Like Puppets on A String [Marco] ●

[Oriana Verdi]

A soft roll of shoulders and a subtle pop of neck muscles earned a soft sigh from pensive lips as Oriana stood in line at the café. While the morning hour graced the establishment with less people than it would at lunch, there seemed to be a customer about two people ahead of her who could not make up his goddamn mind. Really how hard was it to find a suitable drink and breakfast food? Teeth grit, but Oriana reminded herself she had time. She wouldn’t have been there if she was on a set schedule for the day’s activities. No, she could take her time. It was yet another shopping day, but with the Christmas season settling into an after New Year’s lull, she could be sure there would be less people at the stores. It was the only reason she left, honestly- well that, and she and Michelina needed groceries.

Sharpened nails clawed through green locks as Oriana took a step forwards upon the line finally moving. The next customer had his order ready, and in what were but short minutes thereafter, it was Oriana that now stood at the counter regarding what she wanted. Purple eyes stared briefly at the cashier before rising to the list of things that could be purchased briefly. Oriana already knew what she wanted, but cafés had an unnecessary habit of renaming the simplest of drinks to fit their personal ‘style’ whatever that actually meant. Folding her arms in front of herself, Oriana finally settled on something labeled ‘Mocha Delight’ and a muffin that was much easier to order. Paying with a flash of her card, she stepped aside allowing the next customer to order while she waited for her drink to be prepared and her desired delicacy to be grabbed from the shelf.

Allowing her gaze to deviate from the small counter where her order would be left for her, Oriana scanned the café a bit lazily. Nothing of interest caught her initial gaze, and she would turn around to find the muffin and coffee waiting for her. Clasping the drink and refreshment, she turned again and started towards the exit.

Marco Antoni Verdi

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

He'd been watching her for several days now. Always in the shadows. Always just steps behind, yet he minus well have been miles away for all his target knew. He was just that good at stalking his prey. He was casual, making it look effortless to be unnoticed. Years of training had honed that skill for him. The funny thing was, he was barely trying. He'd not used his gift yet and was just moving along on skill alone. The mafioso known to his enemies as "El fantasma diVerdi" or "The Verdi Ghost" had earned that tittle of terror only recently since the Gods decided to impose their will on mankind. He was just Marco to the famiglia and was always a step ahead of his targets. Like a ghost, it was as if he wasn't there at all. At least to his prey anyway. Marco was every bit a normal live human being.

Marco knew she spent most her time indoors. This was only the second time she was out and about and he was not going to miss his chance to achieve his goal. He'd been looking forward to this moment for twelve years. She'd been out of his reach for so long that he thought he'd never see her again. So much pain. He needed to end this. To find closure. It had almost driven him mad over the years, and his own family was to blame for keeping his target out of reach. Being cut off from the Don gave him the break he needed. He was no longer bound by the Don's order of no contact. Marco was a made man. A man of rank in his family. He could make his own rules now.

She turned into a cafe and Marco decided it was time to move in. His purple eye followed her progress to the counter. His other eye remained hidden behind a custom patch for his safety. He stared at her, not in hatred or malice, but with longing.

Marco entered the cafe and took a seat at a table with just two chairs that was in the venue between the counter and the exit. She would pass by him, he knew she must come this way. He sat with his back to her. He would be inconspicuous. Simply another patron, be it a very well dressed one. He took pride in being a made man. He was dressed to kill, but not in the sense of harming a person, but something more important. Image. He was in a custom tailored white suit with matching white hat. Not a wrinkle could be seen. His penny loafers gleaming with a polish that looked like glass. The penny itself was fresh off the mint and un-circulated. The black dress shirt underneath fit him like a glove made just for him. The tie, silk and purple like his eyes. Green hair would be the only clue for the person who would soon pass him on her way out of the cafe.

He waited patiently for her. He knew that once he brought her her attention to him that his life would change forever. This was going to be a defining moment in his life, and he waited. There was a slight movement of his hat and he knew that she approached. She passed him and time slowed for Marco. He took her in and his heart skipped a beat as she passed.

"Oriana" he called out to her. Of course he knew her name. He'd longed to speak the words to his only remaining twin sister as he smoothly pushed his chair back and stood. He was ready to reach out and take her by the shoulder to stop her if need be. Tears wanted to well, but he swallowed and regained control. "Could you spare a moment? I must speak with you" He said as he motioned to the only other seat. He was being a gentleman. It was his way. He stayed the urges to take her into his arms and embrace her. He could not allow himself that. Not yet. Not until he revealed his horrible secret. Twelve years since their last meeting. Ten since his other twin sister passed.

[Oriana Verdi]

Oriana stopped. There was no mistaking it. Her name had been spoken. She’d been called out to. Someone wanted her attention. The accent was recognized instinctively, but the voice didn’t register. What did one of those goddamn mafia goons want? They knew better than to approach her in public especially if they wanted news on a project long dead to her. The barrier had freed her from obligations, and of the straggling members still loyal to the don, Oriana thought she’d swatted most of them away with her power. Electric amethyst eyes darted accusingly in the direction she’d heard the voice, but the minute they latched onto the figure now standing up from the table not far from her, Oriana froze.

