[fic] The Piano Room, older!Gokudera-centric gen
oh god i don't know what this is. pounded it out on the road, finished it in the office, before doing my cramming for the day.
warning: original male character, here and gone for plot purposes; a redshirt, if you will. mentions of violence. possibly grossly off logistics re: illegal arms trade in Africa XD
The Piano Room
"Every big talk happens in the Vongola mansion. And every visitor there talks to the Tenth Boss. But when the Tenth Boss is away, you talk to the right-hand man."
This was what Enrico Raju was told before he was sent by his family - the Deograzi family - to the Vongola mansion. He was there to "talk" to the Vongola Tenth, or his chosen representative, about the warning recently issued to the Deograzi regarding certain money-making operations that ran counter to Vongola interests.
The Vongola mansion was large, yes - majestic, even - but to Enrico it was just another safehouse. He figured there were traps everywhere, and perhaps a hidden sniper or two tracking his every move, but he wasn't so dumb as to walk into anything he couldn't take care of.
Enrico Raju was a big man. He had muscled his way into the Deograzi family as a young man, muscled his way to getting his own territory just a few years ago, and his simple brain figured it was his inborn talent for intimidation that made him invaluable. Indeed, he had been told that his mission was to "show the high-and-mighty Vongola that the Deograzi ain't scared of nobody."
It had looked like the servants of the mansion were not expecting someone of his girth to walk in. They looked apprehensive, though not scared, Enrico noted - they all showed him politeness, but no kowtowing. They still met his gaze and spoke formally, with voices that did not hesitate or shake. Definitely not what he had gotten used to as a petty boss of the Deograzi.
"You gotta look out for the right-hand man. He ain't as nice as the Tenth Boss, or as easy to read. You don't wanna make him angry."
On his way down the hall to where the Vongola's right-hand man waited, Enrico smirked. He had surrendered all his weapons at the front door (and he'd made sure to bring plenty. It was all part of his big intimidation scheme. Even if the Vongola welcoming staff had looked more curious than intimidated.) but he had one more ace literally up his sleeve:
A mechanical arm. He had lost his real one in a brawl in Genoa a while back, and the Deograzi had taken him to their labs. Enrico had all but worshipped the Deograzi then - surely no other family in the world would have this kind of technological know-how. A mechanical arm!
And it wasn't just any mechanical arm. It was fitted with hidden weapons - projectile, bladed, blunt - and if worse came to worse, the whole arm could be launched at a wall-shattering force onto his enemy.
Enrico was a simple guy and he would've been duly impressed with a simple titanium limb that could move as his nerve endings wanted it to - but this was a whole artillery! And it got past the Vongola weapons checks because it looked exactly like a real arm, only gloved and hidden under a suit sleeve, and the weapons were hidden under a thick layer of synthetic skin.
Right-hand man or no, that guy was no match for a trump card like this.
"If he asks to meet with you in the piano room, you're in trouble."
Piano. Enrico sniffed. What a pansy. He imagined the right-hand man to be a squat, balding man with a permanent slouch, perhaps even wearing glasses. He was already relishing the thought of bashing the old geek's face in.
What's so dangerous about a fucking piano room anyway? Did it have hidden cameras, crossbows, the like? Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Enrico cricked his neck to work out the kinks once, twice, before opening the door.
"Yes, I'm sure. No, I assure you, I can handle everything from here."
The guy who was standing near the grand piano at the far end of the room, by the large windows looking out into the vast labyrinthine gardens of the Vongola mansion, was talking into his cell phone. That piano was probably reserved for the right-hand man, Enrico said to himself, and that probably meant the guy over there was the right-hand man.
He was nothing like Enrico expected. He was young, younger even than Enrico. He didn't seem especially threatening, and he didn't seem especially - special. He was just another 20-something, thin and wiry, wearing just another expensive suit.
His back was to Enrico. When his head turned Enrico saw his stud earrings catch the light.
Pansy, Enrico thought again. I knew it.
