msmelissalin

[msmelissalin]

Melissa did not know about this.

It was if her blood ran cold, she cared none for the rest of them. Only that one name printed opposite Benjamin's. It both stopped her breath and changed the thumping close to her sternum. All she could do in that moment was shake her head.

"No."

There were many questions she wanted to ask, her eyes instantly finding the balcony. And for one moment, she didn't care who noticed what she was doing. She simply stared. To where Lara was to be sitting. Why would she do that? To spite Melissa? If so, this was no longer fun and games.

"I certainly did not."

There weren't too many of the fights listed that interest4ed her - one way or another the night would end in blood. Satisfying to say the least. Disappointment filled her briefly as she noted her own pairing - her heart jarred in her chest at the script that depicted who Olivier was fighting, but nothing filled her with the kind of dread that washed over her in seeing the name next to Ben's. There was no getting out of it now - the list was damn near scripture at this point. The familiarity of Melissa's voice drew her out of it as she whirled on the woman, "Did you know about this?"

[msmelissalin]

On whether I like the colleague

His answer was enough to draw an unexpected burst of laughter from Melissa, such honesty, and an answer she, herself, would've given. Hand raising to cover her mouth as she did, habit from fancy dinners and social events. Class followed her like her Chanel perfume, some parts of her would never change. "Apologies," she offers, before she reaches for her drink and takes a measured sip. "I don't know what came over me. Please, continue" it's the way she'd been brought up, to always play host. To be respectful, and above-all-else, masked.

Ben had in fact been chucked into the lion's den with this one.

There was a feral instinct in her to question Lara on her choice. He was, after all, one of their own. But it would be wasted energy, and a needless venture. One did not question Lara Rutherford's choices when it came to fight club. Especially not after the loss of Amir.

Instead, she'd bore the repercussions of his dance with Étienne.

"Thank you for not making me go over it..." again. Most had wondered about the bad blood, it wasn't common knowledge. Only those Melissa and Ben had told were in the know about his parent's death. But now, more knew than either of them had intended. Her face remained emotionless, as she asked a passing server for another two drinks for the both of them. "And the offer with Vincenzo — he's been a pain in my backside ever since..."

She didn't speak of that night. But she was sure Óscar knew.

"I'll make sure you're looked after as best as I can." turning her gaze to him, she assessed for a moment. "How're you feeling about it? Confident?"

Óscar swirled the glass once before lifting it to his lips, letting the slow burn of reposado coat his tongue before he finally spoke. His gaze lingered on the ring—on the blood, sweat, and bone meeting canvas.

“That depends,” he said, low and deliberate, “On whether I like the colleague," he didn’t look at her at first—just let the words hang like smoke between them. Then his gaze ticked over, dark and assessing, a flicker of something softer tucked beneath the usual sharpness, "There’s a difference between watching someone fight because it’s what they’re made for… and watching someone get sent into the lion’s den when they shouldn’t be there yet."

Óscar paused. Letting the crowd's noise muffle out all thoughts. Even if for the briefest of moments.

"You don’t have to say it," he added, quieter now. "I know what this fight means. To him. To you."

His jaw flexed once, molars tight.

"And, if Vinnie gets too comfortable out there, I’ll handle it."

Another sip. Another slow roll of his shoulders.

"Just make sure you’ve got someone on standby to sew me up after."

[msmelissalin]

Melissa had never been one to let feelings to become visible to those around her, pulling her shoulders back to make herself taller. Not that she needed to do that, it was more to calm herself. And although she couldn’t deny that her emotions had bubbled over one to many times in the face of adversity: that was what she got for taking the spot of second in the organization. Manicured nails ran down the off-gold silk of her dress – anxiety running rampant through her.

Never ending, soul eating: but to see her, back rod straight and lips pressed into a thin line – Melissa Lin was a statue.

Étienne Canét had killed Benjamin’s family.

Étienne smashed Melissa’s jaw until she’d needed it wired shut.

…Étienne was a sore subject for the duo.