Sharp dress, green hair, and an eye too similar to her own, these things Oriana took in in an instant. Though he was older, though he’d grown a bit of facial hair, and though he wore an eye patch, Marco was still Marco and still easily recognizable to her. Pale lips parted, but Oriana was silent as she stared at him. Had she been younger, had she been eighteen right then and there, the woman wouldn’t have hesitated to shout, to call his name, to bound over to him and throw her arms around his neck. She wouldn’t have hesitated to call him fratello and squeeze the ever living daylights out of him in joy that he was there.

Oriana was no longer a young woman, however. Years had passed, and she had not seen Marco in more than a decade. These facts could not be ignored. In fact, they beat their way to the front of her mind, and her features hardened into venom. Turning fully and closing the distance between him, Oriana walked sharply, threateningly. “Marco Verdi, how dare you,” Oriana snapped out dropping the muffin to seize his tie. Yanking it down, she made to head-butt him. It hurt, even to Oriana, but she didn’t let go of his tie, didn’t let him pull away. Purple eyes welled with tears, but she kept her vision stagnant, focused only on him. “Where have you been?” her voice was significantly quieter now. “You damn….damn man….where the hell have you been….” Her hand slipped. Her drink dropped to the ground, and Oriana seized Marco’s shirt and jacket with both hands instead. Pressing her face to his chest, she trembled now refusing to look at him. “Where were you?” the last question, significantly quieter than either of her two sentences before, was spoken into his chest.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

His sister stopped at his words. Her head and eyes turning his way. Marco could only stand there and focus on her features. He was pleading with his eye for her to come speak with him. This was the closest he'd been to his sister since that day at the family reunion so many years past. He wanted to smile, but again he forced that reaction away. He could not smile like this was a joyous occasion. Yet that is exactly what it should have been. Instead they stared at each other, her recognition of him looking to take its time. Marco watched as her lips parted without words, and he knew then she had indeed recognized him. Marco's arm was still outstretched to the empty chair besides him hanging there waiting for her to accept his invitation.

Would she turn his back on him? He had not a clue of what to expect. From what he knew of Oriana from what he'd read, she was not the type to tun her back on a foe. That detail was a mute point though. The real question was whether or not the family had lied to him about what Oriana knew of their sisters death. Had she really been kept in the dark? Or did she know.... 'Oh God' was his next thought as her eyes Hardened. The look on her face as she turned fully towards him looked to confirm his worst fears... 'She knows' he though, but outward he was steady as a rock. His eye only widened slightly. His expression still neutral. All he'd ever wanted was a chance to explain in his own words what happened the night his other twin died.

His sister strode forward with purpose and he wondered what she would do next. Marco was taller and stronger than she was. He could overpower her if she didn't use her own gift. If she did he had but to remove his eye-patch to predict her movements, but he wouldn't. His life was forfeit when it came to her. Oriana had the sole claim to his uncontested demise, if that is what she wanted. He would not stop her. It was her right to end his life in reperation for his role in their sister's death.

As she spoke his name in a sharp tone, his breath caught. It was the first time He'd heard it from her lips in so long. It did not matter that it sounded angry and she followed it up with "How dare you!" He was just glad to hear it. He drew in a breath and exhaled and felt at peace with himself. His outstretched hand dropped to his side as he wondered if she'd kill him outright. He knew all about her electrical power. She could stop his heart with a touch.

His twin reached out and he braced for the shock that would end him. He'd hopped that in a public place she might have hesitated. Might have given him a chance to shed light on what really happened that night. Whatever the family told her must have been filled with lies, as always. It was always done for the good of the family as a whole, never sparing feelings of an individual. He stiffened and closed his eye as she made contact with him. He felt himself being yanked down, his head hitting hers jarred him. This not what an electric shock was supposed to feel like. His eye opened as he smarted with pain. He gazed upon her, as she gazed onto him, their eyes locked. There were tears there. And a much gentler pain filled voice asked "Where have you been?"

Marco's breath caught. He was at a loss for words. She must not know then. "You damn... damn man... Where the hell have you been?" She asked. She looked to be in such heartache and he could only stand there. As if rooted to the spot and turned to stone. The sound of her beverage hitting the floor at his feet snaps him out of it. His tie has been released, but small hands ball up in his shirt and jacket. She pulled him to her and he offered no resistance as she burried her face in his chest. Marco could feel her trembling and his own eyes spilled ove with tears. He'd waited so long for this reunion. Dreaming of the day he would be reunited with his sister after so long.
"Where were you" she asked in just a whisper.

Marco didn't know what to do... what to say. His arms slowly lifted from his sides to hover just short of embracing Oriana. Guilt and pain marred his features unseen by his sister. What right had he to comfort her? He had such a horrible secret to tell. Yet, there was time in the future for judgment, wasn't there? Dare he?.... take and give comforts just this once?

His eye closed and his arms wrapped themselves around her. Marco squeezed gently but firmly. He was her brother. It was his right. He would be her brother until she told him otherwise.

