There's only one thing that Matteo despises on earth, one thing that makes him dread. And what is that one thing you may ask?
Mornings.
Matteo dislikes- no hates morning with passion. It's not because he lacks sleep from the previous nights, it's because of how everything seemed so chirpy and bright while he looked like the epitome of death.
Not only that, but he has to endure the weirdest ways his family does to wake him up. Why can't he just use an alarm clock? That would be an easier solution right? Well if you try to make him use one, he'll end up smashing the device once it goes off.
And after the event, nobody bought him another alarm clock in fear of it breaking into shards on its first night.
Now, the only way to wake him up is to get inside his room and do it personally. Sadly, the task is given to the two males who already felt that the world is going to end with the thought of waking up their relatives.
"So how do we wake him up this time?" Marco whispers to his brother, Rafael who peeks into the room of the sleeping man. They aren't blood-related but they treat each other as family, just like how Matteo treats them.
"Jumping on his bed," Rafael simply replies, too tired to even think of another way wake the man up. He then turns to his side only to see the male's confused look, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.
"What?"
"Dude, that's the most boring thing that you've ever thought of. Seriously? Jumping on his bed? This isn't some 90's movie you know?" Marco explains. It was a shock for him as the other always has a lot of tricks under his sleeve, and yet he chose the most boring one out of all.
"Got any better idea then?" He questions.
Silence.
"I'll take that as a no, so you go inside and jump into his bed. I'm not going to risk myself and get skinned in the end," Rafael says as he pushes Marco into the gigantic room, who tries his best to reject the offer but he can't.
"Why me?!" He whisper-shouts to not wake up the elder as he looks to Rafael who looks at him like he asked the dumbest question in the world (which it was).
"Because I said so, now go." Marco's nerves spike once he's inside the room. The door is shut closed and he knows it he'll be ignored if he asks for help. Plus, there's a much bigger problem in front of him.
Marco loves Matteo, so much that he'll take a bullet for him anytime but now, he doesn't. He decides to look around the darkroom that he can barely see in, with the morning sun peeking through the black curtains only being his source of light.
Breath in.
Breath out.
He attempts, keyword attempts to calm his nerves down. The last time that he woke him up in this way, it ended up with Marco in a chokehold as a pistol aimed at his head.
"Yeah, Good memories." Marco sarcastically says to himself.
After mustering all the courage his body possesses, he finally approaches the king-sized bed in the middle of the room after stalling for so long. Everything was fine until his feet suddenly came into contact with something soft and fluffy. Soft?!
Meow.
"Fuck, Aki please don't attack me I'm Marco your best friend." He whispers to the darkness, he can't believe that he is pleading to a cat, a fucking cat.
Meow.
"That translates to yes in cat language right? It has to be yes,"
Marco releases a breath that he didn't know he was holding once he felt Aki leaving the area where he is standing. To be honest, the male thinks that the Pussycat is one petty feline, as he was often scratched or jumped at if he does something which the cat doesn't like at all.
"Like father like son," He mumbles under his breath. Once he felt the wooden bed frame, he knew that he is almost at completing the task given to him by his sister.
"All you need is to jump," He remembers Rafael's words echoing in his head before he closes the door, and he rolls his eyes because it's easier said than done.
"Are we going to die today? Yes, we are. Might as well make this jump the best fucking jump in my entire life." Marco enthusiastically says, not looking forward to the result.
"Mother didn't raise a fucking pussy," He whispers to himself, trying to find light in this dark situation.
1.
2.
3.
Jump!
But before jumping into the bed, he walks backward to gain some momentum before charging and finally, crashing on the king-sized bed.
"Good Morning!" Marco exclaims once he lands on the soft yet firm mattress. The bed bounces at the sudden impact, and if that doesn't wake up the other, what will?
Silence.
"Fuck," Marco shouts when his wrists are suddenly raised and held together. His eyes widen when he feels something cold on his temple, and it is no doubt another pistol aimed at him.
