
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c a f e bean's avatar

Dapper Codger

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xx NiccoloEmilianoAgostino

Ocello Mansion / Basement wwwwwSlow your roll, sexopotamus. wwwww The Russian, Domani, Luciano.
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Oh, goodness, Domani was feeling a little bit vicious tonight. One hit after the other, starting out strong with a threat to hang the Shaprio boy by his neck. But to be honest, Niccolo was surprised that the young Ocello wasn’t already tying the knot in the noose. He followed through on all of his threats, there was no doubt about that, though it seemed he was being rather relaxed tonight. Carmine had been as well, hardly taking any time at all to even look at the Russian before running off to go and do who-knows-what for another who-knows-how-many hours. He was kind of fleeting in that way, constantly running around to get everything done all at once. He was much more methodical than a chicken with its head cut off though, and Niccolo wouldn’t care to compare him to such a vile thing. He was more like a… like a blue jay, really. He was urgent without being fidgety. Yes, that seemed like a much better comparison. And one that he wouldn’t get smacked for if he ever decided to make it known to the companions that he had within the family. Better to keep it to himself, definitely.

Niccolo continued to watch Domani carefully, monitoring his actions to the best of his ability, but not in the ‘so that he could keep his gore lust in line’ kind of way. It was in the same way that he watched all other people, except with Domani it was more like actual research. He knew that Domani could get a little carried away sometimes, and he had these little signals. Being the social genius that he was, Niccolo knew that everyone has little ticks that connect directly to something that the individual is going to do, but not a lot of people notice them like him. For instance, when people lie, their eyes might blink more than normal, or their breathing could become irregular, or their eyes switch direction much too often and much too quickly. Those tiny things that most people overlook, the things that were the most difficult to catch live, were the things that Niccolo looked for when he was watching Domani. He had found a few of them, and they could give away when the Ocello male was going to go on one of his violent rampages with a victim, however they were almost never consistent. It was a little harder than one might think, but Niccolo supposed that it depended on who he was torturing. A finger twitches towards his knife here, a tapping of his foot there, a smirk, or a sexual comment. You just ne’er could guess with good ol’ Dom.

Oh. Op. Oh, wait. There he went. Niccolo sighed inaudibly through his nose, looking down and off to the side at an angle, not entirely sure what would come of this. As his head turned, he caught sight of Luciano out of the corner of his eye, and he barely suppressed the urge to jump. He had forgotten that the man was still in the room after he had left the immediate area to go and have his phone call. But Niccolo guessed that that was done now, since he was just kind of… standing there. Creepin’. Was that how people portrayed him when he just stood there and stared? But his was kind of different, wasn’t it? His was like… studious and solemn and mysterious, right? Oh well, it wasn’t like it mattered anyways. He could hear moans of pain coming from the Russian boy and maybe it was time that he started paying attention again. He turned his head back, and for the first time in about three minutes he actually watched Pascal. And what he saw was very very entertaining. If his face wasn’t red before, it sure as hell was now, and Niccolo could practically feel the vibes rolling off of Pascal just in his facial expressions alone. He wasn’t very good at this ‘torture victim’ thing. It was funny, because he had been so damn cocky when it was only Niccolo and Niccolo wasn’t touching him, but now that Domani was all up in his grill, things were a whole lot different. When Domani was set in his approach, nobody could come through on top. It was just impossible, and Niccolo had seen it enough times by now to know how things would end up. And with his suddenly extremely shy behavior, it wasn’t difficult this time around either. School girls could have hidden it better. Niccolo simply clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in order to get Domani’s attention for a moment. He just figured that he should warn him, because if Domani wasn’t careful, he might have the poor kid exploding within minutes. He probably wanted to drag it out longer than that, and in order to make that happen he might want to dial back the sexy.

“E 'una vergine.”

[[ ooc; Italian. "He's a virgin." ]]


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                                          The three walked towards the club just across the street. Roland put his hand on the door handle when Sacha reached out tapping his shoulder. "Roland." His head turned as he looked at the boy. "What?" Alex moved to the door opening it up. "How do you know that man wasn't lying? Any of them could've been paid off to help with the - "

                                          Splatter.