There was nowhere for Enrico to sit, so he stood and waited for the young man to acknowledge him. He contemplated yelling to announce his presence, but he had been warned not to be overly rude before the actual ass-kicking commenced.
"We've got men in place to keep that from happening. It'll be exactly as we talked about." Then the young man's voice softened, as if he was talking to someone he liked a great deal at the other end of the line. "Hey, don't worry! You know it's never a bother, as long as it's for you."
Enrico couldn't see his face, but he imagined there was a smile there. Man, getting this dandy to cry "uncle" was going to be a piece of cake.
"Yes. Always. Enjoy yourself, Tenth."
He ended the call, pocketed his cell phone, then turned to his guest.
"Enrico Raju, is it?"
Standing against the light of the window, the young man's eyes seemed like they were flashing. Enrico couldn't tell what color they were. But his keen sight told him that the young man wasn't smiling at all.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you a chair. But I don't think we'll take long."
The young man moved toward the piano stool, flipped open the lid with his fingertips. He had really long fingers, Enrico noted, over-decorated with heavy steel and silver rings.
"Yeah, the Third Boss sent me," Enrico began.
"I know," the young man said. He sat and began a lazy, seemingly aimless tune on the piano keys. Enrico was no fan of piano music, so he couldn't tell if the melody was good or not. "To tell you the truth, I'm disappointed. I was promised a meeting with your Third's right-hand man. But I won't turn away any member of the Deograzi who wishes to extend an apology on the Third's behalf."
"Apology?" Enrico huffed and started cracking his knuckles. "Listen, pal. Doesn't look like you've heard much about me. I'm Enrico Raju. People don't know me for apologizin'."
"And I'm Gokudera Hayato," the young man answered, both his hands on the keys now, his shining eyes fixed on Enrico's. "People don't know me for being calm around idiots."
The young man had a virtuoso's hands and posture, this did not escape Enrico - he'd seen more than enough artist types in his association with the more culturally sensible of the Deograzi bosses.
"Look, Enrico. This is why the Vongola requested a meeting with the Deograzi." Not even bothering to disguise his condescending tone. "The Vongola has banned any Italy-based mafia family from initiating dealings with any military or mercenary group, regarding arms shipments to Sudan and its neighboring areas. This is because the Vongola family is exclusively funding an operation that regularly transports medicine, food and other essentials to civilians in that region. This operation is personally important to the Vongola Tenth. And any collaboration that strengthens war efforts in the region will cause unwanted complications on our part. Are you following me so far?"
Enrico didn't answer. He wasn't in the mood to follow anything, he was in the mood to bust this snotty bastard's jaw. But it was clear they were both holding back their anger and mutual dislike for the sake of some small talk.
"Good. Now... you can understand the Vongola Tenth was very, very displeased to learn that the Deograzi has been going behind his back. And that this has been happening for some time. I sent that warning to your boss expecting an apology from the Deograzi, and a complete termination of all arms trade in that region. Also some sort of offering to bring your family back into the Vongola's Tenth's good graces... but looking at you now, it doesn't seem like that's your objective."
Enrico threw back his head and laughed. "Damn right it isn't! You better get that to your precious Tenth. The Deograzi ain't backing out of anything, an' there ain't nothing you can do about it."
Gokudera Hayato smirked. "Oh, really?" He sped up the pace of the piece he was playing, without taking his predatory stare off Enrico's face. It was like he had been doing this all his life. "I think I can do plenty without taking my hands away from the piano keys. This is an original composition, by the way, in case you were wondering... which I highly doubt."
Enrico's brow furrowed. He started to take a step forward.
"I wouldn't go any further," Gokudera said. There was no urgency in his voice, but what he said made Enrico freeze anyway. "If I were you. There are automatic guns everywhere in this room. At this very second they are all trained on you. If you try to come near the piano, or me, you will not leave this room alive."
Enrico looked around. He couldn't see a single place where automatic guns could emerge from, but this white-haired silver-decked asshole sure didn't sound like he's bluffing...
