#rip frankie

[rysko]

Kings of Spades - Part 4 l Luca Changretta x M!OC

Summary: Juliusz is stuck in a limbo of not being useful enough to Tommy and, to his inner dismay, impatiently awaiting any 'orders' from the Italians. That changes when he visits a work colleague...

Previous Chapter

Warnings: mentions of drug usage, Peaky-typical swearing and violence, minor death

A/N: It's heeeeere!!! This chapter went through SO. MANY. rewrites. It's mostly a set up for the next few chapters (i cannot wait to share them with yall, there's so many scenes i've been waiting to write :>) I hope ya'll like it. Have fun!

(the occasional use of Polish/Italian will be translated at the end of the chapter, while Polish will be directly translated by me, Italian is with the use of google translate, so sorry if there's any mistakes)

It was a slow morning in the Small Heath office. At this hour, only a few people were clocked in. Thomas and Juliusz, on account of being known early birds (or insomniacs for that matter), were already at their respectful places, getting the first points off their to-do lists. Curly visited for a short while, but only to update Thomas on a newly birthed foal.

“A really nice horse, I’m telling you, Tommy! The beautiful reddish coat she has, and nice strong legs!” He rambles on as both he and Tommy exit his office and walk by Juliusz, assembling some files at the main entrance desk.

“That’s good Curly.” Thomas smiles ever-so-slightly.

“We’re thinking of naming her John, as a tribute.” Curly looks at Thomas in anticipation, clearly more excited than anyone else.

“...How nice.” Thomas chokes back a laugh, glancing at Juliusz in an almost ‘help me’ look. The Pole isn’t having any of it.

“It’s not like the horse cares, unless you’ll call her Esme?” Juliusz smirks at Thomas, then proceeds to throw a small smile in Curlys’ direction.

“Then she’ll come back and butcher us before the Italians do.” Thomas sighs through his cigarette, clearly fighting off a smile. It’s nice to see just a bit of tension ease, especially after yesterday. Thomas damn near interrogated Juliusz after his ‘truce’ meeting with Changretta, only to be left disappointed, and somehow even more paranoid, after he learned that no crucial information has been found out.

He’d never admit it, but some part of Juliusz impatiently waited on a call from the Italians. Where he was right now was a limbo, overwhelmed with emotions from the evening before, mixed with the tense atmosphere of Small Heath all wrapped in… Uncertainty. He didn’t know anything of importance to Tommy, and Changretta was as enigmatic as ever in letting Juliusz know his use. He shook his head to snap himself back into reality as he opened yet another novel-length document from the worker unions, despite his thoughts going everywhere but labour disputes. 

There’s still work to do. He doesn’t need to be glancing at the telephone every minute.

With Curly leaving the office in an almost giddy step, Thomas turns to go back to his duties. With a raise of a heavy document, Juliusz stops him.

“What will you do about Jesse Eden?” The lawyer repeats, it might as well be the 100th time he’d asked his employer that question since the communist representative started sniffing around the Shelby factories.

“What about her?” Tommy stood next to Juliusz’ desk in a relaxed pose, hands in his pockets, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. 

“She’s not making these strikes easy for the company. I thought you’d deal with her already, a revolution is coming.” He plops the file back on the desk and reaches into his jackets’ inner-pocket, taking out his cigarette tin and a pack of matches.

“I thought you were on the workers’ side.” Tommy replies in his usual smug tone, one that he uses whenever he thinks he’s got someone figured out. Juliusz fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I’m a Shelby Company Limited employee first, whatever i believe comes second. I don’t need drunken men frustrated with their life running around the street with guns and bayonets. And i’m sure you don’t as well, Thomas.” He slides the tiny box open to reveal just one match left. The oddly comforting smell of burning sulphur reaches Juliusz’ nose as he lights his cigarette. 

Working for the Shelbys these past few years has been fulfilling, and in some ways he’s been considered part of the family. This deranged, insane, unhinged and frankly dysfunctional family, always within punching distance as well as earshot.

It happened by accident. One minute you’re just a newly hired company lawyer in the Garrison after hours, the other you’re screaming “DUCK” to the oldest Shelby, as Irishmen flood the place with knives in their hands, IRA songs on their lips, and an inconceivable amount of alcohol in their blood. A drunken brawl, which frankly Juliusz wouldn’t expect to go that well, ended in only a few bruises on the brummie side. He rubbed his hands in pain, as he thought that he’s definitely going to regret that throughout the next week. Juliusz’s trance was paused by the first pat on the back of many…

“I knew i knew you from somewhere.” The surprisingly jolly (and honestly, probably as drunk as the Irish on the ground) Arthur Shelby squinted slightly at Juliusz, trying his hardest to pinpoint his face to any he might know. “Me brother hired you, right? From Solomons?”

“I wish i’d get introduced to you under better circumstances, Mr. Shelby.” He greeted him politely, as best as possible, while catching his breath after the fight. His hand reached for a handshake. 

“That’s the best circumstance there is! Just a couple of lads, fighting about.” Arthur slaps Juliusz’s handshake away, only to pat Juliusz’s back again, making some of the broken glass on his shoulders fall off. “Call me Arthur, would ya? You took out this bastard's tooth for me, i’m no Mr.” He kicks a laying man, not sure if it’s a beaten IRA associate, or a Peaky Blinder who's celebrating early by taking a nap on the wooden floors of the Garrison.

“I could go for another right about now.” Arthur looks around for any more fiends he could beat up without any consequences.  “Harry! Have we got any more Irish?!” He shouts, filling the whole room with his voice, despite being only a mere few meters from an unamused barkeep. 

