Nightclub Benefits

[lovino romano vargas]

    It was dark and rain was pouring down onto the windows of a small apartment tucked away on the streets of the Bronx. Gangs prowled the street, throwing up signs and repping colors. However, the Italian family living in the cozy apartment had no worries of the young delinquents below. Inside, young Romano Vargas slept soundly, his dream typical of your average sixteen year old boy. It involved his Algebra 2 teacher and soccer. His younger brother of fourteen, Feliciano, was across the room in his own bed. All was normal in the Vargas household, this night like every night before it.

    That was until Romano woke with a start when he heard his father yelling rapidly in Italian. He heard Feliciano say something to him, but was overpowered by the sound of plates crashing. The auburn haired teen hopped out of bed and crept towards his door and cracked it open. After his eyes adjusted to the harsh yellow light of the kitchen, he saw three men holding guns towards his parents. His mother was sobbing and clinging to her father, saying the Holy Prayer. Giorgio Vargas shielded his wife the best he could, pleaded with the armed intruders. 

    However, it seemed that no mercy would be spared tonight, as the gunman on the left aimed at his father's head and fired without a second thought. Romano's world spun and everything seemed to move in slow motion. All sound around him was muffled; his mother's screams of anguish as she clung to the corpse of the love of her life and his brother in hysterics behind him. However, as the man who shot his father turned towards their bedroom, Romano snapped out of it and jerked his brother from the door and and shoved him under the bed. He then crawled in after his younger brother, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

         More gunshots and his mother's screams turned into moans of pain. Feliciano was still crying loudly and Romano put his hand over his sibling's mouth to muffle the sound. Hazel eyes peaked from under the skirt of the bed as light flooded the room. Large feet stepped in and observed the unmade beds.

    "¿Dónde estás, niños? (Where are you, boys?)" A gruff voice called before it ripped open the closet door. The tension was suffocating as the figure disappeared from the room. Finally, Romano exhaled, relieved that he was safe for now.

    A few seconds later, the Vargas brother's makeshift hideout was illuminated with light and Romano gasped as their assailant's smiling face peaked at them. " Te encontré! (Found you!)"

    BEEP BEEP BEEP 

    Romano Vargas, now twenty one, sat up in his full size bed in a cold sweat. He pushed his bangs back and breathed deeply, trying to slow down his heart that was about to burst from his chest. Once he had composed himself, he slammed down on his alarm reading 5:00 pm to stop the horrible beeping noise and pulled his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that he was in a cellar apartment in Brooklyn and the only other person in his residence was his "escort" Justin. He was fine.

    The young man then swung his legs over the side of his bed and heaved himself up. He stretched, letting the evening sun from his window warm him as he left his "room" (really, there were no doors in his cheap ass apartment, it was all one room) and headed towards the kitchen to make himself some "breakfast" (was it really breakfast at five in the afternoon? Well, to him it was, because this was the time he had to wake up to be able to stay up clubbing all night).

    "Mornin', Justin," he said to a rather large man standing ominously in the corner. "Again, you really gotta let me have a word in," he sneered sarcastically, but, as usual, got no bite back. He scoffed and reached up for the Frosted Flakes, his light blue pajama pants loose on his legs. 

    "Hey, Mr. Congeniality, can you get me some aspirin?" His head was fucking throbbing after that slimeball made him do three lines of coke last night. Jesus Christ, he hated his "job" sometimes. Beat working in a cubicle, he supposed.

    As Justin returned with the aspirin, Romano took three pills from the bottle and swallowed them with the remaining milk from the container after he had poured it in his cereal. "We need more milk. Put that on my grocery list." As Justin made a note on his Samsung Galaxy (or the "brick," as Romano called it), the Italian plopped down at his small kitchen table and began to shove inhuman amounts of breakfast food into his mouth.

    "Oh yeah, Kris is probably coming over later, so don't lose your shit if you hear a knock at the door," he told Justin, his mouth still full, and his escort just nodded. 

    And with that, the two sat in the silence they were both rather accustomed to, the only sound was Romano slurping up the milk from his spoon. 

[kristopher m. thompson]

     Kristopher blankly looked at his surroundings, making sure he was going in the correct direction. Brooklyn was never his favorite part of the city; He worked in the Bronx region for a reason. He sighed quietly, desperately wanting to close his eyes. There were too many painful reminders of his brother Alfred around to ever get a sense of peace. Alfred had always been the outgoing technological genius while he had been the reserved gardening adventurer. People had even joked around how Alfred was the North while he was the South, but Kristopher hardly found the names amusing. Probably because of  how correct those names fit them and their arguments, mainly how Alfred usually won most of them because Kristopher rarely put the effort to try an contradict him. But when it came down to it, Alfred and Kristopher always had each others backs. 
     
