Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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There were three very important facts to consider in the case of the so-called "Venetian Robberies," and right now, Alfred was considering them very hard. The use of Venetian masks and military dress. The codenames, with an unnamed leader wearing an Iron Cross.
Alfred had been too late to catch the thieves-the restraints they'd left him in had been well-tied, and it had taken longer than he would have preferred to fish a knife from his pocket to cut at them-but he'd emerged from the bank just in time to hear the ringleader yell, "What the hell, Italy? You could've killed us!"
And Italy. The getaway driver.
He discharged all of the bullets in one of his pistols as the Mini with the thieves aboard peeled away from the curb, but only one hit was good, and even it only clipped the rear of the speeding vehicle. He was an excellent shot, routinely ranking at the top in his division (particularly when it came to quick-draw), but he'd never tried shooting out the tires of a car accelerating that fast before.
Hell, he was pretty sure that car shouldn't have even been able to accelerate that fast.
With no readily available means of pursuit (his own truck was parked around the corner and the streets were empty save for the rapidly disappearing Mini), Alfred was resigned to accept his loss… for now. He would have to deal with some damage control first, call in his boss and a team to take care of things, but then? Then he'd be hot on the robbers' trail.
He'd been waiting a year for this.
--
Lovino was angry.
He skipped taking the morons home, skipped returning Kirkland's shitty car to the place it had been when he'd "borrowed" it in the wee hours of the morning, and instead went straight back to his apartment, abandoning the Mini (and the morons) at the curb. He stormed inside and upstairs, ignoring the sound of Antonio calling his name as he trailed after, and bolted the door behind him.
He'd done his part. The idiots were on their own now; he refused to have any further part in either this or future schemes. He'd already done too much, anyway.
Antonio would just have to understand that he had to skip town.
He snatched his cellphone up from where he'd left it that morning. Leaving it behind had been a conscious decision; if he hadn't, he just knew that his stupid little brother would have called, and that was one conversation he did not want to have ("No, I can't talk right now; I'm busy helping a bunch of imbeciles rob a bank"). The number he now dialed had been tucked away in his memory since youth, in case of emergency, but it was one that he had (thankfully) never had to use before.
Right now, at this very moment? It was a damned emergency.
But that didn't stop his stomach from starting to churn when a man with a gruff voice answered, "Pronto?"
"Big Tony?" Lovino asked, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat quickly and continued, "T-this is Lovino."
Big Tony made a noise that sounded like a growl, and Lovino almost hung up right then and there. This was a terrible idea, maybe even worse than having driven that car…
"Lovino Vargas," he said instead, adding his last name in hopes it would help.
Silence was all the response he received, and he could practically hear the gears turning in Big Tony's head.
With an internal sigh, he clarified, "Romano. You know, Rome's grandson."
"Hey, Romanino!" the man cheered, recognizing the nickname his grandfather had always called him by. "I haven't heard from you since the old man kicked it. How's your brother?"
Lovino pointedly ignored that question. "I need to lie low for a while," he said. "Can you help me?"
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Lovino headed for his room, keeping the phone pressed firmly against his ear. "I don't know. A month or two, maybe. And an alibi for this morning."
"Nessun problema. You were helping me with the restaurant all morning," Big Tony replied as Lovonio hefted a suitcase out of his closet. "You still know the way here?"
Lovino nodded absently, despite the fact the motion couldn't be seen over the phone. "Yeah, I remember. I'll be there by tonight."
An hour later, after saying his goodbyes to Big Tony and packing as much of his life as he could into his suitcase, Lovino was in his car, looking forlornly at the abandoned Mini that was still sitting, vacant, at the curb. As he pulled away from his apartment building, he said a quiet goodbye (which came out as something like "Good riddance!") to both the stolen car and the bastards that had started the whole thing.
It wasn't until another hour later that Lovino realized he wasn't quite out of the woods yet, when Antonio leaned forward from the back seat and asked cheerfully, "So, where are we going?"
--
"You're one of our best agents, Jones-possibly the best for domestic matters-but would it kill you to be a little more subtle?"