"Perso cara Sorella” (Lost, Dear sister). “In un luogo molto peggiore del diavolo avete chiesto” (In a place much worse than the hell you've asked about.) He whispered cryptically. He lowered his face to her hair and gently kissed the top of her head, laying his cheek upon her hair afterwards "And I've missed you every single moment of my exile" He breathed in whisper.

[Oriana Verdi]

A torrent gale of emotions and confusion raged inside Oriana. She didn’t know what to do, what to think, what to feel. The last thing she expected had flashed back into her life, and the anguish and longing were unearthed like skeletons of a shallow grave. She wanted to do something. She wanted to yell, to hit him. She wanted to ask him more, to demand answers for why he had been gone, but with her few words spoken, Oriana’s mind was remarkably void. None of these thoughts became action as she clung to him, her hand balled into his shirt to keep him from fading away.

Don’t disappear… her heart willed it, begged it, feared it. If Marco were to vanish right then and there, surely Oriana would tear the café apart. No one would be safe from her menacing grip, and surely everyone would be dead, Oriana included. She was already haunted by Carmina; she couldn’t h be haunted by Marco as well. She wouldn’t be. Don’t leave me. Oriana wanted to say it, struggled to say it, but her lips wouldn’t move. Now that she had clasped the last remnant of her triplet family, Oriana didn’t want to let go, couldn’t let go.

Like a security blanket, the warmth of those arms around Oriana slowly soothed her. The assurance that Marco was real, was there, was somehow alive was a breath Oriana didn’t know she’d been holding released. It was only in those moments that she realized how sure she had been that he was dead. Something had to have happened to him. That was the explanation her decisive speculation had come up with and fixated on. Years before the toy box appeared, she expected his remains to appear before her. When the wall had gone up, she was sure closure had vanished with the rest of the world. Now though to find him alive was nothing short of painful miracle.

Those words spoken softly in Italian echoed in Oriana’s mind. She didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Had she been a firmer mindset, she might have slapped him for such a cryptic message, yet right then, empathy bled into her veins, and she believed him. A place worse than hell. Oriana’s eyes squelched tightly at the thought. She remembered Dante’s Inferno. She knew it was not a depiction of Hell but a description of Earth, the living world. She knew the malice of demons was the malice of man and knew firsthand what to be afraid of. No, no longer fear. Oriana was a little girl no longer. Those times had passed, and she was done being helpless. Never again would she fear humans; she’d tear them all down instead. That was Oriana’s promise not only to herself but to Michelina. Never again would she be helpless.

Never again.

A few moments of silence persisted after Marco’s last confession before Oriana shaky inhaled and heavily exhaled. “Marco, look what you’ve done,” she spoke pulling back slowly and reaching up a thumb to rub her right eye. Glasses had fogged of their own accord, and Oriana clasped them between thumb and forefinger to remove them. Untucking her dress shirt from her pants, Oriana cleaned the lenses. Her gaze remained lowered, but her cheeks remained clearly flushed. “You’re so damn lucky I don’t wear makeup!” she snapped, but the tone was half-hearted now. “I’ll have you know I hate public displays of affection. They should be kept behind closed doors and…” Stopping, Oriana glanced up with the fiercest expression she could muster. “You better replace my drink and muffin. I paid for those!”

It was only after this that Oriana became aware of the gazes of others in the café. In those moments where she had lost herself, it had been just her and Marco in the café. Now, shew as aware that was not the case. Patrons had glanced up curiously, and the café’s staff was groaning at a spilled drink. Meeting one man’s glance with a sideways glare, Oriana bristled causing the man to quickly look down at his newspaper again.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

Even though he could not see her face and had no clue of the torrent of emotions that were playing on it as he held her, Marco knew Oriana was having a hard time with his sudden appearance. How could she not? He had not had any communication with her since the incident at the party so many years ago. He, however, always knew his sister was safe. He was never officially told anything, but he had his ways of getting information. He'd even paid off a few people to keep him informed. If the Don ever found out, those people would be eliminated for betraying the Don and going against orders. Marco himself would loose his precious link to her whereabouts. So he never dared initiate contact. He could never dare to try to reunite with her. The ghost of Carmina's death kept him from ever contemplating another attempt. It was enough to simply know she was alive.

Oriana seemed to let go of a breath she was holding to melt into him a bit more. Marco tightened his embrace thinking she was about to sob. Instead she shakily inhaled and then exhaled slowly. He loosened his embrace, offering no resistance when she started to pull back slowly. She scolded him for her steamed glasses. All he could say was "Mi dispiace" (i'm sorry) as he watched her un-tuck her shirt and wiped the moisture from them. His arms were still around her loosely, even as she kept her gaze lowered. She was still flushed and he knew she was half hearted when she snapped at him soon after.

Yes, it was expected that she would be angry with him. "It was not my intention to inconvenience you" he replied smoothly. He finally let her go, his arms falling slowly to his sides as she continued on to scold him about doing this to her in public instead of private. Marco's eyes never left her. He agreed with her, but he had his reasons. Not that he was a coward, he simply wanted his chance to say his piece. He'd put his own gun to his head and end his own life, if its what she wanted of him after. But only after he told her everything and not a minute sooner. Marco had waited much too long to speak with her. All those years he carried the crushing burden of their sister's death. All those years he longed for their unification so that he could find closure.