     Kristopher wished he could have realized sooner. He tried to will away the memories, only partially succeeding. 

     'You won't win the science fair this year! Then Papa and Father would pay attention to me! So don't go ruining my stuff just because you're jealous.' Alfred's childish tone rang in his ears. Kristopher never noticed the terrified look in his younger brother's eyes above the ever blinding smile of his. He remembered Matthew cowering in the doorway of  his room, looking for all the world to at least say something comforting. 

     'KRISTOPHER THOMPSON! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS IN HERE!' Kristopher shaded his face with the fedora to mask the angry glare he knew was forming on his face. How had a perfectly fine morning progressively turned worse to the point of oblivion? That day was Black Tuesday and their lives were the Stock Market; everything crashed and burned like an inferno of ten Chinese suns. 
     
     'The Kirkland-Bonnefoy's had children?! Where are they? We need to find the- Oh Dear God...' That had been the last instance Kristopher ever remembered of himself laughing. He never laughed anymore and his smile had become an extinct species. Kristopher honestly didn't know which was better, his life before or the hell he had caught himself in. Though he believed that his life before was marginally better: He still had Matthew and Alfred together back then. 

     A cough sounded out behind him where his escort and friend looked at him with a sheepish smile. Daniel, a man about eight years older than him, had been his escort ever since he was dragged into this world. Kristopher highly distrusted the man when they first met, but Uncle Daniel had apparently known his parents. Too bad Uncle Daniel never found out that his parents had three children who were stuck to each other like cats tangled in yarn. Obviously, when he had heard, Uncle Daniel had taken upon himself to hold responsibility over Kristopher. That had been many years ago. Sad that Kristopher could even remember the exact day when everything collapsed, but he had long become dull to the life he now had. He sometimes remembered random details of what had happened, but those had been far and few between. Many considered Kristopher lucky since Uncle Daniel was one of the higher superiors in the tyrannical hierarchy of underground club world. Kristopher didn't find the statement true, but he never voiced his opinion, opting to give the neutral look his face had always held since birth. 

     Kristopher robotically turned his head in Daniel's direction, making sure to keep an eye our for street signs. 

    "Could you let up just a little on the apathetic-ness? I think your scaring the pedestrians," Uncle Daniel explained as he gestured to the civilians around them.

     Kristopher looked around to note that the people around had given them quite a large amount of distance. Though the fedora that shaded his piercing eyes may have added the intimidating atmosphere he created, but Kristopher didn't particularly mind. He flicked his ponytail, tied with a heavy silver hair ornament, and relaxed a little at the small 'shing' sound it made. Honestly, he enjoyed the wide berth the civilians gave them. They wouldn't bother him, and they wouldn't get in his way. It was easier to just let them live their lives rather than caught up in the tangle of deceit and truth that created the dull gray color of the world he lived in. 

     "No," Kristopher curtly replied, noticing some of the civilians flinch away when he spoke. His voice was too loud, again.

     "Aw, come on Little Kristo. Loosen up, your face will have wrinkles in your old age if you keep having that blank look with the occasional frown on your face," Uncle Daniel pestered as the man poked Kristopher's cheek. An arm was suddenly draped around his shoulder, but Kristopher provided no reaction, merely looking at Uncle Daniel dully. "How women ever fall for the mysteriously quiet type like you I'll never know. Women want to hear the beautiful echos of a man's voice purring in their ear."

     Kristopher raised an eyebrow, though it was shaded by the fedora. He sighed, looking away from his mentor momentarily to check if they were still on the correct path. To anyone who didn't understand him, people would have thought that Kristopher was sighing in annoyance to his boisterous companion. In actuality, Kristopher was worried about the life of his underground partner, Romano Vargas, the man they were currently off to visit. Every other day they would make this trip just so Kristopher would ease his worries about the Italian, and Uncle Daniel thankfully complied. They only really needed to visit the grumpy Italian once a month. 