"I'm going to explain something to you, Enrico. Every key on this piano is connected to a computer I built myself. That computer in turn speaks to several satellites able to send long-range signals to different detonation devices I've hidden all over the world.
"Do you understand what this means? If I strike a certain combination of keys, a certain family's mansion in Milan will go up in flames. A certain family's armaments shipment will not make its delivery date. A certain family - well, let's just say a certain family will know better than to screw with the Vongola next time."
Enrico couldn't move. He wasn't sure if it was because of the threat of the automatic guns, or sheer disbelief at what he was hearing. Was this guy kidding? No one had a reach that long - not even the Vongola Tenth himself!
"You're bluffing..."
"Think so?" Gokudera Hayato looked at him again, a scowl forming on his face. "I can blow up the whole fucking Pentagon if I want to; I've got the machineries in place for that." The scowl was there now, undeniable. "But the Pentagon has never crossed my family, Enrico."
"You're bluffing." Enrico flexed the fingers of his right arm - his weapon. His last remaining nerves felt it warming up.
"DO NOT."
Bang. His fingers seemed to hit random notes in the middle of the melody, forcing the song to end. Whatever those notes were, they did not sound good.
"FUCK."
Bang.
"WITH ME."
Bang. Bang.
As he struck the last chord, a massive wave of pain shot up Enrico's right arm. He cried out once, and fell to his knees.
It felt like his arm was on fire. Tearing off the flimsy sleeve, Enrico saw the electricity crackling through it, burning holes through the synthetic skin. If this had been his real arm, it would have been fried to a crisp.
Of course, his real arm would not have caught fire in the first place, if Gokudera Hayato was to be believed:
"Did you think I wouldn't know?" He had stood and was leaving the piano, walking closer to Enrico, but keeping a reasonable distance. "My instruments detected the electronic toys hidden under your false skin. I've disabled them all. Now you have nothing."
BASTARD, Enrico thought. He might have said this aloud when he opened his mouth, or he might just have let out a yell. But a loud sound escaped his lips as he pitched his entire weight forward and charged Gokudera Hayato.
There was a flash of light.
And before Enrico knew what was going on, he was flat on his back, close to the door. He could leave now if he wanted to - if he could stand. But the force that had sent him flying and flat on the floor had left something heavy lying on his chest (there was nothing but that feeling - like his rib cage was on the verge of being crushed), and getting up was definitely not going to be easy.
Gokudera Hayato stood exactly where he was - nowhere near the piano. If Enrico was wondering where the loud sound came from, he only needed to look at the mirage of red flame surrounding Gokudera's right hand. It faded even as Enrico tried to focus his shaken eyesight on it.
"Let me tell you why they sent you to try and intimidate me - you, a petty turf boss," Gokudera started to say, his impatience barely masked. "Not your Third, not even your capo bastone, when diplomacy would have saved more of your Shenzen-bound cargo trucks, as well as your 'secret' weapons stockpile in Sao Paolo. With the three chords I played before I disarmed you - so to speak - those locations were all detonated."
Enrico clung to the door handles with his one good hand, and struggled to get to his feet. Looking down at his shirt, he saw that whatever had forced him back, had also burned a hole clean through the thread, onto the skin.
"Poor Enrico." There must have been a smirk there. But the gleam in Gokudera's eyes, the daylight from outside the window casting a halo over his entire form, overshadowed any facial expression. "Did you think this was an opportunity for a promotion? Spook the Vongola's right hand man and get on your boss' good side? Only the truly stupid would take on a job like this.
"In the meantime, Enrico, 'family' has left you to take the fall - your boss and the other small-time crooks in his employ are on their way to different safehouses as we speak."
What? Enrico found it difficult to wrap his brain around the concept. Gokudera seized the opportunity to keep talking.
"Not to worry. We kept track of everyone's travel plans, of course. Our land, air and sea vehicles are intercepting all of the Deograzi, and our people are - shall we say - looking after your family heads' needs, while they're being rounded up and transported to Vongola outposts here in Italy."
Instead of approaching his fallen prey, Gokudera Hayato returned to the piano.