Melissa’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Four years ago, she had stormed through the fight club double doors, to find her ex-husband being patched up. Things had changed over that span of time: Jonathan wasn’t painting the city red…for now. Time had a way of mutating things, changing people-- some for better, some for fucking worse. Now, she avoided Johnathan when she could, even when the circumstances made it impossible. Afterall, he was the boss and she was his handler. Even if most in the organization believed she was the one that required babysitting these days. 

It was easier to focus on the others. Like Lara, sat upon her balcony like a high queen.

She's alive. The flash back of her walking from a tomb at the last Fight Club before they'd felt the lose of Amir.

However, the scrap of the chair brought her back to the present, turning so dark eyes found his. “I don’t mind violence, I just don’t actively participate." Vincenzo. "Unless they’re Italian.” Or going after her pseudo-sons – not that she’d ever admit that out loud. As much as she wished Gideon to be involved in this life, satisfaction could be found when she found him nowhere within the vicinity. So much like his father, and yet so vastly different. She never joked about the situation with the Italians: but it was Óscar. 

“No, but I might find someone to break his opponent's legs if he comes out too damaged.” she wouldn’t, but Melissa told herself that to ease the panic. There was no humor in the smile that fell upon her lips, she couldn’t find it with  Not when it came to Gideon. She would never tell him the depth of her motherly love towards the boy — she didn’t even voice such things to Benjamin, even if he knew without having to say anything.

"How do you feel about watching your colleagues pummel themselves to death?”

Chanclazo

FOR: @msmelissalin EVENT: Fight Club 2025 WHERE: The Underground | During Fights

It was almost time for Benjamin to be up. His first year. A thought that hadn't been lost on the bodyguard and made his way through the crowd to where Melissa was seated. Óscar didn’t say anything at first—simply settled into the seat beside Melissa. He grasped a glass of reposado in hand, the rim kissed with lime and patience. Only a few more rounds and the bodyguard would soon find himself in the ring. Perhaps a scolding from his favorite distraction would help.

"Didn’t peg you for a ringside regular," he said eventually, eyes still on the latest fight brawling out before them. The low light caught the amber in his drink—and his eyes, sharp as ever when they finally flicked her way. "But then again, this place does have a flair for the dramatic."

His eyes flicked over to Benjamin as the younger man prepped in the corner, "You tell him you’d break his legs if he lost?" his tone very apparent in its teasing.

[msmelissalin]

MELISSA LIN | FIGHTCLUB 2025.

Accompanied by: Benjamin Vox. ( @benjaminvox )

[msmelissalin]

FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: Fightclub, 2025. WHERE: The underground. Pre-fights. WITH: @benjaminvox

Melissa had taken the chance to keep to herself for the most part -- not something she'd been all that good at when it came to these social events: weaving in and out of the crowd, but her interactions were few. Though she often relished invading others' personal space, a cruel pleasure she found in unsettling people, something held her back tonight. Her eyes drifted to the growing line as they waited to read who'd been paired -- maybe that quiet sweat that was forming at the nape of her neck told more of the truth than she was willing to let on. Curiosity gnawed at her as she watched the people walking away.

Some grinned, some grimanced.

Benjamin hadn't been yet, and she wasn't ready for him too.

It was Benjamin’s first year on the list, and that fact might have been enough to make her hesitate. Something about it made her second-guess the usual thrill of getting too close.

"I'll go look first," she told him, not looking back as she made her way over.

[msmelissalin]

It seemed whether she liked it or not: the day was beginning now.

Melissa smoothed a hand over the halo of her hair, brief annoyance creeping across her features. However, it wasn't the fact that the day had to start early, it was because she liked things in order.

Aligned--on time, with her in control.

So, this was how the day would start, and with company, she'd least expected...nor wanted, though in typical Melissa fashion — she didn't voice that part out loud. She'd never been the type to tolerate deviation, even that of five minutes. As a child, she had been obsessively punctual, like a drill sergeant shaped for battle. That strict discipline carried into adulthood, though she had always admired those who preferred arriving an hour early rather than risk being one minute late.

All it took was a short, dwindling glance before she placed the last file down and walked around the edge of the table until she found herself standing before Yvonne Rutherford’s bodyguard.

