Angelo Fortunato had never thought of himself as much of a long-term planner in life. And the perfect reflection of this 'hamartia' was his current place that very moment. Beneath a cold, grey evening sky outside the Fortunato Mansion, his old home, and the current home of the most evil man he knew...
Don Vincente Paulo Fortunato, Angelo's father.
-
It was going to be the worst Christmas ever. Angelo had decided that before
he received the worst text message he thought possible – his sister, Anna, had been unsuccessful with getting better from the Cancer. It was getting worse, and worst still, her father had stopped paying for the treatment.
Angelo's first thought was basic: Kill him. Of course, having been a trainee of Xavier's top secret taskforce he knew the people who'd be sent after him if he did – of course, if Vincente was dead he'd also be unable to pay the medical fees on account of having no head with which to do so. Angelo's second option came in the form of a phone call from the sinister sibling others knew as Giacomo Fortunato, or 'Jimmy'.
“Don't hang up, little brother, just listen; Father has offered to pay the medical fees for Anna if you turn yourself in. We'll be waiting for you at home. Kisses.”
Angelo couldn't even think of a reply by the time his brother's sentence had finished, and even if he had, it was followed by the 'click-and-beep' of the handset being put down. With no real friends to speak of within the halls of Xavier Institute there was only one thing for it.
Accept the offer. Waltz straight into hell.
-
So there he was, Angelo the Arrogant, within his thick, white hooded coat he still didn't feel safe here. He adjusted his blue scarf and approached the large door to his former residence, as his hand knocked on the door it fell open, much to his surprise. He didn't need artificial super-sense to tell him that meant one thing only; Trap.
Angelo took his time stepping through the dark halls of his childhood. His footsteps echoed loud as he stepped through into the lounge; he'd fond memories of the Christmases and birthdays he'd spent in this room, and it hurt to feel like an enemy inside now. Casting away any desire to sit and reminisce, Angelo continued to wind his way through the mansion's first floor until he reached the studio, it was a large room that Anna used to use for ballet practice, Angelo and his brother used it to practice various instruments from pianos to violas, and there was a beautiful panoramic view from the veranda window that ran along the east wall that overlooked the (currently drained for cleaning, perhaps) pool outside. But all of the musical instruments were missing. And there were footsteps from above – Angelo darted forwards and turned to see the four or five men lining up on the walkway lining the first floor of the room, of course they were all armed with guns, as was their leader...
“Brother!”, came Giacomo's voice. “So glad you could join us again...”, he raised his trademark revolver to his lips and kissed the barrel. “Welcome home, Angelo...”
-
Christmas 2012: Angelo
-
Chaos
- Butt Monkey
- Posts: 426
- Joined: Fri Jun 05, 2009 9:18 pm
- Title: Mr. President
- Nightscrawlearth Character:
etc. - Location: I AM NIGHTSCRAWLERS.COM !!
Christmas 2012: Angelo
"I've met dozens like you. Skipped off home early, minor graft jobs here and there. Spent some time in lock-up too, I'll warrant; but less than you claim. And now you're, what, a petty theif with delusions of standing? Sad little king of a sad little hill..." - River Tam, 'Firefly'
Achievements: 
-
Chaos
- Butt Monkey
- Posts: 426
- Joined: Fri Jun 05, 2009 9:18 pm
- Title: Mr. President
- Nightscrawlearth Character: etc.
- Location: I AM NIGHTSCRAWLERS.COM !!
Christmas 2012: Angelo
“Spare me the drama, please?”, Angelo asked, confidence unsure of whether to rise or sink – Eddie could handle bullets, right? He bragged about it all the time. “You can call it an early Christmas present...”
One or two of the men smirked, glancing between the two brothers. They looked nothing alike, suiting their demeanour; Giacomo wore a jet black suit and black shirt with a silk tie flowing like a stream of blood from his neck, he had brown hair and eyes of a similar blue to Angelo's, only they looked dark, almost soulless. Angelo wore white and had dirty blonde hair, and looked more like the paladin than the plague. It seemed the only possible similarity between them were the Rosary beads they both wore, however, like their obvious blood tie, they weren't visible to onlookers.