     "You should take up singing, my protégé! Your beautifully roaring voice will attract thousands of admirers, my young black panther. And together, we will roar over the masses, the Lion and the Black Panther! Can you imagine it? The fans cheering our names as we lure them in with our luxurious sounds. The first step shall be that you must talk, Little Kristo. Let me hear you speak in that heaven-filled voice of yours," Uncle Daniel tried to coax him. 

     Kristopher refused to answer the man. Uncle Daniel pouted childishly when Kristopher continued to give no reaction.
     
     "Ah, my young apprentice is ignoring me!" his mentor theatrically stumbled back in mock hurt, "I swear I am never able to do enough talking for the both of us. Makes me wonder why Madam Chief allowed you under my wing when Justin would have made a better match for you while Romano would have been a better match for me." Kristopher tensed slightly, hoping the other did not notice. 

    Of course, Life hates him.
   
     "You tensed! So you do care about me! I'm so touched, I finally made the emotionless Kristopher care about someone again! I feel so loved! I am truly the best partner for Little Kristo! Don't worry, I'll never leave your side!" Uncle Daniel shouted happily to the world, attracting startled looks from the passers-by. Kristopher resisted the urge to face-palm, instead slowly reaching into the medium sized bag draped diagonally over his body. Pulling out a small wold pup that looked very much like a dog, Kristopher looked the wolf in the eyes before gesturing with his head to the wildly happy Daniel. The wolf panted happily as its tail began to wag faster. 

     "Hancokan, Tackle." Kristopher muttered in the lowest possible volume he could manage. Thankfully, his voice was nearly drowned out by his escort's yelling.

     Dropping Hancokan gently on the floor, he watched as the wolf shot of like a bullet and pounced on Uncle Daniel's face. Kristopher found the following scene highly amusing as Uncle Daniel was slobbered with wolf drool by a hyperactive Hancokan that ran circles around the man. Too bad the scene still had not managed to crack a smile on the frozen face of his. Turning away from the scene, he ignored the protests of his escort and mentor. Walking up to an apartment door, he knocked on it sharply as he waited for Uncle Justin or Romano to open the door. Kristopher tensed momentarily, ready for an sort of attack to come from the other side of the door. It had not been the first time Kristopher had to avoid incoming lethal threats from a door. 

     All the while Kristopher heard his mentor's pleas, and ignored him.

    "Down boy! Ha ha h- Down! Hancokan, please! I need you to sto- stop slobbering me! I know y-you love me, would you like to be petted? Yes? Okay, wait- Wait! No! Gah argh! Little Kristo! Some help here? Wait, Hancokan! Sit, boy! Sit! Kristopher? Please?!" 

     Deciding his adoptive Uncle had enough, Kristopher barked out, "Hancokan, Sit!"

     He was still tense as he waited by the door, ready to dodge at a moments notice, even though he looked like a person peacefully waiting for a friend to open the seemingly normal door. Hancokan ran up to his feet and obediently sat down next to him, though the wolf was still looking eagerly at Uncle Daniel for attention and love. Kristopher mentally shook his head; his pet wolf pup was like a hyperactive attention-seeking child. He noted that Uncle Daniel had finally managed to wipe most of the wolf drool of his face and stand next to him by the door in a carefree manner. 

     "You have trained him really well, Little Kristo. Even when he licked me, not once drop of droll landed on my clothes. Though my hair could use a get-me-up and my face needs a thorough washing, at least my clothes are perfectly in tact. I'm so proud of you," Daniel spoke in a soft and serious voice. His mentor squatted down and affectionately patted Hancokan's head, knowing that Kristopher would react negatively to the same gesture.   
    
     "Ya always trained the best. I should be able ta as well," Kristopher replied nonchalantly. It was probably the closest display to an actual emotion Kristopher could get around these last few years. It was better than when he started interacting with Uncle Daniel though, so Kristopher considered it an improvement. 
     
     "You know you don't have to stand so tense. I'm sure Justin and Romano should know we are coming," Uncle Daniel pointed out. 
  
     "Just cautious. Hasn't been the first time," Kristopher replied, refusing to let his guard down. From Daniel's angle, Kristopher looked pretty intimidating with the fedora shading his eyes and the dark glare peeking out from under the rim. The small neutral frown seemed to multiply the effect. Not to mention Kristopher had a hand close to the hidden dagger in his clothes. Uncle Daniel sighed, another sheepish smile crawling on his face. Kristopher assumed that he was thinking about how he would never be able to get his apprentice to relax. Kristopher knew it was a lost cause: he hadn't been able to relax ever since that day, so why would Uncle Daniel even bother to try?

