Die Leeu se Den - The Lion's Den (CVnU Location; Under Construction)

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You have been cordially invited to stay a night (or more) in the brand-new Lion's Den Hotel and Suites. Located in [LOCATION WITHHELD], South Africa, it features five-star accommodations and top-of-the-line employee service that can only be found under the management of resort mastermind Antonio Roman.

Born in San Betral, he opened three different five-star resorts in California before moving to the East Coast and constructing one final project. This however, marked his disappearance from the stage of appealing to the tastes of the people. Yet you can't keep a good businessman down, and thus The Lion's Den was born.

With generous donations from King Musa Bashir, the massive undertaking will take over a year to finish. But, in the meantime, enjoy some easy listening and fine dining courtesy of the Masquerade Family.

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The house special of the morning is smoked salmon, cooked over cedar wood and seasoned accordingly. Finely cut into razor-thin strips, the imported wild Alaskan fish is placed over any number of breakfast items or served separately to the taste preferences of the guest. Mr. Roman suggests poached quail eggs, and pan-seared potatoes with garlic butter to go along with it.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and sometimes meat isn't an option. With fresh fruit and a wide variety of vegetables available from the gardens, our guests can still enjoy a truly global culinary experience with pastries made from over thirty kinds of grain purchased from farms across Europe, Asia, and Africa.

Second only to steak and the Sicilian Roast, the sheer attention to detail the chefs put into the staggering amount of options for breakfast is truly admirable. The possibilities are endless, as it should be for the perfect start to one's day.

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As mentioned before, the crown jewel of The Lion's Den is its impressive repertoire of culinary artisans gathered from Antonio's hometown of San Betral and his ancestral roots in Sicily. Using only grass-fed beef, the chefs responsible for giving the famous steak dishes life and flair meticulously pick out the perfect cut before cooking.

Each cut, tender, and the natural taste echoing the smokiness of tried and true wood fires.

Beyond steaks, and much like the grand scale of the breakfast menu, it is impossible to not find something new and alluring. But even then, the house special of the hour has remained the Sicilian Roast for over three decades. Starting as a prime cut, the meat is cooked in a clay oven for over fourteen hours on almond wood. The melted fat is regularly moved to avoid burning, but for the most part the oven is sealed shut. Evaporation doesn't happen. In the last few moments of the cycle, the roast is move to the pan for a final once-over by the chefs and a glaze in its own juices before being moved to a plate.

Pork, lamb, or duck are the only options for this dish, however, with pork and lamb being tied for the favorite. Duck is a bit leaner, though offers a unique flavor in of itself.

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Those looking for a casual meal may enjoy the presentation involved with the dozens of brothy alternatives to full-course plates. With recipes collected from around the world, it is no small surprise that someone as inclined as Mr. Roman is to the food business has an expansive knowledge on soups.

When it comes to making the perfect broth, time is your friend. To let the marrow from a meaty bone simmer just a minute longer, or to allow a fresh lobster to stay in the water for a natural bisque is optimal. Vegetarian options do exist, such as tomato bisque and the crowd-favorite minestrone.

Salads are usually more straightforward, though presentation is often the key. Time is, ironically, the greatest enemy to a good salad, and it relies on the eyes more than any other sense. A crisp splash of color, the fluffiness of toasted bread, a vial of clearly defined vinegarette, the mind collects more information from sight than anything else.

As a result, only the freshest ingredients are allowed to even touch the plate.

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It isn't a meal without something sweet to touch up the evening.

Handled by a different league of chefs altogether, the dessert menu is located in an entire half of the restaurant portion of The Lion's Den. Famously, you walk right through it while going to the banquet hall proper.

The wizards of sugar pour their heart and soul into every delectable decadence, ranging from American fruit cobblers and ice cream to Turkish cakes hidden within hollow spheres of chocolate that a guest must watch melt before their very eyes with hot caramel. Dessert isn't just another meal, it is a show - a spectacle of worldly intrigue funneled into the small and the delicate.

There's a reason why dessert is always served last.

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Musicians from all walks of life are permitted to perform in The Lion's Den, as it is a celebration of what the synergy between mind and body is capable of accomplishing when presented with the call to play music.

The most common sound heard throughout the resort is the stylings of Giovanni Giuseppe, a pianist from San Betral who grew up in Antonio's neighborhood. Childhood friends, he and Giovanni often pal around between performances.

Local performers are also highly encouraged to come and share their crafts.

Entertainers often come in the form of exotic dancers from around the world, though some bring with them animal compatriots as well as some of the more eccentric acts of human culture such as fire-eaters, magicians, sword-swallowers, or daredevils.

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A mysterious event known to elicit mixed emotions, it is the secret pride and joy of The Lion's Den. Said to be held every full moon, the clandestine gathering is home to many faces of shared worldwide fame and infamy, all concealed behind masks.

They are nights of debauchery, excess, and explicit pride to show off the glam and grandeur of the criminal underground that Antonio Roman still holds considerable financial backing within.

His sway there as the former kingpin of San Betral is hefty, but now that he has a foothold in the Rogue Nation it seems to only have multiplied from there.

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The Lion's Den, if nothing else, is a celebration of the generosity of King Musa Bashir and his people. Therefore, it would do him insult if the resort did not give back to the people that helped build it.