"I think you haven't learned your lesson yet," Matteo says once his eyes were able to recognize the person on his bed. If he listened to his instincts, which was to shoot the intruder then he could've lost his brother.
"Rafael shoved me in this room and shut the door closed, do you think I volunteered for my ass to end up in a situation that happened to me already?" Marco talks back, and that fisty attitude made the elder chuckled and let go of his wrists (which the younger quickly caress because the grip was too strong).
"You have a point, now why do I have to wake up at this hour?" Matteo asks his voice thick and hoarse which is an effect after sleeping in for so long. There weren't any scheduled transactions for today, so what could it be?
"Bianca will explain later, now suit up because we got some ass to kick," Marco replies with a smile as he stands up and leaves the bed. The door opens after he knocks it, revealing an impressed Rafael who then greets Matteo a short yet sweet "Good Morning," before leaving the man behind (chasing after the other who's trying to escape).
For others, mornings may be peaceful and quiet, but for the family, it isn't. Mornings for them are a complete opposite from the normal, which was of course a given because they're dealing with illegal trade and activities.
The thought of being able to exterminate people who are unloyal to him and his family, who are targeting his moves always made him feel giddy inside.
"I'm excited," He says with a grin.
____
Suits were never Matteo's thing- other than mornings. Sure, they made him look professional and steaming hot, but the feeling of being trapped by layers of different clothing isn't magical as it seems. But what can he do? As much as he wants to wear a plain black shirt and jeans before calling it a day, Bianca, his sister would nag his ear off over not dressing up for the "occasion". It would always end up with him saying "Most of my suits end up bloody, why even bother?" but of course he doesn't dare to go against his younger sister.
Another thing he would like to add, wearing a bulletproof vest under a suit? The most uncomfortable combination in the world but because he's always targeted by tons of assassins and fellow businessmen, he has to protect himself 24/7.
After suiting up with much difficulty and spraying his favorite perfume, he then decides to leave his room as quickly as he can before he hears Bianca shouting from her lungs asking where her brother is.
"I swear if Matteo doesn't hurry his ass up, I'll fucking shoot him until he dies." Her voice full of annoyance becomes clearer and louder once the said man is nearing the end of the staircase.
He would've lied if he said he wasn't affected by that statement at all. Who wouldn't falter when you are threatened by your sister who doesn't bluff?
"Matteo, Luciano's son, killed by his sister after being late to one of their missions," Marco releases a snort at the thought, it was going to be such a big shock to the entire world. Killed by your sister? Hilarious.Total comedy content.
"Was that a pig?" She asks, and the male who made that noise stiffens, not wanting to go under her wrath this early in the morning.
Now is a good time for him to enter. He knows that despite looking like a tough cookie, Marco is one gigantic marshmallow underneath his looks and one small insult would make him all pouty and whiny for the day.
"Good Morning!" Matteo suddenly greets them with a bright smile, turning all the attention in the world towards him. In his peripheral vision, he can see how his brother relaxes after being placed under the spotlight, which made the elder feel relieved.
But there's always a price for offering kindness.
"Here it goes," Rafael says to himself, trying his best not to laugh at the situation. It's amusing to see his eldest brother trembling at his sister's glare. No matter how high your position is, you are the prey.
They always talk about the fearful and powerful king that they soon forget about the tiny yet poisonous snake that will immediately kill you after being bitten. The Russo siblings, both strong physically and mentally. If you obsess over one, you wouldn't be able to fight back when the other attacks you out of the blue.
It has always been that way ever since their father died, when the notorious Luciano died, the family quickly moved to the states in hopes of starting a new life, but no matter how hard their mother tried, nothing will change. As time passes by, the two innocent children now become beasts- always hungry for power and blood.
The mere thought of meeting the sibling's true nature makes Rafael pale. No matter how strong he is, he could never compete with the two. Even if he tried, in the end, he'll be on the brink of death while the two will leave the ring unscathed.
