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Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in Chapter 1 (or 8). Same difference.
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Seizing Destiny
Part 10
By Phenyx
10/02/04
-
Antonio Canossa had been religious once. His mother had been a simple peasant girl raised at the foot of a mountain in Northern Italy. Her only education had been in the church. Aside from her name she could only read the few verses that adorned the walls of the small cathedral in their village.
Antonio had no recollection of his father. The forgotten sire had been killed in a farming accident when Antonio was still in diapers. As a result, the only life Antonio had known as a boy was the life he'd shared with his mother. Each week, he and his mother had walked hand in hand, into the village to attend service on Sunday.
Everything about the ceremony had fascinated him as a boy. The chanted Latin phrases, the hymns, the repetitive familiarity of it all. Young Antonio had been especially enthralled with the stained glass window beside the door. A blonde haired angel of exquisite loveliness welcomed visitors to the church.
Antonio had been a little in love with that stained glass window. In his quite limited experience, young Antonio had never met anyone with hair that color and he thought it magical. The only thing more divine than that window had been Antonio's own mother.
She had been beautiful. Even now, three quarters of a century later, Antonio Canossa had never found a woman to equal her radiance. Memories of her kindness, her voice and even the smell of her clothes, sometimes whispered across the years. As if it had been only yesterday, Antonio could at times see her face smiling at him.
She'd been dead for more than sixty years now. Antonio had not set foot in a church since. It wasn't that Antonio stopped believing in what he had been taught. But when he had been twelve, God had dealt him a terrible blow. Antonio had yet to forgive Him for it.
To Antonio, it had started like any other Sunday. A boy that age thought little of politics. He knew only about chores and playing with his friends. He didn't know what it meant when German soldiers arrived in the village. "Occupation" was a word he did not understand.
But when the soldiers had stopped Antonio and his mother, they had been very drunk. Drunk and dangerous were concepts Antonio had understood even then. There had been four of them, all blond, blue-eyed Arian soldiers. Antonio remembered thinking that they had hair like the angel beside the church door. But they did not look like angels. Antonio had done his best to stop them, but in their drunkenness the soldiers had raped and killed his beautiful mother.
In the years of war that followed, Antonio's village was razed to the ground. Hitler's soldiers had bivouacked there for months. When they left, the Nazi's had taken everything. Then, equally devastating, had been the arrival of the Allied forces. What the Germans didn't take, these soldiers bombed into rubble.
Antonio had managed to survive. His hatred for the soldiers who had murdered his mother grew over time to include all things German. Before Antonio had turned thirteen, he had killed one of the blonde devils himself. He assassinated many more before the war had ended.
Killing and hatred had proven to be a far more profitable way of life for Antonio. He cast aside the simple, compassionate ways his mother had taught him. By the time he was twenty, Antonio had become a valued member of the mafia. Over the years his power and fortune had grown. From there, he had been invited into the Triumvirate.
As a member of the Triumvirate, holding one of the troika seats of power, Antonio Canossa had feared no one in decades. It had been even longer since he had given a second thought to the God he felt had abandoned him. But today was different. Today Antonio felt every minute of his seventy-five years of age. Today he felt afraid.
The reason for Antonio's anxiety stood quietly just inside the door. They stood at silent attention, backs straight and fearless, where everyone could see them. They were beautiful really, the result of years worth of controlled breeding. They were the greatest achievement ever accomplished at the Centre. And they had come to take what was theirs.
As the boardroom slowly filled, Antonio watched them openly. The trio watched him in return. They were perfect, like fine artwork meant for display. Antonio was abruptly reminded of angels and some part of him worried that these were indeed divine creatures.
These were not the hymn-singing cherubs of mercy. No, these beings were vengeful seraphim armed with the sword of righteousness. These were the creatures God sent to inflict His wrath upon mankind. It was an angel such as these that must guard the gates of Eden, forever barring human entrance.