A festival of timballo - or timpano - is imparted regularly upon the hungry. Twice a week, the chefs gather around and utilize each of their crafts into the making of the kettledrum-sized pastry dish. Layers of sausage, noodles, eggs, pork, ground beef, tomato, and cheese are all cooked in synergy with each other, resulting in a single dish that can feed dozens at a time.

It was conceived as a family affair, originally to give large Italian families a massive dinner at the end of a long reunion. The first cut into timballo is said to resonate like the drum of oakwood, such is the density of the dish.

Charities are also held in service to the host nation, but it is the food that they seem to like the best.

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From indoor tennis courts to Olympic-sized swimming pools, basketball courts with motorized seating arrangements, saunas, hot-tubs with water jets, licensed masseuses, mud baths... The Lion's Den has a place for everyone to relax in some capacity.

Antonio himself has been known to frequent the tennis courts, but also the full 400m running track encircling a recreational football field on the basement floor. Two soccer fields also orbit this astroturf wonder.

Whether it is food, exercise, lounging, or something in-between, The Lion's Den is guaranteed to make an impact.

The features of the Olympic pool are multitudinous, allowing for new experiences each time it is used. Despite what most believe upon initial investigation, it is not a concrete structure. Its length and depth are all variable based on the schedule of different classes. Swimming races begin around 1100 while scuba divers reign supreme in the evenings. The salinity even changes depending on what kind of classes are being taught, including various biological courses that allows swimmers to interact with different kinds of exotic fish that are normally kept and cared for in vast glass tanks surrounding the pool. These are often seen underfoot along the perimeter, giving an immersive experience like no other.

This is top notch!

Also, I love 'Antonio Roman'.

Awesome!

@killer_instinct:

@grimmwald:

Hmmmm...

@hank_galloway

(Continued from NYC)

Hank and his family would actually meet with Antonio Roman following an all-expenses-paid luxury cruise, along with the rest of the funeral procession. Along the way, the entirety of the ship would share stories from across the world - most notably Italy and surrounding the dearly departed La Montagna. But, South Africa eventually loomed over them, as did the skeletal structure of what would become the planet's most luxurious hotel and resort. No finer in all the land, and the mastermind behind it stepped forward onto the docks to greet each and every guest.

He would stop Hank, and kiss his cheeks through the mask he wore. A relic of his time in the Black Mask Mafia, but now he wore it as an homage to San Betral - to his old life. Now he was part of a new family.

"Mi amico! Mr. Galloway, thank you for coming on such short notice," he said, patting what he conceived as an old man on his shoulders rather carefully. He snapped his fingers, and two large men came to grab Hank's luggage.

"For all who came to Madre's ceremony, we prepared the first wing for lodging. Your room is 120," he handed Hank a keycard, emblazoned with fine gold ink. "If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask me, you hear?"

@killer_instinct:

An all expense paid cruise to the Lion's Den; a phrase that would have never crossed Hank's mind. His body healed a bit after the encounter with Emil, but his body was still ravaged with stitched wounds and various painkillers. It was both willpower and stubbornness that kept the veteran going.

He received a letter informing him of the recent passing of Sofia Roman, La Montagna; a former Justice Ally. What struck Hank was the fact that she revealed her ties with the Justice Alliance to her family and in turn her family invited him to the funeral. How did she know he was alive? Why wasn't contact made? Could this just be another ruse by the Red Masque? The hero had received a distress signal from a motormouth mercenary by the name of Warspool only to be in the receiving end of a beatdown by his former friend. To his knowledge, Hank never found out about Warspool's fate; then again, he forgot to ask.

After a long argument with his granddaughter, he managed to convince Rose to not come, though their communication was still active through an active earpiece disguised as a hearing aid.

Welkom, aan die leeukuil

Welcome, to the Lion's Den

The captain spoke through the speaker in a booming but welcoming tone. Hank viewed that massive property that was the Lion's Den. Hotels, restaurants, night life and the lights emitting from the resort made the stars look pale in comparison. It was just as rich as the invitation made it out to be, a heaven in South Africa.

"Please bow to the East upon setting foot on the dock," instructed the guide as each passenger got off, "it is to respect to the King of Kings." Hank followed the line exiting the boat, limping slowly with the aid of his temporary cane and upon setting foot he heard a voice.

"Mi amico! Mr. Galloway, thank you for coming on such short notice," a tall man, well built wearing a mask came over and gently pulled Hank aside, greeting him with a kisses on his cheek, perhaps an Italian custom. In his head, that seemed to be Antonio Roman. With a quick snap of his fingers, two large men followed the orders of their masked boss and carried Hank's luggage to his room.

"For all who came to Madre's ceremony," Mr. Roman spoke, "we prepared the first wing for lodging." He then looked at Hank directly, and handed him a keycard, beautifully designed with golden decor, "Your room is 120, If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask me, you hear?" He smiled at the veteran, perhaps he only viewed Hank as a feeble old man.

"Thank you, Mr. Roman," Hank said as he began walking alongside the masked man, "I have many questions for you, perhaps we can speak alone after Sofia's funeral."

If this is also in SA, maybe I'll stop here after I'm done with the Alcazar.

