When Shay had gotten into a fight that day at school and the school found the number to call, they called home and Cecily, who had gotten the information, had repeated it to Vito over the phone. Shay had gotten into a fight and was leaving school early because of it. She had bloodied another girl's nose, and that was the information they had given. Nothing intricate. Cecily had gone to the school and picked Shay up for Vito, and the school didn't fight or ask any questions, because why would they? She was part of the Rosales gang.
Shay had been quiet throughout the entire car ride, sullenly staring out the window. Cecily hadn't minded. Instead, Doll Girl just turned up the radio and sang out of tune to some popular pop music. Upon arriving at the warehouse, Shay got out, pulling her backpack with her and didn't look back and she stepped inside.
The warehouse was busy, and enough people were smoking that the air took on a foggy essence. Shay had never been here before and looking around at all the men (there were a few women, too, she noted), she wondered why.
It wasn't long before Shay was directed to Vito's office by one of the men. He didn't follow her in, and she didn't blame him. Shay was nervous. She didn't even know why. She hadn't cleaned herself up more than running her arm across her face, which left a streak of blood across her cheek from her nose. Her eye would be black tomorrow; her lower lip was busted and swollen, and her nose had only just stopped bleeding.
She was quiet and watchful when she came in, sitting in a chair in the corner. What was she to say? She'd let him talk first.
Vito knew Shay was going to be trouble.
Of course she was. She was the exact mirror image of him, not in looks, but in personality. Few would even think of it, but he'd gotten into a lot of scrapes in his day for reasons he could barely remember. The words were hot, and so were his fists.
When Klaus brought little Shay in, scrappy and not even five feet, whose adoption file said she needed a therapist, he personally cursed the person that put that in. You don't know his daughter. You don't tell him how to raise her.
She was getting better. The first few weeks were rough, like any adoption process went of course, but it didn't last long between the two of them. He and Shay were cut from the same cloth. He talked to her like an adult. No babytalk, no bullshit. He was in the process of teaching her his values and his skills, and just as his father taught them to him, she was also glad and receptive. He was what she needed, him and Klaus.
And then the phone call came. Vito was disappointed, but not in the way most parents seem to be when they got a phone call about their child. He knew himself and he knew her, and he wished then that he didn't. Let them be different. Spare her from his teen years, one marked with anger, violence, and heartbreak. For the longest time, he struggled growing into himself. He might've been a Russo, but like a bloodhound hot on his trail, his birth was never truly far.
Too intense, too serious, too smart, too controlling. Too prideful, he thought as he watched her come in with her bloody face displayed in the open like war paint. Vito's face was dangerously serious.
He was done for today. He had work to do, but this was the line, he was done with work for today. Vito looked her over and stood up, taking off his coat and tie, and rolling his sleeves up. And then, he pulled out a first aid kit from under his desk, circled the table, and sat across her.
He cupped her chin, moving her head around to inspect the damage.
"They send you home like this? Like you're a cage fighter? I'll sue the damn school for all it's worth." He tsked. He wiped the blood off with wet wipes, uncaring if she flinched or moved away. "Tell me what happened, and why you did it. I'll know if you're lying."
Of course she was. She was the exact mirror image of him, not in looks, but in personality. Few would even think of it, but he'd gotten into a lot of scrapes in his day for reasons he could barely remember. The words were hot, and so were his fists.
When Klaus brought little Shay in, scrappy and not even five feet, whose adoption file said she needed a therapist, he personally cursed the person that put that in. You don't know his daughter. You don't tell him how to raise her.
She was getting better. The first few weeks were rough, like any adoption process went of course, but it didn't last long between the two of them. He and Shay were cut from the same cloth. He talked to her like an adult. No babytalk, no bullshit. He was in the process of teaching her his values and his skills, and just as his father taught them to him, she was also glad and receptive. He was what she needed, him and Klaus.
And then the phone call came. Vito was disappointed, but not in the way most parents seem to be when they got a phone call about their child. He knew himself and he knew her, and he wished then that he didn't. Let them be different. Spare her from his teen years, one marked with anger, violence, and heartbreak. For the longest time, he struggled growing into himself. He might've been a Russo, but like a bloodhound hot on his trail, his birth was never truly far.
Too intense, too serious, too smart, too controlling. Too prideful, he thought as he watched her come in with her bloody face displayed in the open like war paint. Vito's face was dangerously serious.