“Only Irish whisky, ‘m afraid.” Harry smiles smugly in Arthur’s direction, looking up from searching for a broom to start cleaning this ruckus with.

“Eh, it’ll do.” He grumbles as he reaches over the bar to grab a bottle. “Do you want any- uh...?” He looks at Juliusz like he’s trying really hard to remember something, his voice now surprisingly polite. The Pole observes him with a curious glance. He’s different than people described him. Sure, unhinged was the right word some workers used. That man is unhinged, but only when the situation calls for it, it appears. There has to be more to that seemingly simple man, and he’s nice enough, Juliusz figures. Not many people wanted to get to know him (not that he complained, at least vocally). A foreigner with a learned London accent probably doesn’t spark a lot of trust. 

“Uh, Juliusz.” He joins his side at the bar, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the Irishmen on the floor, unconscious, and the locals getting back to drinking the day away.

“Yewl…” It’s not rolling off his slightly intoxicated brummie tongue well. “How about Jul?” Arthur suggests as he pours two heaping glasses of whisky, seeming proud of himself and the nickname he thought out.

"Good enough," Juliusz shrugs and tries to fight off a chuckle. 

“You seem like y’don’t get out enough. You’re a Blinder, look like a fookin’ egghead, but a Blinder nonetheless!” They clink their overflowing glasses together, both spilling a bit on the floor and hands. “What do you do in our company anyway?” He takes a big gulp of the whisky.

“I’m the new company lawyer.” Juliusz says, trying his hardest not to sound as excited as he actually is, but his eyes have been sparkling with curiosity and ambition ever since he stepped foot in Small Heath. Sure, most would think London to Birmingham is a downgrade, but going from a law advisor at an illegal ‘bakery’ to a company lawyer in a successful, legal business is quite the leap, at least for him.

“Oh jesus, an egghead, i was right.” Arthur choked-laughed on his drink, while Juliusz responded with a raised eyebrow, wanting to signal annoyance, but couldn’t help laughing along with the oldest Shelby. “I have to take you out to drinks with Michael, this kid’s right up your alley. John too, a bit less in your alley, but he’s a fun bloke, and also…” Arthur rambled on, and Juliusz surprisingly found himself listening. With a small smile on his lips, he reaches for his matches, and lights his and Arthurs’ cigarettes.

“I’m taking care of it.” Thomas tries to shut down the conversation.

“In what fashion, exactly?” Juliusz’ tone is starting to sound annoyed. Can’t Tommy for once in his life not speak in half-assed riddles? “I can take care of it if you need me to. I’m sure we can find something on her.”

“I’m planning to meet Miss Eden and discuss the whole dispute, and come to a conclusion that benefits us both.” Thomas says the whole plan directly to the wall, words spewing out of his mouth with grey smoke, not even appearing to consider his employees’ offer. Juliusz studies him for a few seconds.

“That’s a very long way of saying you’re going to stop the strikes with your cock.” He points his hand lazily in Tommy’s direction, cigarette held between his middle and ring fingers.

“Did Ada tell you that?” Tommy finally looks at him, then makes a sound which can only be described as something between a chuckle and a scoff.

“No. Has she told you something similar?” Juliusz raises an eyebrow whilst taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’ve always thought she’s very bright.” He lets out. Something inside him tells him he should let go and stop his remarks, but he’s frankly too annoyed with Thomas and too stressed to let it out in any other way.

“It just works.” Tommy breathes out.

“Thank God most judges are repulsive old men, you’d have put me out of a job otherwise.” He smiles smugly. Thomas only responds with a prolonged, empty stare.

“Did anyone call?” Tommy changed the subject, clearly done with whatever their conversation was up until now. 

“No one you’d find important.” Juliusz sighs, deflating slightly. Closing his eyes, only opening them to look at the telephone again.

“If they do-” 

“I will! For gods’ sake.” He snaps back, his hands tightening into fists. Tommy doesn’t seem impressed, his icy blue eyes seem to change in a way, as if switching approaches. 

“I have an appointment with Ms. Ross in a bit, let her in when she comes.” His tone is fake casual, as he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray resting atop Juliusz’s desk. Tommy leaves in the direction of his office just after that.

“What am i? Your secretary now?” Juliusz whispers-shouts after him, not earning a response. 

“Niewiarygodne.” He mutters to the now empty room, his only companion being the ever-present floating dust that came with the betting board. He sighs and buries his head in the crook of his elbow, only to immediately glance at the phone in anticipation.

.

.

.

. 

.

Silence. What is he even expecting?

Juliusz takes a deep breath. His fists are shaking slightly. This time, he’s not sure if it’s the stress or his body asking for some more snow, even if he promised himself he’d use it less, out of necessity. It could be his hands acting out, again. He closes his eyes tightly.

Pull yourself together. 

An otherwise soft hand riddled with faint freckles and birthmarks, and a big, jagged scar going through it’s back, reaches towards the stack of paperwork once more.

**************

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Juliusz was suddenly taken out of his work trance by the sound of the front door opening. Glancing at his watch, he saw that only an hour has passed, still early, for most. 

Out of the corner, he saw the frail figure of a woman, who after a brief moment of thought he recognised as Ms. Ross. She looked quiet and unassuming, almost like a mouse. Juliusz signed the last piece of documentation with a swift motion of a fountain pen, before standing up from his chair. Ms. Ross looked around the office warily, before her gaze rested on the lawyer that stuck his head out of his office.

