Cosa Nostra
Cosa Nostra; Prologue
Shadows crept along the concrete floor in bulky patterns of muscle and body mass, snaking down the hallway as a distant clamor echoed against the holding-cell walls. Dirt crumbled to the floor as a particularly boisterous laugh rumbled through, and a boy glanced up from his a crouched position on the ground, broom in hand.
Sweeping the cobblestone walkways of the pub was a lost cause, more meant to keep him out of the way than anything else. It was rare that the holding-cells held any prisoners, all poor souls who happened to let an important piece of information slip while drinking, though now was an exception. The farthest cell was shrouded in darkness, too far for even the underground lamps to illuminate, or for the shadows of the bar-goers to even reach.
But someone was there. He could feel it.
An airy breeze startled the boy, and the broom tumbled down to the ground, whapping against the concrete in a way that was almost deafening for the silence. Though he scrambled to pick it up, his eyes couldn’t leave the dark recesses of the rear end of the chamber, the sound of dripping water from corroded pipes almost as loud as his own heartbeat.
He had been a worker for the bar for as long as he could remember, cleaning this and sorting that, but he couldn’t recall ever being this fearful to take one step closer to a cell with a prisoner. The air as cold and stagnant, and it made his skin crawl, goosebumps making him shiver and raise an eyebrow in a bittersweet curiosity.
Who was it?
Usually he knew. The bar keeper would tell him a name and sometimes even a reason for their being captive. The prisoners never stayed long though. They came and went without any hint to what their fate would be—but that’s how they did things. The Lords. The ones who controlled the fates of people like himself, destined to live a life in the underground city of Roma.
He shivered at the thought. He had never met a lord, and prayed he would never have to. They had frightening powers, or so he had heard, and were desperate to keep their secrets, even if it meant a handful of lives. Even if it meant the life of the person in the cell not twenty feet from him, quiet enough to make question of whether or not he was even alive.
That cold feeling filled the air. He was certainly alive.
“Tsuna!”
The boy stumbled forward, shocked out of his mind when the door behind him flew open, the heavy-set bartender stalking in with a scowl on his face. He was a greasy older man with chiseled features and sideburns that practically devoured either side of his face. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were narrowed, darting around the room in an irritated manner.
“Y-yes?” Tsuna scrambled to his feet, hugging the broom close to his chest, his head heavy with his settling surprise and a misplaced worry. It wasn’t unusual for him to get yelled at; he was clumsy and forgetful, and mediocre at nearly every task he was assigned, no matter how simple.
The man snorted and peeked around the room, his face contorted with disgust. “You’ve been down here for an hour and this is all you’ve managed?” He scuffed the cobblestone block beneath him, causing a bit of dust to rise. “If it weren’t for my promise to your mother, you’d be out on the streets,” he muttered. “I was going to ask you to get him some food, since we can’t have him dying before they arrive, but I’m not even sure you can do that right…”
Tsuna’s had fell slightly, his unkept brunet hair bobbing against his cheeks. His parents had left him in the bar keeper’s care after he had been born, and that had been the end of that relationship. There had always been a bitterness, but one Tsuna couldn’t find the energy to argue with. After all, if your parents abandoned you before you even had the chance to prove yourself, you were bound to be no good.
“I-I can do it!” He held the broom loosely, wanting the task. He wanted to be as useful as he could be, even if it was for something so menial. The barkeep grumbled. “Get to it then,” he said, and he trudged back out of the door and into the loud music and chattering that weekend nights brought the business.
He glanced back into the darkness, his fear welling inside of him again. There was also a pity, however, for the person trapped behind those bars. His time was numbered, even if he seemed to have no fear for it. Tsuna took a shaky breath and paced forward, slowly, afraid to blink as he got closer to the darkened corner of the underground room. His hands were shaking around the broom in his hand, and he stopped a few feet before the cell, too anxious to continue into the shadows.
“Why would you let him speak to you like that?”
The voice was smooth, like that of someone who had an answer for the question despite it being asked. It caught Tsuna off guard and he stepped backwards, glancing around nervously, hoping that the question hadn’t been directed at him. His breathing hastened, adrenaline running marathons through his veins, his mouth suddenly dry.
After minutes had passed, the voice sounded again.
“You should have defended yourself.” It was a statement, followed by another. “Being scared is pointless.”
His heart sank a little as Tsuna stared, trying to make sense of the comments. Of course being scared wasn’t pointless! He needed a job…and apart from that, this was a criminal giving him advice!
“Are you too afraid to prove your worth?” The voice came through the darkness so swiftly that Tsuna swallowed harshly, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Whether or not he was allowed to have a real conversation with the prisoner was something he wasn’t sure of.
“I-I just want to know what…y-you’d like to eat…” his words faded and he clutched the broom, the stale air of the hallways making him feel minutely claustrophobic. There was a pregnant pause, long enough to make Tsuna think the man was ignoring him. He parted his lips to ask again, but that voice filled the chamber again, making him jump.
“You are not what I expected.”
At this Tsuna inhaled sharply, his eyes forming a frown as he was caught off guard. What was the man saying now? He was probably crazy. Tsuna was tempted to believe that his pity had been wasted.
