Maria OcchetoWeight shifted uneasily and forcefully onto her heart. Funny, she was unsure of whether the thing still actually existed. Before she let the blast of gunfire crack through the air, a bullet ricochet in Frank's skull, she muttered something almost inaudible, "I would have let you take me in willingly. I would have revered you like a hero and smothered you in kisses. I didn't --- not like
this.
Not like this. God damn. " A painful smile jerked at her quivering lips before she pulled the trigger. It was no time to get sentimental but in all fairness a bombshell had been dropped that night, leaving her assailable by emotions and outside forces.
Then, Skye plopped beside her, blubbering apologies. With a pang of culpability, Maria glanced over the girl who was her little sister. The look in her father's eyes corroborated it. Skye drudged back to the car as Maria sat still beside the corpse. A stifled grunt escaped her throat as she forced herself to her feet, the atmospheric pressure pummeling her composure as if it weren't already fargone enough. By the time she raised her eyes to meet her father's gaze, he was inches from her. Agitated as her heart was, her mind was determined to inflict some sort of discomfort. It was only fair. With a swift yet small hand still holding the glock, she right hooked her own father in his jaw.
Though he staggered back, clenching his rearranged bone structure, he said nothing. His eyes seemed to search for words to which Maria snarled, "I knew you were a piece of shit but
this," she threw Frank's gun at her father's feet. Clattering hopelessly it nicked the toe of his expensive shoes. "
This really ices the cake, Antonio." Not even a recoil from a punch came, but when his daughter called him by his first name with disjointed execration, he winced and immediately drew back.
Cole Occheto
The Occheto boy raised his gun again, directed at his father, "Don't do it." More than anything he was exhausted from the theatrics, perhaps less affected than his sisters. Shock value was rarely manufactured within him due to the things he'd seen in his time of working for his father. He rolled his neck with agitation, "Mae go… Just go." The Italian woman almost scoffed, still holding her .40 and heaving with apprehension.
"Mae. Go." He reaffirmed.
"Really, Cole?" The question left her mouth in the form of a scowl.
"You said what you needed to, just go."
"I think I struck a nerve," she said as she stormed away from her father, the crime scene, and her newfound little sister, "Good."
Meteorological conditions worsened as Cole closed in on the dead body, calling Joe over. From the side of his mouth he said, "Let's get this shit cleaned up." Big Daddy however, stood amongst the two young men, peering after Maria for a moment, lost for words. Equally as misplaced, he looked at Skye. But his face was stern again, speaking no emotion as his cold gunmetal eyes shifted to and fro. He was caught and, it wasn't often that he experienced that burden. And luckily for him, his son spoke little on behalf of the circumstances as he once again prioritized doing his father's bidding. The cobalt Ford Fusion whipped out of the parking lot with a squeal.
Utilizing his usual charm Cole grabbed Frank's ankles, "It's nice to see that all the cops in Chicago don't sit around and eat doughnuts, huh?" A muffled laugh gurgled in the back of his esophagus as he began to lift with the help of Joe's strength. Just when they had it balanced, Big Daddy growled, "Qualcuno ha bisogno di pager."
"Oh, really?" Cole nearly dropped the ankles in his hands, "Someone has to pay?"
"Yes." His father stated blankly.
"Someone has to pay for your fuck ups?" The blue-eyed miscreant paused, "No. You need to take accountability where it's due whether you like it or not. You're a liar. I could give a shit less, really. None of us are saints and I can say that with confidence. A lot of us though, we're doing our jobs. I'm just doing what is expected of me here. But you, you got figured out tonight. You need to fix that. Not any of us. You. And you can't raise your hand to a woman because she hurt your feelings."
Jackson Hughes
Little did Jackson know, on the floor just below, Lance was still hanging around. Had he caught that, things would have inevitably been more shaken up than anything one Russian lummox could spawn. The looming brickhouse of a man relented a little, apologizing with a major lack of probity. Regardless, it bothered Jackson little. With a simple nod, Jackson let the guy off to go find whatever it was that he needed. Precautions should have been taken, but Jackson found his intentions wandering on the impetuous side. If the guy returned brandishing a rocket launcher, they were all fucked. Hopefully that was just an impractical figment of his imagination, though.
On the first floor, a loud crack, almost the sound of timber was heard. He didn't budge from the office as he ventured towards Martin, "He didn't give you too much trouble, right man?" Beneath his jacket, his stomach lurched with indignant hunger. A man could only be assumed as stupid if he walked away from a dish Terron made, but duty did call. Undoubtedly he'd have to fill that discrete void with alcohol which hopefully Aurora would be carting up any minute.
He strode out to the hallway where he could overlook the banister. Nearly falling in a heap over Daniel, he stopped impulsively and looked him over, "You look like hell, kid." Then he moved to the baluster and looked down to see an unidentified man slumped on the bar, probably drunk. Behind Jackson, Aurora had come happily with the drinks as he asked. "Just set em' down," he instructed. Buca's doors burst open, a girl of precisely 5'9" (only in those heels, though) rolled in from the storm, her hair and clothes soaked. Seized in her grip was the very discernible .40 he had seen her wield so many times.
It seemed she was in a daze as she stopped just beyond where the doors swung shut. Maybe she was gathering herself. Tucking away her gun, she peered upwards as if she were some sort of clairvoyant. Her green eyes burned into him. He tried to force a smile. Hell, it looked like she needed it. But he couldn't muster it as he looked at her, drained and astray.