“Can i help you?” He stepped in her direction, straightening his jacket.

“Oh. Yes, you can. Where can i find Mr. Shelbys’ office? I’ve got an appointment.” She asks, but seemed on edge, though Juliusz couldn’t blame her. Civilians hardly ever relax in the vicinity of the Peaky Blinders, especially Thomas.

“It’s just straight on, there’s a sign on the door, can’t miss it.” He nodded in the general direction of Tommy’s working space, shooting her a polite smile, to which she responded with a nervous grin and a rushed ‘thankyou’ as she headed for Thomas’ office. He saw her off with his gaze, then proceeded to look around the Small Heath office, people steadily turning in and starting business, mostly revolving around betting. All his paperwork for the day was done, he was only needed for a meeting in one of the factories, yet he still felt like he forgot to do something. Another look at his watch reminded him, midday. Michael should be able to answer the phone right about now.

With a quick spin and the hospital address, he waited next to the mounted telephone, leaning against the wooden, dusty walls.

“...Yes?” Rang a voice from the other side. 

“Michael, hey.” Juliusz put the speaker against his shoulder nad cheek. “How’ve you been?”

“Julius! Better, i guess.” Juliusz heard something that seemed like someone getting up from the rusty hospital beds. “Haven’t heard from you in a bit, old man.” 

 “Old man?” He laughed. “I’d like to see you call Thomas that, i’m barely his age.” 

“He’s my supervisor,” Michael quips. “We’re basically equals, Company Accountant, Company Lawyer.” He drags on, his tone visibly amused.

“Equals? Don’t forget who helped you study for your Worcester course, because it damn well wasn’t Tommy.” 

“I still don’t know what i need risk analysis for.” 

“That’s what I thought in university as well. And i haven’t used it since.” Both laughed, Michael’s voice disturbed from time-to-time by the telephone signal. “Uh, listen, i’m calling to ask you. Is it fine if i come by tomorrow?” Juliusz changed his position, now more hunched over the telephone.

“Fine? Sure you can, yeah. The only people that come visit me are mum and Thomas, and both pester me about me having to rest, not work.” This earned an eye-roll from the lawyer, it seemed like everything Michael did was work. He didn’t blame the kid for having ambitions or being loyal to the company, but he didn’t want Michael to get all his life-satisfaction out of work. He knew that all-too-well.

“Because they’re right. You got shot. I’ll only bring a few things you need to sign, but other than that, i’ll bring you nothing but my fun-loving spirit.” Juliusz said, sarcastically.

“Sure, you will.” Michael chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Would you bring me some whisky? I haven’t-”

“No. I know what kinds of pills they’ve got you on.” His voice turned stern, with a mix of concern. “You can’t mix that with alcohol, even i know that. It’s like snow.” 

“Speaking of which, will you need any?” Michael asked with genuine intent, casually, as if he’s telling his colleague about a cigarette. 

Out of a corner of his eye, he could see Ms. Ross leaving the office, pale as paper.

“...No, i’ve stopped.” He was met with silence from Michael. Juliusz sighed. “Really, this time.”

“That’s good Jul, i won’t tell you anything.” There’s a silence for a few seconds, then Michael says again, softer. “How about some Morphine? For your hands, i’m sure i can sneak some from the nurses.” 

“Oh no, i’ve heard what Morphine did for Thomas.” Juliusz sighs. “I’ll be fine Michael, don’t get into trouble on my behalf. You worry about yourself kid.” 

“Tommorow?” 

“Yeah, i’ll see you.”

Like clockwork, Thomas rushed out of his office, almost as if experiencing tunnel-vision, only coming to a halt when he sees Juliusz put down the telephone receiver. Before he could even say a word, the lawyer stopped him.

“It was Michael.” Juliusz tried his best not to sound annoyed, which didn’t work almost immediately when Thomas gave him one of his empty, blue stares, which usually meant calculating distrust. “Fucking hell, shall i call him again and let you ask him yourself?” He remarked, in an ironic, tired tone. He felt like he’s a teenager with overbearing parents. Only Juliusz isn’t dealing with a worried mother, but a grown man.

“Very well then.” Tommy said in one big exhale. “Do you know where Arthur is?"

“Haven’t seen him today, i’d call the other office if i were you.”

“I’ll go there.” He nods, immediately turning to leave. There was something about the way he was acting. Rushing step, wider, more alert eyes. 

“What’s happening?” Juliusz takes a step after Thomas, confused. “What did Ms. Ross want?”

“Nothing important. I’m dealing with business.” He raises his hand as if to signal ‘stop’.

“What kind of business?” 

“Blinder business.” Tommy reaches for the door and opens it, looking over his shoulder. “Nothing important to you.” 

The door closes with a silent click, leaving the office almost devoid of sound. Juliusz takes a deep breath, releases it, and after a moment, puts down the telephone speaker way harder than he should’ve.

***************

God, he hates this office. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Small Heath, everything about it, except this old betting shop turned office. He’s worked here temporarily only two times. Once, when the plumbing in the Company offices made the floors flood with sewage, and since the Italians came to town. Somehow, Thomas seems more full of shit now than then. 

Juliusz packs the last things he needs for the hospital and checks the clock, almost an hour to go. Just as he was finishing packing up for his visit at the hospital when, just as yesterday, Thomas stopped by his desk on his way out the office.

“Where are you going?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” He deadpans, but when his remark is met with the same icy stare, Juliusz sighs. “I’m visiting Michael in the hospital.” Thomas only nods and turns to leave without a word, again.