“I…don’t know you.” Tsuna said, a bit belabored. There was a soft chuckle followed by an answer.
“That doesn’t stop me from knowing you.” There was a short pause and Tsuna heard movement, though not enough to picture just how the man had shifted. Tsuna remained quiet, unsure of what to say. The man sounded very serious, though in Tsuna’s mind, the conversation was ridiculous. He wasn’t worth knowing about.
“I’m sorry to have to do this, but when they get here, it will be harder to keep you out of their hands.” There was more movement and Tsuna glanced around, the air suddenly feeling heavy again.
Keep me out of their hands?
Tsuna’s eyebrows furrowed at the absurdity of the statement, but there was nothing in the man’s voice to make him feel like it was a lie. It just…made no sense.
The rhythmic music from the piano in the bar hall had paused and the rowdy sound of late-night drinkers ha dies down as well, something unusual. It made him glance to the doorway, wondering if something had happened. Had the lords already arrived to pick up the prisoner? It was plausible…but chilling.
“Tsuna,” the sound of his name made his head jerk back to the cell, only his vision drifted to the concrete below, where a shadow was beginning to seep out of the darkness of the concrete, coming closer to him in the shape of a human, lean and elegant, the outline of a top hat and two curled sideburns making him stumble backwards.
“Y-you’re a—“ The broom fell from Tsuna’s hand, recognizing the shadowy outline from stories he had heard as a child. The man was from the above-world—an assassin—someone who worked directly beneath the lords, obeying their every whim if only for the right price. But what was he doing in Roma…?
There was yelling in the main hall, and Tsuna felt fear overwhelm him. Something was wrong. Something was happening, and somehow, with no knowledge of it, he was involved. The shadow of the man came nearly inches from his feet and he stumbled back, his heartbeat pounding against his temples like a timpani. “You’re…a hitman!”
He could almost feel the smirk of the prisoner. “Bingo,” he heard, and Tsuna felt his nerves waver. “Only instead of killing you…” his voice became surprisingly confident, “I’m going to bring you to life.”
A gun rose from the shadows and met his forehead, a round cocking into place, Tsuna’s breath catching in his throat. Memories flashed before his eyes, the want to have been something more, the urge to have stood up to his boss tickling his mind, if only for a moment. A mixture of confusion and horror claimed him as he saw a finger tighten on the trigger.
The door to the holding room burst open, whatever commotion that had been occurring outside making its way into the stone-cold hallway, but Tsuna didn’t hear it. The sound of the gunshot was deafening, and before he could even beg for mercy his world faded to black.
Shadows crept along the concrete floor in bulky patterns of muscle and body mass, snaking down the hallway as a distant clamor echoed against the holding-cell walls. Dirt crumbled to the floor as a particularly boisterous laugh rumbled through, and a boy glanced up from his a crouched position on the ground, broom in hand.
Sweeping the cobblestone walkways of the pub was a lost cause, more meant to keep him out of the way than anything else. It was rare that the holding-cells held any prisoners, all poor souls who happened to let an important piece of information slip while drinking, though now was an exception. The farthest cell was shrouded in darkness, too far for even the underground lamps to illuminate, or for the shadows of the bar-goers to even reach.
But someone was there. He could feel it.
An airy breeze startled the boy, and the broom tumbled down to the ground, whapping against the concrete in a way that was almost deafening for the silence. Though he scrambled to pick it up, his eyes couldn’t leave the dark recesses of the rear end of the chamber, the sound of dripping water from corroded pipes almost as loud as his own heartbeat.
He had been a worker for the bar for as long as he could remember, cleaning this and sorting that, but he couldn’t recall ever being this fearful to take one step closer to a cell with a prisoner. The air as cold and stagnant, and it made his skin crawl, goosebumps making him shiver and raise an eyebrow in a bittersweet curiosity.
Who was it?
Usually he knew. The bar keeper would tell him a name and sometimes even a reason for their being captive. The prisoners never stayed long though. They came and went without any hint to what their fate would be—but that’s how they did things. The Lords. The ones who controlled the fates of people like himself, destined to live a life in the underground city of Roma.
He shivered at the thought. He had never met a lord, and prayed he would never have to. They had frightening powers, or so he had heard, and were desperate to keep their secrets, even if it meant a handful of lives. Even if it meant the life of the person in the cell not twenty feet from him, quiet enough to make question of whether or not he was even alive.
That cold feeling filled the air. He was certainly alive.
“Tsuna!”
The boy stumbled forward, shocked out of his mind when the door behind him flew open, the heavy-set bartender stalking in with a scowl on his face. He was a greasy older man with chiseled features and sideburns that practically devoured either side of his face. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were narrowed, darting around the room in an irritated manner.
“Y-yes?” Tsuna scrambled to his feet, hugging the broom close to his chest, his head heavy with his settling surprise and a misplaced worry. It wasn’t unusual for him to get yelled at; he was clumsy and forgetful, and mediocre at nearly every task he was assigned, no matter how simple.