Where was the woman in question without her shadow?

“What you already know? Presumptuous of you, Mr Romero.” And though she quite liked the man before her, there was something in the way she eyed him…that was undeniably Melissa. A piercing swarm of chocolate brown eyes stared him down, though her lips lifted into a smile.

Melissa, like a hawk, watched the shift of his stance, the glance at the files—how much did he know? Interesting. While he’d be privy to most information, just as Benjamin was, he wasn't here.

"You came all the way here just to watch me breathe?" her brow raised, amusement finally finding it's way to her features. "You’ll have to forgive me for not being particularly entertaining."

It wasn't often Oscar made his way to the Mayfair office; however, he had to pick something up. Apparently, running errands rampant was part of this London move he hadn't expected. Now, Oscar stepped inside the building and followed the glint of luxurious black hair until he found the meeting room. Arching a brow, the door clicked shut behind him as his gaze flicked over the room. The table was lined with neatly arranged files, each placed with careful precision—too careful, even for someone as meticulous as Melissa. Something about the way she hovered over them, the slight pause in her movement, told him there was more in the air than just strategy.

His eyes settled on her, unreadable as always. "Yes, well," he drawled, stepping forward at an unhurried pace. "Figured I’d give you a head start on telling me what I already know."

Oscar shifted his weight, glancing once more at the files before nodding toward them. "Or maybe I just wanted to see if you ever let yourself breathe between all that planning." His tone was light, but there was something measured beneath it, something observant.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Jury’s still out."

He let the words linger, watching her for a moment longer before pulling a chair out and sinking into it like he had all the time in the world. Whatever was keeping her up at night, whatever ghosts she was trying to smooth over with perfect organization—he wasn’t about to pry. Not yet. But he wasn’t blind to it either.

[msmelissalin]

"Have I ever made you wait outside before?" Though her tone remained a constant state of nonchalance, the corner of her lip upturned into a cold smirk. Jordana wasn’t like the rest; they’d developed a working relationship over many years that had slowly ascended to something akin to a friendship.

But even Benjamin, her loyal, trust-worthy protégé (lapdog) was absent today. No, this wasn't a meeting meant for his ears or anyone out of the inner circle. And that was a ratity.

He was nowhere to be found -- and she felt off-kilter.

He’d been sidelined to watch over his new best friend, George. Soft, unhurried little George whom she hadn't decided if she liked yet. But then again, who did she even like outside of the amount she could count on one hand -- a hum escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to ease the tension in her posture as she slid the final file into place.

Done, dusted. And the clock was about to strike the hour.

"This is going to go one of two ways today," pinching the bridge of her nose with force "They either approve the proposal, or they don't." And if they didn’t? It would be back to the drawing board. "Did Brenda let you through?" Her assistant, a temp (and a bad one, at that) in place while the regular girl was on maternity leave, had already proven herself somewhat unreliable. Who in their right mind would voluntarily put themselves through that?

The viper queen.

"What do you think of her? Still on the fence."

Pleasent conversation was an oddity for her.

It had been a rough few months, but that didn't mean Jordana slacked in any form, the woman worked harder. She always did wanting to continue to prove her worth to the organisation. That meant that she had been working with Melissa a little more and there was something to learn from the older woman.

They had a meeting scheduled for today, going over a few reports that she had taken over certain territories and how they wished to deal with the infestation of those beneath them. The lieutenant did not mind getting her hands dirty when necessary.

Ms. Lin's assistant allowed her through, arriving ten minutes before their meeting time, a knock on the door before she entered.

"If you want me to wait outside, I can?"

[msmelissalin]

Lucy Liu

[msmelissalin]

FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Mayfair, office. Meeting.

Melissa lay the files out one by one. Today, she had no helpers. This she would do alone. This meeting wasn't for the ears of the common man, and everything had to be perfect. So she did what she'd always done best — became a perfectionist. It was in that she bared the resemblance of her mother.