He glanced languidly over at Enrico, who was not at all secretly trying the door handle - only to find it wouldn't budge. And that the entire weight of his body could not force the door open. Strangled noises started to issue from the big man's throat.
"Do you know why I'm telling you all this, Enrico?" Gokudera's fingers hovered lovingly over the piano keys. "Guess what this chord does."
Bang.
The sound echoed, and Enrico Raju fell.
There was a bullet hole at the back of his head. When he fell, he fell on his side, the one made heavier by his now-useless mechanical arm. His eyes were wide open, his mouth frozen mid-scream - if it had been a death, it would have been called an instant one.
But it was not a death. There was very little blood on the floor, and not much more followed it from the entrance wound. The exit wound on his forehead began to close up almost as soon as it appeared. Soon it was as if nothing had hit Enrico Raju at all.
Finally, Gokudera came near to him. Dangerously near. He crouched low over the motionless body, staring into the wide unblinking eyes.
"The paralysis bullet," he quietly explained to the man on the floor, "completely inhibits motion and constricts your muscles while regulating your vital bodily functions - causing excruciating pain while keeping you alive. You'll be like this for five days - you'll have to be fed intravenously and you won't be able to sleep - and when it wears off, there is a chance you will no longer be sane."
He stood. Without effort, he kicked the body and rolled it onto his back. It did not resist, pliant as any still-warm corpse would be.
Gokudera Hayato leaned over Enrico Raju and smiled. It was a victor's smile, and Enrico loathed it thoroughly. "You bastardi really shouldn't underestimate me. Perhaps a similar fate awaits the Deograzi Third. Who knows."
Help me, Enrico decided to say, instead of any obscenity, but not even those words could leave his lips. He couldn't move - every inch of him felt like it was being ground into a pulp. His eyeballs were the only things he had left to consciously control, and they tracked Gokudera desperately.
"The Vongola doesn't merely kill its enemies, Enrico. We aren't that crude," said Gokudera Hayato, the Vongola right-hand man, with the most heartless smile as he straightened up. "Not when we can do so much worse."
warning: original male character, here and gone for plot purposes; a redshirt, if you will. mentions of violence. possibly grossly off logistics re: illegal arms trade in Africa XD
The Piano Room
"Every big talk happens in the Vongola mansion. And every visitor there talks to the Tenth Boss. But when the Tenth Boss is away, you talk to the right-hand man."
This was what Enrico Raju was told before he was sent by his family - the Deograzi family - to the Vongola mansion. He was there to "talk" to the Vongola Tenth, or his chosen representative, about the warning recently issued to the Deograzi regarding certain money-making operations that ran counter to Vongola interests.
The Vongola mansion was large, yes - majestic, even - but to Enrico it was just another safehouse. He figured there were traps everywhere, and perhaps a hidden sniper or two tracking his every move, but he wasn't so dumb as to walk into anything he couldn't take care of.
Enrico Raju was a big man. He had muscled his way into the Deograzi family as a young man, muscled his way to getting his own territory just a few years ago, and his simple brain figured it was his inborn talent for intimidation that made him invaluable. Indeed, he had been told that his mission was to "show the high-and-mighty Vongola that the Deograzi ain't scared of nobody."
It had looked like the servants of the mansion were not expecting someone of his girth to walk in. They looked apprehensive, though not scared, Enrico noted - they all showed him politeness, but no kowtowing. They still met his gaze and spoke formally, with voices that did not hesitate or shake. Definitely not what he had gotten used to as a petty boss of the Deograzi.
"You gotta look out for the right-hand man. He ain't as nice as the Tenth Boss, or as easy to read. You don't wanna make him angry."
On his way down the hall to where the Vongola's right-hand man waited, Enrico smirked. He had surrendered all his weapons at the front door (and he'd made sure to bring plenty. It was all part of his big intimidation scheme. Even if the Vongola welcoming staff had looked more curious than intimidated.) but he had one more ace literally up his sleeve:
A mechanical arm. He had lost his real one in a brawl in Genoa a while back, and the Deograzi had taken him to their labs. Enrico had all but worshipped the Deograzi then - surely no other family in the world would have this kind of technological know-how. A mechanical arm!
