Oliver, several blocks away in his safe haven apartment with a man that he held dear, had his arms wrapped around his feminine and lithe form. He stretched, careful not to disturb his lover behind him, he reached for the cell phone on the night stand and checked for new texts. One from Sol. Sighing to himself, he texted the Korean male about a small quaint cafe they will be meeting at in northern London. Ironically, that's one of the few areas Armani knows better than to step in that part of London, despite his "reign" over the city. Setting the phone back, he felt lips press chastely on his bare back, kissing a scar that was fading slowly.
"Work again?" The male said, amber eyes and chestnut hair, his physique covered by a duvet, but his muscular arm gave a hint to his strong stature. His voice was soothing, warm, just like home. Nodding, Oliver whispered, voice still scratchy with morning sleepiness. "Yeah, sort of. Going to meet this lad I informed about Tyrann's plan and he flew here from Seoul." Oliver's voice was delicate, soft and not at all like his usual voice. The man behind him trailed kisses his over the bare shoulder and across to the dirty blonde's soft neck.
Speaking slowly, he then said "I still don't like him you know, that tyrannical piece of work is a complete git." He grumbled towards the end, hearing a giggle and bright hazel eyes looking at him.
"You're a git yaself, yanno. If you had listened to me before, we wouldn't be in such a tight-knit situation." Citrus orange painted nails trailed up the bicep that firmly was wrapped around Oliver's waist. Feeling a sigh hit the side of his cheek, his eyes trailed over to meet amber.
"Zita." The way the name was said made Oliver's chest pound harder, causing the hazel gleam to soften. "Be careful will ya? I would like for my femme / homme fatale lover to be back in one piece."
"I've come this far, shouldn't be too hard to come out of all the rubbish I've made an uncomfortable nest in." Smiling, she kissed him softly on the lips, which surely escalated quickly until through the romantic toss in the sack, Zita forgot to text Sol what time they were going to meet at the cafe. Reaching over to look at the time on her phone, it was nearing the afternoon. She texted him 2PM to be there before it was tossed roughly to the ground.
“Oh, really? And where would this cushy life be, exactly?” Sol rolled his eyes at Emilio’s request for sex, not even bothering to respond to it. It seemed as if the old Jjang had never changed. But it really was a bit of a relief to hear that he was doing alright. Not that he was really worried. Still, he was curious to where Emilio had run off to after graduating. Sol had a year left in high school after that, a year where he fell out of the gang scene. But now he was back and he found himself somehow in London.
Luckily, Emilio wasn’t the only one with a speedy response time today. He read his text from Oliver, though he ended up annoyed at the lad once more. A location, but no time. He sighed, but waited patiently, finishing up his tea before getting up to leave. The fall weather in London was a bit chillier than Seoul and the young man hid himself underneath a warm black pea-coat. He still had a bit of time to wander before meeting this Oliver, so he got off at a random stop in northern London and decided to explore a bit. Just as he decided to pop in a pub, Oliver caught his mistake and sent a time. Sol stepped inside to catch the end of a football match before walking to the little café. By the time he made it inside again, his face was flushed from the chilly wind. He grabbed a small booth and texted Oliver that he had arrived. He fiddled with his phone as he waited, wondering if he would recognize Oliver as one of the men Armani liked to keep around at all times. His eyes stayed glued to the door as he waited for his new ‘friend’.
"Telling you would mean you'd have to visit me. And I don't suppose that would be on your bucket list, no? Wink [https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/smilies/wink.png] "
He texted back, fully dressed this time and had set out on the streets of London, approaching a cafe in the northern sector. Emilio's long hair left unbound as the winds grazed the ebony locks that stopped a little above his lower backside. A grey scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck and over his mouth. Donning a simple band t-shirt and form fitting black jeans that made his ass all the more inviting. Walking into the cafe, he walked to the counter, pulling the scarf down to smile at the cashier. "I would like some boba green tea, don't put too much of the bobas in there." He winked as she got flustered and prepared his order.
Little did Emilio know that Sol was in the same cafe as him, but he pulled out his phone to text Oliver, asking him when they were going to see each other later. After he sent that, he got a punch in the side by someone significantly shorter than he was. "I thought you would forget that we were supposed to meet, scumbag." Oliver's timbre resonated next to Emilio as he ordered his drink. Looking down at the smaller male, his hair was tidy, his appearance consisted of a simple punk attire, but "professional" enough that he chose to wear a black buttoned down shirt (which was a few sizes too big, but no one dared to comment on it), trousers, clothes and boots the same color. One would assume that the young lad was going to a funeral.