They were imposing enough by their mere presence, to remind Antonio what it meant to be a "God-fearing" man. Perhaps God had finally tired of waiting for Antonio to return to the fold. He had sent this trio to summon the lost lamb.
The murmur of voices in the room was more subdued than normal. Usually, a Triumvirate board meeting was preceded by a great deal of political wrangling. Personal finances were discussed, meetings were arranged and alliances fostered. But today's circumstances were out of the ordinary. The presence of the three Red files made matters even more extreme.
Antonio continued to stare at them, especially the steely-eyed woman. She would not back down, but met him glare for glare. Antonio remembered when they had last met, just a few weeks ago. She had seemed almost bored by the stinging words Yvette had tossed at her. Now Yvette was dead. There was little doubt to the fact that these three had been somehow involved.
'I know you killed her,' Antonio said to the woman with a silent look of anger.
The woman's lips curled ever so slightly at the edges. The secretive smile was almost seductive. 'You were meant to know,' her answering smirk told him.
Antonio nodded. He knew what was expected of him. He knew what these three wanted. Without a word from any of them, Antonio also knew what would happen to him if he didn't give them what they desired. After all, they had done away with Yvette less than six weeks after she had insulted the twins.
Antonio saw little reason to dispute them. If he denied them now, there would surely be another meeting in a month or two. That meeting would be scheduled to refill the seat he now occupied rather than the one to his left. Antonio Canossa was an old man, but he was not so old that he was ready to die just yet.
Having made his decision, Antonio felt his nervousness slip away. Knowing that the consequences of this meeting would reverberate back to the Centre, Antonio wondered if, in the long run, his actions weren't for the best. Over the last few years, the Centre's management had been inconsistent. Perhaps it was time for a new administration.
Picking up a gavel, Antonio quickly brought the meeting to order. He spoke a few words of respect in recognition of Yvette Guimard. Then he quickly moved on to the matter that had brought them all here.
"There must an appointment to the open seat," Antonio said sternly. "Because the position in question is of the troika, it can not be permitted to remain open."
He cast a firm gaze at his fellow board members.
"We shall now discuss viable applicants," he intoned.
For a moment no one spoke. Triumvirate members glanced at each other warily.
Xuan Mae Tran from Vietnam was the first to break the silence. "I think it would be best if an existing Triumvirate member moved up to the troika," he said.
"No," Antonio answered sharply, leaving no room for debate. "That will only open another position, thereby defeating our purpose here. No," he repeated. "The appointment must be a new member."
"You have someone in mind, Mr. Canossa?" the Asian man asked in a frosty tone.
"Actually," Antonio said. "I do. My nominee has years of experience with our traditions, skills that are unmatched in the field, and the respect of many in this room." Antonio played his role well, pausing for a moment to allow the anticipation to grow dramatically. "I propose the open seat go to Miss Parker of Delaware."
There was a round of shocked murmuring as the other board members whispered amongst one another. The Asian glared at Miss Parker in fury but his gaze was met by the hard dark stare of the pretender. Antonio watched in detached amusement as he saw the truth dawn on the Vietnamese man's face.
The room went silent as, one by one, the other board members realized what Antonio had already come to accept. The three Red files were not here by coincidence. The last one to defy their authority had wound up dead. Anyone else questioning the Parker legacy would face a similar fate.
There was a war beginning, a revolution within the Centre walls. It was time to choose sides. Antonio chose to follow the angels.
-
-
Jarod opened his eyes. Above was the plain white textured ceiling of Parker's bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window as dawn crept over the horizon. With a huge yawn, Jarod stretched, savoring the feel of fine linen against his flesh. For several long minutes he simply lay there and listened to the sounds of Miss Parker in the shower. Jarod thought about joining her but he was not yet comfortable enough with their relationship to be the aggressor.
He and Parker had been a couple for nearly a week now. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just hours short of a full week since Jarod had found himself on the receiving end of Parker's tender embrace. It had been a week during which he had not left her side.