“Where are you going?!” Juliusz bitches after Thomas, frustrated and angry.

“Business.” This time he doesn’t even look at him, too occupied by whatever’s on his mind, which looking at him, you could immediately deduct the ‘Shelby mastermind’ was hard at work in that brain of his.

“Oh fuck off, what if i need to reach you?” He glanced at the telephone, not sure if willingly. “What if they call?”

“They won’t.” He says over his shoulder, making Juliusz even more perplexed. “Close the office after yourself, will ya?” And there he went, and Juliusz felt like he’s the crazy one. Is he the crazy one, or is Thomas slowly rubbing off of him?

It took everything in him not to release his frustration on the poor flowers Linda helped him pick out for Michael. Instead, his walk to the hospital took him ten minutes, instead of the usual twenty.

****************

He pushed the door open with his back into the sterile, but oddly home-y room. The strong strands of sunshine rested atop the wooden table, hospital bed, and Michael himself, who immediately upon hearing the door open looked up from a file.

“I come in and see you working again, i’ll burn those reports in the chimney.” He sighed as he laid out both his briefcase and a large paper bag on the table, along with a small bouquet of flowers. Michael slowly approached the table and sat down, immediately inspecting the mix of dandelions, yellow roses and sunflower petals.

“These are nice, but i’m afraid i like you only as a friend.” The younger man said with a teasing grin, but still put the bouquet next to the ones his mother and other coworkers gave him.

“Very funny.” Juliusz rolled his eyes, but still chuckled. “Whatever will my foolish heart do, the man twelve years my junior doesn’t reciprocate my very true and real feelings.” He exaggerated a theatrical speech, receiving a laugh from Michael.

“What’s there?” He points to Juliusz’s briefcase. 

“Some documents regarding the budget, you only need to sign them.” He hands them to Michael, figuring it’s better to get the ‘official’ part of his visit over as soon as possible. The boy signs them one-by-one with identical motions of his pen, then slides them back to Juliusz. “Thank you.” The lawyer says, stuffing them back where he took them from.

“Here, they’re from my mum.” Michael tosses him a red-green apple, which Juliusz barely catches. “Uh, the other mum.” 

“Oh my god, these are delicious.” He’s not sure if they’re that good, or if his body will accept any kind of breakfast as an ambrosia. He takes another bite, nope, they’re that good.

“I know!” Michael bites into one as well. “You can’t get something like this from the city anymore, they don’t smell like coal.” 

“True.” Juliusz nods. “The city ones aren’t as juicy.” 

Silence, a pleasant one, for the first time since that drink with Changretta, which says a lot about what kind of tension was rising in the office. Michael looked as if he was internally debating something, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows, which year-by-year grows thicker.

“Tommy came by recently.” He blurts out finally, looking to the side. Oh, that makes sense. He’d have to know sooner or later, Thomas must have taken it upon himself.

“He told you?” Juliusz was almost sure he knew what Michael meant. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “How’ve you been getting on with the Italians?” There seems to be the smallest glimpse of concern in Michael’s tone. He leans forward in his chair, but tries not to disturb his wound too much.

“Somehow better than with Thomas.” Juliusz sighs. “He seems so paranoid around me now, how can i actually help when i don’t know anything? Not to mention that i haven’t been able to give the Italians anything more than he permits me to, useless documentation that Changretta doesn’t even need.” His fidgeting with the apple stem makes it snap.

“What did you want from Changretta in exchange for Tommy?” he throws the apple core in a bin nearby. “From the Italians’ perspective, at least.” The smallest of smirks appears on his lips. 

“...My life. My name was on a bullet.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Juliusz didn’t want to say anything about Michael or anyone else being involved in his ‘truce’ with Changretta. They don’t have to know, the only thing that matters is that they’re safe for the time being. “It isn’t anymore, for now.” As if on instinct, he put his hand in his jacket’s inner-pocket, along with the tin cigarette holder and a pack of matches, the cool sensation of a bullet stood out. He took out the cigarettes, only to be stopped by Michael. 

“You can only smoke on their balcony.” He nods towards the nurses’ room. “How about you go and I look at what else you got for me here?” Michael winks and reaches into the brown bag on the table, his eyes widening when he sees the whisky bottle hidden between some clothes Polly packed for him and a few treats.

“Hey, that’s only if you don’t drink it after taking your meds, got it?” Juliusz slaps Michael’s hand away as he stood up.

“Mhm.” He hums, still looking at the amber bottle like he’d definitely drink it the second Juliusz turns his back. A stern glare from the Pole makes Michael roll his eyes. “Yes, i won’t drink it after the pills. You're the best.” Juliusz nods approvingly and takes one last big bite from the apple.

“You wouldn't say that if i didn't get it for you, you brat.” He says with his mouth full. "I'll be back."

“Some of the nurses here are really nice, chat one of them up, i’m not going anywhere.” Michael takes this opportunity to rest his feet on Juliusz’s chair, already ogling the work-related papers. 

The balcony in the nurses room was fortunately open to all visitors, looking over the back of the hospital. The last nurse on break was a clearly overworked middle-aged lady, for whom he was happy to light the cigarette. Even more so when she had no intention of initiating conversation or offering any unnecessary and costly treatment. As Juliusz slowly enjoyed his cigarette, his mind wandered back to the peculiar item in his pocket.

Hm, at least they spelt it correctly, was the first thought he had when Juliusz held up the bullet, the sun reflecting its gold-brown metal and grey scratches. He rubbed his thumb along the bullet, before hiding it again. He looked up at the sky.

Is it midday already?

BAM!