[lovino romano vargas]

    Romano had been washing out the leftover milk from his bowl in the sink when a knock sounded at the door. "Oi, Justin, it's Kris, so answer it." He heard the large man lumber over to the door and open it as he turned on the garbage disposal to get rid of the remaining Frosted Flakes in the sink. The Italian heard Justin mumble pleasantries before moving to the living area, still in his pajama pants without a shirt on. He honestly could care less if the three men saw him naked. He was pretty sure forty percent of the gay population of New York  had seen him completely nude, so he wasn't really shy about that sort of thing.

    "The fuck you bastards want?" Romano grumbled, not bothering to be polite. "I gotta start getting ready for my shift soon, so make it quick." With that, he plopped down on his beat down couch, his limbs falling wherever they landed. 

[kristopher m. thompson]

     Kristopher came in to see a half-naked Romano. He blinked in reaction, and proceeded to take his hat off slowly. Kristopher waved his hand in a gesture that meant 'He was worried, and he just wanted to come by and check up on him like he always does, and you should be expecting this in another two days, so get used to it already.' Though Kristopher highly doubted Romano actually understood what the gesture meant, Kristopher still did it anyways since Uncle Daniel would always translate for him.

     "We've come to say hello again, Lovi-Ro and Justin! We do this every two days, Lovi-Ro! You should be expecting us all the time! Maybe we should live nearby... Would make the trip easier." Uncle Daniel remarked. Kristopher elbowed the man, satisfied when he heard a grunt coming from his mentor. Uncle Daniel already knew how much Kristopher disliked Brooklyn, and even though Romano was someone he considered a friend, it wasn't enough to get him back in this part of town. Kristopher was afraid that if he stayed to long, he would regress back into the animal he had become when he first met Uncle Daniel. 

     "Just came ta see ya," Kristopher's reply was short and blunt. Kristopher walked over, and quickly adjusted the way Romano sat and stepped back before the Italian could say anything. He reached into his ever present handbag and pulled out some energy drinks, instant coffee, some snacks and a small bottle of acetaminophen (Tylenol). He handed the items to Romano, knowing that the Italian's shift would require energy boosts every once in a while.

     Kristopher slumped a little when his mentor draped an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Lovi-Ro. Aren't you happy to see us?" 
 
     Kristopher took the arm and flipped the Frenchman over his shoulder and to the floor. Uncle Daniel gave what sounded like a cheerful grunt, laying sprawled on the floor. Hancokan then proceeded to sit on the Frenchman's chest, careful not to get any marks or tears in the mentor's shirt. Uncle Daniel laughed, waving off Justin's attempts to retaliate against Kristopher. It was a common occurrence as well as proof that Kristopher was still in top form. A job as a high-quality assassin and bodyguard paid big bucks to the higher executives, and with Kristopher also taking a small job as a drug distributor, he managed to make a decent living in the Bronx. Uncle Daniel still insisted that he helped with the pay though, no matter how much Kristopher reassured the Frenchman that he had everything under control. 

     "Little Kristo, why are you so mean to me?" Uncle Daniel mock-whined. "I'm going to be dead in three months and this is how you treat me?" 

     Kristopher suddenly narrowed his eyes, and kicked the man 'gently' [read: harshly] in the side. He hated Uncle Daniel's dead jokes because someday they were going to end up true. And then, Kristopher would end up rampaging through all of New York City, tearing up everything as he tried to find the culprit who killed off his lifetime father figure. Even if it meant going up against the hand that fed him, Kristopher would never hesitate to do so, cruel and emotionless when he blasted the head of his victims. Their brains would spill out as their faces caved in and their head exploded in the back. And if that was not enough, Kristopher would personally gut the man while he relished in the screams of pain. And he would bath in the blood of his victims all with a stoic face. 

     Perhaps for Kristopher's instability without Uncle Daniel, Sir Boss and Madam Chief had always gone through great lengths to ensure Uncle Daniel returned safely from any particularly dangerous mission. Though he knew he was a great asset, Kristopher gave his loyalty to only a few: His mentor Uncle Daniel, his brother Matthew, and his partner Lovino Romano Vargas. Out of the three, only Uncle Daniel knew about Kristopher's loyalty and reciprocated it. His brother Matthew thought he was dead, and Romano had a hard time trusting anyone. Regardless, Kristopher tried his best to keep the people he considered his new family safe, and that meant secretly finding a way to escape the underground world. It was impossible for Kristopher to ever escape, not with Matthew's whereabouts known and tracked. But the same could not be said for Romano, and Uncle Daniel had been kind to help him despite the incredible danger it put the Frenchman through. 

