Legacy

As Vivian pulled into Cataclysm’s garage, she considered what Ophilia had told her. She had always wondered about what had happened the day she’d vanished, but with no survivors – other than Ophilia herself – she’d assumed that she would never know.

And yet, there it was.

She felt profoundly thankful to the man who’d saved Ophilia and an ever-increasing hatred towards Ophilia’s father. The way he’d played Ophilia, twisting her life – and Vivian’s by extension – into knots was sickening. What kind of father did that to his daughter? She could hardly believe that a parent could be so callous. Then again, she’d seen some of the shit the Family got up to since she’d gotten out.

“Well,” Vivian said, parking the car and leaning on the wheel. “That’s… I don’t know what to say about that, actually…”

Ophilia smiled from her place in the back seat. “You? Speechless? What a novel thought.” Vivian snorted. “But my father isn’t known for his benevolence, Vivian. He’s frightening, even to his own daughter, and that fear is his greatest weapon.”

Vivian shook her head. “No, I know that. I do the exact same thing, sometimes. Though it comes less naturally for me.” This time, Ophilia was the one to snort. Vivian shifted in her seat, turning to look directly at the woman behind her. “But I’d never screw over my own kid like that. It’s just… wrong. A parent’s job is to protect their kids, not throw them to the wolves.” Vivian felt a knot in her chest tighten into a burning sphere of flame and watched as Ophilia’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing slightly.

There was a moment of silence before Ophilia cleared her throat. She shrugged, wincing, and Vivian had the sudden urge to go find the banger who’d done this to her and introduce his face to a meat tenderizer. “Father may not have been kind, but he did protect me, in his own way. Who would try to kidnap me now? And if I’d taken his other offer, I would be no less safe, learning the nuances of running an organization from the background, letting someone else wear the bulls-eye.” She sighed, shifting a little again.

“Yeah, but from all you said, he wasn’t protecting you,” Vivian said suddenly, a heat burning in her heart. “He was protecting his own interests. You’re just a means to an end for him, Mel.”

Ophilia looked away, her eyes swimming with pain as she stared out the window. “You’ll get used to it, once you meet him.”

Vivian repressed a few treacherous thoughts regarding Ophilia’s old man and a tire iron. She turned to stare out of the car’s front window again, snarling to herself as she stared at nothing. “Fine,” she finally conceded, “I’ll be civil around him, even if I wanna put a bullet in his brain-pan. For you.”

“How sweet,” Ophilia replied blankly. She shifted again, this time giving a small gasp. “But… can we please get inside? I’m in quite a bit of pain right now, you understand.”

“Ah, right! Sorry.” Vivian hopped out of the car, her phone dialing Patrick McMillan before Ophilia’s door had even opened.

Dr. Patrick McMillan – P.H.D. – was forty-two years young, and about as Scottish as McDonnald’s. But while he’d never eaten haggis – as far as Vivian knew – he could still drink her under the table nine times out of ten. He was a man with a love for ladies and gambling that had landed him firmly in Vivian’s lap. But rather than bleed him for cash, Vivian learned of his profession and offered him another possible arrangement. Now, he would help the Mixers off the books, and Vivian would keep his beds warm and his chips clinking.

To be honest, Vivian rather liked Pat. He was a special brand of crazy – just like her – and had next to no filter – also like her. He was schooled in sociology, so the two of them would often break off into long philosophical debates. Often, these would end with Vivian licking her wounds and Pat grinning like mad. As much as Vivian adored Neo’s presence, the man simply couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of string theory. Ophilia had proven too pragmatic for conversations about Vivian’s hypothetical theories on time travel and alien infiltration. And the Mixers, as a whole, weren’t really selected for their book smarts. Though give some of them the right pills, and you’d have plenty of interesting discussions. With Pat, however, a good discussion was almost always a guarantee.

“Woo!” The doctor said gustily when he first saw Ophilia. The three met up in a back room of Cataclysm, a long, wide, bleak
space with several shelves, counters, and a table taking up the center. It was devoid of decoration, wallpaper, or style. It served a purpose; that was all. “You look like you had a fist-fight with Edward Scissor-Hands, girl.” He ran a hand over his head, looking over the hitwoman. “And Vivi tells me you’ve gone and gotten some bones broken too? Try any harder, and you might start loosin’ bits.”