Juliusz, as if on instinct, ducked and covered his head.

.

.

.

Nothing. After the shot, the hospital was surprisingly quiet, only the sound of a few footsteps, crash of a door, and the muffled cries of the nurse next to him. The footsteps ceased just next door.

Oh no.

Michael.

He shushed the nurse and took out a small handgun out the holster strapped to the small of his back. Out of the balcony, he had to force himself not to sprint and bash into Michael’s room. Warily, he made his way down the corridor, passing next to a shot Peaky Blinder. The bright wall behind the poor man now a glistening, bloody mess. The smell of fresh blood was sickening, Juliusz looked away and took a deep breath, just like they taught him. Just as he approached Michael’s door, he heard muffled voices, more accurately, A muffled voice. He slowly comes closer, as he hears whoever was inside approach to the exit

Step He raises his gun to eye-level.

Step He focuses on a spot where a person would have their head.

Step, click He takes a breath as he hears the door open-

Step- A figure steps out, he disables the safety with a loud click, which makes the man perk up. An all-too-familiar man. It’s Changretta, Luca motherfucking Changretta. He slowly raises his hands, but doesn’t seem too bothered by the gun pointed at him. Juliusz could swear that for a brief moment, Changretta appeared surprised to see him, only to once again put on his usual smug demeanour.

“Ferenz! Fancy seeing you here.” He stepped forward, motioning the other men he was with to follow. “I was actually gonna call, but-”

“We had a fucking deal.” He growled 

“And it’s not broken, the boy’s fine.” Changretta vaguely motioned in the direction of Michael’s room. Loud voices rang outside the hospital, sounding like people trying to break the hospital’s doors open. “Now if you wanna shoot me, be my fucking guest, but do it now before your idiot friends get here.” Juliusz came forward and shoved the Italian back a step, and looked inside the boys’ room. Michael was fine, merely shook, looking between his friend and the Italian at his gunpoint. He could just shoot him, be done with it. Everyone would be happy. Yet, when he imagined the blood splatter from the Italian’s head, and the life drain from his already dark eyes, his body at the place of the man he passed in the corridor, he felt a tug inside himself, and couldn't find on what to blame it for this time. Ferenz sighed and took his finger off the trigger.

God, why is he so weak

“Go.” He stepped back and nodded at the corridor. He felt angry, not sure if at himself or the smug bastard in front of him, who took his granted freedom and used it to rush forward where Juliusz motioned.

“You’re goin’ too.” As Changretta passed him, Juliusz felt a tug, this time at his shoulder when he was basically dragged along with the Italians.

“What?!” He basically shouted as they sprinted across the corridors, though he was less sprinting, and more being pulled to their step.

“I need you for something, c’mon.”

“Why? What does ‘something’ mean?” Juliusz finally twists himself from Changrettas grip, but still running side by side with him. “What did you want with Michael?” They pressed their backs against the corridor wall, just before two turns, left and right.

“This and other fascinating questions will be answered in the car, my friend.” Luca replied as he looked around both corners. “Now don’t get your panties in a twist. Which way?” 

“Oh go fuck yourself.” Juliusz muttered. “Left.” He followed up immediatly, which was only met with a chuckle from Changretta as they ran for the exit, with a black Rolls Royce already waiting for them.

*****************

If someone told Juliusz a week ago that he’d spend his afternoon squished between two Italians in the backseat of a car, he’d laugh at you, or maybe he’d assume you meant a totally different kind of encounter, which would also be paired with a laugh. 

But now, with the man on his left, Matteo and the nuisance on his right, who was in the middle of reading a newspaper, Juliusz truly felt like fate is a very bored man dead-set on making his life hell. Maybe if Matteo didn’t confiscate his gun the second they were out of the hospitals’ viscinity, Juliusz would again briefly think of shooting both of them, or himself, he hadn’t yet decided.

“Will you finally answer my question?” Juliusz mutters, still looking ahead, arms crossed. The outside view of endless forest didn’t entertain him that much, but it was still better than awkward eye-contact with Matteo or glaring at Luca.

“Which one?” Changretta says, turning to another page of the newspaper.

“Where the hell are we going?” He finally turns to look at the Italian.

“To a place Darby let us use, not far. There’s business in London i’ll need you for.” He drawled. “You know Sabini’s and Solomon’s businesses?”

“Solomons’ more than Sabinis, but yes.” Juliusz sighs, pushing up his glasses. “What about Michael?”

“Nice kid.” Changretta muses, flicking the match he was biting down on between his teeth and lips, and Juliusz faught the urge to snap it in half.

“You know damn well what i’m asking you.” 

“You’re not the only one who put Tommy’s neck on the line for him.” Changretta meets his gaze as well. “I just came by to let him know we have a deal.” At first, Juliusz had no idea what Luca was insinuating, but a brief moment later, it’s as if a light turned on in his head. Polly… This doesn’t surprise him, which is odd, because Polly has a strong habit of surprising him. Juliusz pushes the thought aside, he’ll confront her or Michael later.

“You better leave him out of this.” 

“It’s his mother and you who i’m dealing with, that’s enough.” He takes the match and tosses it out the car window.

That seemed to be the end of that conversation, though a few glances at Changretta made Julliusz think something was on his mind. Then again, almost always when he saw him the Italian appeared so. Either somber and toned down, or smug and calculating. Something about his expression, the way he grimaced, stared, or even fidgeted with that damn piece of wood made him appear like he’s distracting himself from something. And just when he thought he was being discreet, Luca’s dark eyes met his green ones. Looking away would just be admitting defeat now. Changretta seems to be considering something, then throws Juliusz a smug smile.