Suddenly his sister just stopped and looked up to look at him. Marco flinched. He did not expect the fierce expression on her face. Her eyes filled with a fire of determination. Then she spoke. It was a reasonable demand. And he marveled at her ability to keep him completely on the defensive, if not disadvantage. He was just at a loss with her. He never knew what to expect. Her actions and facial expressions.... Her body language even. None of it seemed to line up with the words and meanings of the same.

He didn't know if he was about to do something that would anger her, but he smiled at her. He even stifled a chuckle, and he hoped that it would not be taken the wrong way. He was genuinely happy. "But of course, Oriana. Leave it to me, my dear. I shall return promptly" He said with a bow and renewed gesture towards the empty chair. He turned sharply on his heel and strode towards the counter. An employee with a mop was in his path and a hand reached into his jacket and with the flick of a wrist, a crisp Ben Franklin appeared between is fingers and was tucked in the apron pocket of the now surprised employee. A hand on his hat, he nodded an apology to the employee for the mess and continued on his way to the counter.

Marco returned shortly with the exact order she placed before, with an addition of a cup of java for himself. He'd opted for the same one she had, curiosity getting the better of him. It did not go unnoticed to his sharp perception the exchanges of the curious patrons with his sister. Still, he had a smile for her when he asked "Shall we?... Unless you'd prefer to talk here?" Showing that he had indeed heard her words and showing his apology earlier was sincere and he was not going to make her uncomfortable again.

[Oriana Verdi]

Purple sphere would shoot back to Marco after their brief threatening buzz around the café, but upon regarding the man again, they’d softened slightly. Seeing Marco was surreal; truthfully, Oriana half expected him to evaporate or warp away as in the context of a dream. There he was, though, unchanging. When he smiled, she snorted softly feeling a detached irritation towards him. With her emotions under control, Oriana found her thoughts were out of control. There were too many questions that she didn’t have answers to, too many things that didn’t make sense. She wanted to ask, but Oriana knew better. This was a public place, and she would not forsake discretion for answers. She’d already made a big enough scene. Oriana’s teeth grit behind pressed lips.

As Marco complied with her demands, Oriana watched him bow, gesture, and slip away to the front. Sighing, she slowly lowered herself into the chair resisting the urge to set both her elbows on the table and cover up her face. The emotional exhaustion had hit Oriana in the seconds it took her brother to walk away, but she fought not to give into it. For as easy as it would be to break into tears yet again, she wouldn’t allow herself to just yet. Sitting back in the chair, Oriana watched as Marco walked to the front carefully. She didn’t miss his small motion right up against the employee with the mop, but it caused her to glance sideways away from Marco thereafter. His clothing, mannerisms, and gestures hit her all at once, and Oriana realized what she should have the instance she saw him. You’ve become a hit man of the family.

Hundreds of new emotions bubbled inside Oriana at this realization, yet she suppressed them focusing on the logic right then and there. It only made sense, really. No one left the family alive. They would have made use of him in some way, so why groom him into mobster? Oriana bit the inside of her mouth softly. It didn’t fit the Marco she knew, yet ten years was a long time. Ten years was long enough to change people. Even if he looked like her Marco, was he really the same? Skepticism seeded in Oriana’s blood as she briefly watched him reorder her desires. I can’t assume he’s the same… she forced this notion down her own throat. He could be a threat even if we’re far from Italy. This thought set her on edge. She didn’t want to imagine Marco was a threat, but with this notion, she could not rule it out. I have to be more on guard… Oriana breathed in slowly and exhaled just as slowly.

Watching Marco return, Oriana stood up. The question that came thereafter earned a simple nod. “Let’s go somewhere else,” she agreed. While she would have preferred to stay in a public place with this new revelation making her wary, she still had questions that required a private setting. Just be careful… she reminded herself before slowly starting towards the exit of the café. Upon exiting, she glanced briefly up and down the street before diverting her gaze to Marco. “Any specific place?” she asked after a moment.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

Upon his return, Marco knew there was something different about his sister. He really didn't know anything about her and wondered how that "feeling" had come about. He had no explanation. He didn't even know how he could have hoped to notice something like that. But it was there. Like a gut instinct. No... It was more than that. Yet he did not know for sure. Just something. Like she'd somehow become more distant. No mater, he thought back to himself. There was a lot to talk about. He had so many questions, and he'd been keeping an eye on her. She must have many times more questions for him who just seemed to drop in from a black hole.

"Of course. As you wish" He replied to her choice, and held out his hand to help her stand. He walked at her side until they reached the door, and he held that door for her as he'd done for others hundreds of times before. "After you, my fair maiden" he said with a flash of pearly whites and a short bow. He was holding his hat to his head again, instead of removing it for some reason. This was one of the few times he would feel pleasure in the act. He was doing this for himself, and not just as protocol for a higher ranking person. Marco liked being a gentleman. He prided himself on being chivalrous. But he only really took pleasure in his actions for the benefit of women.