“Hah,” Ophilia replied, with no humor. “How impressively droll. Look doc, I’m in pain. A lot of pain. Can we hurry this up?”

Pat blinked and then nodded, putting his bag down beside the table. “Right, right; sorry, sorry.” As he spoke, he started removing various tools of his trade. “You seem like a pretty serious young lady, for bein’ in Vivi’s company. Normally, she gathers more nuts than a squirrel in the snowy season.”

“Hah,” Vivian mimicked Ophilia's dryness, crossing her arms. “Keep your hands where they’re supposed to be, Pat. She’s mine.”

Pat’s eyes got a bit wide and he grinned. “Me, oh my. Never pictured you as that type.” Vivian resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Well, she’s a real catch, she is.” He motioned with a roll of gauze. “Nice figure. Sexy butt. Huge ti—” Vivian threw something at him.

Pat gave a hearty laugh, ducking under the flying stethoscope. He looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat and thrusting his thumb after it. “I’m gonna need that, ya know…”

Vivian grumbled, walking around him to recover what she’d thrown. “Well,” Pat continued, while Vivian played fetch. “Time to be serious.” He placed the gauze wrap beside several other like it and motioned to Ophilia with his free hand. “Strip down to your underclothes.”

Ophilia raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s not a proposition, girlie. I’m a doctor, not a psychic; I need to see your injuries to fix ‘em. Underclothes. Chop-chop.” He clapped with the last two words and Ophilia rolled her eyes.

“Where did you find this guy?” Ophilia asked as she unbuttoned her suit.

Vivian, who was just placing the stethoscope along with Pat’s other gear, chuckled and grinned. “About nose-deep in some lady’s box, actually,” she replied, making the good doctor blush. “It was a really awkward first impression. He’s got a ton of weaknesses, which I exploited shamelessly, until he finally decided to help me.”

“She’s quite generous, really,” he said, going over his materials once more. “She made me… heh, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh, har har,” Ophilia grumbled, already down to her undershirt. Vivian noted passively that her lover was rather skilled at undressing quickly. The shirt came off with a quick motion, leaving Ophilia standing in a black lace bra. “If I catch you staring, I cut it off.”

Pat flinched. “Oh, that’s hardly fair. I need to examine your wounds, so I’ll need to look everywhere, you know.”

“It doesn’t hurt in any of those places. Dream on, doc.”

“Eh. Dream on I shall.” Patrick sighed, but Vivian knew it was all an act. Patrick may have been a lecher, but he was a lecher with professionalism. He separated work and pleasure with a very thick line and would never even think of abusing his position with one of his patients.

As Ophilia shimmied out of her pants, Vivian slid to the side of the room – well out of Pat's way – and ran her eyes over her lover’s figure.

Time had been as good for Ophilia as it’d been bad for Vivian. While her own arms and legs were a railroad of bad memories, Ophilia’s skin looked silky smooth. Vivian could spot several scars of varying sizes, but beyond that she was flawless. Hell, to Vivian, the scars made the woman. She smirked, reclining against the wall as Ophilia laid out on the table.

As Pat began his examination, Vivian let her mind wander. Ophilia hadn’t explained with happened with Salvatore over in the east, but Vivian had a few ideas. The proof was clear as day, painted all over Ophilia’s body and in her honed killing skills. She had learned to kill, fought for her life, and eventually came back home to roost, where she’d become a killer for her father’s organization. Secretly, Vivian hungered for the story.

"Good call, Vivian," Pat said, making her snap out of her thoughts. "Two broken ribs. You'd guessed three, but one of 'em is only bruised. She'll be outta commission for a little while..." He began tracing a hand over some of the lacerations, squinting and muttering to himself. "Some of these are pretty deep. Gonna need stitches. You want painkillers, girl?"