Alfred smiled sheepishly at his boss. "Sorry. It's just, they were getting away, and…"
His boss laughed, shaking his head. "I know, I know. You did a good job, Jones; they may have gotten away in the end, but at least no one was hurt."
The man headed out of the bank, motioning for Alfred to walk with him. Behind them, dozens of agents were handling the shaken people who had been witness to the robbery. Alfred could feel their eyes on him, and he privately wondered if they were more shaken by the robbery or the realization that he wasn't who they'd thought.
"Sir, I'd like to stay on this case."
His boss gave him a level stare, and a long moment passed before he spoke. "I know you like to see things through to the end, but they know your face now. We can't send you undercover for this again."
Alfred shook his head. "I didn't mean going undercover. I want to chase them. I may have missed the car, but I caught the license plate number. It might be just a dead end, but I want to at least see where that lead takes me."
His boss considered the request. "You're absolutely sure it wasn't a copycat?"
"The leader called the driver Italy," Alfred said, giving a firm nod.
His boss sighed. "Well, I guess the odds of a copycat stumbling on to that detail are pretty slim," he acquiesced, smiling at Alfred. "Go get 'em, cowboy."
--
"I hate all of you," Lovino said.
"Sí, sí," Antonio replied. "You've been saying that for the past two hours."
"I don't think you get it, bastard," Lovino snapped, bristling. "I really hate you. I ought to throw you all out of the car right now."
"But we're on the freeway," Antonio protested. "That's dangerous!"
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And Antonio wasn't the only one who was oblivious. Francis's gaze landed on Gilbert, who was leaning forward over Antonio's shoulder; the Spaniard had climbed into the front passenger seat hours ago. "You don't want to do that," Gilbert was saying now. "This trip would be a hundred percent less awesome without me here."
Lovino spat a string of obscenities and swerved the car hard, throwing Gilbert back into his seat.
"S'il te plaît, mon chéri," Francis said, "do not antagonize Italie."
"Don't call me that, France," Lovino shot back at him, swerving again to change lanes.
…Ah, maybe it would be prudent to take his own advice, at least while Lovino had all their lives in his hands.
"Of course, mon cher," he answered smoothly. There was a slight jerk of the car at that, but not enough to warrant any alarm. Yet. But they seemed to be accelerating now, so maybe there would be cause for alarm soon.
Or further cause for a cop pulling Lovino over for speeding. They'd taken the opportunity to change out of the clothes they'd robbed the bank in while Lovino had been in his apartment, but facing a police officer would still be rather awkward, given the morning's escapades and the bag of cash stowed at Gilbert's feet.
It was probably for the best that the Italian didn't know they'd brought the bag. Lovino and Antonio had started arguing again (if something that one-sided could really be called an argument), and the money would likely add fuel to the proverbial fire.
Yes, it was definitely for the best. Francis just hoped they'd arrive at their destination soon, and in one piece.
--
Late that afternoon, one Arthur Kirkland found his missing car on the other side of town from the place he'd parked it the previous day.
It didn't take him long to notice the new hole that marred his beloved Mini's rear bumper.
It took even less time for him to swear revenge.
Notes and translations:
Pronto: (It.) lit. "ready," used when answering the phone
Nessun problema: (It.) No problem
Amour: (Fr.) love
S'il te plaît: (Fr.) Please (informal)
Less humor than the other parts, but it's a lot of setup. I've tried my best with the use of French, Italian, and Spanish in this fill, but if anyone has any corrections, please let me know!
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YOU'VE MADE MY DAY COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY AWESOME ♥
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It seems that the bad touch trio's robbing the bank for the first time, yet Alfred has been at the "Venetian Robbers" for 1 year, and said group has also done many similar robberies since 2 years ago.
Did I miss something, or are the bad touch trio just that lucky/unlucky in mimicking the Venetian Robberies by accident?
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As for the rest, you didn't miss anything; all will be revealed in time. I don't want to give things away too soon, you know! ;)
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(also, I'm slightly embarrassed to say that I was happy that Alfred might be meeting Arthur because of the car. ^^;;;)
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