@rosso:

It is, and you do have free reign as per our bargain :P

Wow, "generous donations?" That man's got his fingers in all the pie.

@infinitum: Maybe it'll come in handy.

@hank_galloway:

Antonio lowered his head slowly, still visibly affected by the death of his mother. He gently patted Hank on the back.

"You are a good man, Mr. Galloway. Thank you for coming - I look forward to your questions," he nodded, allowing his guest to become initiated to the parts of the resort that have already been constructed. Inside any of the rooms, Hank would find a luxurious experience beyond anything else. Antonio personally saw to the furnishing of each and every room, finding comfort in the vintage Sicilian style of his home country.

In the meantime, Antonio would walk the beaches flanked by a couple of his bodyguards. It was already getting dark, but he just wanted to see the sunset. The funeral hung just a few hours away in time.

"Get back to the hotel, ragazzi," he muttered, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. They obliged with a nod each.

With the drink raised, he poured it out onto the sand and followed them.

A local funeral home ever so graciously opened its doors to the families involved with the monumental undertaking. Mostly Sicilian families, and Italian cousins. Calamonaci, Montedoro, Milo, Sperlinga, Antillo, Floresta,Frazzano, Gallodoro, Roccavaldina, Scillato, Bagni, Cassaro, they were all there. Timballo was meticulously prepared the night before and started cooking early in the morning for after the funeral itself. Practically hundreds of relatives showed up, each one greeted with a kiss from Antonio - his father a Roman, from Mexico, his blood on his mother's side was with the Reitano family. Each one approached Hank, since he was practically the only one not of their family that knew about the funeral being here in South Africa.

"Do you know my boy Antonio?" an older gentleman, Lorenzo Floresta, pointed at the man in the black mask with a firm grip on his hand. "Antonio used to work on my olive farm," a very thick accent, sputtering out words, but legible English. "Try to be like his mother, always, ha!" he slapped Antonio on the shoulder and moved away to shake hands with Mr. Galloway.

But, the greetings and niceties had to be held in stasis for right now. After all, it would be around the dinner table when they would get to know each other better than ever. Reunite, and mend broken friendships. Sofia rested across the room from them, ready for incineration. The chapel barely fit the enormous clan in the pews, with many more having to stand - the younger ones, of course. Outside, family strongmen took up posts to make sure nothing went out of place. Sure they had relations to Sofia, and the Reitano family were as blood to them as any. But that's also why they had to be careful. Anything could happen.

It wasn't long until Antonio took to the podium, adjusting the microphone for his height.

"Buongiorno," he greeted the crowd, to a sudden reply that echoed for a moment and then disappeared.

"Friends, family, we are here to celebrate the long life and career of Sofia Reitano, later Sofia Roman when she moved to California," the Roman family were also present, mostly children along with Antonio's sisters-in-law Jasmine, Rosa, and Esmeralda and his brother-in-law Miguel. The younger girls and boys were almost uniformly silent except the youngest, Eric. He sat bawling in his hands, because he missed his grandma.

"She prided herself on keeping a large family, as is evident in that we can't all fit in here," a laugh, muffled through the suffocating silence.

"She fought to keep soldiers alive in the second World War as a medic, earning many honors in the battles she cared for the wounded. To her, hospitals were often too far away to treat the dying in front of her. She would often tell me stories about how she muscled drugs and surgical equipment through the rocky hills of Italy during Mussolini's regime and operate on soldiers using little more than cheesecloth between the wound and the ground. Many times, she told me the soldiers were still firing their guns, trying to keep their 'Big Mama' safe from harm,"

Another series of laughs, and Eric seemed to cheer up a little bit. He had no concept of life or death at such a young age, but hearing about how brave his grandmother was gave him something to hold onto.

The continued exploits of Sofia were expanded upon for a little while longer by Antonio, and then by others who served alongside her - cousins, soldiers, friends ranging from the young to the wheelchair-bound. Their testimony cleared the air. Their words were concrete they could all stand on again.

But no one could hold back their tears when the incineration came. Seeing Sofia for the last time, it was too heavy a load for the vast majority. Antonio could even be seen wrenching a tissue tight, his eyes beaten red with the suffering tearing his insides apart.

Antonio was the last to leave for dinner following the crushing parting with his mother. He held her urn, cast in gold from both Rome and San Betral - her two favorite cities in the entire world. She left the Earth knowing her only surviving son had a solid foothold on life, down in the tropical paradise of South Africa. Yet he kept the sealed container almost pinned to his hands, staring at the nameplate.

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"She wanted her ashes spread on the old family farm in Sicily. Between the olive trees where she played with her sisters, and the mountains she loved to explore,"

He didn't mean it for anyone to hear, but he recognized a presence in the room.

"But I think she would have liked to enjoy one last meal. Just the family, blood or otherwise."

@killer_instinct:

@killer_instinct:

Hank was greeted by almost every family member of the Roman family; Sofia had a good life. The Forgotten Hero looked across the large room as each member of the Roman family took the time to share their favorite stories of Sofia as well as pay their respects as they walked toward the open casket. It was soon his turn. Hank slowly walked up to the casket and observed the old face of his former ally. She was young when she joined the Justice Alliance and she had such a drive, it was something that Hank admired. Now here she was, asleep in death. Hank’s hardened face softened a bit as he slowly walked away. Another good piece of his past, gone.