Once outside, she would inquire as to where they were going. Marco glanced up at the sky and said simply "It's a beautiful day for a stroll, don't you think?" Then glanced at her, his eyes holding steady on hers for a moment. "Shall we follow our feet for a bit? See where they take us?"

Marco looped his arm through hers and started to walk. He was silent for the moment, simply putting a foot in front of the other and keeping pace with his sister. He was smiling as he walked, but it would be obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere. He looked to stare at nothing as he walked, and with good reason. An internal struggle was being wages, like a war of wills. "I've had dreams of this day. But the weather was always warmer, and involved me in a ridiculously loud hawaiian shirt." He said suddenly.

While that was a true statement, his thoughts were actually on more serious matters. He played scenario after scenario in his head of how he would explain himself to her. How he could possibly even start. Marco wanted to just forget about it for now. To just go on to other questions and other conversation. To catch up just a little bit. But he knew his mind would not allow his that reprieve. Almost 12 years he'd waited for their reunion. Twelve agonizing years, yet they paled at his suffering in these last few months when he had but to reach out and touch his beloved sister. A simple five minute drive to her lab. Yet he could not. Not while he struggled to master his gift. Not while he risked going mad over the curse that was his covered eye.
His smile faded as he continued to think. A scowl forming as he thought about what a coward he was being. Get it over with, damn you!

He closed his eye and then he stopped cold and in turn, brought Oriana to a stop. He drew a deep breath and exhaled the same.

[b["Oriana..."[/b] He stated boldly, Interupting what she'd been saying. He turned his head and his eye met hers. "What did they tell you about our sister Carmina." He asked plainly. He faltered in his speech. He waited instead. To hear the lies of the family. For whatever it was that she would say to him was surely a lie. He could not possibly talk to her about his past without going back to the begining. To that horrid day.

[Oriana Verdi]

Pale lips pressed together as Oriana regarded Marco and his simple gesture at the door. She didn’t stop walking, however, and the look shifted forwards the moment she got outside. In but a few seconds of realization, he’d become a stranger to her, and her mind raced against possibilities. Maybe they should have stayed in the café. At least there, she doubted he could do anything without being caught on camera. No, it wasn’t as though she could choose to walk back in there now. It would not only confuse Marco but confound the situation for the other café patrons. She couldn’t make a mess of this precarious situation.

The suggestion of a stroll was soothing to some degree. Being outside where there was both more room to move around and more eyes to recognize a problem was reassuring to Oriana. “Alright,” she spoke about to simply start walking before finding her arm looped in his. A blush hit Oriana’s cheeks before she could stop it, but she managed to fight down the nervous sound that would have otherwise fought past her teeth. Thankfully Marco had already started walking, and with a glance forwards, Oriana did as well calming with each step. Keep control of the situation she mentally ordered herself. If necessary, her insignia was close at hand— even if she didn’t know his.

Marco’s words cut into Oriana’s thoughts, and she blinked glancing sideways at him as he spoke. Loud Hawaiian shirt? A small smirk grew on Oriana’s features as she sighed glancing forwards. “You’d look ridiculous,” she commented simply. She could imagine it so readily that it was almost funny, but Oriana could not imagine herself in such ware. She’d dawned a certain dress standard for years now, and deviating from it was not something she was comfortable with any longer. These thoughts were cut as well when Marco had stopped walking altogether. Suddenly her blood pressure was up again, and she found her arm shifting out of the loop with her brother’s.

Her name spoken followed by the question was altogether too much for Oriana in those ticking seconds. Her pulse had elevated of its own accord, and her face had blanched. “She died, Marco,” Oriana forced the words past her lips. “She was trying to come see me and got ambushed by that trashy rival group,” Oriana growled refusing to even speak the name of that mafia out loud. She’d punt a baby first. Her hands had balled into fists as she stared at him. “I hate them,” she said bluntly after a few seconds. “I’d kill them all in the blink of an eye if I could.” Thoughts of the way Marco had worded the question were long since gone in that pitch of emotion.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

He smiled at her words about his comment. "On the contrary, I look rather dashing in just about anything." He boasted playfully. "I'll even let you be the one to pick it out" He offered without taking his eyes off the path ahead. He hated himself for trying to be casual.

After Marco finally managing to asking the difficult question, His sister recounted what was told to her all those years ago and pain marred his features. He could not look at her, his eye downcast when she blanched and the first words were simply the fact that their sister Carmina had died. He waited for her to finish and reached out both his hands and gently took Oriana's balled fists in them.

She had every right to be angry. Every right to hate. But that hatred was misplaced and Marco hoped that she did not dirty her hands with vengeance over the years. If she had, it was all his fault as well. But was that not hypocrisy? He too has killed. How many?. He banished the answer from his mind. He was a Verdi. It came with the name. La famiglia. Those deaths were business, nothing more. He'd never killed anyone who was not from a rival family. It was war, nothing more. No innocents. He had no personal feelings involved with any of it, and so he could live with himself. None of that mattered now anyway. Closure was so close. He could taste it. He had to have it. To finally face Judgement from the only person who had the right to. Today was the day. He would set her free. And she would set him free in return. Either through death or deliverance.