Ophilia sat up just slightly, looking to the man with a raised eyebrow. "Do I look like a wallflower to you, doc?" She sounded serious, but her lip twitched slightly and her eyes shimmered with obvious mirth.

Pat boomed with laughter. "I like this girl, Vivi! She's a keeper, all right." He motioned Ophilia back down, sighing slightly as he drew out a pair of rubber gloves and put them on. "It's a shame two ladies like you need a guy like me around. You two aren't that old; you should be livin' life, not lettin' life live you, you know?" He drew a needle and medical thread from his bag, washing them in a small dish of soap and water he prepared just for them. "Light a fire for me, will ya?" He motioned towards Vivian, who was already moving to find one. She was well used to the man's nuances by now.

When she returned, Pat had left the needle and thread to soak and was already getting ready to sterilize the wounds. He looked over and clicked his tongue. "Vanilla? Very plain, Vivi. Very plain indeed."

He snickered and held the needle inside the flame with a pair of tweezers, keeping an close eye on it, until the point was glowing with heat. He lowered the needle down onto a wet paper towel and folded it over, humming to himself as he worked. He stopped to replace his gloves while the needle cooled, coming back fresh.

With a grunt, he pulled a stool over to Ophilia's side and sat down, laying out his now-disinfected and sterilized tool around him. "Here goes, girlie."

And that was the only warning he gave before he started stitching the wounds. Ophilia twitched and let out a small, pained sound, but Pat was un-phased. He didn't let her discomfort slow him down or cause any mistakes. Pat knew one of the secrets of medicine: the quicker you finish, the easier it is on the patient. He continued to speak, however, in an attempt to keep Ophilia distracted.

"So, you and Vivi, eh?" He asked her, and Vivian leaned against the wall with a smirk.

"Mmhm," Ophilia replied, staring at the ceiling. "I figured that, if I didn't, no one would."

Pat laughed, but kept his hands steady. "Good on you. It's a charitable thing you're doin' in makin' such a drastic sacrifice."

"I'm right here, you two. Totally can hear you both."

Pat shook his head very slightly. "Completely tactless, ain't she?"

Ophilia smiled, gritted her teeth, then smiled again. "Oh, absolutely. But she's mine regardless. I've loved her for years." She gasped as Pat drove the needle into a particularly sensitive spot. "Watch it, doc."

"Sorry. So, you've known one-another for a while? I haven't seen you 'round here." He bit the first thread, tying it off. "But you do seem familiar. Have we met?"

"Doubtful. I'm Ophilia Melody."

Pat stumbled back, wobbling on his stool and nearly knocking over his tray of tools. He recovered quickly though. "O-oh. The Silencer? I heard you were a woman, but I never thought you'd be so... normal."

Vivian noticed an odd hitch in his voice and leaned off the wall, walking over to the doctor's side. He was sweating and having some trouble threading the next needle. Vivian had never seen him so intimidated before.

"Your hands are shaking, doctor. Not very professional." Ophilia's voice was level and emotionless. "What has you so nervous?"

Pat swallowed, calming himself; he steadied his hands and started on the next injury. "I... Shit lass, did you really do that?" He paused his work to shake his head, realizing he'd gotten ahead of the conversation. As he spoke, he started stitching once more. "I'm a surgeon at East Bend Hospital. About two months ago, we got a patient who—"

"I remember her. And yes." Ophilia closed her eyes, giving a sigh that Vivian could only describe as sorrowful. "That wasn't a very pleasant job."

"There are pleasant ones?" Vivian asked, making Ophilia smirk.

Pat took a deep breath, letting it out quickly. "You messed her up real bad, girl. We had to amputate her hand..."

"That was by design," Ophilia replied bluntly, eyes still closed.

Pat nodded, biting off a bit of string and tying it off. "Well, in that case, stellar job." He frowned, threading the needle again. The silence after that lingered as Pat started on the third injury.

"Are you afraid of me, doc?" Ophilia asked, opening her eyes and looking over to the man.

Pat shook his head, not even pausing in his work. "Nah. I've seen some terrible things in my life, girl, and you don't even make the top five." He paused, looking up to her and offering a smile. "I suppose I wish it wasn't the way of the world, but well..." He shrugs and goes back to his work.

