A.V.A.R.I.C.E

What ever happened to Lauretta Styl?

- Marco Marzonni

Oh god yes, hello. You're wonderful! If this is appropriate for a prompt request: There's a violent world of unseen fae all around us, and in the center of it is John Wick. There was no reason for him to fly away from there, until he found one.

This is an interesting concept. I will develop the idea and commit it's organic evolution to digital paper, Ruby. I request you satisfy my visual neurons by providing me with compelling high resolution art work straight to my private inbox, please and thank you in advance. Now, I warn you Wick fans, this concept is a little alternative universe on crack, but I will try to really encapsulate folklore, ancient history, art and violence on page. If the audience approves, I will continue world building. If not, it will be relegated to a one shot shot story. No matter what, I'm inspired! Let's do this everyone!

Be seeing you on the other side, Mr. Wick. ❣️

This whole thing is coming down...

I THINK THERE’S A FLAW IN MY CODE

- Buddhist Affirmation

"It is from the mud that the lotus blooms."

Den of Vipers

sSss

God he was bitter. Blood boiling, red anger. Ares had texted him as he was sorting his bags, ready to leave, take his car to the air port. Unfinished business in Vienna. He left on a "family medical emergency" but they wouldn't hold her papers forever. It had been three weeks now, he had to go back. Even if he did want to slap her face. he pulled out his phone and read the message: 'Boss... you're being a fuck. Her real dad is here. The bastard that left her and her mother to die. He's actually come right into the hotel and he's downstairs with her now. Hector and Chris are guarding. But she's fucked over. And she's aching for you. You gotta let this go, Tino. It's not fair.'

He texted her back. He shouldn't have. But he'd finally had enough of her constant digging. Her and his entire Guard. He couldn't free himself from any of them. Christov, Marcus, Tony, Hector, Curtis.... Ares just added to the fire. So he gave in. Jabbing at his screen. His eyes stinging with unshed tears. And his shoulder burned where he'd be shot last week. Grazed by a bullet because he'd been careless on the field thinking of her in the middle of a hit job in Whitechapel that didn't go down according to plan. She was doing this to him. Making him lose focus. Lose control. 'She fucked another woman.' He pressed Send. Threw the phone on the bed and went to get his jacket out of the wardrobe. His arms had just slipped through when his phone went off again. He picked it up...Though he didn't want to. Unlocked the screen. And read Ares' reply. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

That cut him. He turned and with a roar he threw the phone into his bedroom mirror with such force the glass exploded in the antique gilded frame sending shards smashing out into all directions. The sound of glass cracking and giving way to impact. Like his heart was. Like his torn soul. Chaos... pain and chaos... Her father was here? Her biological father?   Really? He checked his holster. Four magazines, his beloved Baretta 92S, loaded and ready to go off. He flicked his thumb over the safety, releasing it. Fuck hotel rules. Fuck this stranger in his head. In his heart. He wanted to kill her. That's why he took to the streets and got reckless. Coming home shot up and bleeding over Sable's counter. "Rough night, Mr. D'Antonio?" The concierge asked. "Sempre duro, ultimamente." (Always rough, lately.) He'd answered.

He left the room behind. In the ruins of a broken mirror. His phone on the ground... the words appearing on the spiderweb of cracked glass that made up his broken screen. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

Ares sent the whole crew an SOS text. 'Guys... I think Tino's coming downstairs. He's going to be pissed off at us, big time. I just learned why he's been so salty this month. Lali's fucked another girl! No wonder! Guys, I mentioned Marissa again... I'm fucked right?'

Curtis responded. Marcus responded. 'We'll make your funeral arrangements babe. What colour you want your casket?' 'I'll go get a priest. Last Rites in Latin. Riposa in pace, Ares Vanguard.'

Sir Sable greeted the Italian crime boss with a bow of his head. "Good afternoon, Mr. D'Antonio. Your car is awaiting collection out front. Is there anything else I can do to ease you into your flight?" Santino's eyes were hard. He'd lost his smile a month ago and walked like a man ready for war. "Mr. DeMentriento, Lalienna's father is here?" "In the drawing rooms, Sir. With Miss DeMentriento. And she appears extremely distressed." "How much to make you lift house rules?" The question was fired as a bullet. He came at the counter now and looked Sable dead in the eyes. The two men glared daggers at each other. Sable was furious. Murder? In his house?! Unthinkable! "Can you really afford Excommunication, Mr. D'Antonio?" A growl, through gritted teeth. Sable reared like a wolf. He asked without flinching. He meant it. He'd make the call to Jeremy. "Can you? Prince of Rome?"

He won. Santino backed away. A smile that didn't reach his eyes played about his features. "No." He stepped away from the counter. Away from Sable whose hand was on the phone. And he stalked the lobby. Ares appeared from the gardens. And Marcus from the stairwell. The pair flanked him. Silent. They were tense. Tight. Militant. Marching two paces behind the Italian prince. The doors of the drawing room were opened back for the trio. There she was.... This was the first time he'd laid eyes on her in a month. And there was a man beside her... in front of her. Talking. Chistov eyed down his employer. Anger and pity upon his face. Fucking Ares.... she'd told them everything, hadn't she? Did they read the text? Did they now know the truth? Why he was angry?

Hector was appeared now, tense and aggravated. He’d gotten the text. He read everything. Christov signed to him: ‘Dude, you were supposed to hold him up? Distraction!’

Hector replied with quick hands: ‘Bad timing. This could get ugly. Watch for his guns. Protect Lali.’

"Lalienna. Santino stopped his march just inside the room. Waiting  for her to turn. To face him. He wanted to see the damage. The ruins he'd dragged her through. Was that her father? That man right there? He breathed in... a shuddering breath. Breathed out. Stepped forward. Extended his hand. This was his lover's father. He'd pay his respects. Even if he did want to put a bullet in his fucking brain. "Signore.... I'm your daughter's intended. Santino D'Antonio, how do you do?"

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You...you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt... and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this...this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So...worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Color conveys an important role in John Wick (2014), helping distinguish the two major moments in the film: the greenish blue and black tones portraying the melancholy and sadness of John’s loss; and the electric neons that accentuate the anger and pursue of revenge. A way of showing, through aesthetics, the seductive and addictive power of violence.

Dropped in blood like Cain dropped Abel.

And they said to him, you need never leave this place to see mortality like ours. Like theirs. Like us. Like you.

But he heard her calling through the glass plane of the mirror to the lands of the Raven King. Where magic is dead. Where memories go to die.

They didn't want him there. But she paid her gold coins in advance and bound them in blood.

Blood dropped, like Cain dropped Abel.

{[ @rubydart @rubydian || It's coming. See you on the other side, Mr. Wick ]}

Darth Maul-line art and colors by me using Procreate