This thread is back-dated to November 15th 2015.
This was not business as usual. The Levitan Empire might have operated like a business for all intents and purposes, but the differences between it and a truly legitimate organisation were as stark as variances between a warship and a yacht. The employees that worked at each prong of the Levitan Trident weren’t office lackeys working pay cheque to pay cheque and counting down the days to the weekend, to Partyville, they were Mafiosi. Each man was of Italian descent, shipped in from all corners of the globe to work in the frozen North, operating under the flag of businessmen, but dealing in the dark underbelly of society. They were experienced in all the things they needed to be in order to get the job done: manipulation, taunts, threats, violence, charm – yes, even charm. They knew the rules and they knew what was expected of them, even as dumb and feckless as they often were, Levitan’s employees were loyal and they understood how business works. They recognised the intrinsic link between working smart, working hard, and earning their wages. If the business was doing well because of their efforts then they would reap the rewards. Their loyalty was predicated on Human selfishness and that was why business was good. It was that simple at the surface level, and despite the many intricacies of how the operations ran on a daily – and nightly – basis, Levi never felt too much anxiety about leaving his Empire in their hands.
That wasn’t why the Vampiro couldn’t sleep. Levi couldn’t sleep because he could no longer get his brain to shut off without the use of narcotics. There was always something to think about, something to consider, something to lament, something to agonise over, someone to hate, and someone to love and think obsessively about. Levi really was doing his best not to show Lorelai just how ******* crazy he was, but he wasn’t entirely sure how effective this pretence was. He worried too that by trying to subjugate his paranoia, by not putting her under constant surveillance and being as passionate as he truly was, he was just creating another problem. Maybe Lorelai could think the spark between them was gone, or that Levi was considering leaving her because he was perhaps being distant again, lying to her. He couldn’t tell. The Italian knew what he was doing, but he had no idea what kind of effect that would have on the blonde, how Lorelai would consider him. As a matter of fact, Levi wasn’t being all that distant, he just wasn’t being himself. He poured upon her all the affection and romance he could muster without vomiting, he gave her exactly what he thought she wanted from him. Levi took her out on dates, bought her gifts, spent as much time with her as physically possible, told her he loved her frequently enough that she might just believe it, and never brought home any of his aggravations or worries anymore. Levi was the perfect ******* gentleman, the perfect boyfriend, but he suspected that she might see through him.
Scarred, almost unfeeling fingers pawed gently through the silken strands of sunshine that was Lorelai’s hair as they lay in bed together. Umber eyes roamed over her features, working their way from the coral-brightness of her cheeks to those soft pink lips, and missing the ocean-sparkle of her eyes behind those heavy lids. Watching her sleep was probably a little creepy, but Levi had nothing else to do in these early daylight hours. He couldn’t go outside without smouldering like a forgotten cigarette – drawing undue attention to himself – and since the last place Levi wanted to be was at work, the Italian remained by Lorelai’s side. It wasn’t like it was the worst place to be at any rate. The air in the room was warm and sweet like a breeze brought in from the Mediterranean Sea; a perfume of orange blossom and honey oil scented the apartment around their own individual aromas; the space was dark, comfortable and secure; and hell, the view and the company weren’t half bad either. All Levi really had to do was pretend like he wasn’t regarding her with all the possessive intensity of a crack-addict if she caught him looking. And who knows? Maybe she would find it endearing and flattering rather than creepy and possessive. Karma had to balance itself out eventually, right? The Italian really hoped that it would, but he had no idea that he should have been more careful with what he wished for…
It was 9:46am when the call came in. The Italian kept his phone close at all times of the day and night like it held an invisible chokehold on his life, so when the phone got to whirring away on the bedside cabinet, Levi rolled over and snatched it away before the annoying buzz could wake Lorelai. He also stepped out of the room to answer the call; his supernatural stealth working over-time to get him out of the room as quickly and as silently as possible. Uncaring of his nakedness – for the fact that he was basically in his underwear – Levi stood in the middle of the living room before thumbing the answer button, adopting his trademark business manner and gruff Bostonian accent.
“What?”
Levi didn’t get the chance to grumble a threat about how this better have been an emergency, that the office better be on fire or that someone better have come in shooting, before the frantic voice of one of his higher-up peons came screeching in.
“Boss! We have a major ******* problem—”
The sound of exploding glass cut the man off from his complaint, like a window had been smashed in somewhere behind the caller. Levi had to switch ears if he was going to hear the rest of the commotion, more concerned with the background sounds coming in through the phone rather than what the Mafioso had to say.
“We’re under fire, boss! You need to get—”
Another explosion, only louder and closer, and then the phone cut off. It had happened all too suddenly for the Italian to fully comprehend what was happening. All at once there had been broken glass, and then a thunderous roar. Levi had heard the building jolt, a few yells in the static of too much noise and then silence before the aggravating tune of the disconnected call pounded into his ear. Levi cancelled the call, to rid himself of that ******* sound so he could focus. The peon had said they were under fire – Levi could ******* hear that for himself – but why? Was this Cavallone’s revenge or was this something else, something supernatural? After all, it had to be some bold *********** to attack a headquarters full of a Mafiosi like that. Levi’s mind went immediately to the plan of gathering more intel, but he didn’t know who he could trust to help. He didn’t want to bother Lorelai at any rate, even if she could probably do more than anyone he knew to help out here. Levi just couldn’t risk it, risk her. He also couldn’t call on Shiro just in case this was something supernatural, and neither could he bother his bodyguards. The best way Levi could deal with this threat was to go in there himself, cloak himself in whatever darkness could be gathered in the morning light, and deal with the matter personally. Levi was armed to the teeth, with more in his arsenal than firearms and steel; if somebody wanted to start a war on his turf then they’d be ******* sorry – whoever they were.
The Italian moved in a blur back into the bedroom to collect his things. He was creating plans in his head as he dressed, neglecting to be completely silent in his efforts. Levi didn’t want to wake Lorelai, but there wasn’t much he could do about it if she was a light enough sleeper to be woken by him gathering his clothes, guns and equipment before disappearing into the bathroom adjacent to their bed. Levi hadn’t closed the door of the bathroom, but then he hadn’t turned the light on either. The Vampiro didn’t need the light to negotiate his own home and since he was practically made of darkness, it seemed like a fairly pointless bother to switch one on. Levi put on a new suit in the same zealous manner with which he had removed last night’s; slim black pant legs were thrust into, a white dress-shirt stretched around strong arms, and he sat on the corner of the bath to pull on some socks and a pair of black loafers as a cigarette smoked lazily between his jaws. Once he’d fixed the laces of his shoes, Levi stood up to fasten the buttons of his shirt. Although he rarely buttoned up to the neck, he always had the excess lengths tucked into his trousers behind big, brassy belt buckles. With several gun holsters sporting fully loaded and powerful firearms concealed under a heavy black blazer, Levi was ready.