“Back at the hospital, why didn’t you shoot me? Didn’t have it in you?”

“Are you…teasing me for not blowing your head off?” His eyebrows furrow. “If someone has to kill you, let it be one of the Shelbys, it’s none of my concern.” Somehow, this response appeared to satisfy Changretta, who turned to his right-hand-man.

 “Matteo.” His voice changed in a way, even though that usually happens when changing languages, Juliusz couldn’t help but pay close attention, as if he could read the foreign meanings off his lips. “Hai i documenti?” 

 “Vuoi usare LUI per questo? Luca, con rispetto-” He wasn’t sure what he said, but judging from the way Matteo glanced at Juliusz with every word, he could safely assume the Italian didn’t have much trust towards the Pole.

“Just fucking give ‘em.” Changretta makes a motion with his hand that Juliusz would only describe as so very italian. Matteo shrugs and reaches under his seat. 

“Here.” A stack of documents and folders, some looking like they’ve been through better times than this plop onto his lap. “Take it.” Luca taps the files with a ringed finger.

“Why?” Juliusz questions, but still takes the files and quickly skims through the first few. Financial outputs of Italian-owned clubs in London, copies of shares of the South England racetracks, even tax reports. “Why do you have these?”

“I’m planning on making Sabini an offer he can’t resist.” He grins. “I need you to draw up a contract for me. 100% of his businesses, to my family.”

“Don’t you have lawyers for this?” 

“I do, i’m sitting next to him.” Changretta responds nonchalantly, turning his face away from the lawyer, looking out the window.

He actually has a task now. 

He took it as an opportunity to get a closer look. This was everything legitimate Sabini holds record of having, earning or spending. That’s the problem though, Juliusz noticed, it’s only everything legal Sabini has to offer. Not thinking twice, he nudges Changretta, not even looking at him, nose still buried deep in the documentation. 

“You don’t have everything.”

“Hm?” The noise makes him think that Changretta may have just been taken out of a daydream.

“I know Sabini owns a lot more properties and businesses than meets the eye. He just owns them through different people and companies, for tax purposes. I’d know, we do it as well.” He opens one of the tax reports, pointing at a company name, one of their ‘brother companies’, functioning only to hold assets for Sabini. “If you want the entire Sabini empire, i’ll need their papers as well.”

“...” Luca takes a moment to look between Juliusz and what he’s pointing out, then takes the document out of his hands, skimming it through. “Consider it done.” He closes it and gives it back to Juliusz, the sound of his approval oddly satisfying to the lawyer.

“Great.” 

“You got until tomorrow, that good?” Luca raises an eyebrow at him.

“Perfect.” For a while, Juliusz tried to put down the papers and leave them until he comes back home, but not a second later turns to Luca. “Do you have a pen?”

“Matteo?” 

“Pencil only.” The Italian takes out a small pencil out of his jacket.

“Even better.” He clarified whilst arranging the documents in a different, more organised order. When Matteo passed him a comically tiny pencil, he let out a fast ‘thankyou’ and in the blink of an eye transformed his part of the backseat into a pile of papers. Now this was where he shined, a horrendously boring reading for most, exciting underlining for him. Everything to be used for later when he’s back at his desk. As odd as it may be, finally getting a task from the Italians is satisfying, and later he’ll have something to tell Thomas to make him happy. He worked with the smallest of smiles on his face. In the fervor of dates, taxes and company shares, Juliusz didn’t even notice Changretta looking at him. From his fingers shuffling page to page like a dealer handling cards, or how his eyes raced left-to-right as he read, there seems to be something endearing in someone who’s in their element. Luca opened his newspaper again, but didn't continue reading it.

Now, if someone told Juliusz a week ago that he’d possibly spend his afternoon trying to move a wagon with some Italians, he’d laugh at you as well.

Yet there he was, getting out of the car as Changretta threw a “C’mon poindexter, try not to break your glasses” in his direction, which, at this point, Juliusz didn’t even bother to grace with a talkback. 

Winter hadn’t dwelled harshly in the Birmingham area, if he didn't know any better, he'd assume it was typical gloomy authumn. Though the dirt road underneath them crackled as if not so long ago it had been completely frozen.

“What’s this?” Matteo walked up front. “Whose wagon is that?” He got immediately stopped by the policeman, as if this trashed wagon is somehow a sensitive crime scene.

“They’re gypsies.” he blurted out. “Tribe of fucking gypsies.”

An alarm rang inside Juliusz’s head, something surely wasn’t right. The tussle between Matteo and the lawman didn’t help ease whatever was hanging in the air.

“I said that it’ll be clear in 20 minutes.”

Something definitely isn’t right. He glanced at Luca and was met with a similar look. Both men seemingly having a smililar gut feeling.

"Let's go." He nodded in the direction of the car. "We'll find another way outta here."

When the man he got introduced to before as 'Frankie' hadn't started the car yet, they just assumed he couldn't hear them. The second time Luca called out to him, they thought there must have been something wrong with him and/or the car.

With his head leaned back, exposing the cleanily slit neck, crimson, already slowly clogging blood oozing out of it, chaos erupted.

Shots fired just above their heads, some putting holes in the Italians' hats as they got out of the car to fight back.

Juliusz pressed his back against the Rolls Royce, heart pounding as he realised just what was happening. Aberama Gold, thats what was happening.

Another Italian fell to the ground, while more bullets pierced the cars' body. Bullets whistled in the air just like they did all these years ago.