Although Melissa Lin remained involved in the life she'd been gifted—the killing, outright, unforgiving murder—she wasn't completely desensitized to that part. And while she'd killed someone last year...it still sat there, in her sternum. A reminder of the brutality they all had inside of them.

It was a festering pit, eternally there. Melissa was immune to most things. Empathy rarity to be found within her, but this was a new. Something she hadn't quite felt before. Once that shot had left her gun — all politics and civility had flown out the window. All she'd seen was the clear, distinctive need to protect.

Maybe her only motherly instinct she'd ever brandished so willingly, openly.

These thoughts were keeping her awake, but her appearance didn't tell that story.

the door opened, Melissa's hand outstretched with a file. She paused, hovering over an open spot on the table.

"You're early."

[msmelissalin]

"Do try to enjoy yourself, Félix. It’d be a shame to waste such a lovely evening on uneding...disappointing sarcasm." Every trickle of her tone remained measured, rehearsed, damn refined. Second of the organization, or world class lawyer in a courtroom: Melissa knew how to play this game. It was known as a pissing contest...or at least, his attempt at it.

His disinterest only fuelled Melissa. Not to bite, but to play.

"Benjamin," she hummed. "Not much of a puppy, really." More of a wolf when the situation called for it. "But I’ll take it as a compliment that you think he’s so devoted." Because he was. She'd trained him, his mould had been had crafted, and implemented by Melissa. And she'd done it all with intent, and without doubt.

A second ticked by, bodies crossing. "Intuition tells me you don't like me every much." She'd never been one to beat around the bush.

Lowering her voice, she turned, so she faced the room...but spoke so only he could hear. "Politicians, you're all the same. It's endearing." Though, as her gaze tracked every member, she offered him a quick side glance. Just enough to catch those devastating features.

"Sorry to disappoint." He mirrored her action and took his own drink from the tray before it was out of reach. No doubt he would need it before the end of the conversation. Across the room, Yvonne locked eyes with him and flashed a sympathetic smile. When she took a step to break off her own conversation and join them, Félix shook his head. He was a big boy, he could deal with Melissa Lin on his own.

"However will I go on after that devastating news? My ego will neer recover." The sarcasm dripped from his voice, perhaps too heavily. But, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she had affected him in the slightest. "I suspect stalking is the kind of dirty work you'd pass on to that puppy that follows you around."

[msmelissalin]

When she'd arrived there'd been no ulterior motive, only that of a woman showing her face as she so often did for the good of business. But she'd be lying if there hadn't been a peak of curosity knowing a certain man would be there.

While she hadn't actively been looking for him at that particular moment, she had scanned the room once to find him and lingered a little too long in appreciation. While Finn had kept her mind busy the last week or two...it didn't mean she could find lust burning every time she caught Felix's outline.

Melissa met Félix’s gaze when she finally found herself walking up to him, with the kind of poise that made lesser men falter. "I was expecting something wittier." Though her lips curved into something akin to a smile, though never quite reaching it's mark. "Nice to see you too, Felix."

Her eyes flicked to his drink, then back to him, as if cataloging every detail of him. Félix was a particularly fun puzzle and one that wouldn't be solved in one evening. One with more those politically refined edges she'd come to appreciate in the only way Melissa knew how. “if I were stalking you, I’d hardly make it this obvious.”

No, this wasn't stalking. She had people to do that for her.

“I'm not here for you, unfortunately. Shame, I know." pausing to grab a drink from a passing tray. "You might’ve felt flattered for a second, I understand," the curve of a smirk. This was Melissa Lin...unabashed. "I didn't mean to rip the rug out from underneath you.”

Mistletoe

Location: Christmas party Date: 20 December, 2024

@msmelissalin

Félix sipped at his scotch, surveying the party in front of him. The corners of his lips twisted up into a smile as his eyes settled on Yvonne deep in animated conversation with a diplomat's wife. More and more flashes of herself were returning and the sight alone made coming out worth it.

For a moment, he debated going over to join her, but instead he stayed in place. That was her moment and he could let her bask in it for a moment. Instead, he turned to see if he could find Cassie anywhere and instead found himself face to face with an annoyingly familiar face.