“You look nervous, Angelo...”, smirked Giacomo. “Rightly so; Father wanted you here to offer you an ultimatum, only I've decided there's gonna be a change of plan...”, the twisted smirk that spread across his face reminded Angelo of his mental image of Satan as a snake trying to poison Eve.
“...you know what? You're one sick son of a bitch, Jimmy!”, Angelo snapped. “Your sister is dying and all you care about is licking Father's ass?!”
“You don't know anything!”, retorted Giacomo, “All she ever does is talk about you, and today, myself and my assistants are gonna make damn sure that stops – Father always respected me more because my mother wasn't some disease ridden slut, and by God, Anna will, too!”
With a snap of his fingers Giacomo's men raised their weapons at Angelo, who instantly turned and bolted across the room; he webbed his way up to their level and left through the adjacent door as lead screamed through the air behind him and splintered wood and wall. Naturally he was followed, but he had no idea where they'd come from; Angelo continued through the various studys, bumping into two men at the end of the first floor lounge, wasting no time he webbed both of their faces and dropped them with kicks to the stomach – the yelling and gunfire from behind him gave him the indication there was no time to waste enjoying the sight of their gasping in pain as he fled his pursuers.
-
“Go after him!”, commanded Giacomo, reloading his .45 and walking into the room behind them; lying on the bed was a large black box. With great anticipation he unclasped the silver locks and revealed the weapon within; a vintage 'Tommy Gun'. “Merry Christmas, indeed...”, he snickered to himself.
-
Angelo skidded to a halt in the T-corridor connecting the first floor to the stairwell; he could hear his brothers cronies from both sides. “Time for some creativity...”, he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath and bursting into a coagulation of white tendrils, his form soon condensed and solidified into a shape not too different from Eddie's during their last fight, only Angelo appeared white with his own spider insignia variant in black on the chest (a touch he thought was rather clever), his face was black with two bright yellow eyes that seemed to burn as his fanged mouth grinned at the first three men to appear.
“...well? Fuckin' shoot him!”, one of them said, raising his weapon and unloading with the others. Angelo darted towards the bullets, dodging what he could and running through what he couldn't, they hurt like being grazed by a carpet burn, nothing he couldn't handle. Angelo sent a powerful punch into the middle man, sending him flying into a bookshelf in the other room, the other two he grabbed and forced their heads together with a sly laugh. The bestial Angelo turned to face the last two men, whom he webbed towards him by their chests and promptly drove into the wooden floorboards. With a horrible crash they were winded and left out for the count.
“Simple enough...”, muttered Angelo in a distorted voice. He stalked through the house back the way he's come. “Giaco-o-mo...where are you, brother?”, he said with some malice in his lashing tongue, feeling much more mighty than he'd done earlier. “I've got something to sh-o-ow you...”
Giacomo was waiting in the lounge on their floor, Angelo stepped past the two previously subdued guards, kicking one of them in the face to make sure he stayed down. Giacomo looked happy as he raised his new weapon. “Time to send you back to hell like the mistake you are, brother!”, he held the submachine gun tightly as it roared, spitting bullets into Angelo's chest, Angelo stalked forwards as best he could as his chest tore from the slugs slicing into him. He cried out like an enraged lion as Giacomo's bullet frenzy stopped along with his smile – Angelo's grew as he leapt onto his brother, slamming fist upon fist into his face.
After a beating that he wasn't sure he could stop if he wanted to, Angelo grabbed his brother by the throat and dragged him up, tightening his grip as his form swelled. “Look at me, Brother. And tell me you think God will protect you from me...”, he hissed. Giacomo looked away before Angelo slammed him against the floor again. “LOOK AT ME!”, he roared. “Tell me you think you deserve to live, you bastard, TELL ME!”
Before Angelo could make out a word his brother was babbling he was struck with a violent pain; his whole body lit like a fire, twitching and writhing back into a semi-solid state – he tried to cry out but before he could turn around his form lost consistency, breaking apart and reforming into a passed out blonde boy. Giacomo fell on his back, gazing up at a blurry shadow of a man standing above him, waving some kind of cattle-prod in his face.