Gold must be here from the order of Tommy. The Blinders must have known Juliusz went with the Italians. Tommy must have known. Why were they ambushing them with him right there, when-

Something cold pressed against his palm. He looked down. Changretta is giving Juliusz his gun back.

"Cover me, yeah?" His voice was raised, with more than an ounce of panic in it, cracking at places.

He didn't need to be asked twice, he's not dying out of friendly fire from the Golds anytime soon. Juliusz takes a deep breath, and sticked his head out slightly, shooting wherever he saw movement, not to kill, but to scare off and buy Luca the few seconds he needed to get the car running.

"DUCK!" Juliusz shouted when he saw Gold's son aim a shot clearly meant for Luca as he was trying to get to the steering wheel. It just ended up a bullet in Frankies' already dead brain.

Never before would he think he'd be so relieved to hear an engine turn on.

With Changretta maneuvering the car out of the bridge, and with Matteo and Juliusz emptying their magazines to hell, they barely made it out the forest and into a typical, empty english field.

They damn near fell out the car when Luca stopped the engine. The only sound being the distressed and tired breaths of three men after a brief date with death.

Then, you could hear the music of two Italian men shouting at eachother, and one Polish man puking his guts out on the side of the road.

"Holy shit." Juliusz drew a sharp breath as he wiped his lips, trying his best to compose himself after the initial adrenaline started to wear off. "Kurwa mać." He could hear the italians slowly calm as well.

"Fuck, you alright?" Luca calls out to him.

"Yeah, fucking peachy." He wheezes out, exhausted, not sure if more mentally or physically, or both, probably.

"They got two of ours." Matteo pointed in the direction of the woods they drove out of. "What do we do?" This question seemed to put Changretta even more on edge, frustration gradually building up.

"CAZZO!" He kicked the car, luckily it being so beyond repair, it didn't seem to mind. Luca ran his hand through his hair, now noticing he has lost his hat somwhere in the middle of the ordeal. "All right, change of fuckin' plans. Ferenz, you still got that contract to make. Go back to Small Heath, we'll have time for business, i'll call you." He points at Juliusz, not appearing to be asking, but telling. The Pole didn't have it in him to argue at this point.

"I need to make a phonecall to our dear friend Polly." Luca handed Juliusz the files out of the car, still holding them when the other man tries to take them. "Be safe." He lets go.

As he got dropped off at a safe distance, instead of heading to a place like home, preferably into the arms of his bed and a hefty bottle of whisky, he turned to Small Heath, where he'll kick Thomas' Shelbys' fucking teeth in.

******************

Translations:

Niewiarygodne - Unbelievable

Hai i documenti? - Do you have the documents?

Vuoi usare LUI per questo? Luca, con rispetto - Do you want to use HIM for this? Luca, with respect-

Kurwa mać - Fucking Hell

Cazzo - Fuck

[thebananaiscold]

Hello wanted to see how you doing and give you some cookies

[msburgundy]

i forgot how quickly this episode goes downhill

[screams-of-the-damned84]

those recent hyde expressions are doing something to me dude

[yoyo-s-coffee]

he can't keep getting away with it

[frnkiebby]

PINKBELT and ripped back pockets??~🎃

[the-football-chick]

Frankie Beverly, the R&B legend and lead vocalist of MAZE, has passed away after a long illness. He was 77.

[daonepiece]

Happy New Year!!!

Let's have a wonderful 2023 together! 🥳🥳🥳 I barely got anything drawn last year, I almost forgot how to draw the Straw Hats. Gotta make a change, I can't allow this to continue! New year new dao!!

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

i feel like i've lost the ability to draw so here are some doodles/ 1st draft designs I made for some of the monster high girlies bc I've still got the urge to draw despite that. they all need some work but I feel like I've gotten to a good starting point.

ive got quite a few ideas for the rest but we'll see if I ever get to them lol

beware the tags! (i never shut up)

[marco-bezzecchi]

They are so precious to me 🥹

[ray935sworld]

HELP. My criminal law professor just constructed following case:

"What if a father - let's call him Valentino (V) has shared custody with his ex-husband - yeah, let's not always be like 'ugh, bad ex-wife' and reflect the diversity in our society - So Vs ex... Mark has their son Frank from Monday to Wednesday. He -" then the case followed.

Either this man has no idea what insanity he is causing me beside wtf he is trying to teach and this is just the biggest coincidence or he is doing it on purpose.

[afriblaq]

This how we roll in New Orleans we sent Frankie off right R.I.P Unk

[kinglesbian420]

Apple White and Darling Charming walked so Frankie Stein and Cleo DeNile could run

[to-a-merrier-world]

Straw Hat Pirates Picrew Icons

Got bored & made these on picrew, feel free to use (but I’d appreciate a reblog if you do!).

Credit: alohasushicore on Picrew

[scrumptiousobjectcollector]

They're so cute.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

You Know I feel like Rob Lucci snatched up Lizard in Water 7 by simply waiting for her to be alone and then taking her. Like before Robin boarded the train but after the reveal (that they were apart of CP9)

Like here's the thing she's not officially apart of the Straw hats (at the time) she's still considered to be apart of Baroque Works by proxy of her being the daughter of Crocodile. And so when Robin tries to argue for Lizard's freedom. Rob Lucci simply says "You said that the Strawhats were to be left alone. You never said anything about Crocodile's daughter. By the way until they reach Enies Lobby he only calls Lizard Crocodile's daughter after the reveal or little girl before the reveal. He doesn't refer to her as Lizard until she gets his respect when she throws her restrained self at Sandam and has to be physically dragged away from Spam face kicking and screaming demanding Spam's skull to beat him to death with his skull. Then he calls her Lizard and starts to become a platonic yandere for her and offers to pay for plastic surgery for her, so she can start fresh. Rob Lucci views Lizard as His cub that he must raise, nurture and mold into becoming the ideal assassin because as you said Lizard is cute which means that people won't see it coming

I got inspired and decided to write out the moment where Lucci officially becomes attached to her

Warning for acts of violence and a lot of blood mention. Also Spandam is here which is a warning in and of itself.