     Uncle Daniel inserted a hand into his jacket and pulled out a letter. Kristopher recognized it as the mission letter they received. Part of the reason they had gotten the mission was the frequent visits they made in this area. The assassin in the Brooklyn area, Mike, had gone rogue. Their mission was to track down, do surveillance, then kill the target. Since Mike was a low-level assassin, Uncle Daniel had given him the task of a solo kill to keep his senses and skills as sharp as his spear. 

     "All right, all right. We're here because Sir Boss sent us to kill the bodyguard of this area. He's gone rogue, and since Sir Boss knows how often we come by here, we got the assignment. Then Kristopher wished to see how you're doing," Daniel explained. 

     "Need ta make sure ya weren't bein' targeted by Mike. He's been killin' some of the other distributors, so I needed ta make sure ya'll were fine," Kristopher added after making sure his voice would not be overheard by the people outside the walls.

     "And so we will be living here for a few days!" Uncle Daniel exclaimed. Kristopher whipped his head to glare at his mentor. He never agreed to living here and bothering Romano. The apartment was already crowded enough as it was. Kristopher kicked his adoptive uncle again, but his mentor had gotten up and dodged the kick. "And don't worry about us, I'm sure I can do enough talking for the both of us!"

      Kristopher rolled his eyes and followed up with a glare.

     "Well, Kristopher is quite talkative as well if you can read what his gestures mean. For example, that eye roll and glare just now meant 'You're an idiot, so shut up.' Why Little Kristo, that's so mean!" Uncle Daniel whined, sulking in a corner. The mentor recovered quickly though. "Did you know Kristopher's eye rolls have currently twenty three different meanings?"

     Kristopher debated on whether to face-palm or glare at Uncle Daniel. He chose the later.   

[lovino romano vargas]

    Romano considered taking more pain killers because the fucking Daniel guy just kept talking and wouldn't stop. He was a good guy, but Jesus Christ did he even breathe? To help ease his pain, he decided to tune out what the other men were saying and focus his energy on more important things, like writing that one good song before he died. As he plucked the strings of the acoustic instrument, he thought of what he would have been doing if he hadn't been thrown into this life. He imagined himself on stage, singing in front of millions the songs he poured his heart into. 

    However, he couldn't write a song good enough to miraculously get him out of the underground league because he was so jaded he couldn't feel a damn thing. And music was about emotion and the human experience. And he wasn't experiencing anything because he was too busy sucking off businessmen who were still in the closet with slight cocaine addiction. Life wasn't fair to anybody, but it seemed Romano had been dealt a rather horrible hand.

    The Italian was sucked out of his self pitying thoughts when he happened to hear Daniel mention killing someone. He listened to the explanation of their job before raising his eyebrows and going back to his guitar. "You assassins are fucking crazy, you know that? And I thought my job was hard- all I gotta do is shake my ass a little and maybe fuck a few guys. But you have to kill people and risk being taken out by your own kind." He was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Poor bastard," he barely murmured, referencing Mike. 

     He then heaved himself up, leaving his guitar on the couch as he headed to his bedroom. "Since I really don't have a fucking choice- and if I did have a choice, I'd rather hang myself than let Daniel stay here for more than a few hours- you can stay. I don't have extra beds so you can fight over the couch," he called as he picked out his attire for the evening. He had gotten his leather pants half on when he thought of something urgent and ran out (half clothed, again). "And if I bring a client home to have a...'business meeting,' don't say a word to him. Don't look at him, don't breathe at him- I can't afford to lose clients," he commanded before returning to his bed chamber.

    After he had picked out a red, skin tight t-shirt and some boots to complete his look, Romano went through the motions of styling his hair in the sexy messed up look that was "in" among the gay community at the moment. Despite what people say, fads were important, especially to someone in Romano's position. He watched all the latest trends to stay fresh and exciting, because no one liked someone who was borning. 

    About five minutes later, the auburn headed man rejoined with his house "guests" (more like house leeches), teeth brushed and deodorant on (deodorant was literally as necessary to Romano as air. He honestly didn't understand how people didn't wear it. Couldn't they smell themselves?). "So, Kris, since Magic Mike's lost his marbles, what clubs are safe?"