"Ms. Lin. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here tonight. Though, if you're not careful, people might think you're a stalker."

[msmelissalin]

Melissa Lin could sleep when she was dead.

It was something her father had always said when she was but a young child, and had followed her into her later years. Pouring over paperwork, as pieces began to fit together...slowly. The De Luca case had been wrecking havoc amongst the firm -- but if it mattered to the Rutherford name, then it sure as hell mattered to her. What was sleep when she had a deposistion to comb over?

A woman like her, alway calculated each move like a master chess player, always ensured her pawns were positioned to strike, her bishop ready to outmaneuver any threat. Each thing strategically in place. It wasn't like when Andrew had been around to soften the blow of those that disliked her, or wished her gone. But it was as queen of the board that she had ruled for years, commanding with an authority earned through strategy...and the ruthless need to wield the power she'd known for yers. The title may not have been hers officially, but the deference she commanded would've been enough to ignite an all-out war—if she had so chosen to wage one.

But now was not the time.

And while her disagreements with the current boss...there would alwas be something holding her back. Time.

Andrew's fall from power was a shift she'd long anticipated, like she said...she was prepared for anything, yet even the best players couldn’t predict every move their opponent would make. No matter how hard she tried. As much as Melissa would've liked to have done so. The game was one of strategy, unforgiving foresight. And her favroite: moves and countermoves, where victory belonged to the one who stayed three steps ahead.

And Melissa intended to win. Every time.

It's the interruption by Gideon Rutherford himself that raises the first bout of suspicion. Staring at the glasses in hand, as her eyes find the clock with silent question. It's late, more so than she realised, as she looked back to the almost blur of words.

In front of her stood a boy she'd once known, who now wielded himself as a man. She knew him well enough to gauge that Gideon Rutherford didn’t waste charm without purpose. Without reason.

“Think so?” leaning back in her chair, pen falling from her hand as it clattered to the desk. “I thought you were all work and no play...” It's accusation masked with fiend innocence. Of which she possesed none.

The De Luca case was pivotal for more than just themselves: Vespucci’s financiers would crumble under the weight of this campaign, and she needed to play her cards right. And yet, here he was, a man who rarely showed his hand, pushing her to pause. “What is it that we'll do, hm? Talk? Since when do we talk about anything outside of business?" thought she pauses, eyeing the drink, which she swiped up, and under her desk her foot kicks out the other rolling chair. "Take a seat, why not."

LOCATION — Rutherford Headquarters. DATE — ??? Some cursed AU set in an even more cursed future, aka Mistletoe STARTER — closed for @msmelissalin

[Six years ago, an explosion shatters the windows in one of Andrew Rutherford's homes where the family is gathered on a holiday. His father's enemies proceed to storm the property, killing Lara and Adriana on sight. His son, Felix, is in their arms when a stray bullet kills him. Shortly thereafter, the remaining siblings, Damon and Yvonne, flee into hiding on their father's counsel, the latter with her family in tow. The same counsel is given to Gideon, but with little left to lose and a world to burn in his grief, he stays. He retires from medicine, shadows every move that Andrew makes, and after half a decade during which the Mob Boss' health begins failing, worn down by personal losses — takes over the family business, as was once his father's wish for him. Little does the dying man know that once Gideon destroys the rival organizations responsible for killing his loved ones, he plans to eliminate their own as well, burying Andrew Rutherford's proud legacy with him...]

Good things take time, and killing Melissa Lin will be a good thing.

He isn't the sort of psychopath that might relish it, despite the animosity she has so often provoked in him, but it needs to be done. He's tried to spare as many allies as possible in this ugly business... Those whose efforts might be redirected into better purposes and cleaner futures — but Melissa is a snake who will devour her own tail before she's ever convinced to give up her power. If he lets her stay, she'll continue exerting her poisonous influence over the others. If he cuts her loose, she may well make her own mob; he's been suspecting it for years now.