Jarod had been a basket case, frighteningly close to losing it after Guimard had killed herself. He had managed to catch a plane as Parker instructed, arriving in Kampala a day later. He had checked into the hotel and locked himself in his room. How long he had waited afterward, he wasn't sure.
Somehow, as if by magic, Parker had suddenly been there. She had brushed the frightened tears from Jarod's cheeks and gathered him in her arms. She had kissed him and Jarod had given himself over to the moment. His need for her had become all encompassing. It had been a raw yearning to join with another being, to stave off the loneliness. He simply could not survive alone for another moment.
At some point during that first night, Jarod had realized that sex with Parker was nothing like the encounters he had shared with other women. He had never felt so in tune with another person as when he and Parker were together. Being with her, Jarod had found what it meant to make love versus having sex.
She had saved him that night. Parker had braved the darkness in which Jarod had lost himself. She had found him and with her body had anchored him back in her world. Jarod refused to question her motives. He simply took what she offered and held on as though his life depended upon it. Perhaps it did.
One thing Jarod was sure of. He had found the strength to get through the Triumvirate board meeting only because Parker had been there to help him. He'd been terrified when their limousine had pulled up in front of Triumvirate Station. But with a simple smile she had eased his fears.
"You've brought us this far, Jarod," she had told him. "Let me take it from here." Then she had leaned over and kissed him passionately, nearly sucking his fillings out in the process. Lyle's stunned sputtering at their display of affection only served to increase Jarod's enjoyment of it.
In the days that followed, Parker had led her comrades to a whole new level in the game they lived. They had spent four days at Triumvirate Station, establishing Parker's position on the board and defining expectations among the other members. Once it had become apparent that Canossa would align with them, stepping into power had been remarkably easy.
Parker emerged from the bathroom, her still wet body wrapped in a towel. The sight of her tore Jarod from his musings. She was beautiful.
Leaning over gracefully, Parker kissed Jarod on the lips. "You need to get up," she told him.
With a nod Jarod tossed aside the blankets and stood up. His nudity didn't bother him. It had taken all of a day and a half for him to overcome modesty in Parker's presence. "You're worried about today," he said.
"Nonsense," Parker frowned.
"Liar," Jarod replied with an understanding smile.
"How would you know?" she snapped in that regal tone of hers.
Jarod shrugged. "You taste different when you worry," he said.
Parker turned to stare at him warily. A frown crossed her face and she sighed with exasperation. "That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."
Crossing the room, Jarod took Parker by the arms and smiled at her. "Let me taste again to be sure."
For several long moments Parker allowed the kiss. But as Jarod began to nibble a trail down her throat, she stopped him. "We haven't time for this right now," she scolded.
Jarod pouted dramatically. "You are going to send me into that cold, dark place I hate without so much as a kiss to keep me warm?" he whined.
"Give me a break." Parker rolled her eyes. "You got more than enough to keep you warm last night."
Jarod laughed. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said as he turned toward the bathroom.
He was halfway across the room when Parker stopped him. "Jarod, are you okay?"
He turned and looked at her with those dark, soulful eyes of his. "I'm getting there," he said with a nod.
"Raines has to die today," Parker reminded him. She hated to bring down his mood, but Parker knew that Jarod would adapt much more easily if his emotions were more level. The extreme ups and downs that Jarod was prone to experiencing weren't good for him in the long run.
"I know," Jarod replied.
"Are you okay with that?" she asked.
"I will be," Jarod sighed.
Parker nodded and Jarod went to take a shower. She stood for a moment and chewed at her lower lip thoughtfully. She hated doing this to him. The path they had chosen was a difficult one for Jarod to walk. His conscience was under constant assault. All Parker could do was be there for him, help him learn to live with it somehow.
It was almost over. It wouldn't be long before the Centre was theirs to rule. Once in power, Parker could allow Jarod's exuberance to run free. Without further dark deeds to cloud his psyche, the pretender could learn to deal with his fearful episodes of depression. Things could get better and stay that way.