He observed as Antonio walked to the podium, delivering a sentimental eulogy. He mentioned of her past, her time as a medic. Everything he said was true, yet it seemed he didn’t mentioned the true reasons behind every action.

It wasn’t long before her body was gently placed inside the incinerator. All of her relatives cried with the exception of Hank. He had lived too long and have been to few funerals, missing most of them. He was never good with these things and there he stood silent.

Little by little the room cleared and Antonio was the only one there, hugging the urn which contained the ashes of La Motagna.

“She wanted her ashes spread on the old family farm in Sicily.” Antonio said, sensing the presence of Hank in the room, “Between the olive trees where she played with her sisters, and the mountains she loved to explore, but I think she would have liked to enjoy one last meal. Just the family, blood or otherwise.”

Hank limped toward the son of La Motagna, “I was never good at expressing sentiments, Sofia knew that. But I’m very sorry for your loss. She was a great woman.” Hank placed his hand upon Antonio’s shoulder.

“I’m surprised she considered me family. But I consider it a privilidge...” Hank took his hand off of his shoulder, his face expressed slight reluctance. But after everything that had happened with Emil, he had to be sure, “Antonio... I have to ask you... what did she tell you about me?”

@hank_galloway:

Antonio returned the gesture by grabbing Hank's arm in a show of good faith. They parted the embrace once the man his mother called a 'hero' finished his statement. The former head of the Black Mask crime family rolled the urn around in his hands for a moment. Hank had asked a very difficult question, whether he wanted to believe it or not.

"You were an American soldier she almost fell in love with. You met on the French-Italian border, and she took a bullet out of your leg," he laughed. "Maybe that's why you have the cane,"

He stood after a while, coiling his arm around Hank's shoulders. They started to move out of the funeral home at a pace Antonio would keep set with however Hank wanted to move.

"Have you ever had timballo before, amico?"

The feast itself started at noon exactly, under tents on edge of the beach. Several long tables were set up for the entire family to sit down and eat. Antonio requested that Hank sit next to him, going so far as to cut a piece of timballo himself for the elderly friend of his mother. Water, wine, beer, all chilled in circulated ice. Fresh bread, salads, and soup. The favorite seemed to be minestrone, popular with all the little children and the younger family members. Hundreds were gathered there, just like in the funeral home. An embrace unlike any other, huge and all-encompassing.

That was Italian life, with a Sicilian garnish.

"Hank," Antonio began after the toast to Sofia's long life, and to the health of her family. The urn was in a safe place now, ready to be transported back to Sicily.

"Tell us a story, mi amico, something Lorenzo can understand," he placed a heavy palm on the Floresta's elbow, squeezing slightly. Lorenzo laughed and shoved back slightly, the glass of wine in his hand amazingly kept balanced.

"I can understand plenty, Anton, culo!"

Antonio just sighed a grunt, patting the old man on the back. The kids were all playing on the beach, scores of them, brought together by circumstance. Their parents relaxing or taking part in equal measure, happy to be here despite the melancholy of before.

Côte de Boeuf and a sparkling glass of Clos d'Ambonnay set upon the black tablecloth of the small round table in front of Elizabeth. The server arraigned her silverware while she set with her hands folded atop one another in her lap.

Behind her was another table. Square. Longer. Black tablecloth. Victor and Victoria set there. Victoria murmured quietly into her Bluetooth and Victor's eyes scanned the crowd; it was exceedingly unlikely that anyone could reach Elizabeth here in the heart of Musa Bashir's realm yet one could never be too careful. Should Victor fail in his duties it was unlikely her father would be merciful.

The server departed. Elizabeth ate alone and in silence. No one disturbed her.

@elizabethlebeau: Loved the post.

@elizabethlebeau:

@killer_instinct:

"You were an American soldier she almost fell in love with. You met on the French-Italian border, and she took a bullet out of your leg," he laughed. "Maybe that's why you have the cane."

Hank's eyes shifted away, he remembered about that time with the injury. They were trying to evacuate a city, a sniper got him in the leg from the tallest building in town. It was Sofia who basically obliterated the building with the sniper inside. She tended to his leg when he was down. He could still remember Overman mocking him for being the one with no powers on that evacuation squad. But the veteran's mind soon flashed back into the present, analyzing what Antonio had said. It seemed he didn't know much of his grandmother and her time on the Justice Alliance. Perhaps she had just told him a few stories as Heather told Rose when she was a child. But then again he had to make sure.

Grandpa, Rose whispered through the earpiece disguised as a hearing aid, Are you in?

"Yes" Hank responded, answering both Antonio's remark about the cane as well as his granddaughter's question.

"Have you ever had timballo before, amico?"

This guy seems a bit shady Grandpa, did you find out anything about the Roman Family?

"You know, I haven't. But I was never one to shy away from something different." Hank smiled at Antonio as he led him to the dinner table with the rest of the Roman family.

The sun rose to its highest point, shining it's rays through the few clouds in the sky. The smell of the sea carried by the breeze of the ocean complimented the feast they were about to have. Everyone laughed as they remembered stories of Sofia, all the times she made them laugh. Suddenly Antonio invited Hank for a story about Sofia, about La Montagna. Hank shifted in his sit a bit, he wasn't sure on what to tell them. All eyes focused on him and he began to speak.