“Hello, child.”, he said, chewing a cigar like a modern-day Al Capone, “Pray tell; what the fuck you've done to my house?”
-
One or two of the men smirked, glancing between the two brothers. They looked nothing alike, suiting their demeanour; Giacomo wore a jet black suit and black shirt with a silk tie flowing like a stream of blood from his neck, he had brown hair and eyes of a similar blue to Angelo's, only they looked dark, almost soulless. Angelo wore white and had dirty blonde hair, and looked more like the paladin than the plague. It seemed the only possible similarity between them were the Rosary beads they both wore, however, like their obvious blood tie, they weren't visible to onlookers.
“You look nervous, Angelo...”, smirked Giacomo. “Rightly so; Father wanted you here to offer you an ultimatum, only I've decided there's gonna be a change of plan...”, the twisted smirk that spread across his face reminded Angelo of his mental image of Satan as a snake trying to poison Eve.
“...you know what? You're one sick son of a bitch, Jimmy!”, Angelo snapped. “Your sister is dying and all you care about is licking Father's ass?!”
“You don't know anything!”, retorted Giacomo, “All she ever does is talk about you, and today, myself and my assistants are gonna make damn sure that stops – Father always respected me more because my mother wasn't some disease ridden slut, and by God, Anna will, too!”
With a snap of his fingers Giacomo's men raised their weapons at Angelo, who instantly turned and bolted across the room; he webbed his way up to their level and left through the adjacent door as lead screamed through the air behind him and splintered wood and wall. Naturally he was followed, but he had no idea where they'd come from; Angelo continued through the various studys, bumping into two men at the end of the first floor lounge, wasting no time he webbed both of their faces and dropped them with kicks to the stomach – the yelling and gunfire from behind him gave him the indication there was no time to waste enjoying the sight of their gasping in pain as he fled his pursuers.
-
“Go after him!”, commanded Giacomo, reloading his .45 and walking into the room behind them; lying on the bed was a large black box. With great anticipation he unclasped the silver locks and revealed the weapon within; a vintage 'Tommy Gun'. “Merry Christmas, indeed...”, he snickered to himself.
-
Angelo skidded to a halt in the T-corridor connecting the first floor to the stairwell; he could hear his brothers cronies from both sides. “Time for some creativity...”, he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath and bursting into a coagulation of white tendrils, his form soon condensed and solidified into a shape not too different from Eddie's during their last fight, only Angelo appeared white with his own spider insignia variant in black on the chest (a touch he thought was rather clever), his face was black with two bright yellow eyes that seemed to burn as his fanged mouth grinned at the first three men to appear.
“...well? Fuckin' shoot him!”, one of them said, raising his weapon and unloading with the others. Angelo darted towards the bullets, dodging what he could and running through what he couldn't, they hurt like being grazed by a carpet burn, nothing he couldn't handle. Angelo sent a powerful punch into the middle man, sending him flying into a bookshelf in the other room, the other two he grabbed and forced their heads together with a sly laugh. The bestial Angelo turned to face the last two men, whom he webbed towards him by their chests and promptly drove into the wooden floorboards. With a horrible crash they were winded and left out for the count.
“Simple enough...”, muttered Angelo in a distorted voice. He stalked through the house back the way he's come. “Giaco-o-mo...where are you, brother?”, he said with some malice in his lashing tongue, feeling much more mighty than he'd done earlier. “I've got something to sh-o-ow you...”
Giacomo was waiting in the lounge on their floor, Angelo stepped past the two previously subdued guards, kicking one of them in the face to make sure he stayed down. Giacomo looked happy as he raised his new weapon. “Time to send you back to hell like the mistake you are, brother!”, he held the submachine gun tightly as it roared, spitting bullets into Angelo's chest, Angelo stalked forwards as best he could as his chest tore from the slugs slicing into him. He cried out like an enraged lion as Giacomo's bullet frenzy stopped along with his smile – Angelo's grew as he leapt onto his brother, slamming fist upon fist into his face.