"I didn't, I figured I'd get the hell out of my apartment and take in the view. Sight-see the horizons and all that." He said in a thick Italian accent for emphasis on his "sheltered" life. This caused Oliver to roll his eyes and then sigh over-dramatically. "It must be so hard to be a mixed bred in England, when there's already so many of you lollygagging about." The young German male bantered back.
"Now now, I hear you have quite the fancy for wankers like us." Before Oliver could even retaliate, Emilio didn't even look to make his next statement. "So, I see you went to your man recently. How's the shirt fitting?" He chuckled, as Oliver's face turned pink slightly.
"It fits perfectly fine, thank you!" Huffing slightly, he then said meekly. "It's been awhile yanno? I missed him and he realizes that it's even risky to be any where near him. I need some guidance, ya?" He mumbled, blushing a little harder.
"I bet that guidance involved a little sessuale gua--"
"That's enough outta you." Already knowing what he was going to say, he punched him for emphasis, which caused the taller man to give his rich, sultry laugh. Usually an indicator that he's right.
"If it makes you feel any better, you're actually wearing my shirt."
"But this is Mathias's how the fuck is it your's you, Italienisch ficker?"
"I let him have it because it didn't fit me, see this," he suggestively ran his hand down his back to reach a small hole that was protruding from where Emilio's ribcage would have been at, if it wasn't the fact that he was poking Oli's backside. "this is why I gave it to him."
"You sound so heartbroken." Oliver said blandly.
"Actually~~ when a man gives another man his shirt, they quite honestly must be fu--"
"Your order is ready sir." The lady was blushing furiously at such a casual display of affection, even though she did not understand Oliver's and Emilio's back story, at all. "Please, you can take it, no charge either." She smiled as Emilio's fingers connected with her wrist, then her hand and fingertips to take the bubble tea from her. Her hand trembled from such a sensual contact, which in turn caused him to take it and kiss the knuckle of it politely. Opening his eyes, he smiled as his pale eyes gleamed in gratitude.
"Merci, signora." Winking at her, he released her hand and then ruffled Oliver's well-kept hair on purpose. "Look sharp for this Korean guy kid, men over there don't seem to like uncleanliness." And with that he left. Oliver closed his hazel eyes, counted to ten to take deep breathes to try to calm himself. Emilio is such a git, Emilio's a git, that bloody arse is a git. . . He kept telling himself, before taking his own order of black coffee and being told that he didn't have to pay before walking towards the table where Sol was sitting.
"'Ello, I'm Oliver and I believe you're Sol, yes?" His English accent was suddenly a mix of German, and it didn't help that his hair was in disarray, but no matter.
Sol’s eyes had stayed locked on the door and he really couldn’t believe what he was seeing when a tall man walked in. There was absolutely no fucking way. It was the second time today he almost burned his tongue on a hot liquid because of Emilio. He set down his cup of coffee as his eyes followed him to the cashier. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. But when a shorter man in clothes that didn’t fit him approached him, Sol heard that familiar laugh. What were the odds that they’d wander into the same café. Well, it seemed like his trip to England would be made a little more interesting, if he ever put aside the time. However, for now, he was waiting on someone important and ignored the pair as best he could. He turned his eyes back to the doorway, only to glance back at the pair from time to time.
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Soon, Emilio was walking out the door. He quickly opened up his phone and sent Emilio a text. “London has always been on my bucket list though.” The cheeky text revealed that Sol knew Emilio’s location and the young man thought he might as well mess with the other with the information he unexpectedly received. As he set his phone away, he noticed the shorter man from earlier approaching his table. “It’s a damn small world,” he muttered under his breath in Korean as Oliver took a seat and introduced himself. He nodded his head as he looked over the man’s appearance, but ignored it for the time being. He studied Oliver’s face, realizing it looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it at the moment. Not wanting to scare him with his silence, Sol spoke up.
“I’ve found our friend, but I can’t seem to be able to talk to him alone. Plus I need to know a little more of the structure. Will his other friends continue his legacy?” It seemed as far as he could tell that the gang was a random mix of thugs who weren’t particularly loyal or smart enough to keep things moving. But if Armani’s death only fueled a war, it would be dangerous for many more people. Sol needed to find out which men needed to be taken care of to guarantee the obliteration of the entire gang.
Sipping on his coffee, he set the mug down. "The group of men you usually with him during the day are the easier targets to discard. They're bulky, slow and utterly useless. And as far as he's concerned, he could hire men with the same intelligence to protect him during the day." Oliver looked at Sol sternly, hinting that if those men were killed, they would be replaced and it was of no consequence, whatsoever. "It's the men you have to worry about at night that are the bigger issue." He continued, looking off into the distance briefly.