He was done for today. He had work to do, but this was the line, he was done with work for today. Vito looked her over and stood up, taking off his coat and tie, and rolling his sleeves up. And then, he pulled out a first aid kit from under his desk, circled the table, and sat across her.
He cupped her chin, moving her head around to inspect the damage.
"They send you home like this? Like you're a cage fighter? I'll sue the damn school for all it's worth." He tsked. He wiped the blood off with wet wipes, uncaring if she flinched or moved away. "Tell me what happened, and why you did it. I'll know if you're lying."
Shay was trying hard not to show how unsettled she was by the look on his face. She didn't expect Vito to yell (she couldn't name a time she'd heard him do so), so why was she afraid? It wasn't that Shay thought Vito would hurt her, but that didn't stop her from flinching when he rolled up his sleeves or when he sat near her and held her face. If Shay hadn't been sitting, she might not have been capable of stopping herself from reeling back, trying to get out of there as quick as humanly possible.
By the time Vito was wiping her blood, rough and decisive as a father might, not a mother, Shay had stopped flinching. Instead, she was still, like a rabbit found and cornered. The kind of stillness that came when someone was looking for an escape route.
"You couldn't know. Not for certain," Shay said to his assessment that he could catch her in a lie. Shay knew he could; she wasn't a better liar than he was or than most of his lackeys would be. Shay just... she needed to feel some semblance of control.
She held a sigh before starting the story, and it was quite a story, she would admit to that. It was one of the only times Shay hadn't just lunged at someone.
"There's this guy in my grade named Will who always gets picked on by people, and he was down in the dumps today when these three guys were being assholes. And I couldn't just let them hurt him, so I got between." Shay paused, not going into the series of insults she and the guys may have thrown at each other. They were hardly relevant to the overall story.
"That's not when the fight happened, 'cause they didn't want to fight when teachers were so close nearby." And Shay knew that was the reason, although they hadn't said it. They were the kind of guys who'd team up on a girl. "Later when I went to the restroom, two girls came in, and that's when the fight happened."
Shay wasn't going further than that. Let Vito piece together any empty spaces in her story.
Vito knew posturing when he saw it. He refrained from responding. It was no good to beat down a child's pride so young. Besides, they had more pressing things to address. When her face was cleaned, he reclined on his chair as he listened to her story, face unreadable.
Coming to terms that the world wasn't fair was his hardest hurdle in his youth. Vito was born with a strong sense of justice, so to speak. An infallible, bordering on romantic view on honor and righteous anger for his fellow man. It nurtured a rage that made him lash against any semblance of imbalance. When he saw cruelty, he fought against it with fists at the ready.
He saw that in Shay, and it made him fear for her. She was so much smaller and so much more delicate than he was, wasn't she?
"Admirable," he said softly, with genuine respect behind his tone. And then, he flicked her on the forehead. "But stupid. What were you thinking? You can hardly open a pickle jar. You think you can brawl with groups?"
He backed off her. His anger was bubbling beneath the surface, but it was an anger for her. Vito was much bigger and much scarier than she was. It was his responsibility not to scare her more than was necessary. He needed to cool off. Running a hand through his hair, he walked over to his mini fridge at the corner of his office. He handed her a juice box while he poured himself a drink from his decanter.
"Children are cute, but they're wild animals. They don't know what's right, what's wrong. Leave them alone and you get..." He gestured at her face. "Why the fights, child? Are you that much in a hurry to die?"
Coming to terms that the world wasn't fair was his hardest hurdle in his youth. Vito was born with a strong sense of justice, so to speak. An infallible, bordering on romantic view on honor and righteous anger for his fellow man. It nurtured a rage that made him lash against any semblance of imbalance. When he saw cruelty, he fought against it with fists at the ready.
He saw that in Shay, and it made him fear for her. She was so much smaller and so much more delicate than he was, wasn't she?
"Admirable," he said softly, with genuine respect behind his tone. And then, he flicked her on the forehead. "But stupid. What were you thinking? You can hardly open a pickle jar. You think you can brawl with groups?"
He backed off her. His anger was bubbling beneath the surface, but it was an anger for her. Vito was much bigger and much scarier than she was. It was his responsibility not to scare her more than was necessary. He needed to cool off. Running a hand through his hair, he walked over to his mini fridge at the corner of his office. He handed her a juice box while he poured himself a drink from his decanter.