And it wasn't just any mechanical arm. It was fitted with hidden weapons - projectile, bladed, blunt - and if worse came to worse, the whole arm could be launched at a wall-shattering force onto his enemy.
Enrico was a simple guy and he would've been duly impressed with a simple titanium limb that could move as his nerve endings wanted it to - but this was a whole artillery! And it got past the Vongola weapons checks because it looked exactly like a real arm, only gloved and hidden under a suit sleeve, and the weapons were hidden under a thick layer of synthetic skin.
Right-hand man or no, that guy was no match for a trump card like this.
"If he asks to meet with you in the piano room, you're in trouble."
Piano. Enrico sniffed. What a pansy. He imagined the right-hand man to be a squat, balding man with a permanent slouch, perhaps even wearing glasses. He was already relishing the thought of bashing the old geek's face in.
What's so dangerous about a fucking piano room anyway? Did it have hidden cameras, crossbows, the like? Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Enrico cricked his neck to work out the kinks once, twice, before opening the door.
"Yes, I'm sure. No, I assure you, I can handle everything from here."
The guy who was standing near the grand piano at the far end of the room, by the large windows looking out into the vast labyrinthine gardens of the Vongola mansion, was talking into his cell phone. That piano was probably reserved for the right-hand man, Enrico said to himself, and that probably meant the guy over there was the right-hand man.
He was nothing like Enrico expected. He was young, younger even than Enrico. He didn't seem especially threatening, and he didn't seem especially - special. He was just another 20-something, thin and wiry, wearing just another expensive suit.
His back was to Enrico. When his head turned Enrico saw his stud earrings catch the light.
Pansy, Enrico thought again. I knew it.
There was nowhere for Enrico to sit, so he stood and waited for the young man to acknowledge him. He contemplated yelling to announce his presence, but he had been warned not to be overly rude before the actual ass-kicking commenced.
"We've got men in place to keep that from happening. It'll be exactly as we talked about." Then the young man's voice softened, as if he was talking to someone he liked a great deal at the other end of the line. "Hey, don't worry! You know it's never a bother, as long as it's for you."
Enrico couldn't see his face, but he imagined there was a smile there. Man, getting this dandy to cry "uncle" was going to be a piece of cake.
"Yes. Always. Enjoy yourself, Tenth."
He ended the call, pocketed his cell phone, then turned to his guest.
"Enrico Raju, is it?"
Standing against the light of the window, the young man's eyes seemed like they were flashing. Enrico couldn't tell what color they were. But his keen sight told him that the young man wasn't smiling at all.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you a chair. But I don't think we'll take long."
The young man moved toward the piano stool, flipped open the lid with his fingertips. He had really long fingers, Enrico noted, over-decorated with heavy steel and silver rings.
"Yeah, the Third Boss sent me," Enrico began.
"I know," the young man said. He sat and began a lazy, seemingly aimless tune on the piano keys. Enrico was no fan of piano music, so he couldn't tell if the melody was good or not. "To tell you the truth, I'm disappointed. I was promised a meeting with your Third's right-hand man. But I won't turn away any member of the Deograzi who wishes to extend an apology on the Third's behalf."
"Apology?" Enrico huffed and started cracking his knuckles. "Listen, pal. Doesn't look like you've heard much about me. I'm Enrico Raju. People don't know me for apologizin'."
"And I'm Gokudera Hayato," the young man answered, both his hands on the keys now, his shining eyes fixed on Enrico's. "People don't know me for being calm around idiots."
The young man had a virtuoso's hands and posture, this did not escape Enrico - he'd seen more than enough artist types in his association with the more culturally sensible of the Deograzi bosses.