Ophilia stared at him wordlessly, then nodded and closed her eyes again.

Vivian watched the exchange in silence, crossing her arms again. She hated to see Ophilia so sad. She wanted to walk over and hold her, but it wasn't a good idea for many reasons.

Pat snorted after a second, giving Ophilia a playfully lewd stare. "Well... like I said, you ain't too harsh on the eyes. If you 'n Vivi over there ever need someone to – I dunno – spice things up, I'd be—"

"Shut up, Pat," Vivian and Ophilia said in unison. Ophilia looked at Vivian and Vivian looked right back, and suddenly the two started laughing. Ophilia winced sharply, settling with a wry smirk instead.

Pat bit off the string and laughed openly. "All right you two, I'm done with that. Sit up now, girl." He motioned Ophilia up and she complied, giving a small gasp and grasping her side. "Yeah, you'll be real sore for a while." He looked over her abdomen, all professionalism. Vivian was almost amazed: Pat didn't stare, even though he was at the perfect height for an eye-full.

"Yeah, a wrapping should be good enough for this..." He turned, picking up one of the wraps of gauze, starting to wind it tightly around Ophilia's midsection.

Ophilia let in a sharp, pained breath as he tugged it tight, but Pat didn't stop. "After this, you can get dressed." He looked over to Vivian and winked. "She'll be right as rain, given a week or so. They aren't bad breaks and should heal quick and clean, with proper care." He looked back to Ophilia, eyeing the wrapping. "Looks like you'll have one hell of a good nurse in the meantime, eh?"

Ophilia smirked, faking a thoughtful expression. "Do you think you could get me one of those? A nurses' outfit, I mean. One of those ones with the short skirt?"

Pat paused, blinking a few times before responding. "Only on the condition that I can see the results."

"No touching, though."

"Can do."

"Done then."

Vivian blinked, completely unable to come up with anything particular to say. Had she seriously just been used as a bargaining chip? She let out a burst of laughter, shaking her head, before words finally came to her. "You two are a treat, you know that?"

Pat chuckled as he taped off the wrap. "I could say the same, Vivi." He slid his chair back and nodded to his work. "All right. Get dressed, girl. Or don't. I wouldn't mind the view." He laughed, but still averted his eyes, busying himself with packing away his things.

Ophilia slid off the table carefully, keeping her weight off her injured leg. "You do good work, Pat." She pulled her shirt off a nearby table, tugging it on over her head. As she closed a few of the top buttons, she looked over at Vivian. "You can head upstairs if you want, Viv. I'll be coming up to bed real soon."

Vivian nodded, looking to the door. "I'll be in later; I need to keep up until the goods we recovered are home safe." Pat pretended to hear none of this. Ophilia simply nodded.

"Later then," Ophilia winked and Vivian smiled.

"Later," she replied, then paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Hey Pat. I can't help but notice, you never used that stethoscope."

"Hm?" Pat blinked, looking at the tool, which was still just sitting where Vivian had left it. "Oh yeah, no, I didn't really need it." He grinned. "Just wanted ta make you pick something up. You've got a real cute butt, you know."

Vivian opened her mouth to say something, but simply sighed and chuckled, shaking her head and slipping out the door. It closed behind her with a soft click, and Vivian stood there, taking a moment to consider how lucky she'd been these past few weeks. She felt a surge of happiness and started to her study, ready for whatever life would throw her way. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bottle, taking out a pill and popping it past her lips. The goods could have been stolen all over again, and she'd hardly have even cared.

But when she opened the door to her study, she felt her entire world turn to ice.

He was sitting in her chair, smoking one of the cigars she'd gotten to celebrate the raid. His feet were up on her desk and he was staring at some papers she'd left out in the open. Charles Melody looked a lot like his daughter, if his daughter had abandoned any semblance of kindness, replacing it with a cruel, calculating emptiness. He looked up from the papers and tilted his head to the side, making sure nobody was behind her, before waving for her to close the door.

She did.