"Hanno Mentito!." (They Lied!) He said sharply. "The only truth in that is her death." He said softly afterwards. "To bend your will towards the goals of the family." He said with anger slowly poisoning his soft voice. "To force you to heel, behave, and do their bidding" he said in a softer guilt ridden tone. He took a calming breath. "Will you listen to what really happened that day? Would you allow me to tell you the tale?" He asked in a pleading tone. Then suddenly if was as if his legs gave way. He dropped to his knees before her with her fists still held in his hands. His face lifted so his eye could look into her eyes. Marco's brows were creased as tears welled and he looked to struggle with the pain of of what he was about to say.

"Ero li" (I was there) He admitted, his voice braking as Carmina's final moments replayed in he head for what felt like hundreds of times since the day. He could say no more, for his next words would have been "It was my fault!. I killed her!. That would have been the whole story in a nutshell, but he needed to start from the beginning. He must tell his account of what happened without a single detail being overlooked. Oriana deserved the truth.

[Oriana Verdi]

It was only as her hands were taken that Oriana paused both in spoken word and thought. Her breath stopped short as she assumed Marco was about to scold her for allowing her voice to elevate in public. The muscles in her arms tightened. She’d yank away from him should that be the case. It was his fault for pealing back the bandages of a sore spot in the open air. She would return his scolding’s with her own heightened ones. How dare he bring up the loss of their sister so soon? Why did he think she could bear such emotional baggage so soon after his own reappearance? There were so many things she could have said in retaliation, yet the first words out of Marco’s lips froze her to the spot.

Purple eyes stared wide at Marco. The fire in them had been drenched in two words, and suddenly she was lost. She had said the same thing years ago. She’d shouted at adults daring them to repeat their lies. Her sister couldn’t be dead! But she was. Carmina had been killed, and Oriana had seen the body of the girl she’d come to know as family. Hearing Marco say it was different, however. The words that came after only exemplified the different state of assertion. The only truth was she had died. They had lied….about everything else. They’d lied about how she died. They’d lied to control her, the living sister. Oriana’s teeth grit. It sounded too much like the men she knew, the famiglia she knew. It was always for the family. Lies, concealment, warping the truth to fit their needs. Oriana knew these things were a real part of family politics.

How do you know then? she mentally retorted, the sting of Marco being the liar, the hit man, the danger here, not having left Oriana just yet. However, as he pleaded and suddenly dropped into a begging state, she could only stare at him, a glimmer of uncertainty in her gaze. She could tell there were tears. Even from the distance between him, Oriana knew that was what they were. She’d seen that sparkling liquid in Michelina’s eyes plenty of times and in her own more so. Fear gripped. Suddenly she didn’t want to know what Marco was about to say, was about to explain. It only heightened when he explained he had been there the night Carmina had died.

The muscles in her arms were suddenly stiff, but Oriana willed them not to shake. For as anxious as her blood was, demanding the truth of the situation, she would not bow to her emotions. Her own feelings were beneath her. They did not control her mind or her actions. She would not let them despite the spiraling effect they were having in the back of her mind as it raced for some kind of reply. In situations of high duress, humans sometimes broke into tongues, and Oriana could now understand the sentiment of not wishing to speak her native tongue or English even. What medium were plain words in conveying the infantile amount of emotions that threatened the human psyche at a pinnacle moment in time? Even actions had their limits right then and there.

A sharp breath was taken in. In under a minute of silence, Oriana had made her decision. “Marco, get off the ground. You’re going to ruin your clothes,” she spoke surprisingly forcefully, as if perhaps she was not addressing a man near in tears but a subordinate graduate student who was begging her to review his research paper. After a moment more, she allowed her spheres to refix on his. When they had diverted, she didn’t know. Now was the time to give him an answer, however. “I’ll listen,” she commented softer, more uncertainly than before. “There’s a park that’s quieter nearby though… We’d have more privacy there,” she commented after a moment her lips sealing together promptly after.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

He knew he'd said too much too soon. Oriana's hands and arms stiffening and the fire behind her eyes diminishing told him as much, but he already knew that this reunion was not supposed to be a happy one. Those purple eyes boring into his own were almost too much to bare as he contradicted everything she thought to be true for all this time. The master tactician that he was otherwise, epically failed when it came to his sister. He didn't know what she would do with her new-found knowledge, or even worse, with the anger and resentment towards the family it might cause.

While he knew she needed the truth, he was also aware that he might be the cause of her undoing. If she decided to take action Marco wanted nothing more than to be at her side, as it should have been from the beginning. But his life was forfeit. He'd accepted that truth the moment his sister Carmina died. Marco was on borrowed time no mater how he looked at it. Either his sister would take his life, or the damned barrier would come down and the Don would order his execution for betraying him. In a perfect world his sister would forgive him somehow, and that barrier would stay up forever. However, Marco was painfully aware at how imperfect and unfair life really was.