"Children are cute, but they're wild animals. They don't know what's right, what's wrong. Leave them alone and you get..." He gestured at her face. "Why the fights, child? Are you that much in a hurry to die?"
Shay almost faltered when Vito's face remained unreadable. Her heart hammered, and her fingers shook just a little. She was surprised when her voice remained firm and when she didn't give into the urge to scoot far away from him.
When Vito flicked her forehead, Shay jerked back and blinked, reaching up to rub the skin, eyes wide with surprise. All the tension in the air snapped. Shay didn't know what to say; she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, thoughtful and searching for the right words to make him understand.
Shay took the juice, having very little interest in it, she just played with the straw to keep her hands busy. Was his question rhetorical? Did he want her to answer or did he just want to speak? Shay didn't know Vito well enough to have that answer. She stared down at the juice box in her hands, eyes half-lidded.
"You're worried about me," she said it as though it were a great discovery. "Don't be. I'm fine. Scratches and bruises don't hurt; I've had much worse. I don't --" Shay cut off, gulping and struggle with the words. "I don't want to be afraid. I don't want to stand and watch because I might get hurt or die. I don't want to hide behind the Rosales name, or you and Klaus.
"And, I can open a pickle jar. It may not be how you open it, but at the end of the day, it'll still be opened."
How was he going to be able to get through to her? Vito could remember his own father's frustrations with teaching him as he grew up. A prideful child was either going to be a leader, or a rebel. He didn't wish the latter for her.
Vito took a heavy gulp of brandy and let it relax him before he could speak again.
"I get it. I don't like cowering or not doing anything either, it feels..." What was the word. He shrugged, saying, "It feels like you're small, like you can't do anything important. I'd be a hypocrite if I denied admitting that I shared your sentiments in my youth, but. Is accepting that you're a child really so difficult?
"There's a thin line between stupidity and bravery. There's also a thin line between life and death. Taking on a group of kids stronger than you, that's stupidity. Nobody will remember your heroics when you're dead." His expression was softer then. He went back to his seat, relaxing into it. "You're a smart kid, Shay. You can do great things if you use your head. There's no shame in winning with wits than with fists. Violent people rule the alleyways. Smart people rule the world."
He ruffled her hair, smiling. "I'm not one to drill a point when you already get it. Remember that I don't want to hear about shenanigans like this again. Would you like a tour of this base?"
Vito took a heavy gulp of brandy and let it relax him before he could speak again.
"I get it. I don't like cowering or not doing anything either, it feels..." What was the word. He shrugged, saying, "It feels like you're small, like you can't do anything important. I'd be a hypocrite if I denied admitting that I shared your sentiments in my youth, but. Is accepting that you're a child really so difficult?
"There's a thin line between stupidity and bravery. There's also a thin line between life and death. Taking on a group of kids stronger than you, that's stupidity. Nobody will remember your heroics when you're dead." His expression was softer then. He went back to his seat, relaxing into it. "You're a smart kid, Shay. You can do great things if you use your head. There's no shame in winning with wits than with fists. Violent people rule the alleyways. Smart people rule the world."
He ruffled her hair, smiling. "I'm not one to drill a point when you already get it. Remember that I don't want to hear about shenanigans like this again. Would you like a tour of this base?"
He'd hit the nail on the head. It did make her feel small, but it startled Shay that Vito had ever felt like she did right then. He was bigger than her and what's more, he was intimidating. "You felt like I do?" Her tone was dubious; he had to be lying to her to make her feel better or something. There was no way Vito couldn't win a fight, or felt small and scared. No way that Vito could understand what it felt like to be powerless.
Shay looked down at her feet by the time he was finished talking. She felt young enough that it was incredible they reached the floor, really. She was proud of herself when she stopped herself from flinching at Vito's touch.
Eroshay considered what Vito told her. Smart and not strong, is what she had to be. How could she do that? How could she admit to being both a child and being smart enough to take on the world? Shay couldn't even name what she was fighting for, but she had the sinking feeling that not fighting would mean drowning.
She slid off her chair to stand beside Vito and look up at him. Somber as ever. "Is this where you do all the technical stuff or do you hurt people here, too. Like the mob does."