"Vivian Scratch, also known as Vivi, DJ V-Scratch, and Miss Misfit by some. Viv by my daughter." He breathed a cloud of smoke over the papers before setting them down. "Your cigars are... lacking. Please, take a seat."

She didn't consider that she was in her own study until she'd already sat down. Charles had made this room feel like it was his.

The man pulled his pristine shoes off the desk, putting them under it and linking his hands with the poise of a shrewd businessman. "We have much to discuss, don't we Vivian?"

Vivian clenched her fists, then loosened them, hoping he hadn't seen the hostile action. "Yeah, guess we do. Let me ask the first question: how in the fiery hell did you get past my security?"

Charles made a tsk sound in his throat, leaning back in the chair. "It'd have been more polite to let your guest ask the first question. As for your answer, I hope you don't mind if it's vague. I have my ways to get into most everywhere, Vivian. I'm always prepared."

Vivian felt a chill shoot down her spine. Did she have a mole? She had to, didn't she?

She'd known she'd have to deal with this man at some point, but she hadn't planned on it being this soon. She wasn't at all prepared, and she was struggling to keep her uncertainty from showing.

"My turn," Charles said, setting the cigar into an ashtray on the desk. "What made you think you could take my daughter onto a potentially fatal raid without my consent? And let her get injured in the process, no less."

Vivian bit the inside of her cheek to bite back the obvious, snarky response. She not only wasn't used to reigning in her emotions like this, but she felt the ecstasy she'd taken in the hall starting to work it's way through her system. This was... bad. "To be honest," she started, managing her words carefully. "I would've done it on my own, but Ophilia's way better at that kind of stuff. Besides, our goods had been stolen and Ophilia agreed that we needed to send a swift and harsh message back. Really, the whole thing was her idea to begin with."

Charles took another puff from the cigar and sighed out the smoke, leaning forward. His eyes suddenly went hard, boring into her. "Rule number one of conversing with me, child: do not ever lie to me. I know, sure as the sun will rise, whenever you lie." He leaned back, setting the cigar aside again. Vivian felt a tremor start in her leg, but rested her palm on it and beat the fear down; she couldn't look like a sheep in front of this wolf of a man.

After a few moments of silence, Charles nodded. "Very well. Lie or no lie, I agree with the choice. The Black Dogs are annoying as it is, but if they had gained access to the firearms they'd stolen from you, they very well might have warranted a more... frontal approach than what you did tonight. I have made note of your quick thinking." He looked at the ceiling, seeming to think on something in particular. "You should know, I am not particularly fond of you. You have a long road ahead of you, if you wish to prove your worth to me. Otherwise, I assure you, your road will be very, very short."

Vivian swallowed, then leaned forward, mimicking his previous posture. Maybe it was the drugs giving her a surge of courage, but Vivian rode that high. "You talked to me about politeness earlier, but is it polite to sneak into an ally's home, then threaten them without provocation?" She shook her head and smiled. "Seems to me that you've got your own moments of impropriety."

Charles stared coolly through the smoke, then gave a small chuckle. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you had some backbone, child. However, I can hear the anger in your tone and see the shaking in your leg. You're afraid of me, as you should be." He studied the cigar before taking another drag from it, leaving them in silence as the cherry burned. Just as Vivian was about to put words in to fill the void, Charles spoke again. "That's lucky for you. If you had a backbone, I'd have been forced to break it. As it is, you're in just the position I would have you be in, for our relationship to continue." He snubbed out the cigar, leaning back into the chair again. "Fear, child, is a powerful weapon. You've used it as a child uses a stick to fend off a wild animal, but you've yet to see it truly carried." He sneered at her and Vivian felt certain that, should she say one more wrong word, he'd kill her. "I am in control here. Not you. And if you try to pretend like it's otherwise again, I will show you I'm in control. Understand?

"My daughter loves you. I attempted to discourage this emotion. However, it has persisted. When you returned into her life, you wrested control from me, and I do not like losing control of my tools. Out of respect for my daughter, I'm granting you a chance, one singular chance, to prove your value to me and the Family. If you fail, you will depart from my daughter's life; either on your feet or on your back, one way or another, you will depart. If you fail to make me see your importance to my daughter and my organization, I will ensure that."