"If you've been following him carefully, you'll notice that every night, he has different men with him-- except three you will probably see more than thrice in a week." Starting with his thumb, he counted. "The gruffy looking red-head, his name is Blake, don't ever leave yourself open to attacks-- one egregious move and you'll regret it. Or well, if you can live to regret it." Shuddering at the thought, he progressed. "Vincent, he is a suave looking type of chap that is usually in the shadows. He doesn't feel the need to boast about his skills, but when he fights, be prepared for a long one. He is the best tactician we have. If we go to war, there's a good chance he's planning it and not Tyrann." And last but not least, "Of course, myself. However, I have no reason to fight you. A faux fight really, but fighting me seriously is the last thing you'd want on your hands, ye?"
Before giving Sol any time to question that, he said "You're not the only one that's in on this whole . . . Combative retaliation. There's a couple others, and in due time, you'll be meeting them accordingly. Any further questions?" Hazel eyes staring into brown ones.
Sol listened quietly and intently, his hands wrapped around his mug to warm up his hands. It seemed like Sol had his work cut out for him. So these two men definitely needed to be taken care of. But he would need a time to take care of them alone. He furrowed his brows slightly as Oliver mentioned himself, but Sol only remembered two men and…
Then he finally connected the face of the woman and Oliver’s. “Ah, you’re the pretty one who’s always on Tyrann’s arm,” he spoke with slight amusement. Sure, he was surprised, but there were stranger things that Sol had come across. Oliver hinted that Sol wouldn’t be working on his own, but not until a later time. “So what’s the best way for me to get these three alone?” At the very least, he would need to isolate Tyrann and his posse from the other underlings. Sure, they might not be much in a fair fight against Sol, but a mass of peons with weapons wouldn’t allow the Korean to escape alive. “And you should know I don’t work well with others, so they better be competent.” He added that last remark before taking another sip.
Oliver's eyebrow twitched irritably, but gave a curt nod, ignoring Sol's astute observation skills since this is not something he would like to bring up. "The best way to corner them is. . . " a smirk, befitting of Oliver's features graced his face. "playing by their paranoia." Taking a long sip of the still hot black coffee before setting it back down, not once grimacing at the scalding liquid that went down his throat. "Blake is pathologically afraid of the sound of grating bones, ironic given that he's the one causing the most broken limbs of opponents. But he is also suspicious of things that move in the shadows, and instinctively follows them, but knows better than to go too far."
Tapping his painted nails on the table, he then continued, smirking deeper. "Sounds like a woman's heel clicking will attract him to foolishly go off by himself. There are also many alleys in London, and I do have the perfect person to help act as a decoy before you throttle him."
"As for Vincent, we'll have to save that bloke for another time. He's unpredictable in his own right, but the only constant with him is he changes to the atmosphere around him within the gang. So I discourage you from acting upon him now." Looking back at Sol, he then said. "Don't worry, I wouldn't command a lot of blundering twits. Aside from me, there will be three other men. Ironically, one of which also feels the same in regards to working with others. You two might get along on that premise alone." A smile graced his features.
So Blake first. Sol would have to kill him and dispose of him without anyone seeing, unless he wanted to get on Tyrann’s radar. A hot-headed redhead. Seemed simple enough. It wouldn’t be an easy fight by any means and Sol would be smarter than to underestimate him by Oliver’s words, but damn it if it didn’t get him excited. He had been itching for a fight for a while, that mischievous part of him never died after high school. Sure he could work behind the scenes and pull the strings, but Sol liked to get his hands dirty. “A decoy would be appreciated.” He offered Oliver a smile, the first since they’ve met. He had quietly noted the irritated look when he mentioned Oliver’s busty nature and decided against mocking him further. It seemed he didn’t particular enjoy being Tyrann’s arm candy.
“You seem like someone who could be quite dangerous, Oliver.” To be so close to Tyrann and to plot against him in the shadows was a dangerous combination. If he was pulling it off, then Sol knew better than to trust him completely. But, Oliver might be the perfect person to set up to lead a new gang in place of Armani’s if all worked out in the end. “I’ll give your friends a chance then.” He finished the last of his coffee. “Anything else then?” he asked. Being seen together would be dangerous for him and for Oliver so their time was limited. “Have your people call my people. I expect a nice pair of heels.”