"Look, Enrico. This is why the Vongola requested a meeting with the Deograzi." Not even bothering to disguise his condescending tone. "The Vongola has banned any Italy-based mafia family from initiating dealings with any military or mercenary group, regarding arms shipments to Sudan and its neighboring areas. This is because the Vongola family is exclusively funding an operation that regularly transports medicine, food and other essentials to civilians in that region. This operation is personally important to the Vongola Tenth. And any collaboration that strengthens war efforts in the region will cause unwanted complications on our part. Are you following me so far?"
Enrico didn't answer. He wasn't in the mood to follow anything, he was in the mood to bust this snotty bastard's jaw. But it was clear they were both holding back their anger and mutual dislike for the sake of some small talk.
"Good. Now... you can understand the Vongola Tenth was very, very displeased to learn that the Deograzi has been going behind his back. And that this has been happening for some time. I sent that warning to your boss expecting an apology from the Deograzi, and a complete termination of all arms trade in that region. Also some sort of offering to bring your family back into the Vongola's Tenth's good graces... but looking at you now, it doesn't seem like that's your objective."
Enrico threw back his head and laughed. "Damn right it isn't! You better get that to your precious Tenth. The Deograzi ain't backing out of anything, an' there ain't nothing you can do about it."
Gokudera Hayato smirked. "Oh, really?" He sped up the pace of the piece he was playing, without taking his predatory stare off Enrico's face. It was like he had been doing this all his life. "I think I can do plenty without taking my hands away from the piano keys. This is an original composition, by the way, in case you were wondering... which I highly doubt."
Enrico's brow furrowed. He started to take a step forward.
"I wouldn't go any further," Gokudera said. There was no urgency in his voice, but what he said made Enrico freeze anyway. "If I were you. There are automatic guns everywhere in this room. At this very second they are all trained on you. If you try to come near the piano, or me, you will not leave this room alive."
Enrico looked around. He couldn't see a single place where automatic guns could emerge from, but this white-haired silver-decked asshole sure didn't sound like he's bluffing...
"I'm going to explain something to you, Enrico. Every key on this piano is connected to a computer I built myself. That computer in turn speaks to several satellites able to send long-range signals to different detonation devices I've hidden all over the world.
"Do you understand what this means? If I strike a certain combination of keys, a certain family's mansion in Milan will go up in flames. A certain family's armaments shipment will not make its delivery date. A certain family - well, let's just say a certain family will know better than to screw with the Vongola next time."
Enrico couldn't move. He wasn't sure if it was because of the threat of the automatic guns, or sheer disbelief at what he was hearing. Was this guy kidding? No one had a reach that long - not even the Vongola Tenth himself!
"You're bluffing..."
"Think so?" Gokudera Hayato looked at him again, a scowl forming on his face. "I can blow up the whole fucking Pentagon if I want to; I've got the machineries in place for that." The scowl was there now, undeniable. "But the Pentagon has never crossed my family, Enrico."
"You're bluffing." Enrico flexed the fingers of his right arm - his weapon. His last remaining nerves felt it warming up.
"DO NOT."
Bang. His fingers seemed to hit random notes in the middle of the melody, forcing the song to end. Whatever those notes were, they did not sound good.
"FUCK."
Bang.
"WITH ME."
Bang. Bang.
As he struck the last chord, a massive wave of pain shot up Enrico's right arm. He cried out once, and fell to his knees.
It felt like his arm was on fire. Tearing off the flimsy sleeve, Enrico saw the electricity crackling through it, burning holes through the synthetic skin. If this had been his real arm, it would have been fried to a crisp.
Of course, his real arm would not have caught fire in the first place, if Gokudera Hayato was to be believed:
"Did you think I wouldn't know?" He had stood and was leaving the piano, walking closer to Enrico, but keeping a reasonable distance. "My instruments detected the electronic toys hidden under your false skin. I've disabled them all. Now you have nothing."
BASTARD, Enrico thought. He might have said this aloud when he opened his mouth, or he might just have let out a yell. But a loud sound escaped his lips as he pitched his entire weight forward and charged Gokudera Hayato.
There was a flash of light.