He shakes his head to remove the thoughts clouding in his mind, which was thankfully useful. After leaving reality for a hot minute, he faces a live staredown from the siblings.
No talk.
No actions.
Yet the aura that they both emit says otherwise. The place now felt uncomfortable when the two started to look at each other, he could tell especially when he sees Marco fidgeting around.
He should get used to it already, right? He has been working with them for a long time, so why is he still affected?
Here's the thing, their staredowns feel the different time by time. In the beginning, it wasn't that serious but as time passes by, they got into more fights which mean more confrontations. In the end, a simple stare from the duo will make you drop on your knees, begging for mercy.
Rafael knows that this is going to be a long day.
___
"Does Dylan ring a bell?" Bianca asks her brother as the black van moves around the city of Chicago. After having the intense staredown (with Marco stopping them in the end), they quickly leave the house and head towards a place hidden from the city.
"Dylan McQueen?" He answers, facing his sister to know if his guess is correct. It took him a while for him to remember who he is, considering the number of people working under him.
"Bingo,"
"Isn't Dylan that dude who's persistent with asking more men to work with him?" Marco asks from the passenger side of the van. He could've been the one to drive but since he won in a game of rock paper and scissors, he gets to decide his role in the ride which is the shotgun.
"And the same guy who stole 10 million dollars worth of Marijuana from our recent transaction," Rafael adds as he stops the vehicle, as he faces a red light in the intersection. As much as he wants to beat the light, he wouldn't risk the chance of getting an expensive ticket from the police.
"So that's why he kept on fidgeting the day I went to check on him," Marco says, recalling the memory. Not too long ago, he went to Dylan's place to greet and ask him how things are going, he should've been suspicious with the way he's acting but he didn't.
"One of his men confessed that he was planning this for quite a while. Another alarming thing is that he's trying to overthrow you on your throne by reporting you to the police." Bianca reads out the information on her laptop.
Bianca's fingertips glide on the keyboard like how a professional skater skates on ice, smooth and quick. She needed to show her brother all the evidence she acquired through her determination and hard work, to punish the unloyal people and the ones who are crossing the line.
"Take a look," Matteo then tears his gaze from the surroundings he can see through the window and focuses on the CCTV footage on the device.
In the beginning, it showed Marco giving Dylan a handshake after entrusting him with the drugs. Moments after he left the room, you can see how multiple men, including the traitor stuffing black bags with Marijuana to use the substance for their own satisfaction and to sell the drugs as a way to earn more money.
The next clip shows him talking to a male in an alley, you would think it would be a simple drug transaction but it's not. Dylan, the bastard, started giving out confidential matters that he swore that he won't share with anyone except the ones that are under The Cosa Nostra.
To make matters worse, he was talking to a cop, trying his best to place the current king inside bars.
Matteo laughs.
He didn't show any distaste when he saw the videos, nor he showed a hint of emotion. There wasn't anything Bianca could read with the expression of her brother, and this, for her is the expression that scares her the most.
Because you cannot predict his next move at all, just like predicting when will an earthquake strike. It's impossible.
"Kill them," Matteo concludes, before looking away from the laptop and looks back at the view, not minding the look on his sister's face.
"So you aren't going to kill him yourself?" Like a deer in headlights, she's confused and shocked- well more shocked to be exact. It's not that she's a bad fighter, she knows that the way Matteo deals with people like Dylan is far better than what she does, because he tortures them for a long time, making them beg for death that he would gladly provide.
"What made you think I wouldn't?"
_______
The smell of cheap beer and cigarettes enveloped the tiny apartment of Dylan. Despite working under Matteo, he still lived in a cramped space which he despises to the core. Sure the rent was cheap and air conditioning never betrayed him, but it was too small.
Too tiny for a man who's dreaming big.