There was a pause in which his sister said nothing. It was probably the longest near minute he'd ever experienced. He didn't even know if she was breathing, her body was just stiff and staring. Her eyes were locked on his and he feared for a moment that he might have shocked her to death before she suddenly inhaled sharply. Now it was his turn to be shocked into immobility as his sisters words reached his ears. Never in a million years of running scenarios in his head of what she might have said would he have come up with what she said.

His sister's eyes had left his as she all but ordered him to rise off his knees. It was as if she was speaking to someone else. Her tone was firm, and he was quick to release her hands and did as he was told. "Yes, of course, dear sister. Forgive me." He replied smoothly as he rose to his feet. He fell right back into his facade like a seasoned actor recovering after a botched line. A handkerchief appeared in his hand almost as if by magic, and he dabbed at his eye, followed by a lifting of the patch covering the other and a dab at that one also. It was quick, but she would notice the amber color of the other before the patch would be flipped down into place.

Marco flipped his wrist and the handkerchief looked to disappear. Marc couldn't help himself. His sister was a lady, after all. And the ladies loved his magic tricks. He'd mastered quite a few slight of hand tricks over the years, and loved to make people smile with them. He would have normally produced a rose next to charm a lady, but somehow he doubted this was the right moment for such a thing. And he knew almost for certain that Oriana would not be amused for the same reason.

He managed a crooked smile at her acceptance to listen. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. Nevertheless, he bowed at the waist with his right arm atop his hat to hold it in plaece, and the other extended to his left in the direction of the sidewalk before them. "I'm pleased that you will entertain my tale." He said in a pleasant voice. His eyes were firmly afixed on the ground. "After you. I do not know the way" He continued in answer to her suggestion of the park. He let her go ahead, but just for a moment. He took his place at her side and fell into step with her as she walked.

"I'm sorry for the way this has turned out. I could not continue with pleasantries while withholding what I've been holding on to so long. I wanted to be on equal terms." He divulged as he walked. His eyes remained fixed on their path. His hand reached out for hers before he realized what he was doing. He caught himself before he touched her and let the hand fall to his side as a sigh escaped him. That was something he'd always wanted to do as a kid. He'd had that vision and desire often in his youth. He'd dreamt of walking along with a sister at each hand as they talked about nothing of importance.

The famiglia had stolen his childhood. It was a debt he would one day come to collect from those responsible. If he lived long enough.

[Oriana Verdi]

As her hand was released, Oriana folded her arms before herself slowly. She watched his small motions but was mentally curling in on herself rather than paying complete attention. Was she afraid of what would be divulged? Certainly not; she refused to be. What would be spoken would be spoken. It had to be; she couldn’t live with not knowing now. It was a simple fact. Ever still, the emotion Marco had displayed had unsettled her greatly. She didn’t know what to think or feel, and that worried her. As the patch was lifted revealing the eye color, she blinked startled. However, before she could see it again, it had disappeared once more. A damaged eye she assessed. It would make sense and be the reason for the eye patch but… But what had happened now, she wondered. In her own thoughts, Oriana had missed the ‘magic’ of the rag disappearing. Her features remained calm, her eyes carrying a faraway stare.

Purple eyes regarded Marco quietly before Oriana turned and started walking in the correct direction of the park. She doubted he didn’t know. How could he not in the city being who he was? She led regardless, silently processing her thoughts and actions. As he caught up with her and walked alongside, Oriana allowed her gaze to fall to him briefly between steps. The words that escaped from Marco, however, had her gaze returning forwards again. “I’d rather know the harsh truth than fluffy lies,” she spoke bluntly, an edge in her voice that could have sliced weaker people in two. “It’s more logical.” Her lips pressed together after. It was the truth; she did not wish to be naïve – ever. To know that there had been lies involved angered her, but more so she was anger with herself for believing it all. She should have asked more questions, figured out what had happened. She knew why she had accepted it all after seeing the body, however. The emotional burden had been too much at the time.

Step, step, step; the park was coming closer now. Oriana walked a bit faster before turning down the path and into the park. Luckily, it was too early for children to have filled the area, and few adults ventured into these parts during the day. Altogether, it was quiet, and not even the coveted swings were taken. Drawing over to the metal swings, Oriana grasped the chain of one before slowly lowering herself down into the seat. A soft sigh escaped from her as she glanced up at the sky. When had it become overcast? Pale lips pressed together before she glanced sideways straining at Marco. “What happened, Marco,” she asked, quieter than before.

[Marco Antoni Verdi]

His sister would miss his clumsy steps before he walked up beside her. That simple lifting of his eye-patch for a moment to wipe was all it took for his depth perception to go. In addition, there was other disorientation that he could not explain. He knew where that park was, but he would never be able to locate it without re-orienting himself with his surroundings. It was a real pain in the ass side effect. Once his sister walked in the general direction, however, and allowed him the few moments he needed to get his bearings, he was mostly fine.