The man snorted and peeked around the room, his face contorted with disgust. “You’ve been down here for an hour and this is all you’ve managed?” He scuffed the cobblestone block beneath him, causing a bit of dust to rise. “If it weren’t for my promise to your mother, you’d be out on the streets,” he muttered. “I was going to ask you to get him some food, since we can’t have him dying before they arrive, but I’m not even sure you can do that right…”
Tsuna’s had fell slightly, his unkept brunet hair bobbing against his cheeks. His parents had left him in the bar keeper’s care after he had been born, and that had been the end of that relationship. There had always been a bitterness, but one Tsuna couldn’t find the energy to argue with. After all, if your parents abandoned you before you even had the chance to prove yourself, you were bound to be no good.
“I-I can do it!” He held the broom loosely, wanting the task. He wanted to be as useful as he could be, even if it was for something so menial. The barkeep grumbled. “Get to it then,” he said, and he trudged back out of the door and into the loud music and chattering that weekend nights brought the business.
He glanced back into the darkness, his fear welling inside of him again. There was also a pity, however, for the person trapped behind those bars. His time was numbered, even if he seemed to have no fear for it. Tsuna took a shaky breath and paced forward, slowly, afraid to blink as he got closer to the darkened corner of the underground room. His hands were shaking around the broom in his hand, and he stopped a few feet before the cell, too anxious to continue into the shadows.
“Why would you let him speak to you like that?”
The voice was smooth, like that of someone who had an answer for the question despite it being asked. It caught Tsuna off guard and he stepped backwards, glancing around nervously, hoping that the question hadn’t been directed at him. His breathing hastened, adrenaline running marathons through his veins, his mouth suddenly dry.
After minutes had passed, the voice sounded again.
“You should have defended yourself.” It was a statement, followed by another. “Being scared is pointless.”
His heart sank a little as Tsuna stared, trying to make sense of the comments. Of course being scared wasn’t pointless! He needed a job…and apart from that, this was a criminal giving him advice!
“Are you too afraid to prove your worth?” The voice came through the darkness so swiftly that Tsuna swallowed harshly, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Whether or not he was allowed to have a real conversation with the prisoner was something he wasn’t sure of.
“I-I just want to know what…y-you’d like to eat…” his words faded and he clutched the broom, the stale air of the hallways making him feel minutely claustrophobic. There was a pregnant pause, long enough to make Tsuna think the man was ignoring him. He parted his lips to ask again, but that voice filled the chamber again, making him jump.
“You are not what I expected.”
At this Tsuna inhaled sharply, his eyes forming a frown as he was caught off guard. What was the man saying now? He was probably crazy. Tsuna was tempted to believe that his pity had been wasted.
“I…don’t know you.” Tsuna said, a bit belabored. There was a soft chuckle followed by an answer.
“That doesn’t stop me from knowing you.” There was a short pause and Tsuna heard movement, though not enough to picture just how the man had shifted. Tsuna remained quiet, unsure of what to say. The man sounded very serious, though in Tsuna’s mind, the conversation was ridiculous. He wasn’t worth knowing about.
“I’m sorry to have to do this, but when they get here, it will be harder to keep you out of their hands.” There was more movement and Tsuna glanced around, the air suddenly feeling heavy again.
Keep me out of their hands?
Tsuna’s eyebrows furrowed at the absurdity of the statement, but there was nothing in the man’s voice to make him feel like it was a lie. It just…made no sense.
The rhythmic music from the piano in the bar hall had paused and the rowdy sound of late-night drinkers ha dies down as well, something unusual. It made him glance to the doorway, wondering if something had happened. Had the lords already arrived to pick up the prisoner? It was plausible…but chilling.
“Tsuna,” the sound of his name made his head jerk back to the cell, only his vision drifted to the concrete below, where a shadow was beginning to seep out of the darkness of the concrete, coming closer to him in the shape of a human, lean and elegant, the outline of a top hat and two curled sideburns making him stumble backwards.
“Y-you’re a—“ The broom fell from Tsuna’s hand, recognizing the shadowy outline from stories he had heard as a child. The man was from the above-world—an assassin—someone who worked directly beneath the lords, obeying their every whim if only for the right price. But what was he doing in Roma…?
There was yelling in the main hall, and Tsuna felt fear overwhelm him. Something was wrong. Something was happening, and somehow, with no knowledge of it, he was involved. The shadow of the man came nearly inches from his feet and he stumbled back, his heartbeat pounding against his temples like a timpani. “You’re…a hitman!”
He could almost feel the smirk of the prisoner. “Bingo,” he heard, and Tsuna felt his nerves waver. “Only instead of killing you…” his voice became surprisingly confident, “I’m going to bring you to life.”
A gun rose from the shadows and met his forehead, a round cocking into place, Tsuna’s breath catching in his throat. Memories flashed before his eyes, the want to have been something more, the urge to have stood up to his boss tickling his mind, if only for a moment. A mixture of confusion and horror claimed him as he saw a finger tighten on the trigger.
The door to the holding room burst open, whatever commotion that had been occurring outside making its way into the stone-cold hallway, but Tsuna didn’t hear it. The sound of the gunshot was deafening, and before he could even beg for mercy his world faded to black.