Grinning at the dangerous comment, Oliver minded his own ego a little bit. "I know where my allegiance is in this whole sordid situation, is all." Pulling back his sleeve to reveal his watch. "I have to get going, but don't worry, I will text you further details. We won't have to worry about an interference if we play our cards right and I abhor mistakes, grave mistakes." Hazel eyes sharpened at Sol before he rose. "Aside from this business trip, I do hope you enjoy your stay in London. It's a lovely place, despite how despicable it really is." Finishing the last of the coffee, he waved to Sol and took his leave.
Emilio was just minding his business, until he decided to check his phone. Seeing the recent text was from Sol. Arching his eyebrow at it, he responded back "I know my presence gave you a taste of Europe, but are you sure you're prepared for the London life?" The idea of Sol being in London was. . . Well, quite interesting. Almost stimulating given how those two were back in their junior high and high school years, it was a bit troubling imagining the young Korean male in London. He hasn't seen him in a while since well, Sol was atrocious at keeping contact and Emilio's studying also prevents him to even bother taking a trip to Seoul. Getting caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't see the following text from Oliver come in. "Hiya! You ready to hang out mate?" "If I wasn't ready, I wouldn't be fully clothed right now." He instantly replied back.
Technically he and Oliver weren't going to leisurely hang out, there's business that was to be had. Which interested him, and given that Mathias was tagging along as well, it might end up an investigating affair. Oliver was simply the overseer, the other two were really supposed to be causing all the mischief. As much information out of the situation as possible.
-several days later-
"Listen you Italian piece of shit, if you don't come out of this apartment right now, I'm going to go in there and rip out that precious little treasure you call a cock, alright?" Oliver growled in gutteral German and was getting impatient and told Emilio yesterday that he and his associate from Korea were going to go discuss more strategies and act accordingly tonight. Sol was going to meet the others at a different location unbeknownst to the citizens of London, but due to convenience sake, one of them happened to live not to far away from the area. Just getting him out of his room was the annoying part. It was night time and the wind was picking up, evidence of the chill showing on Oliver's pink cheeks and nose.
Leave it to Emilio to completely ignore how Sol figured out the little tidbit of information. Well that took the fun out of it. “Fish n’ chips and a nice cuppa, what is there to prepare for?” He left it at that and shoved his phone away, deciding he had enough work ahead of him. He didn’t need any more distractions from Emilio. Blake was his primary target for the time being, and needed to do his best to weasel out some more information about him.
--
Sol stared out of his hotel room and noted the brisk wind ruffling the leaves and the fog rolling in quickly. He grimaced and grabbed his warmest jacket and wrapped a scarf around his neck before heading out to the designated location. Their meeting spot was inside a club on a street filled with drunken people entering and leaving as they pleased. No one paid attention to where anyone else was going and their meeting was hidden in plain sight. Sol didn’t have to sneak inside, only to flash the bouncer his ID along with a special card to indicate he wasn’t an everyday guest. After purchasing an old-fashioned, he found his way to a backroom, the loud music of the dance room dulled.
There were numerous backrooms, VIP rooms and whatnot, again hiding them in plain sight, but Sol noted that the cameras kept a close eye on which door he entered. It seemed he was first to arrive and he slowly took off his scarf and jacket, to reveal a light button-down shirt with a black skinny tie. His hair had been ruffled up a bit in the wind, but was styled neatly. Sol always made sure to keep up his appearances. Now, he would just need to wait for the appearances of the rest of the team.
"Emilio, I'm going to need you to stop being a smarmy git, I don't know if everyone's going to be there by the time we're there." Oliver said, making sure he was wrapped tightly in a scarf and tunic over his head to conceal his identity as much as possible. Oli was trying his best to prevent the half-Korean from flirting with the females in line as they were almost to the bouncer.
"I'm sorry, but before I'm stuck in a room with nothing but anry men, I feel the need to release some tension first." He smiled sensuously at one of the modestly dressed women that was several people behind them. Oliver rolled his eyes, before nudging forward to show his ID as Oliver followed suit as they both disappeared into the lively club scene. Weaving through the crowd undetected to reach the backrooms, Oliver had to constantly keep looking back behind himself to make sure Emilio wasn't getting distracted.
"I am so glad you're not my boyfriend . . ." He muttered as he pushed open the door revealing Sol on time and ready for business. "Hiya! I hope you didn't have trouble finding the place?" Oliver smiled as he took a seat nearby Sol, unwrapping the scarf and tunic hood off his neck. Emilio was approaching the door slowly, still in a daze of a beautiful woman he was trying to talk to earlier, but when he turned his head and saw a painstakingly familiar face, his normally calculating eyes bulged out of his sockets in shock.
"Emilio this is---"
"Sol?! What the hell are you doing here?"