Oriana's reply was what Marco hoped to hear. He knew she would not want to be coddled. Oriana was not ten any more, and like she said, it was only logical. They walked along and Marco was silent. Nothing he thought of saying felt right. He could no longer force himself to make light conversation with what he must soon say. As they approached, it was a blessing to find the park empty at this time of day. He'd almost forgotten his handicap, that is, until they turned onto the path into the park. Marco's feet scuffed the path as he missed the slight change in grade. It caused him to stumble forward a step.

"It looks like I may fall for you, dear sister" He said with a chuckle. Marco smiled briefly and his eye would meet hers, but it was habit. He was quick with the charm, even though he knew it had no place here. It would be the last time he would smile. When he looked away, the smile would fade to serious. "Another time and place, maybe?" He whispered to himself. She might have heard it, but it really didn't matter at this point.

They reached the center of a playground. Soft shredded rubber replaced the paved path as they approached the swings. It was almost nostalgic that Oriana chose the swings to have their talk on. He stopped short as his heart skipped a beat, and watched as she reached out for the chain to one of the seats, turned, and sat on the swing. A pang of something made his heart ache. He didn't fully understand, other than to have always wanted to have done something like this long ago. But his dream included another Verdi who would never be able to share in the moment. He must have paled, for he felt a shiver of cold. His eye closed and he took a breath that seemed to shutter against his will. He'd stopped just briefly before he continued forward on legs that wanted no part of movement.

Marco sat and heard the sigh of the person next to him. She asked of him to tell her what happened. Marco was staring at his feet. His hands on the chains were white knuckled as he struggled to get past the moment. It took a moment, but his head lifted and he slowly turned his head to face her. What Oriana would see in the man's features would be a sharp contrast to anything she'd expect. Utter hopelessness with a look of being totally lost, and eyes that were resolved to stare into the face of death. It was just for a few moments before his features softened into something more normal. Marco's head turned away slowly and tilted up to look at the sky. He inhaled deeply and lend let it all out before lowering his head.

"I've dreamed of this moment, going over and over in my mind of how and what I would say, and how I would say it. Now the moment is here and I cannot recall a single thing I had prepared. So I guess I'll just start talking. Before that, however..." He glanced around and then reached into his coat and a full mag fell out of it into his other hand with a audible click. "No need for alarm. I want you to hold on to this." He divulged as he removed the pistol from the holster at his side. He racked the slide to eject the chambered round and caught it in his other hand. He held them out for her to take. "Please, I insist" he said, his eye locking on to hers.

He did not wait for her to take the now empty pistol and full magazine. He placed them on her lap and glanced away.

"It wasn't till you tried to get to Camina, that I understood I was not the only one thinking about how to reach the others. It was kinda by accident that I even found out. I was eavesdropping from a hiding spot. Didn't even know anything had happened until days later." He said, deciding to start from the beginning. It was going to take a while.

Oriana Verdi

[Oriana Verdi]

Through it all, Oriana held her composure. Even when it became all too obvious something had happened to Marco in the short seconds she had caught sight of that eye. She suspected it was depth perception but knew not why he chose to limit his – only that his eye color was not the purple she had known it to be. For a moment, there had been a look that transpired across her features when he’d tripped over the change in pavement, but what it meant was questionable at best. Not even Oriana herself knew. The joke that came after earned a press of lips, no words, but a placid sort of look one wore when it was better to say nothing. She suspected her questions would be answered soon enough.

The swings were a fitting place though just how fitting, Oriana would only realize upon sitting down, eyes forwards. Pendulums were a universal signifier of time passage and change. There they would sit retracing the steps of a past that had lied to her. There and then, she would find out the truth. Fingers clenched the chains so tight that knuckles turned a pale sheen. It was only after a moment that she would ask the question that had cycled in her mind the moment Marco had spoken, had changed her world so quickly in a simple utterance. Forcibly calm, sharp eyes glanced sideways to meet Marco’s features after, a look of intimidation in her stare. What they reflected nearly made her blanch. The sight of a skeleton more than a man had sat on the swing next to her, and knives had wedged themselves in her gut. Eyes darted away, capturing the tops of trees instead as Oriana’s mind ticked the seconds away. Just say it, Marco she mentally wished.

Her brother did start talking, but the nostalgic words were uncomforting. They were but wistful words in a reality both of them were aware of. The pause and audible click was enough to cause those spheres to dart sideways, but as ice briefly jumped into her veins, Oriana’s features remained placid. If Marco had been going to shoot her, he would have done it by now, or so she reasoned. As he gave the request, a harsh look graced Oriana’s disdainful features. What was that for- why did he just. Marco what are you planning to do she wanted to snap out. She wanted him to speak, to get it over with, to stop raking her with extra fears. He had been there when Carmina had died; she knew that at least. What could be worse now that that was divulged? Somewhere inside her, Oriana knew. Suddenly, she was feeling sick. Purple eyes dropped before eventually closing as Oriana forced composure. She would hear what happened; she’d already committed to it.

As Marco finally started, Oriana exhaled listening with her eyes closed and allowing the scenes to play out before her eyes. Carmina… she briefly wished that had been her wish, but it hadn’t. There was nothing she could do now- nothing but silently pay attention to what was being said.

Marco Antoni Verdi