A pause.
"Yes, I want a tour, please."
Vito studied the incredulity in her face. He supposed he should feel flattered. It was hard for children to process that their fathers had gone through the same things they did. They only had the present as a point of reference. He nodded. "I wasn't born an adult, Shay. You take a fighting spirit and couple it with this face —" He gestured at his face, the fangs, the scales, the odd jaunt under sharp cheekbones, "— and you get more visits to the Guidance Counselor than your parent would like. I fought others a lot, but at a certain point, I realized that brawling is just not what I'm built for."
Back to what he was built for. He smiled faintly at Shay as she took an interest to his office. "In this building, yes. Not in this office. This office is strictly for orders and paperwork. I remember a couple of years ago, I found out that one of the leaders of my assigned districts, Salvacion, fell in love with one of the henchmen I assigned to him. Of course, Carmen was a breathtaking woman, but she did not like his advances. She turned him down thrice. But he was her boss. He forced himself on her, and she couldn't say a word in fear that she would lose her job. Luckily, her friend decided to contact me directly."
Vito shook his head. "I was furious. We had a group meeting, me and the district leaders in the meeting room downstairs. I called Salvacion over. As he walked up to me, I had two of my people take him to the hall outside and called everybody over to watch. I cut off his manhood in front of the crowd as an example to the degenerate fucks that think they can pull one on our family. If you check the wallpaper outside, you can still see the dried bloodstains from where it happened."
He supposed she would find that story amusing. Kids usually did, with their fascination with the more explicit side of life.
"This is my office, as you know. Every week, I receive reports about how our people are doing, how the district is going, how much we're earning, and other such matters." He placed his glass down and showed her an example of a good report. "In this table is the district's week earnings. The bottom row is a comparison about last month's, to check if there are any growths or declines. Here's a valid complaint: Henchman caught gambling with the drug money last Thursday. That's been rectified, of course. Here's a requisition order. In our line of business, we use special codes about specific goods. 1400KH is 14 kilograms of Heroin. Take note of that. I'll be teaching you how to read the forms eventually."
Vito stood up and gestured for her to follow him out of his office, sneering at the blood stain as they passed. "Over here is the meeting room, and over there... is where they manufacture meth and pack up drugs." He opened the door to show Shay their henchmen hard at work, with beakers and chemical materials. "There are a lot of rooms here, since this is this year's main base. Is there a particular aspect of our work that you're curious about?"
Back to what he was built for. He smiled faintly at Shay as she took an interest to his office. "In this building, yes. Not in this office. This office is strictly for orders and paperwork. I remember a couple of years ago, I found out that one of the leaders of my assigned districts, Salvacion, fell in love with one of the henchmen I assigned to him. Of course, Carmen was a breathtaking woman, but she did not like his advances. She turned him down thrice. But he was her boss. He forced himself on her, and she couldn't say a word in fear that she would lose her job. Luckily, her friend decided to contact me directly."
Vito shook his head. "I was furious. We had a group meeting, me and the district leaders in the meeting room downstairs. I called Salvacion over. As he walked up to me, I had two of my people take him to the hall outside and called everybody over to watch. I cut off his manhood in front of the crowd as an example to the degenerate fucks that think they can pull one on our family. If you check the wallpaper outside, you can still see the dried bloodstains from where it happened."
He supposed she would find that story amusing. Kids usually did, with their fascination with the more explicit side of life.
"This is my office, as you know. Every week, I receive reports about how our people are doing, how the district is going, how much we're earning, and other such matters." He placed his glass down and showed her an example of a good report. "In this table is the district's week earnings. The bottom row is a comparison about last month's, to check if there are any growths or declines. Here's a valid complaint: Henchman caught gambling with the drug money last Thursday. That's been rectified, of course. Here's a requisition order. In our line of business, we use special codes about specific goods. 1400KH is 14 kilograms of Heroin. Take note of that. I'll be teaching you how to read the forms eventually."
Vito stood up and gestured for her to follow him out of his office, sneering at the blood stain as they passed. "Over here is the meeting room, and over there... is where they manufacture meth and pack up drugs." He opened the door to show Shay their henchmen hard at work, with beakers and chemical materials. "There are a lot of rooms here, since this is this year's main base. Is there a particular aspect of our work that you're curious about?"