Vivian couldn't move. She could barely think. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it was the fact that Ophilia's father had just threatened to kill her. He'd pointed the entirety of the largest criminal organization at her like the barrel of a shotgun and asked her if she felt lucky. She was confident that, if he wanted to, Charles would kill her without a single bit of passion, remorse, or concern for his daughter's well-being.

She licked her lips, unable to hide her fear any longer. "Okay. Yeah, I'll prove it. I love Mel just as much as she loves me, Charles. Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it. You have my word."

Charles raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? Very well." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. It made him look like a goddamn super-villain.

"First, you will cease to throw my daughter around so recklessly, like some cheap pawn in your insignificant games. I assure you, I can smell her blood in the water of this city whenever it's spilled, and I will not have it happen again. If she had suffered any lingering damage today, I likely would have killed you the moment that door opened. Luckily for you, she was battered, but received no injuries that should be permanent... At least, that's what I gathered from the little information I learned about what happened today. From now on, if you need aid from the Family, you will contact me first and foremost, and if I deem your need proper, I will send support. But do not endanger my daughter for your petty whims again.

"Second, I expect you to abandon your drug usage within a year. I am not an unreasonable man; so long as I see progress in you, I will not hold your addiction against you. I will not, however, show any mercy if you continue to be nothing more than another worthless fiend. I will remove you from the equation as quickly as I would decide on what to wear in the morning, and I will feel as much regret in it as I would feel in not choosing a particular garment.

"Lastly, you will speak to my daughter within the next two years about seeking out a surrogate to give her a child. You may raise this child with her, so long as you continue to please me. But this child will belong to the Family as a whole. It will be taught by my teachers, protected by my men, and will be intricately tied to the workings of this Family. I will meet this surrogate before you decide on him, and I will be the final arbiter of his worth. If he fails to meet my expectations, I will find one myself, whether you like it or not. Are those things clear to you?"

Vivian closed her eyes behind her glasses, willing her heart to stop racing and her fingers to stop itching. Her gun wasn't that far from her hand, just inside her coat. It could end this problem right here, right now.

But was Charles really as unprepared as he seemed? And what would Ophilia say if Vivian shot her father? Could they even still be together, after something like that? She bit her lip so hard, she was certain she'd start bleeding. She closed her fists in an effort to keep her hands from diving into her coat and ruining her life.

"Yeah. Clear as crystal, Chuck." She had to struggle to keep any venom from her voice. "So, is there a set deadline for this kid thing, or are you just aiming for two-year-ish as my limit?"

Charles flashed her the briefest of grins, showing off perfect, white teeth. "Don't call me Chuck. And lets settle for New Years Day for both deadlines. In the coming years, I will expect these things to either have been completed, or for you to be gone." He stared at her for a few moments longer, before rising from the chair. "You will not tell my daughter of this conversation. When we meet, as I'm sure she will want us to, you will act as if we have never met before. What was said here was for the two of us alone, not for her. You would not want to worry her unduly, I assume." He gave her a sidelong look, and Vivian felt herself looking down and away from those eyes. "Good. Continue to know your place, child, and we will get along swimmingly. Good night." He patted Vivian on the shoulder as he walked past, strolling almost casually out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Vivian let out a loud gasp as she dropped her restraint. "Sure, I'll get right on that, Chuck. Whatever you say Charlie Brown. Big C. Ground Chuck. Blowing Chucks! The Chuckmeister! Chuckie salsa! The Chuckinator! Hawaii Chuck-O, motherfucker!" Her breathing was labored and her eyes were wild as she talked to the empty room. With a snarl, she punched the wall so hard it hurt her hand. She couldn't believe that'd seriously just happened; it was way too surreal. She almost thought for a second that it'd been some kind of drug-induced hallucination. But she could still smell the sweet smell of his pricey cigar lingering in the air, and the burnt-out stub was still left behind in her ashtray. She gulped down her heart, which had tried to lodge itself in her trachea.