"As you all probably know, she was someone very important during the Second World War. There was one time where we sat at a restaurant. It was someplace very classy, like here," Hank chuckled to himself as his mind shuffled through his memory, only detailing the select moments to the Roman family, "Everyone was well dressed, suits and dresses. There was a big dance floor, everyone was dancing and Sofia grabs my hand and drags me onto the floor. I'm letting you all know, I cannot dance for the life of me." Everyone began to laugh along with Hank, "I don't remember how many times I stepped on Sofia's foot but she eventually taught me how to dance a basic waltz."

One of the children asked, "What was she wearing?"

"You know, I don't remember the details but I remember we were all wearing..." Hank's mind went blank, his eyes stared down, out of focus, "...masks... like a masquerade ball..." He mind started to piece together pieces even he forgot.

"What were you doing at the restaurante?" asked Lorenzo as he sipped his wine.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"He asked what you were doing at the restaurante," Antonio responded, "Amico, are you feeling unwell?"

"No." Hank said as he put his hand to his face, rubbing it, "Just sentiments I guess... at the restaurant we were supposed to-um.. uh..." Hank's eyes widened under his hand, "We were supposed to meet a friend..." He immediately getup from his seat, "Excuse me... thank you for lunch." Hank immediately raced back inside the resort, heading toward the bathroom. His hands shook, he couldn't bear to look himself in the mirror.

Grandpa what's wrong?

"I-I left him Rose. We left him... We abandoned Emil... he was right. How did-? I just-..." Hank breathed in deeply as he splashed water on his face.

Grandpa? Maybe you should leave.

"No." Hank regained his composure, "I'm here to find out more about the Roman family..." His looked around the bathroom slowly realizing his predicament, "Crap."

What happened?

"I left the cane."

@hank_galloway:

"D... Did he just?" Lorenzo coughed.

Antonio didn't say anything in reply, elected instead to quietly burn through more of his cigar. His cronies were already trailing Hank. He wasn't leaving, more making his way in an Olympian hurry back to the hotel room he had been allotted. A courtesy of the Roman Family. A courtesy he was now trampling on.

The patriarch of the Black Mask crime syndicate reached across the table and took Mr. Galloway's cane. Oak wood, stained black. Cut precisely to shape, to fit Hank's hand. Antonio gripped it slightly, finding the hand slightly misshapen to his own.

"You know, this has happened once more, believe it or not,"

Lorenzo swallowed nervously. Despite his joking mannerisms, when Antonio was like this, even his grand-uncle felt fear. The festivities in the immediate vicinity stopped, those people who were paying attention to Hank immediately knew what it meant to Mr. Roman. His brother-in-law was closest to the fallout, and held his hands in his face.

"Wh-What are you gonna do?" Lorenzo stuttered.

"Don't know," Antonio spat back, grinding his cigar to ash on the plate of timballo he had cut for himself. Appetite no longer existed in his stomach. "Gonna go talk to him,"

He slapped the palm of his hand with the head of the cane. The resulting sound was the only thing audible at the dinner table for a few moments until Antonio crested the stairs to the nature walk - still in progress.

Room 120 was a suite. Full bed, bath, kitchen area. All the accommodies of home. None of its inhibitions. Antonio slid his master key into the lock, and opened the door slowly. Hank was in the bathroom. Only one exit out into the hall. He pulled a chair out in front of the doorway and waited. The mirror was angled so it couldn't see directly behind. Once Hank started mumbling something about his family, Antonio visibly shuddered in his seat.

He stood up once Hank came out of the bathroom, gripping the cane with a white-knuckled hand. The other held his coat by the pinstripes, concealing something underneath.

Given his background, more than likely a gun.

"Find out about my family, Hank? You already know plenty, amico. What else do you want to know?"

He advanced, no matter what Hank's disposition. He wasn't playing around anymore. The suave niceties had dissolved into his hardened lord of the underworld persona. The kind of person who broke fingers for money. Arms for rent. Legs for loan. And teeth for fun.

"I really want to believe that you're who you say you are. That you're a family friend. But you lie to me. You lie to my family," he held up the cane for Hank to see. "I can forgive one or two 'mistruths'. But I can't forgive someone who ruins a perfectly good timballo just to sprint back to a room I built and then talk about spying on my blood relatives. You see where I'm coming from, AMICO?!"

A sudden swipe from the cane, cutting through the air, scything sideways to knock Hank into the porcelain of the toilet. Hard.

"WHO THE HELL WERE YOU TALKIN' TO?!"

@killer_instinct:

What do you mean you left the cane?! How could you forget the cane?!

"Well excuse me for having an anxiety attack," Hank stared at himself in the mirror, not really focusing on details, rather just a way to figure out what to do next.

Grandpa, you have to get out of there. Antonio probably figured it out by now and he just looks like a creepy guy to me.

"He's a nice guy, but we have to find out more about his family. What Sofia did, try and find some answers, maybe something with the DMA." The veteran walked out the bathroom only to see Antonio glaring at him with his cane at hand. His angered persona was a complete opposite of what his calm and welcoming personality was.