After a beating that he wasn't sure he could stop if he wanted to, Angelo grabbed his brother by the throat and dragged him up, tightening his grip as his form swelled. “Look at me, Brother. And tell me you think God will protect you from me...”, he hissed. Giacomo looked away before Angelo slammed him against the floor again. “LOOK AT ME!”, he roared. “Tell me you think you deserve to live, you bastard, TELL ME!”
Before Angelo could make out a word his brother was babbling he was struck with a violent pain; his whole body lit like a fire, twitching and writhing back into a semi-solid state – he tried to cry out but before he could turn around his form lost consistency, breaking apart and reforming into a passed out blonde boy. Giacomo fell on his back, gazing up at a blurry shadow of a man standing above him, waving some kind of cattle-prod in his face.
“Hello, child.”, he said, chewing a cigar like a modern-day Al Capone, “Pray tell; what the fuck you've done to my house?”
-
"I've met dozens like you. Skipped off home early, minor graft jobs here and there. Spent some time in lock-up too, I'll warrant; but less than you claim. And now you're, what, a petty theif with delusions of standing? Sad little king of a sad little hill..." - River Tam, 'Firefly'
Achievements: -
Chaos
- Butt Monkey
- Posts: 426
- Joined: Fri Jun 05, 2009 9:18 pm
- Title: Mr. President
- Nightscrawlearth Character: etc.
- Location: I AM NIGHTSCRAWLERS.COM !!
Christmas 2012: Angelo
Angelo awoke slowly, eyes focussing in on the room; he was in a basement or....some underground place. There was a yellowish light beaming down from a crude fitting above the chair he was strapped to, there was a pull from behind him; it appeared he and his brother were attached to the same chair...
A door opened from behind Angelo and in front of Giacomo, from the sound of the dry laughter it was Vincente, their father, and a bunch of other goons. Angelo felt his brain twinge – he was picking up his father's vitals as well as the others in the room.
And he was intrigued by them...
“Right. Think you kids can stop your feud for a few moments?”, Vincente asked, stepping around the room as the door slowly creaked shut. “And yes, Angelo, I am very aware you could break out of that chair and kill everyone in this room with relative ease, but that's not what you're gonna do...”
“And you know that's a fact, do you?”, hissed Angelo, dragging at the bonds, his brother grunted (though not to his concern, he hoped he'd take Jimmy's wrists with him...).
“Yeah, I do. Because I know you love your sister.”
Angelo froze.
“That got your attention...”, Vincente laughed, coughing violently suddenly.
“Father, are y-...”, Giacomo began, silenced by one of Vincente's entourage kicking him in the stomach.
“I'm fine.”, breathed Vincente. “You shut your damn mouth 'til spoken to, little boy. Daddy isn't happy with you.” With a rude spit, Giacomo looked away. “As for you, Angelo, I have a choice for you to make...”
“You hurt Anna and I really will kill you...”, Angelo said darkly. He felt an unfamiliar hatred brew in his heart – maybe that was another thing triggered by the Venom mutation; he'd never felt so aggressive before, even about something like this – every fibre of his being wanted to fight, rip and tear apart everyone in the room.
“Anna won't be hurt unless you don't agree with me, kid.”, Vincente said, walking into his son's sight. “You have an ultimatum as of now...wanna hear the terms?”, reluctantly, Angelo nodded, “Good boy. Now, I need some of your blood and a tissue sample for the very nice man who made you an abomination.”
“And I'm gonna give that to you because...what? You're such a kind and gentle father(?)”, Angelo shook his head.
“Nah, I'm a terrible father; I raised a moron who doesn't wait to hear the end of a deal and a little fuck up who's only redeeming trait is that when I say 'eat shit and call it ice cream', the little bastard does so!”, Vincente said, approaching Angelo and leaning close to his face. “No, see, you'll do it because if you do not, Anna's fees stop getting paid and she dies...”
Angelo looked into his father's eyes, trembling at the thought of his sister dying.
“And you know damn well I'll do it, Angelo. You kids are bettin' chips. You're either useful or you ain't useful; Anna? She's useful. She keeps you in check, makes sure you don't do anythin' stupid. You're useful, 'cause you got me friends in high, high places...”, Vincente looked over at Giacomo. “Your brother there, Christ only knows; one day I'll find a use for that sack o' shit, but until then there's you, 'golden boy'...”