She took several minutes to compose herself, then pushed herself from the chair and walked to the door. She thrust her head out, making sure Ophilia's father was actually gone. Thankfully, the man was nowhere in sight and hopefully hadn't heard her little outburst. Vivian felt the little prickles of fear settle into the dull throb of dread.

She closed the door with a slam, walking around the desk and opening all the drawers and compartments to make sure nothing was missing or if something had been planted. With some relief, she found everything right where she'd left it and no new additions to her study. She set her glasses down on the desk, running a tired hand over her face. Then, she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed up Neo.

"Hey Vivi," he sounded pleased. "Everything went smoothly, I hear. I'll get on—"

"Charles Melody. Did anyone authorize him to come into Cataclysm?" Vivian interrupted him bluntly, rushing over his words.

There was a long, confused pause on the other end of the line. "Charles Melody? No, no one cleared him. Why? Was he there?" He sounded very concerned now, hearing the panic in her voice. "Are you alright?"

Vivian swallowed, nodding to herself. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a bit of a scare, that's all. He was just flexin', showin' off how much clout he has." She was saying this just as much to herself as she was to Neo. "The raid went great. Ophilia got a bit banged up, but we took out a bunch of Black Dogs and left one to run with his tail between his legs. We're back at the club now, gettin' Mel patched up. Send someone to get the guns, pronto. I want those weapons yesterday, Ne-yo."

Neo paused again, and when he spoke, he sounded shaken. "Uh... the one you let go; black, curly hair with brown eyes? Tattoos of claw marks under his right eye?"

Vivian blinked. She placed her hand on the desktop, bracing herself. "Yeah, that's him. How'd you know?"

"I don't think he got far, Viv. My guys said the Dogs were in a frenzy; I guess they found a head on their doorstep matching that description. He'd been given an Sicilian Necktie before the head was cut off... I'd assumed it was Ophilia's work, but..." He trailed off into an uncomfortable, worried silence.

Vivian's eyes widened and she fell into her chair, holding the phone to her ear limply. There was once piece of the puzzle solved; Charles had been watching them the whole time, and had tortured that banger for information. It was how he'd known so much about the raid. "Get that crate back now, Ne-yo. Yesterday! And burn that fucking warehouse to the ground too." She bit her lip, trying to think up any other angles they might've left open. "The Family is tailing us, Neo. I still ain't sure if that's good or bad."

By the time Vivian finished patching up loose ends and reading into this dumpster-fire of a situation, it was closing on the next morning. She sighed as she slipped into the bedroom, looking to Ophilia on the bed. The other woman was fast asleep on her side; splinted, stitched, and bandaged. She was wearing a silky nightgown, laying on top of the sheets with a kind of casual sexuality. Vivian moved as quietly as she could, but Ophilia was nothing if not a light sleeper.

"Ngh... Just getting in?" Ophilia rolled onto her back, her breasts shifting under the thin fabric. She smiled at Vivian with dazed eyes and a lazy smile. "Pat had a few painkillers. Said they'd help me sleep." She rolled slightly, taking some weight off her injured side. "I feel good." She chuckled lightly and pays the bed. "Come join me, Viv... I'm chilly."

Vivian was silent for a second, then chuckled. "Maybe you should get under the blankets then." She stripped off her jacket, tossing it aside. Track marks aside, she'd grown completely comfortable with being naked around her lover. Her pants and top followed, leaving the mobster in her panties. "Seriously. You're hopeless sometimes."

"Mrr..." Ophilia rolls over again, grumbling. "But I want you, not some blankets." She moved over, making more room for the gangster.

Vivian grins and hopped onto the bed, scooting closer and snuggling up to her lover, kissing her neck. "You're amazing, you know that?" She gave a low chuckle, peppering the other woman's neck with kisses.

Ophilia gave another groan, this one blended with a low moan. "Yes. I do." She pressed her back into Vivian's, matching the curve of her lover's body. "You are too. I love you, Viv."

Vivian was quiet for a few seconds. The events of the past day swirled in her mind, and she bit her lip before giving the back of Ophilia's neck a soft kiss. "I love you too, Mel. And I'd do anything to prove it to you..."