"Find out about my family, Hank? You already know plenty, amico. What else do you want to know?"

Oh God, grandpa you have to talk your way out of this.

He inched closer to Hank, his left hand close to his waist, probably had a gun underneath.

"Antonio," Hank responded, "I did not come here looking for trouble-"

"I really want to believe that you're who you say you are, that you're a family friend." Antonio lifted his cane toward the hero's face, as if it were a long barreled gun aimed at Hank. He inched closer to him, "But you lie to me. You lie to my family," the Gentleman raised the cane toward Hank's face, the hero slowly walked backwards, returning to the bathroom. "I can forgive one or two 'mistruths'. But I can't forgive someone who ruins a perfectly good timballo just to sprint back to a room I built and then talk about spying on my blood relatives. You see where I'm coming from, AMICO?!"

"I under-"

SMACK!

The hero fell down hard on the toilet, his head cracking the porcelain and probably his own head.

"WHO THE HELL WERE YOU TALKIN' TO?!" Antonio's voice rung in Hank's ears as his vision went blurry, he was on all fours trying to get a sense of where he was. His hand tried to reach up toward the sink in order to pull himself up, but to no avail, his fingers slipped from the edges and he fell on his knees once more.

"Gran-ar-oo-alri-"

The disguised hearing aid had been crushed upon the impact of the cane. This was all too familiar territory now. The hero had to leave the resort at all costs. He glanced at Antonio and aimed to lunge at him and tackle him to the ground, a desperate move given his disorientation. If successful, he would run out with the briefcase that laid by the bed at hand.

@hank_galloway:

Antonio, for all his rage and anxiety building up in his chest, didn't foresee that Hank was much more than he let on. For a man who was almost ninety or a hundred years old, he had a surprising amount of physical resilience and recovery. Yet, Lorenzo had a spat of dementia not too long ago. It was off and on. It took ten fully grown men to hold him down. Antonio was by himself with a clearly psychotic man. He couldn't help but be dragged down to the floor. He landed awkwardly against the frame of the nearby chair, and chomped down on the inside of his cheek.

He could already taste blood as Hank grabbed the suitcase on the bed and started to sprint again. Antonio didn't know where he was going, considering they were in the heart of South Africa.

"You do this on the day of my mother's funeral, Hank?! HANK GALLOWAY?!"

He lifted the mouth-plate of his mask, spitting red onto the linoleum bathroom floor. His cell phone went off, and he almost didn't answer it. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Hot tears. Drops of malice, pure and simple.

"Yeah? He's on his way out with some kind of suitcase. I didn't see it when he came in. Find him, don't kill him. That's my job. He lies to me, he lies to my family, and I have reason to believe he is stealing something from me on the day of my mother's funeral. You hear me, Giuseppe? First person to bring me Hank Galloway gets a $60,000 bonus on their next paycheck,"

He waited for his piano-playing childhood friend to confirm, then he hung up without another word. He knew Hank would be hounded until the ends of the earth now. Day or night, the small army of bounty hunters within the Roman Family - and, by extension, the Black Mask criminal syndicate - would not rest until Hank was brought back to Antonio. Alive - beaten, but alive.

Antonio himself would stay in Room 120 for a moment. He removed the gun from his coat pocket. Antique Beretta 1935, solid silver finish. Ox-horn grip, cut to the shape of his uncle's hand. Sofia's brother, and Antonio's namesake.

He had a slightly smaller hand than that, but it fit all the same. He went over to the bed, looming over it still in an unrestrained anger. The pistol went over where a body would have been laying down. A few mental flashes, and he could see the faces of those he killed like this in his mind. Each bullet fired, brought back a new horrendous memory. Each muzzle flare, and he saw their bloody corpses in the aftermath.

Authentic Italian bedding. Sent up in white tufts. One after another, plumes of extravagance erupting into grotesque metaphors for the red work Antonio had to do. To protect his family. To secure his livelihood. To make the world a better place for his nephews, nieces, all his cousins and their children. His ancestors were bleeding in the streets of San Betral for this.

The trigger clicked. Empty.

His temper didn't subside, and he pocketed the pistol. He was still angry. Confused. Heartbroken. The largest piece of his family had been torn out from underneath him. He thought that by inviting the Family, everyone, things would have been different than this. Hank seemed like a nice guy at first. But, shady behavior was always frowned upon in an environment like this. With a patriarch like Antonio.

The crime lord took the corner of the gutted mattress as a seat, and held his head in his hands. Everyone would be searching for Hank. They wouldn't see Antonio weep. They wouldn't miss his tears.

@killer_instinct:

Hank ran out of the bedroom he was assigned with the briefcase at hand. Bullets echoed through the hallway from the room he stayed. It seemed Antonio had a fit of rage. Understandable, he had overheard Hank speak to Rose about investigating his family, the hero himself would have reacted in a similar manner if his family had been investigated. His head was pulsing with pain from the blow Antonio had given him. He looked up at the corners of the hallways: cameras. The now uninvited guest jumped into the stairwell, trying to see if he could get out of the hallway cameras view. Now it was a good a time as any to open the case.

His suit was inside along with a small rectangular wrapped gift, he immediately pulled out the kevlar lined mask, something he so desperately needed minutes earlier. Hank's hand reached into the cowl, feeling around for the earpiece. Plucking it out of place, he replaced his damaged one with the new one. It did not conceal well as the disguised hearing aid, but it would do.