Shay hadn't expected Vito to answer her willingly about the gangs habits of harming others. Officer Angelo had been less than compliant when it came to his previous mobster life, so Shay just figured all classy criminals were that way.
It was gruesome but for the most part, Shay was enjoying the story Vito told her. Like any child her age, she'd cut in to ask questions. There were things Shay didn't entirely understand. Adult human being things.
"If he loved her why did he hurt her?" Shay assumed Vito would beat the guy up. Bust his kneecaps in at the worst or something. She didn't know how Klaus and he punished people, but she'd never imagined what he actually did.
The girl's eyes widened, and her mouth fell agape. The bloodstains were still there? They were still there! She blanched, her throat tightened, and her fingers tingled. And Vito just went right on talking, as if it were no big deal. The man Vito hurt was bad. He hurt their people. But Vito and Klaus did those same things to decent people, too, didn't they?
Shay tried to focus on what Vito was telling her. Math and reports. Code names for drugs. She could only half concentrate on all of it; too aware of how close she was to him -- her shoulder nearly touched him. She nodded every once in awhile to show she was listening. Shay couldn't help but search out the dried blood on the wall when they passed it. She shirked away from it. Closer to Vito.
"I, hr," she paused and noted the heightened speed of her heart. It throbbed in her ears and her throat. "Is there a room where you make tactical plans?" The line of thought invigorated Shay enough that it drown out the majority of her anxiety.
Vito considered that question for a few moments. "Because he loved her like a prize, not a person. She was no different than a trophy to him."
The reaction took Vito by surprise. Shay was a mature girl, but he had to remember she wasn't raised as he was, exposed to the harshness of the world at a young age. His parents have never hidden anything to him. They gave it to him straight. For the most part, he turned out fine, preferred the truth even. A hard truth was better than a pleasant lie.
Shay didn't know that, and perhaps she wouldn't grow accustomed to that either. He had to remember that. He decided no more brutal stories, and ease the specifics of their business little by little.
He welcomed the change of topic. He gestured for her to follow him. They went inside of a spacious meeting room. At the very back of the room was a giant map of the island, zoomed in that the addresses of homes even showed. Around the map were pictures, tags, threads and newspaper clippings.
"The tags are the district leaders. They rotate every few months. The newspaper clippings are speculation — look here. Headmistress Moor announces creating bridge on 55th street, a bridge that would lead to our base of operations. You can understand why they're there.
"The threads are secret street routes. The pictures..." He tapped a picture of a woman placed near the street of the Underground. "They're people we need to watch out for. This one is Abia Defan, a crime lord at the Underground. Our biggest rival yet.
"We meet in here to talk about our current set-up, if there are any threats, from both competitors and cops. They can shut down our routes pretty easily." He tapped two pictures on the side of the map: Damon Vesper and Detective Felix Verma. "These are our police contacts. They warn us ahead of time if the cops are doing any raids. They can get rid of any offenses you might have too."
The reaction took Vito by surprise. Shay was a mature girl, but he had to remember she wasn't raised as he was, exposed to the harshness of the world at a young age. His parents have never hidden anything to him. They gave it to him straight. For the most part, he turned out fine, preferred the truth even. A hard truth was better than a pleasant lie.
Shay didn't know that, and perhaps she wouldn't grow accustomed to that either. He had to remember that. He decided no more brutal stories, and ease the specifics of their business little by little.
He welcomed the change of topic. He gestured for her to follow him. They went inside of a spacious meeting room. At the very back of the room was a giant map of the island, zoomed in that the addresses of homes even showed. Around the map were pictures, tags, threads and newspaper clippings.
"The tags are the district leaders. They rotate every few months. The newspaper clippings are speculation — look here. Headmistress Moor announces creating bridge on 55th street, a bridge that would lead to our base of operations. You can understand why they're there.
"The threads are secret street routes. The pictures..." He tapped a picture of a woman placed near the street of the Underground. "They're people we need to watch out for. This one is Abia Defan, a crime lord at the Underground. Our biggest rival yet.
"We meet in here to talk about our current set-up, if there are any threats, from both competitors and cops. They can shut down our routes pretty easily." He tapped two pictures on the side of the map: Damon Vesper and Detective Felix Verma. "These are our police contacts. They warn us ahead of time if the cops are doing any raids. They can get rid of any offenses you might have too."