Angelo mulled it over no longer than a second. “...do I get anything else?”
“Yeah, you get to piss off outta here and not come back 'til I want you to.”, Vincente said, standing back up. “That and you automatically lose Anna if I find you poking about in that hospital without contacting me first...”
“I get to see her?!”, Angelo gasped, looking up at his father.
“You get to see her IF I want you to...”, Vincente pointed out.
Angelo thought it through for a moment; he couldn't pay Anna's medical fees, and at the moment that was all that was keeping her alive. Sure, he was probably about to sell his soul, but the way he saw it, it had already been forfeit a long time ago...
And Anna's life was worth any price.
“How do I know you'll keep your word?”, Angelo asked. Vincente raised an eyebrow.
“You know because if I don't, you'll have all the ammo you need to come back and take my head.”, he answered. “I'm tellin' you the truth when I say these friends are very, very intent on what I have to offer...”
'Meaning they'll kill you if you don't deliver....piece of shit.', Angelo thought. “Alright, deal. You live, Anna lives, you get your samples and I go straight back to hiding. Simple.”, Vincente nodded, snapping his fingers to beckon a member of his group. The man wore protective gloves and with no haste set up a pressure band around Angelo's arm. When he'd taken two blood samples he drew a Petri dish and a scalpel and cut off a square of Angelo's skin which quickly became white and began to writhe a little.
Once the man was done, Angelo was set loose from the chair. Vincente opened the door for him.
“Money'll go to the hospital in a few days. Well done, kid; you're proof my parenting yeilds reward.”, Vincente said to him as he walked past. “Now do yourself a favour and get outta here; I hear about you even bein' in Miami for a month, money gets cut like that.”
Angelo walked away without a word until he reached the steps of the basement, leading upwards to ground level. “One more thing, Father...” Vincente waited for Angelo's words. “It's terminal for you, isn't it?”
Vincente blinked, more than a little amazed Angelo knew. Observant little bastard.
“You may be a stable investment, but you ask too many goddamn questions.”, the old man said. “Now, get the fuck out before I decide the deal's off, eh? Prick...”
The door closed. Angelo fled post-haste; no point in attempting to push his luck further. Behind the door, Vincente approached Giacomo, still tied to the chair.
“Alright, kid. I want you to do your Daddy a little favour...”, he muttered into his son's ear. “You're gonna say your Hail Mary's, and I'm gonna hit you real damn hard for every time I think you've broken my trust in the last twenty-four hours...”
“And you bet your bottom dollar it's gonna hurt, 'Jimmy'...”
-
A door opened from behind Angelo and in front of Giacomo, from the sound of the dry laughter it was Vincente, their father, and a bunch of other goons. Angelo felt his brain twinge – he was picking up his father's vitals as well as the others in the room.
And he was intrigued by them...
“Right. Think you kids can stop your feud for a few moments?”, Vincente asked, stepping around the room as the door slowly creaked shut. “And yes, Angelo, I am very aware you could break out of that chair and kill everyone in this room with relative ease, but that's not what you're gonna do...”
“And you know that's a fact, do you?”, hissed Angelo, dragging at the bonds, his brother grunted (though not to his concern, he hoped he'd take Jimmy's wrists with him...).
“Yeah, I do. Because I know you love your sister.”
Angelo froze.
“That got your attention...”, Vincente laughed, coughing violently suddenly.
“Father, are y-...”, Giacomo began, silenced by one of Vincente's entourage kicking him in the stomach.
“I'm fine.”, breathed Vincente. “You shut your damn mouth 'til spoken to, little boy. Daddy isn't happy with you.” With a rude spit, Giacomo looked away. “As for you, Angelo, I have a choice for you to make...”
“You hurt Anna and I really will kill you...”, Angelo said darkly. He felt an unfamiliar hatred brew in his heart – maybe that was another thing triggered by the Venom mutation; he'd never felt so aggressive before, even about something like this – every fibre of his being wanted to fight, rip and tear apart everyone in the room.