                                          Roland's mouth dropped open as Sacha's face split open and blood splattered all over his clothing. Alex quickly wrapped an arm around Roland's neck, ripping him to the side as the two of them quickly threw themselves against the brick wall next to the club. "Get to the car." Roland called ripping out his gun. "Are you stupid? You get to the car." Alex spoke back. Roland's eyes narrowed and he poked his head around the corner just in time to catch a man running in their direction. BANG. Dead. He fell right near Sacha's body. Alex quickly cut out in front of Roland and began to rage towards the bar. Roland pushed away from the alley way and followed. Another rain of gunshots went off before Roland And Sacha were marching through the bar to a man cradling his knee and shoulder - screeching in pain. Roland lightly knelt down, silently watching the man as he laid there screaming and crying.

                                          "KILL ME. KILL ME." The man finally said rolling away so he wasn't facing the two. "Where's Pascal?" Roland finally asked, his arm reaching out and gently took hold of the male's arm. With a light tug the man was pulled from the ground and pushed against one of the bar stools where he began screeching again in pain. Roland stepped backwards with the gun still pointed at him. The kidnapper just sat there crying his eyes out. "AHHH. WHO?!" Roland stepped forwards, leaning into the male. "My brother." He whispered as he sat at the stool next to him. "HE'S MISSING? WE AIN'T DO IT. THIS IS ABOUT THE SUPPLIER'S RUN TWO MONTHS AGO." The male's face shot towards Roland, snot now dripping down his face. "YOU PLAYING US, MAN. YOUR DAD IS P-PLAYING US. JOSH WANTS REVENGE ON YO'ALL."

                                          "And where's the club's owner?" Roland asked as he reached out pouring himself a few sips of beer. The glass was brought to his lips as he drank the golden liquid. "TIED UP BACK." Roland stood up. "Alex, bring him outside before you kill him. No reason to add more of a mess to the man's place of business." He knelt down picking up the gun the male had been using. It was slowly handed over to Alex. It would be more sentimental to die by the hand of your friend's gun. Roland moved to the back of the place, finding his way to an office. The door opened and sure enough there was a man tied up to a chair. Roland untied him and took the cloth from the man's mouth. "You've a message for me, I believe."

                                          "Who were those guys? The ******** just happened?" Roland shrugged. "Nobody important. Just some of my father's greedy friends. Now where is he?" The man panicked a moment before putting his hand up. "Ocello. I was just supposed to tell you Ocello I dunno s**t about nothing though! Please don't kill me!"
                                          _______________________________________

                                          Roland and Alex walked through the doors to the mansion and Roland pulled out his phone, sending a text. The two began to walk down a flight of stairs and Roland moved through a door, Alex still by his side. He turned a corner and two men were standing there. Roland didn't turn his head. He just began to unbutton his bloody shirt. "... Roland." Alex muttered as the two walked towards him, grasping his arms. "Goodbye, Alex." His shirt slipped off his arms and it was tossed over his shoulder before he began to walk again. "Wait. Roland." The two men began to drag him away though. Roland turned the corner and made his way to his room - the door quickly slamming behind him.

                                          Sacha. Gone.

                                          No hope. Roland had no goddamn ******** hope. Alex was gone. It was all his fault for causing this. Had he just done his job - Pascal wouldn't have been allowed to go clubbing. Roland sat on his bed chucking his shirt on the ground. His pants were quickly ripped off and followed them as he made his way to the shower. He stepped inside turning up the hot water, then his fist went out punching the shower tiles. He turned around glaring at the floor as his body slowly fell to the ground. He cradled his head in his arms as a few tears fell from his cheek. He didn't cry. Roland never cried. It was just a simple few tears falling from his eye sockets. After his shower the boy threw on some pajamas and fell in his bed throwing the blankets over his head. Where he would be woken by a breakfast some maid brought in... And Pascal would not.

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                                          [ Ꮮocation ] [ Home Sweet Home. ]
                                          [ Ꮯompany ] [ Sacha, Alex. No one. ]
Corpius's avatar

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                                          It was a terrible day for the Shaprio family, and Misha knew it because even he was feeling gloomy. Gloomy, and a tad guilty. Misha never felt guilty- it was sickening feeling , like getting punched in the gut. But Pascal had been a friend and he couldn't help but fear that the kidnapping was somehow his fault. He should have kept a closer eye on him; the clubs were his territory after all. It didn't matter that he hadn't even seen the other boy last night, he didn't like feeling this helpless in finding him. Of course, there was more of a reason for him to feel terrible than that. They didn't know who had taken Pascal, or why, and a dark knot in the bottom of Misha's stomach half-knew that it had to be those assholes who hadn't gotten the drugs they'd paid for. Because Misha had used them himself and had put off getting more until he could afford it. If they'd taken the younger Shaprio, Misha might as well book himself a one way flight out of the country and change his name to Scott or something. Roland would kill him. Slowly.