But for now, there were still shadows to be traversed.
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Seizing Destiny
Part 10
By Phenyx
10/02/04
-
Antonio Canossa had been religious once. His mother had been a simple peasant girl raised at the foot of a mountain in Northern Italy. Her only education had been in the church. Aside from her name she could only read the few verses that adorned the walls of the small cathedral in their village.
Antonio had no recollection of his father. The forgotten sire had been killed in a farming accident when Antonio was still in diapers. As a result, the only life Antonio had known as a boy was the life he'd shared with his mother. Each week, he and his mother had walked hand in hand, into the village to attend service on Sunday.
Everything about the ceremony had fascinated him as a boy. The chanted Latin phrases, the hymns, the repetitive familiarity of it all. Young Antonio had been especially enthralled with the stained glass window beside the door. A blonde haired angel of exquisite loveliness welcomed visitors to the church.
Antonio had been a little in love with that stained glass window. In his quite limited experience, young Antonio had never met anyone with hair that color and he thought it magical. The only thing more divine than that window had been Antonio's own mother.
She had been beautiful. Even now, three quarters of a century later, Antonio Canossa had never found a woman to equal her radiance. Memories of her kindness, her voice and even the smell of her clothes, sometimes whispered across the years. As if it had been only yesterday, Antonio could at times see her face smiling at him.
She'd been dead for more than sixty years now. Antonio had not set foot in a church since. It wasn't that Antonio stopped believing in what he had been taught. But when he had been twelve, God had dealt him a terrible blow. Antonio had yet to forgive Him for it.
To Antonio, it had started like any other Sunday. A boy that age thought little of politics. He knew only about chores and playing with his friends. He didn't know what it meant when German soldiers arrived in the village. "Occupation" was a word he did not understand.
But when the soldiers had stopped Antonio and his mother, they had been very drunk. Drunk and dangerous were concepts Antonio had understood even then. There had been four of them, all blond, blue-eyed Arian soldiers. Antonio remembered thinking that they had hair like the angel beside the church door. But they did not look like angels. Antonio had done his best to stop them, but in their drunkenness the soldiers had raped and killed his beautiful mother.
In the years of war that followed, Antonio's village was razed to the ground. Hitler's soldiers had bivouacked there for months. When they left, the Nazi's had taken everything. Then, equally devastating, had been the arrival of the Allied forces. What the Germans didn't take, these soldiers bombed into rubble.
Antonio had managed to survive. His hatred for the soldiers who had murdered his mother grew over time to include all things German. Before Antonio had turned thirteen, he had killed one of the blonde devils himself. He assassinated many more before the war had ended.
Killing and hatred had proven to be a far more profitable way of life for Antonio. He cast aside the simple, compassionate ways his mother had taught him. By the time he was twenty, Antonio had become a valued member of the mafia. Over the years his power and fortune had grown. From there, he had been invited into the Triumvirate.
As a member of the Triumvirate, holding one of the troika seats of power, Antonio Canossa had feared no one in decades. It had been even longer since he had given a second thought to the God he felt had abandoned him. But today was different. Today Antonio felt every minute of his seventy-five years of age. Today he felt afraid.
The reason for Antonio's anxiety stood quietly just inside the door. They stood at silent attention, backs straight and fearless, where everyone could see them. They were beautiful really, the result of years worth of controlled breeding. They were the greatest achievement ever accomplished at the Centre. And they had come to take what was theirs.
As the boardroom slowly filled, Antonio watched them openly. The trio watched him in return. They were perfect, like fine artwork meant for display. Antonio was abruptly reminded of angels and some part of him worried that these were indeed divine creatures.
These were not the hymn-singing cherubs of mercy. No, these beings were vengeful seraphim armed with the sword of righteousness. These were the creatures God sent to inflict His wrath upon mankind. It was an angel such as these that must guard the gates of Eden, forever barring human entrance.