“Anna won't be hurt unless you don't agree with me, kid.”, Vincente said, walking into his son's sight. “You have an ultimatum as of now...wanna hear the terms?”, reluctantly, Angelo nodded, “Good boy. Now, I need some of your blood and a tissue sample for the very nice man who made you an abomination.”
“And I'm gonna give that to you because...what? You're such a kind and gentle father(?)”, Angelo shook his head.
“Nah, I'm a terrible father; I raised a moron who doesn't wait to hear the end of a deal and a little fuck up who's only redeeming trait is that when I say 'eat shit and call it ice cream', the little bastard does so!”, Vincente said, approaching Angelo and leaning close to his face. “No, see, you'll do it because if you do not, Anna's fees stop getting paid and she dies...”
Angelo looked into his father's eyes, trembling at the thought of his sister dying.
“And you know damn well I'll do it, Angelo. You kids are bettin' chips. You're either useful or you ain't useful; Anna? She's useful. She keeps you in check, makes sure you don't do anythin' stupid. You're useful, 'cause you got me friends in high, high places...”, Vincente looked over at Giacomo. “Your brother there, Christ only knows; one day I'll find a use for that sack o' shit, but until then there's you, 'golden boy'...”
Angelo mulled it over no longer than a second. “...do I get anything else?”
“Yeah, you get to piss off outta here and not come back 'til I want you to.”, Vincente said, standing back up. “That and you automatically lose Anna if I find you poking about in that hospital without contacting me first...”
“I get to see her?!”, Angelo gasped, looking up at his father.
“You get to see her IF I want you to...”, Vincente pointed out.
Angelo thought it through for a moment; he couldn't pay Anna's medical fees, and at the moment that was all that was keeping her alive. Sure, he was probably about to sell his soul, but the way he saw it, it had already been forfeit a long time ago...
And Anna's life was worth any price.
“How do I know you'll keep your word?”, Angelo asked. Vincente raised an eyebrow.
“You know because if I don't, you'll have all the ammo you need to come back and take my head.”, he answered. “I'm tellin' you the truth when I say these friends are very, very intent on what I have to offer...”
'Meaning they'll kill you if you don't deliver....piece of shit.', Angelo thought. “Alright, deal. You live, Anna lives, you get your samples and I go straight back to hiding. Simple.”, Vincente nodded, snapping his fingers to beckon a member of his group. The man wore protective gloves and with no haste set up a pressure band around Angelo's arm. When he'd taken two blood samples he drew a Petri dish and a scalpel and cut off a square of Angelo's skin which quickly became white and began to writhe a little.
Once the man was done, Angelo was set loose from the chair. Vincente opened the door for him.
“Money'll go to the hospital in a few days. Well done, kid; you're proof my parenting yeilds reward.”, Vincente said to him as he walked past. “Now do yourself a favour and get outta here; I hear about you even bein' in Miami for a month, money gets cut like that.”
Angelo walked away without a word until he reached the steps of the basement, leading upwards to ground level. “One more thing, Father...” Vincente waited for Angelo's words. “It's terminal for you, isn't it?”
Vincente blinked, more than a little amazed Angelo knew. Observant little bastard.
“You may be a stable investment, but you ask too many goddamn questions.”, the old man said. “Now, get the fuck out before I decide the deal's off, eh? Prick...”
The door closed. Angelo fled post-haste; no point in attempting to push his luck further. Behind the door, Vincente approached Giacomo, still tied to the chair.
“Alright, kid. I want you to do your Daddy a little favour...”, he muttered into his son's ear. “You're gonna say your Hail Mary's, and I'm gonna hit you real damn hard for every time I think you've broken my trust in the last twenty-four hours...”
“And you bet your bottom dollar it's gonna hurt, 'Jimmy'...”
-
"I've met dozens like you. Skipped off home early, minor graft jobs here and there. Spent some time in lock-up too, I'll warrant; but less than you claim. And now you're, what, a petty theif with delusions of standing? Sad little king of a sad little hill..." - River Tam, 'Firefly'
Achievements: