Gold & Guns

Gold & Guns Part 2

AN: Some things may seem odd or out of place, but be reminded this is slightly AU. :)

Suggested Listening: Rude Boy by Rihanna

Part 2

~Rude Boy~

Mello roared into the mafia base, sometime around three hours later, on his motorbike. He had only spent the required time at that club, making sure to threaten the girl into silence as he was sure his odd request would have been huge talk among them, and he was utterly exhausted with everything.

But there was still so much to do and no time to rest at the moment.

Kira wasn't resting, so neither could he.

Mello shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair on the way in and plopped down onto the couch, hardly making a dent in the plush material suggesting he far too light even for his slender frame. And perhaps he was, with the lack of sleep and eating habits almost entirely made up of chocolate.

It wasn't healthy, not in the least, but Mello wasn't concerned about dying from malnutrition anytime soon. He had a much better chance of Kira killing him first. He pulled a neatly foiled bar of chocolate from his pocket and let his lips curl into a vicious smirk as all eyes were on him. He tilted his head down ever so slightly as he snapped off a piece of the dark bar and watched as many averted their eyes.

He silently dared someone to comment, in any way, about the events at the club. They wouldn't of course, being more than put off by his smirk, but he waited none the less. He was tired, irritated, and frustrated. It was not a good combination in the least. But they didn't know about the first or last. Concealer did wonders for the dark bags under his eyes.

When no one had even so much as said one word to him, nearly seven minutes later, he drew a leg up onto the couch and rested his arm on his knee, letting the chocolate dangle from his fingertips.

"We are going to go over the plans to kidnap Director Takimura." he told them, because they would whether they liked it or not.

"You, boy, have a one track mind." Ross commented with his teeth showing. "And might just be entirely hopeless..." he said around a sip of something-or-other alcohol in a glass.

Mello snapped off a piece of chocolate to hide his grin.

The other men were less than thrilled at being drilled over and over on the information of the kidnapping, which was days away, but none of them complained, at least not in earshot of him. He kept at it until he was certain that they wouldn't fuck it up; not that he wouldn't force the plan down their throats the day of the kidnapping, but he couldn't afford to have something go wrong.

It was late, or early depending on one's perspective, and Mello knew the men, including Ross, wouldn't tolerate him much longer. He may have shot his way to the top, quite literally, but that didn't mean Ross allowed him complete free reign to order everyone around. If he did, things would get done far faster.

Mello didn't bother with any pleasantries and simply vacated the room, tossing the empty foil wrapper into the trash on the way out as he grabbed his jacket. He wouldn't be leaving the base that night, not so close to the beginning of his plans, but that didn't mean he didn't have things to do.

Such as shower to rid himself of the feeling of that girl's grimy hands all over him. He frowned at the sensation of the invisible hands on him. He really hated clubs like that...

Once the door to his quarters were shut he stripped naked and walked into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and flipped the light on. The small bathroom was cast in a dingy yellow light that played on every crack in the tile and spider-webbed flaw in the wall. The paint was chipped in places, water stains visible, but it was better than what he had in his apartment.

At least here, the shower worked.

He turned the water to hot and stepped inside. His brain set off on auto-pilot and he let his mind drift as he washed himself. There was so much to do once Takimura was in their possession, so much information to gain, and Mello honestly wasn't sure where it would lead him.

Mello just wanted everything finished. His fists clenched in his hair and he snarled. He would beat Near if it was the last fucking thing he ever did. He would get Kira's head on a platter and send it to that condescending little bastard. He would even pay for it to be overnighted.

Or maybe waltz in with the tray on his palm like a waiter just to see what expression Near might give. Mello snorted; Near would still probably keep that blank emotionless stare even if he were to shoot him.

He removed his fingers from his hair, strands being pulled out in the process, and forced thoughts of Near from his mind. He had no time for the albino at the moment.

Mello sighed heavily, forcing the anger out of himself with one large expelling of breath, and leaned against the shower wall and simply let the water roll down his back and the building steam warm him.

Maybe... after all of this... he would get back in contact with Matt... he missed him as much as he hated Near...

Maybe.

.

.

Nearly a week and a half later Mello smirked as he walked out of the room where Director Takimura was being held. The kidnapping had gone off without a hitch, not that his plan had any flaws, other than the people he had to rely on.

Ross had been pleased, as though he hadn't actually expected it to happen the way he said despite Mello having proved himself time and time again in the past. But it didn't matter…. Because Mello had gotten some interesting information, as well as an outline of a plan.

The Director didn't seem to know about the Death Note, so it was such a closely guarded secret that the Kira taskforce hadn't even told their superiors. It was rather amusing. He had also confirmed a few suspicions of his own.. ones that he wondered if Near had even confirmed, though that brat usually only assumed things and never actually took the time to work them out.

He grinned suddenly. Two murder notebooks….. and he was going to obtain them both. No matter what he had to do…

"Mello."

His attention was drawn to Ross, who had an odd gleam in his eyes, one that Mello didn't like. One that suggested he would loose his good mood, and quickly.

"Some of the boys are going out to celebrate. Why don't you go with them?" Ross suggested in a friendly yet firm tone. Mello narrowed his eyes. He didn't have time for idiocy like that. Though telling Ross as much had merely gotten a laugh out of him and no more.

"Get going, I heard it's going to be good at the club tonight. Treat yourself."

Mello grit his teeth. He had so much planning to do, things to go over and iron out to make sure he obtained the murder notebooks… and Ross was forcing him into a night of mind numbing boredom.

He nearly snarled at the man but simply walked from the room. Mello wasn't the boss and therefore could not ignore a 'suggestion' when it was thrown his way, despite how much sway he generally had with everyone. There were just some times when Ross would not budge, and as much as Mello would love to simply kill him, he didn't have time to deal with the backlash from the others at such an action.

He didn't bother to change, simply slipping on a pair of large pair of black sunglasses, before he stalked out to his bike. He heard the quiet murmurs of the men already gathered, idiots who simply wanted to use their success as an excuse to get drunk and fuck anything around them; Mello despised them. And they seemed to realize they were the reason he was going to the club with them, and stayed a good amount of distance away from him even as they drove away from the base.

The slightly chilled wind served to calm Mello's building anger and he was able to relax, ever so slightly, during the ride there. The feeling however, ebbed away the moment he spotted the flashy lights of the clubs advertisements as the building became closer and closer.

Mello slid into a spot in the furthest corner of the parking lot, away from a lot of the lights, and sighed as he walked through the doors. He heard the others step in beside him but went off to his own dark corner a little ways off to the back of the stage.

He was as secluded as one could get in the small building.

He didn't bother to take off his glasses, not needing to with the stage illuminated. How in the hell had he been forced into going to a club not once, but twice, in the same damn month? Somehow, and he didn't care how anymore, he wasn't going again.

Mello ground his teeth together as a woman, scantily clad, sauntered up to him. "Would you like something to drink?" her lips were painted a pale shade of red, almost a pink, and she had almost too much eye shadow on.

Mello muttered something, not really paying much attention as he probably would only sip at it, drink half at the most, and instead let his eyes wander. He found it exceedingly hard to find a spot of the establishment that didn't have something, even if only slightly, sexual going on.

Really, was it necessary?

Mello spotted, across the club, a few scattered groups if women chatting with each other, and wondered if there was something extra going on in the club that night, but in the end it was simply a passing thought. He sighed and took his drink as the waitress came back, well aware that his fellow mafia associates had seated themselves close by. He wondered if Ross had perhaps asked to make sure he stayed a while.

Mello rolled his eyes. He wouldn't enjoy it, but he would stay. He would simply have to plan while in the presence of such a place. Mello watched as the lights dimmed on the stage and the woman had walked off with all of her made money.

He quirked his eyebrow at an announcement of a special performance for the ladies in the club. A male performer.

Mello heard the groans of protest from the men, knowing they had looked away from the stage for the time being, and the cheers of the ladies and the homosexual men there. But Mello simply couldn't look away; the sight drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The pale body that did sexual things on that stage had red hair, the color of flames, and a pair of green goggles covering their eyes.

And if Mello's full attention hadn't been on that boy before, who looked no older than himself, it would have been the second he caught sight of the tattooed mushroom on his upper left hip.

Mello remembered the night when Matt had snuck out of Wammys to get a tattoo because he had dared him to get one. Matt had come back with a green and white mushroom on his hip. The very same of the dancer on stage.

"Jesus.." he muttered as the pale body swayed along the pole. What the fuck had happened to Matt to make him work here, of all places?

-End Part 2-

AN: so…. Was anyone not expecting this? (*is dead from work….. ask D.. I complain about it enough*)