"Rose?"

Oh thank God you're okay. What happened?

"Antonio overheard me and smacked me with the cane."

You've got to get out of there.

"I know but I can't be wearing the suit, he'll put two and two together. It's bad enough he knows my name and by extension, probably about you guys."

What are you going to do?

Hank sighed as he looked at the wrapped gift, something he was going to present to Antonio before things got out of control. "I'm going to have to talk to him."

Footsteps were heard in the stairwell with guns cocking. "Oh crap" he muttered under his breath. He immediately returned to the hallway only to see guards at the end of the hall. "Eccolo!" they shouted as they cocked their guns.

Grandpa?

"I think this is the only way I can talk to him." The hero raised his hands over his head as he slowly walked toward the armed men.

@hank_galloway:

They would force a bag over his head, thick and dark. The only sounds he would hear came from the shuffling of hurried feet; they were taking him somewhere. Automatic locks behind him. They weren't in the public part of the resort anymore. Echoes - high ceilings. Hard floor. Several layers of cement and steel. Lead-lined, possibly. This was a communications hub, one that necessitated connections back to the states more than likely. Back to Antonio's not-so-dissolved criminal empire. They sat him down into a lavishly comfortable chair, removed the mask, and a nurse came to address the wound on Hank's forehead. Antonio was seated across from him, back turned to the oldtimer. In front of him were several layers of glass, and beyond - the Reefs.

He inhaled through the cigar clamped in his teeth. His mask was on the table, and his reflection muddled - disjointed.

"You know," for the first time in their knowledge of each other, Antonio spoke to him without the crude reverberations of the bulletproof plastics. It sounded unnatural without them, wooden. Unfathomably harsh. "I half-expected you to be dead by now. Brain hemorrhage, fractured something-whatever,"

His words were filled with the same smoke as the kind he inhaled through the Italian tobacco. They were suffocating, hot like fresh embers, but sweet. Pleasant. The aroma wasn't like American cigarettes. It carried an almost earthy scent, almost like olives.

"I'm not gonna apologize for it either. You kept secrets from me. But, I know when I'm beaten. You didn't try to run. You're either gambling for more information, or you're sincerely trying to make amends,"

The nurse did what she could for the head wound, finding that no severe internal damage had been caused. She slipped Hank a card upon giving him an ice pack for the swelling. "Show this to Dr. Hatfield at his clinic in town. He'll understand everything that he needs to,"

With that she went over to the mask, and picked it up before going to Antonio's face and gently placing it over his head. With a few clicks, Antonio muttered his thanks and she backed away. Turning, he smothered the cigar into an ashtray. The black mask glared back at Hank through cold and indifferent eyes.

"I'm inclined to believe that you aren't a complete liar, given you meant enough to Sofia for her to invite you. Just tell me something, amico, what do you want to know?"

The Reef, part of the extensive pool network being designed as they were speaking, was designed with exotic fish and sealife in mind. Already, seawater creatures of all shapes and sizes dominated half, while freshwater breeds took the other. It would alternate given the time of day, giving scuba divers a chance to enjoy the outdoors no matter the weather.

Question, can... say a wealthy doctor/CEO stay here for a night or two? Or does it have to be invite only? >_>

@ashley_knightfall:

By all means.

@killer_instinct: perfect, thank you

@killer_instinct:

His head was covered by a bag as the guards took the hero to a mysterious location. Upon taking the bag off, it was only the nurse, Antonio and himself as the nurse attended his head wound. "You know," Antonio began as he puffed his cigar, "I half-expected you to be dead by now. Brain hemorrhage, fractured something-whatever, I'm not gonna apologize for it either. You kept secrets from me. But, I know when I'm beaten. You didn't try to run. You're either gambling for more information, or you're sincerely trying to make amends. I'm inclined to believe that you aren't a complete liar, given you meant enough to Sofia for her to invite you. Just tell me something, amico, what do you want to know?"

Hank looked at Antonio, his wrapped package was still with him, "Antonio... you have been a wonderful host. Sofia had wonderful qualities that I see has been passed down to you. I respect her and I respect you despite the fact that I was smacked across the face by you." Hank chuckled to himself as he slowly got up, "But you deserve the truth. You know your mother was La Montagna. I accepted this invitation because she was a close companion of mine during the Second World War. I came to find out how much you knew about her. All I wanted to know is this... if you and your family really knew La Montagna. Do you know of her adventures? All of them?

Hank began to walk toward Antonio, his face stern. "I know I did not do this right, the fact I got caught was because of a slip. PTSD. I'm still traumatized, I was wondering if Sofia was too. What do you know Antonio? And I'll tell you what I know."

@killer_instinct: (Forgive my tardiness).

@hank_galloway:

(Question... "grandmother"... was that a typo or a test?)

@emperor_von_doom: Typo, sorry about that.

@hank_galloway:

(Antonio was gonna bash your head in again lol, just "THAT'S IT" and berserk mode)

@emperor_von_doom: (LOL, “She was mi MADRE.”)

@hank_galloway:

A roll of his fingers on the desk, an oaken drumming. "Simple answer is, 'no', apparently,"

Something inside him must have snapped, because he began acting more aggressive again. His temper was starting to flare up.