                                          But they didn't know for sure yet. Still, Misha had screwed up big time, and he knew it. He felt trapped in the huge house the Russian family called home, yet he was reluctant to leave while Roland was still out looking, so he found himself prowling a repetative path through the halls, until a commotion at the entrance drew him back. Roland had returned, Alex at his side, splattered in blood, which was enough to make Misha pull back and follow quietly behind unnoticed. But where was Sacha? Misha had liked the man, for as little as he talked and as gruff as he could be. Perhaps he was still out looking--

                                          Misha didn't bother to hold onto that hope as he witnessed two Shaprio men grab Alex and drag him off. Roland vanished, leaving the boy alone in the hall, tugging on a strand of his hair and contemplating the idea of just leaving now and never coming back. Maybe he'd take a bus out of Albion and find a new city. Only knowing that he really did owe something to Pascal made him hesitate.

                                          An hour or so of indecision lead him to standing outside Roland's rooms, one hand raised to knock on the closed door as he chewed on his lip, weight shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He wasn't as close to Roland, not like Pascal who was a bit closer to him in personality, but he liked the elder brother just as much. And he had to know what they'd found out- they had to know something, right?

                                          He knocked twice, still unsure because he was positive Roland would just tell him to ******** off (and Misha wouldn't blame him), and spoke quietly. "It's Misha. Are...are you asleep?"
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                                          Knock, Knock.

                                          His eyes shot open to see nothing but darkness, he slowly reached up pulling the covers away from his face. He was going to shoot whoever that was in the face. Roland never got disturbed unless it was something important. The person behind that door was holding bad news. He wasn't going to hear it. "It's Misha. Are... are you asleep?" Roland slowly ripped himself out of bed (which was rather difficult, seeing as this was the first time he had slept in the past two days). He brushed off his red silk pajamas and walked to his bedroom door. The robe that was hanging from the back was wrapped around his shoulders and he quickly tightened the tie. Roland opened it up with his head held high, as if nothing were wrong. "What is it, Misha?" Roland asked as he stepped aside, allowing the young boy to enter his room.

                                          There was a number of reasons as to why Roland was allowing Misha in his room. For starters, the only reason Misha was here in the first place was because of Pascal. Roland didn't quite know Misha's story or much about the boy - but he did know Pascal saw him as a friend. He had to convince their father to take him in and allow him to be part of the family. So, Roland's father allowed him to join in and do some petty work. He said something about seeing potential in Misha. Over the years they could mold him. Anyways, having Misha with him was the closest thing Roland had to being with Pascal.

                                          "I'm sure by now you've heard the news about Pascal." Because everyone in the house had known about Pascal. Everyone kept checking up to see if Roland was okay. It was driving him crazy. "When's the last time you've seen him?" He asked as he moved towards one of the chairs next to his bookcase. He took a seat and one leg crossed over the other. Since his trip with Sasha and Alex, who were both now dead, Roland had learned one bit of information. The information he knew in the gut of his stomach all along. "I know who took him now." He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose that's half the battle."

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                                          [ Ꮮocation ] [ Home Sweet Home. ]
                                          [ Ꮯompany ] [ Misha. ]
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                                              Domani flashed Niccolo a brief smile once he felt Pascal shake under his control. This was easy...a little too easy. It's a wonder why Domani did any work when he was at school. Growing up in a country were foreign guys were hot, boosted his ego. Seeing as he was already a pretty attractive male, the Italiano blood running through his veins and the fluent Italian flowing from his mouth was more than enough to control those American girl. Getting then to do whatever Domani asked. Many questioned why he never used them to do his school work but he never responded. He knew the only reason was that in his family, it pays to be intelligent. The more you know the more power you get. And also the more men wan't you dead. If Domani was going to survive in this world he'd have to be intelligent, trustworthy, and very very very manipulative. Who knew his special brand of temptation would work on guys just the same. But still, he didn't expect Pascal to crack with only a touch.