So she has to go. But for that to happen, Melissa needs to trust him, and whatever else might be said about the cutthroat lawyer, she's more cunning than to fully do that. He's seen it in her eyes; the hawk-like doubt at every round table discussion with his father, when he'd lean in close to whisper something in the old man's ear. Andrew's decaying health together with his old dreams of having a successor might've led him to believe his eldest's change of heart with only some convincing, but Melissa doesn't share his blind-spot. Clear by the many times she's cornered him to try drawing out his motives.

This time, it's he who's cornered her.

Armed with a vintage claret, newly cracked out of his father's drinks cabinet.

"Come on, Melissa... You've been at it for hours, now." On her desk lies the evidence, a scatter of papers related to the De Luca case, and their creation of a smear campaign that will demolish another of Vincenzo Vespucci's major allies... And even more major financiers. "I think we've earned ourselves a bit of a break, don't you?"

[msmelissalin]

FOR: @vinnievespucci WHEN: 22nd of December, 2024. EVENT: Mistletoe 2024. Canon. Current. WHERE: RSA Gala.

The words' stay away had been relayed to her by numerous people, multiple times. From the private security firm she’d hired after Étienne’s break in, to those who were concerned within the organization. The divide between Rutherford and Italian didn’t seemingly extend to the rest.

Just her. 

But Melissa Lin had been known for making her own rules.

Deviation was her only option. It was subtle. As were most of her ploys.

And she was walking into the mouth of the lion’s den with little protection. A party in all its grandeur, all guests invited well esteemed. It was polite conversation, meandering through crowds. A host of wealthy, ingenious minds congregated in one place, and the BBC filmed every single moment. Lights swooped, glasses clinked, and Melissa watched. Like a predator surveying its prey.

Tonight, it’d been purposeful: albeit stupid – even she could admit that. She’d attended without Benjamin, without Jordan…or any physical protection. While Melissa didn’t consider herself invincible by any means, there was a delusion there…some would say the power had driven her mad.

She called it determination.

While she wasn’t subtle in many cases, when it came to the game tactics Melissa played…it was her strategy. Her play. There was no chance of a caveat, or for it to go a way that she did not want. Melissa Lin planned everything. Until she couldn't. 

Some things were just out of her control – even if she’d never openly admit it to anyone outside of Johnathan and Andrew. 

This game they played was all about power. Some spouted bullshit about how they wanted to change lives. The mob wasn’t about that. The only life they should care about were those around them, their closest allies…and even they could be an enemy. It was how she lived, how she survived. 

Power is power. 

Melissa wasn’t a woman who could dominate using something as simple as brute physical force. She was small, slender in stature, and her fighting was only just beginning to improve. But Melissa had found those who could wield it more subtly had a far better chance of excelling…of staying alive.

Brute force was great, but brute force more often found those people dead. 

There’d been two times she’d used that brute force in the form of a gun, and one had found its way into the leg of someone she’d hoped to hone in as an ally. Instead, it’d been the catalyst for what would be one of the hardest years of Melissa Lin’s life. And just as quickly as that thought found her, eyes found the man that bullet had found itself lodged into.

She sipped, she smiled and took one step forward.

“Mr. Vespucci, what a delight it is to see you.” Every drip of her essence was performative. “I assume you’re here to mingle, like the rest of us.” 

[msmelissalin]

Fight every battle everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you’ve seen before — Petyr Baelish

[msmelissalin]

12 Days of Christmas 2024: Melissa Lin

[msmelissalin]

lucy liu via instagram

[msmelissalin]

Noticing her own invitation in hand, her perfectly plucked brow rose. A hum began in her throat, looking back up to Yvonne. Interesting, she thought, she's never usually so outright. "Handing back an accepted invitation..." Melissa's brows draw together, though her lips remain amused. "That's not very polite, Yvonne. I was simply offering a conversation about business, which the man can deny or accept. He is grown."

Yvonne smiled as she handed the envelope back to Melissa. "I don't know why you wouldn't. After all, I believe this was yours originally, wasn't it?" It didn't surprise her that Melissa was trying to....expand her network to include Félix. After all, that's how Yvonne met him. But, if Melissa thought the two of them were anything less than a team, she was sorely mistaken.