They were imposing enough by their mere presence, to remind Antonio what it meant to be a "God-fearing" man. Perhaps God had finally tired of waiting for Antonio to return to the fold. He had sent this trio to summon the lost lamb.
The murmur of voices in the room was more subdued than normal. Usually, a Triumvirate board meeting was preceded by a great deal of political wrangling. Personal finances were discussed, meetings were arranged and alliances fostered. But today's circumstances were out of the ordinary. The presence of the three Red files made matters even more extreme.
Antonio continued to stare at them, especially the steely-eyed woman. She would not back down, but met him glare for glare. Antonio remembered when they had last met, just a few weeks ago. She had seemed almost bored by the stinging words Yvette had tossed at her. Now Yvette was dead. There was little doubt to the fact that these three had been somehow involved.
'I know you killed her,' Antonio said to the woman with a silent look of anger.
The woman's lips curled ever so slightly at the edges. The secretive smile was almost seductive. 'You were meant to know,' her answering smirk told him.
Antonio nodded. He knew what was expected of him. He knew what these three wanted. Without a word from any of them, Antonio also knew what would happen to him if he didn't give them what they desired. After all, they had done away with Yvette less than six weeks after she had insulted the twins.
Antonio saw little reason to dispute them. If he denied them now, there would surely be another meeting in a month or two. That meeting would be scheduled to refill the seat he now occupied rather than the one to his left. Antonio Canossa was an old man, but he was not so old that he was ready to die just yet.
Having made his decision, Antonio felt his nervousness slip away. Knowing that the consequences of this meeting would reverberate back to the Centre, Antonio wondered if, in the long run, his actions weren't for the best. Over the last few years, the Centre's management had been inconsistent. Perhaps it was time for a new administration.
Picking up a gavel, Antonio quickly brought the meeting to order. He spoke a few words of respect in recognition of Yvette Guimard. Then he quickly moved on to the matter that had brought them all here.
"There must an appointment to the open seat," Antonio said sternly. "Because the position in question is of the troika, it can not be permitted to remain open."
He cast a firm gaze at his fellow board members.
"We shall now discuss viable applicants," he intoned.
For a moment no one spoke. Triumvirate members glanced at each other warily.
Xuan Mae Tran from Vietnam was the first to break the silence. "I think it would be best if an existing Triumvirate member moved up to the troika," he said.
"No," Antonio answered sharply, leaving no room for debate. "That will only open another position, thereby defeating our purpose here. No," he repeated. "The appointment must be a new member."
"You have someone in mind, Mr. Canossa?" the Asian man asked in a frosty tone.
"Actually," Antonio said. "I do. My nominee has years of experience with our traditions, skills that are unmatched in the field, and the respect of many in this room." Antonio played his role well, pausing for a moment to allow the anticipation to grow dramatically. "I propose the open seat go to Miss Parker of Delaware."
There was a round of shocked murmuring as the other board members whispered amongst one another. The Asian glared at Miss Parker in fury but his gaze was met by the hard dark stare of the pretender. Antonio watched in detached amusement as he saw the truth dawn on the Vietnamese man's face.
The room went silent as, one by one, the other board members realized what Antonio had already come to accept. The three Red files were not here by coincidence. The last one to defy their authority had wound up dead. Anyone else questioning the Parker legacy would face a similar fate.
There was a war beginning, a revolution within the Centre walls. It was time to choose sides. Antonio chose to follow the angels.
-
-
Jarod opened his eyes. Above was the plain white textured ceiling of Parker's bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window as dawn crept over the horizon. With a huge yawn, Jarod stretched, savoring the feel of fine linen against his flesh. For several long minutes he simply lay there and listened to the sounds of Miss Parker in the shower. Jarod thought about joining her but he was not yet comfortable enough with their relationship to be the aggressor.
He and Parker had been a couple for nearly a week now. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just hours short of a full week since Jarod had found himself on the receiving end of Parker's tender embrace. It had been a week during which he had not left her side.