"Boss, are you sure that we won't get caught?" He questions the person on the other line. He's currently smoking a cigarette while talking, the television is on but he doesn't pay single attention to what is playing on the screen, the purpose of him turning it on was to make him feel less lonely, he hated how silence is always something he has to face every single day.
"You won't." Their reply.
"Asshat! You better cook that packet of ramen quickly! I'm starving over here!" Dylan shouts, placing the phone on his chest so that his voice wouldn't hurt the ears of the other. He was impatient, not only about how his comrade cooks ramen like a sloth, but how the plan isn't moving in their favor, a total opposite from what they've envisioned.
"I'll talk to you later boss," And with that simple statement, their call ended.
"Oi! Fuckers the ramen is ready!" Wilson, the one who cooked their meal for today says as he places down the gigantic pot of his "special" instant ramen that is enough to feel the eight men who are trying their best to fit inside the cramped place.
In less than a second, all the males living in the apartment are seated on the floor as they dive into the steaming hot food. They end up burning their tongue due to them not willing to wait for it to cool down, but can you blame them? It was their meal that would last them until the afternoon, dinner is where they would eat nothing but steamed pork buns and Chinese take-out.
"Can you not place your gun on the table? I'm trying to fit my bowl here." One of them complains as they point towards the weapon that is taking a great amount of space on the furniture. Fortunately, the owner of the gun complies and places it in his back pocket, easy access in case someone suddenly barges inside their home and starts shooting everyone. They shake their head at that thought, the chances of that happening at this hour are low. Who in their right mind starts a shootout in the morning?
Knock.
Knock.
The small sound of the door being knocked managed to be heard despite their loud voices overlapping each other. Dylan, simply ignored what he heard and continued eating his breakfast while enjoying the company of his friends.
Does he consider them as his friends or people that he uses to get on the top?
But despite his efforts, the sound irked him. It was repetitive, each knock being louder, it was plain annoying.
Calm down, the person will give up sooner or later. He says to himself, trying to calm his nerves.
Knock.
Knock.
An invisible string snapped in him.
Dylan places- rather slam his bowl and chopsticks on the table, which of course made the people around him speechless at the sudden action. Persistent people always made his blood boil, which is ironic, as he kept begging for more people to work with him.
He stands up quickly and heads to the door, not forgetting to bring his gun with him. You can't risk anything especially when you're lurking into deep waters.
He takes a deep breath before pulling the slide of his gun, hiding it behind his back, his index finger resting at its trigger, ready to shoot.
Dylan then opens the door, not fully, but enough for him to make the face of the person behind the door. From what he can make up from the tiny opening, he can conclude that it was just a deliveryman and that eases his nerves.
"Delivery for McQueen?" The delivery man asks, head down as he looks at the sticker plastered on the box. Dylan wonders why the man isn't making any eye contact, but he shrugs that off, he's probably shy.
He was about to open the door widely to accept the package sent to his tiny home. But as he touches the doorknob, he hesitates. A thought crossed his mind, did I order anything this week?
His eyes widen.
"McQueen?"
He slams the door shut, heart beating rapidly, ears ringing. He's going to die today, there is no way that he won't.
Despite being shaken at the encounter and almost unable to utter a single word, he yelled.
"D-duck!" But since his emotions got the best of him, he was too late.
Everything went by flash.
In mere seconds, all his friends, the people who he trusted his entire heart with. The one he treated like his brothers is now on the floor, cold.
Blood started oozing from their bodies, there wasn't anything he could do. He can only watch the murder of his loved ones, the one who truly believed in him when others didn't.
How can he help them when bullets were flying from the door? Those shiny and small bullets were going through the body of its victim easily, causing them to have a quick and painless death.
Then he is met with silence.
The warmth that once filled the tiny cramped space is now gone, now replaced with the chilling cold. The life from their bodies is sucked dry, their warm hue slowly turning pale as time passes by.
Blood splattered on the walls, on the floor, on the painting that they got together as a house warming gift.
It was everywhere.