"The fact that 'you got caught' implies you had a plan. Takes more than stress to come up with one like this, Hank," Antonio snorted.

"I don't think you understand what kind of situation you're in. My 'hospitality' ran out the minute you started talking to someone on this,"

Antonio pointed towards a broken comm link on his desk, the same one he bashed out of Hank's head in the bathroom.

"This ain't a game, Hank. Don't play me with that lousy hand you've been dealt. You can't blame your age forever. I doubt you can blame it at all, since you're obviously not human," the gangster stood, matching the veteran's stern nature to a T. His unrelenting attitude towards the matter was as rough a stop for the nature of the bargain as any. From behind his black mask, his eyes glared into Hank's with a fury. Simmering, and slowly boiling.

"You were about as spry as an Olympian athlete not an hour ago. You've been lying to me the whole time you've been on this property. Is this another one of your missions? Hired out to see what you can find about Big Bad Antonio? Now, you tell me the truth, and maybe I'll feel generous by the end. You're already in thin ice. Don't make it thinner."

He prodded Hank's chest threateningly with the head of the cane he pilfered from the old man's stunt earlier.

@killer_instinct: The hilt of the cane stared into the face of Hank. Antonio was already fuming for what had happened, in the Hero's head it seemed that the offer of generosity may be a bluff. No matter, he had been in tight situations before. The Roman family was a mystery to him, even to Rise who found little to nothing of the family aside from their known wealth. Antonio's defensive nature indicated he had something to hide, possibly something bad. Did it matter to Hank? Possibly, but at the moment he found it beneficial if he had an ally in Antonio.

"I worked with your mother during the Second World War in covert operations that would help turn the tide against the Nazis. I came to ask if you knew about such operations considering that we were sworn under oath to never reveal the details of these missions. I came to see if you knew anything about it. I respected Sofia very much. She knew I was a careful person." Hank paused, to see if the reaction of the man. "If you don't believe me Antonio, then what can I do?" he then pointed at the wrapped gift that was confiscated, "All I have as proof was the gift I was going to lay on her casket. No tricks. You'll see I'm telling the truth."

There were no tricks. To the general public, there was absolutely nothing valuable in that package. To Hank, possibly to the Roman family, it would be something worth more than gold. In the package there was a picture frame of him and Sofia in costume during their time with the Justice Alliance. His firm, stoic nature was evident in the photo, contrasting the well known smile of La Montagna.

"She was known for her smile Antonio."

There was a message on the photo, in her handwriting.

To Hank, you have to smile more. -Sofia

"I hated to smile... and that's the truth Antonio."

@hank_galloway:

It was at this point that Vito walked in, his cruel blue eyes glaring at the back of Hank's head. He wasn't particularly subtle. He didn't need to be. Antonio recognized the presence in the room, but kept watching the old man in front of him. Without saying a word, he went over to the package and initially patted it down for anything fragile, then for wires. Finding nothing he clicked open a switchblade and tore open the paper. Sheathing the knife, he sifted through the layers, and stopped just short of his goal.

He could see his mother's face just under glass, and with another gentle tear he could see Hank's next to her. He was quiet. Too quiet, the kind of silence that monks ensnare in their meditations, the kind only the greatest of willpowers could attain while keeping intense emotions in check. And, as Hank would come to find out soon enough, Antonio's temper was far in excess of what even saints could control.

In a flash he would lift the cane between both hands and snap it over his leg, dropping both pieces squeezed into shape by his monstrous grip. He peeled his fingers away, letting the wood clatter to the floor. He didn't let the adrenaline simmer down, and grabbed Hank into as big of a hug as he could muster in that moment, seizing his carotid in a gesture common to the Sicilian families. He held Hank's life in his hand, right then and there, but today had been long enough.

"You motherfluffer, you absolute motherfluffer. Don't you ever pull this shit with me again, you hear me?!"

Hank had no choice but to, even when muffled slightly by anger and the mask Antonio was right next to his ear.

"You be up front with me about everything from now on, and I mean fluffing everything. Do you understand?"

He parted the embrace, and shook Hank by the neck to emphasize the roiling tempest of emotion inside his mind.

"Or I'll rip your teeth out and shove them down your throat with my foot, God damn you. Everything you did or heard in these walls? Never leaves these walls. You got it?!"

@killer_instinct:

There was silence, a long ominous silence in which Hank could not decider whether it was good or bad. But suddenly Antonio was met with a cascade of emotions, Hank could tell he was holding back tears aside from the one that had rolled down from behind the mask. The man grabbed Hank by the neck in a mix of frustration and relief, he unleashed his emotions upon the elder until concluding with "Everything you did or heard in these walls? Never leaves these walls. You got it?!"

Hank smiled, "It will be between us... between family." He placed his hand on Antonio's shoulder. "Thank you for everything Antonio, I appreciate your love and understanding."

The hero waited for the grip to loosen, "Antonio, my family misses me. I need to get back to them ."

@killer_instinct: Sorry for the late reply, I've been so busy and now I'm fighting a cold. -_-

@hank_galloway:

Ew, germs.

I liked the post, looks like a decent enough bookend for me. Was fun :]