And before Enrico knew what was going on, he was flat on his back, close to the door. He could leave now if he wanted to - if he could stand. But the force that had sent him flying and flat on the floor had left something heavy lying on his chest (there was nothing but that feeling - like his rib cage was on the verge of being crushed), and getting up was definitely not going to be easy.
Gokudera Hayato stood exactly where he was - nowhere near the piano. If Enrico was wondering where the loud sound came from, he only needed to look at the mirage of red flame surrounding Gokudera's right hand. It faded even as Enrico tried to focus his shaken eyesight on it.
"Let me tell you why they sent you to try and intimidate me - you, a petty turf boss," Gokudera started to say, his impatience barely masked. "Not your Third, not even your capo bastone, when diplomacy would have saved more of your Shenzen-bound cargo trucks, as well as your 'secret' weapons stockpile in Sao Paolo. With the three chords I played before I disarmed you - so to speak - those locations were all detonated."
Enrico clung to the door handles with his one good hand, and struggled to get to his feet. Looking down at his shirt, he saw that whatever had forced him back, had also burned a hole clean through the thread, onto the skin.
"Poor Enrico." There must have been a smirk there. But the gleam in Gokudera's eyes, the daylight from outside the window casting a halo over his entire form, overshadowed any facial expression. "Did you think this was an opportunity for a promotion? Spook the Vongola's right hand man and get on your boss' good side? Only the truly stupid would take on a job like this.
"In the meantime, Enrico, 'family' has left you to take the fall - your boss and the other small-time crooks in his employ are on their way to different safehouses as we speak."
What? Enrico found it difficult to wrap his brain around the concept. Gokudera seized the opportunity to keep talking.
"Not to worry. We kept track of everyone's travel plans, of course. Our land, air and sea vehicles are intercepting all of the Deograzi, and our people are - shall we say - looking after your family heads' needs, while they're being rounded up and transported to Vongola outposts here in Italy."
Instead of approaching his fallen prey, Gokudera Hayato returned to the piano.
He glanced languidly over at Enrico, who was not at all secretly trying the door handle - only to find it wouldn't budge. And that the entire weight of his body could not force the door open. Strangled noises started to issue from the big man's throat.
"Do you know why I'm telling you all this, Enrico?" Gokudera's fingers hovered lovingly over the piano keys. "Guess what this chord does."
Bang.
The sound echoed, and Enrico Raju fell.
There was a bullet hole at the back of his head. When he fell, he fell on his side, the one made heavier by his now-useless mechanical arm. His eyes were wide open, his mouth frozen mid-scream - if it had been a death, it would have been called an instant one.
But it was not a death. There was very little blood on the floor, and not much more followed it from the entrance wound. The exit wound on his forehead began to close up almost as soon as it appeared. Soon it was as if nothing had hit Enrico Raju at all.
Finally, Gokudera came near to him. Dangerously near. He crouched low over the motionless body, staring into the wide unblinking eyes.
"The paralysis bullet," he quietly explained to the man on the floor, "completely inhibits motion and constricts your muscles while regulating your vital bodily functions - causing excruciating pain while keeping you alive. You'll be like this for five days - you'll have to be fed intravenously and you won't be able to sleep - and when it wears off, there is a chance you will no longer be sane."
He stood. Without effort, he kicked the body and rolled it onto his back. It did not resist, pliant as any still-warm corpse would be.
Gokudera Hayato leaned over Enrico Raju and smiled. It was a victor's smile, and Enrico loathed it thoroughly. "You bastardi really shouldn't underestimate me. Perhaps a similar fate awaits the Deograzi Third. Who knows."
Help me, Enrico decided to say, instead of any obscenity, but not even those words could leave his lips. He couldn't move - every inch of him felt like it was being ground into a pulp. His eyeballs were the only things he had left to consciously control, and they tracked Gokudera desperately.
"The Vongola doesn't merely kill its enemies, Enrico. We aren't that crude," said Gokudera Hayato, the Vongola right-hand man, with the most heartless smile as he straightened up. "Not when we can do so much worse."