The sound of footsteps brings him back to the harsh reality, but his gaze is still fixated on the table where they were enjoying each other's company together.
If he could have reversed time, he could've thought faster and if he did, nobody would've died. If he was able to realize what was going on in the first place. If he was able to spend his time with them a little longer.
But he can't.
"It seems that you were eating breakfast, my apologies for interrupting your time," Matteo says once he enters the scene, he was able to see the pot of warm ramen that now has blood mixing in with the broth.
"Since I interrupted your meal, you can choose how you'll join your pals over there." He points towards the pile of bodies on the floor, before continuing, "Will you want a slow and painful death or a quick one?"
"You're giving him a choice? That's so kind of you brother." Rafael exclaims, taking a step inside the home. He was surprised at what he heard, normally the elder would throw beat them up to the point they would be begging for death.
"You're making me look like I'm the bad guy here," He replies, pouting at the other who gives him a confused look in return.
"Kill me now, please."
Matteo looks back only to see Dylan staring at him with soulless eyes, a sight that he was used to seeing especially during times like this. He nods and pulls the slide of his pistol before aiming for the center of his head.
"Before I end your life, I must ask. Who are you working for?" He questions, tilting his head. When somebody turns their back on him, usually there is a third party involved, and for that reason, he needs to know who is messing with him and his family.
But more importantly, he wants them dead, no matter who they are.
"Just kill me," Dylan answers, dodging the question thrown at him. No matter how much they push his buttons, he wouldn't tell a soul who he works for and why. He made a promise.
"You're testing my patience here," Matteo laughs, taking a step back, turning to Rafael and raises his hands like a child. But his playfulness only lasted for a minute before he turns back to where he was before and shoots the male in the thigh who winces at the pain.
"There's more of this coming, so you be a little goody two shoes and tell me. Who do you work for?"
He doesn't answer.
"So we're playing this game? Well don't worry, we got plenty of time to play with you." Matteo grins before shooting the male once again on his other thigh, the pain worsening especially when he gets shot near his artery. The other isn't fazed by anything, knowing that Dylan is at his mercy. As much he wants to shoot him until he speaks, he can't let the poor man die from blood loss before he can confess.
"People like you disgust me," He sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He dislikes people who stay silent despite the abuse that they're getting because it's no fun without their cries for help.
He's a monster, a masochist.
"Look, as much as I want to deal with your pitiful ass, this is not fun at all. So, for us to have a win-win situation, I'm just going to kill you right now and dig through your information later. Is that a deal?"
There's a reason why Rafael is with him. It's not because he wants to witness the gruesome murder of the betrayer, but because he is going to play guard and protect his brother at all cost.
Even though Matteo can easily beat up four men by himself, they can't risk anything, because one single mishap can lead to the death of the king and that is not ideal.
So when he sees a figure standing up, and aiming a pistol at his brother, he was quick to react.
"D-Dylan!" Wilson cries when he felt the bullet pierce his heart. He was the only one who survived the wave of bullets, only receiving grazes. He was fortunate to survive, really was. He should've stayed down and pretended that he died, but once he saw his friend slumped against the wall, thighs shot, he couldn't just ignore it.
But before the male fell to the ground, he was able to pull the trigger of the gun.
Matteo didn't even flinch when the bullet grazed his arm, didn't move a single muscle. Despite having a wound, with its blood starting to spread throughout the suit, he turns towards Dylan (whose eyes widen at the scene he saw) and shoots the male in the head, dead center.
But it wasn't enough.
Another bullet then pierces the poor male's heart, securing the kill.
Dylan doesn't move.
"Clean this up for me brother?" Matteo asks once he faces Rafael who nods at his request. His eyes then wander to his wound, which is still bleeding non-stop.
"We need to treat that wound," He points out. He chuckles when he sees the childish reaction of his brother. For a strong man, he can't handle the burn of antiseptic.
"Do not,"
"Do too,"