                                              The spot where is hand laid in the Russian's hair started to heat up. Once Dom looked down he could easily see why. The blood on his head blended in perfectly with the shade of red his face and neck just turned. Signaling Domani to keep going. He bit his tongue to prevent a sarcastic comment from escaping his lips once Pascal brought up the possibility of Domani getting blood on his hands. Didn't the kid know by now that Domani's a killer. Getting blood on himself was a common as sweat.“Well maybe I'd rather get you in my hands.” He replied in the same low tone. Letting a gentle stream of warm breath go to work on the back of Pascal's neck. And then Domani realized victory. Pascal slipped up. He stuttered and Domani could practically feel the kid chastising himself, Dom gripped the Russian's hair, careful to avoid the wound this time, and yanked up. Not rough enough to pull his hair out, just enough to regain the kids attention. “What kind of orders would you like to follow?” As if Domani didn't already know.

                                              He slowly moved towards the Russian's exposed neck. Checkma-. The click came in at the perfect timing. Domani could feel everything else start to slip away. He was definitely about to break this boy but Nic saved him. He was going to pay for that as soon as the two of them left this room. Domani slowly looked up not even trying to hide the dark look across his face. He hated when he was bothered during play time. Once the twisted Dom came out it was best to let him have his fun and return to normal. Or one will find themselves the victim of his power. "E 'una vergine.” Domani groaned. Sure it sounded like one of pleasure to anyone who didn't know him that well but he was a bit frustrated. He wanted to break the tension by whining out a 'Seriously?' Knowing that he'd have to dial back his approach. Too much sexy and he'll have the Russian handing over his whole family just to meet Domani in the closest bedroom. Within a few more minutes Domani could win but that was no fun. He enjoyed playing with his food before the feast and he'd be damned if skipped straight to picking the left over bits out of his teeth. He was just getting started and was in no mood to stop. “Sounds like you have something that I might just take before we let you leave out of here.” Domani let his lips gently brush against Pascel's ear before he let go his hair and walked out in front of him. He crouched down, similar to what his brother did, and letting their eyes meet. He knew he'd only play the lust role a bit longer before switching it up. He might just excite the kid then leave him, all alone. To deal with his problem on his own. Or maybe he'd actually do what he came here to do. Some damage.


                                              Out Of Control:
Corpius's avatar

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                                          Misha crept into the room, still far too nervous to act like his usual self, and while Roland made for the chair, the younger boy sat on the foot of the bed and drew his legs up. He was like a cat, always sitting where it was most comfortable even if it wasn't exactly where he was supposed to sit. Then again, it was hard to tell him to move when he looked so much like a sad waif in his torn jeans and someone else's ancient t-shirt, worn thin with holes in it. He really didn't care much about clothes; as long as it was comfortable and clean, he'd wear it. It didn't even have to fit, which made him look even more like a hopeless salvation army case. It wasn't that he couldn't afford it- he just didn't care for the idea of spending more than a dollar or two on shirt (or getting it for free, even better) when that money could be spent else where.

                                          Misha nodded as the don spoke, light blue eyes watching his mouth move, then drifted away as he thought about the question. "I didn't see him last night. I don't think he even showed up at Limbo. I know when he left, he sent me something about being annoyed with....Alex." Who was dead. Which made Misha's hands shake, mostly out of fear for his own fate, so he wrapped them around his knees. "And then he just disappeared. Couldn't call him, nothing." He shrugged. Pascal spent most of his time trying to escape Alex's watchful eye- not only did he rarely succeed, but he also at least let Misha know so they could meet somewhere else.

                                          Sure he'd recalled everything pertinant to the question, his eyes returned to Roland's face. "Did you find anything? At all?" Hopefully not a body. Oh, god, surely Roland would have said something if they'd found Pascal's body?

                                          "I know who took him now. I suppose that's half the battle." Roland's answer made him breathe a sigh of relief. So it wasn't the worst case senario, but from the awful tone of his voice Misha was sure that it wasn't good either. If it was just some cranky junkies trying to get their fix, then the Shaprio family could swat them like a fly, regardless of whether they'd kidnapped Pascal or not. If it was a matter of money or drugs...

                                          Swallowing hard, Misha offered his guess. "Was it the Ocellos?" What the Italian family wanted, Misha couldn't really fathom. Drugs or money didn't seem like their thing- but then it was no secret that Carmine Ocello hated the Russian family and Misha knew that better than most of the family. Perhaps that was reason enough for the kidnapping. "What are we going to do." The question was rhetorical, for the most part. More of a statement than anything. They were going to do what they could, but part of Misha couldn't help but think that Pascal was as good as dead. Sad for Misha, but mostly he just felt terrible for Roland. "I'm so sorry, Roland." It was probably a bit direspectful to use his name, but the younger boy had still had a hard time thinking of him as the don, even if it was only temporary.

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