Jarod had been a basket case, frighteningly close to losing it after Guimard had killed herself. He had managed to catch a plane as Parker instructed, arriving in Kampala a day later. He had checked into the hotel and locked himself in his room. How long he had waited afterward, he wasn't sure.
Somehow, as if by magic, Parker had suddenly been there. She had brushed the frightened tears from Jarod's cheeks and gathered him in her arms. She had kissed him and Jarod had given himself over to the moment. His need for her had become all encompassing. It had been a raw yearning to join with another being, to stave off the loneliness. He simply could not survive alone for another moment.
At some point during that first night, Jarod had realized that sex with Parker was nothing like the encounters he had shared with other women. He had never felt so in tune with another person as when he and Parker were together. Being with her, Jarod had found what it meant to make love versus having sex.
She had saved him that night. Parker had braved the darkness in which Jarod had lost himself. She had found him and with her body had anchored him back in her world. Jarod refused to question her motives. He simply took what she offered and held on as though his life depended upon it. Perhaps it did.
One thing Jarod was sure of. He had found the strength to get through the Triumvirate board meeting only because Parker had been there to help him. He'd been terrified when their limousine had pulled up in front of Triumvirate Station. But with a simple smile she had eased his fears.
"You've brought us this far, Jarod," she had told him. "Let me take it from here." Then she had leaned over and kissed him passionately, nearly sucking his fillings out in the process. Lyle's stunned sputtering at their display of affection only served to increase Jarod's enjoyment of it.
In the days that followed, Parker had led her comrades to a whole new level in the game they lived. They had spent four days at Triumvirate Station, establishing Parker's position on the board and defining expectations among the other members. Once it had become apparent that Canossa would align with them, stepping into power had been remarkably easy.
Parker emerged from the bathroom, her still wet body wrapped in a towel. The sight of her tore Jarod from his musings. She was beautiful.
Leaning over gracefully, Parker kissed Jarod on the lips. "You need to get up," she told him.
With a nod Jarod tossed aside the blankets and stood up. His nudity didn't bother him. It had taken all of a day and a half for him to overcome modesty in Parker's presence. "You're worried about today," he said.
"Nonsense," Parker frowned.
"Liar," Jarod replied with an understanding smile.
"How would you know?" she snapped in that regal tone of hers.
Jarod shrugged. "You taste different when you worry," he said.
Parker turned to stare at him warily. A frown crossed her face and she sighed with exasperation. "That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."
Crossing the room, Jarod took Parker by the arms and smiled at her. "Let me taste again to be sure."
For several long moments Parker allowed the kiss. But as Jarod began to nibble a trail down her throat, she stopped him. "We haven't time for this right now," she scolded.
Jarod pouted dramatically. "You are going to send me into that cold, dark place I hate without so much as a kiss to keep me warm?" he whined.
"Give me a break." Parker rolled her eyes. "You got more than enough to keep you warm last night."
Jarod laughed. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said as he turned toward the bathroom.
He was halfway across the room when Parker stopped him. "Jarod, are you okay?"
He turned and looked at her with those dark, soulful eyes of his. "I'm getting there," he said with a nod.
"Raines has to die today," Parker reminded him. She hated to bring down his mood, but Parker knew that Jarod would adapt much more easily if his emotions were more level. The extreme ups and downs that Jarod was prone to experiencing weren't good for him in the long run.
"I know," Jarod replied.
"Are you okay with that?" she asked.
"I will be," Jarod sighed.
Parker nodded and Jarod went to take a shower. She stood for a moment and chewed at her lower lip thoughtfully. She hated doing this to him. The path they had chosen was a difficult one for Jarod to walk. His conscience was under constant assault. All Parker could do was be there for him, help him learn to live with it somehow.
It was almost over. It wouldn't be long before the Centre was theirs to rule. Once in power, Parker could allow Jarod's exuberance to run free. Without further dark deeds to cloud his psyche, the pretender could learn to deal with his fearful episodes of depression. Things could get better and stay that way.
But for now, there were still shadows to be traversed.