Lucci could not wait for Spandam to stop talking and dismiss them so he could leave and be doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, Spandam loved the sound of his own voice too much to ever be brief with his speeches, especially when he feels like he’s “accomplished” something. Not that he had any hand in the apprehending of the three individuals brought to Enies Lobby today.

Cutty Flam, or Franky as he called himself, had given them the most trouble, but even that was minimal. Nico Robin was easily coerced into cooperation with her newfound weakness with the Straw Hat Pirates. (Y/N), a former warlord’s daughter, had been the easiest. Not only did she not put up a fight, she boarded the train on her own once Kalifa confirmed that Nico Robin would also be there. The complete absence of fear had been intriguing. Lucci wasn’t sure if the child was truly fearless, or if she was simply intensely naive.

He’s sure that the answer will reveal itself soon enough.

While Nico Robin and Franky were actively arguing with Spandam, (Y/N) was just standing there and glowering at him. Her disdain for him was palpable as well as amusing. Understandable, too.

It appeared that Spandam had finally had enough of Robin’s protests, and decided to make it abundantly clear by punching her. The woman hit the floor hard and struggled to get back onto her feet. Lucci just rolled his eyes, he knew for a fact that the only reason Spandam was able to do this was because of the weakening effects of the sea prism stone handcuffs. If they were absent, she likely wouldn’t have even stumbled.

A flash of movement caught his eye. The once passive (Y/N) charged straight at Spandam. Since his back was to her, he didn’t get a chance to see her coming and only became aware of her when she rammed into him.

Spandam tripped over Robin and toppled onto the ground, slightly dazed. Before he could react, (Y/N) was on him. The teenager raised her foot and brought it down directly onto his face with a resounding crack. The impact most certainly broke his nose. 

She didn’t stop there, however, she kept going. (Y/N) was repeatedly stomping on his head with precise and consistent blows. These weren’t the random, desperate kicks of someone acting out of fear. No, this was nothing but concentrated fury. Her once neutral expression was contorted with rage as she cursed out the chief of CP9 with vitriol dripping from each word.

Everyone was watching this in a stunned silence. Robin had entirely stopped trying to get up and was staring at (Y/N) in horror, Franky was in a similar state. The rest of CP9 was gawking at the display, none of them had anticipated the abrupt turn in her behavior.

While this was all extremely entertaining, it did have to come to an end before Spandam did. Jabra sprung out of his chair and rushed over to the girl. His hands clamped onto her upper arms and lifted her up and away from her victim. This was not enough to deter her. (Y/N) flailed and tried her damnedest to kick Jabra, albeit unsuccessfully. 

“Quit! You’re just making this worse for yourself, kid,” Jabra tossed the teenager away from him. She rolled across the ground, but quickly got up and sprinted towards Spandam again. Jabra blocked her path, but that didn’t stop her from screaming at the crumpled form of the chief, “If you ever fucking touch Robin again I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit!”

Kumadori had abandoned his own chair to check on Spandam, who had now shifted onto his side and was violently coughing and hacking. Blood was gushing out of not only his broken nose but also his mouth. He spat onto the floor and one, two… Four teeth fell out. Oh wow, impressive. 

“Lucci! Keep that monster away from me!” Spandam clung onto Kumadori’s hair as he attempted to get to his feet, “I knew you were involved with your father’s business! You were probably his best assassin, you little psychopath!”

Lucci snorted at the thought. Nothing about her actions indicated that she was experienced. Though he would admit that he could see some potential. Lucci grabbed the chain that connected her handcuffs and pulled her back a few steps, she shot him a venomous glare over her shoulder, but otherwise cooperated. Her shoulders were heaving from how hard she was breathing, moreso out of anger rather than exercise if he had to guess.

Spandam had managed to get himself upright with help and was trying to wipe the blood from his face with a handkerchief. He slapped away Kumadori’s helping hand and stomped towards Lucci and (Y/N).

He leered at the girl, “You have no idea what you’ve done! In case you forgot, I’M IN CHARGE OF YOU NOW!” Flecks of blood sprayed out of his mouth and got on her face. Shockingly, she doesn’t flinch from it and keeps her face neutral. “I’m going to make whatever is left of your miserable little life absolute hell and kill you the second you’re no longer worth keeping alive!”

Lucci saw Spandam becoming increasingly aggravated from her giving him no reactions to feed off of. His scowl shifts into a smirk and he gets right in her face, “Or maybe I’ll take this out on Robin and make you watch as you’re powerless to do anything.”

There was a pause. And then she spat in his face.

A couple of the CP9 agents snickered. This was honestly the most entertaining thing they’ve been subjected to in their time under Spandam. Even Lucci felt a grin tug at his lips, this girl was proving herself to be more and more interesting by the second.

Spandam recoiled and aggressively wiped at his face, only to yelp in pain when he brushed against his broken nose like an idiot. His eyes zeroed back in on (Y/N) and he reeled his arm back, “You little bitch!”

His hand swung towards her to slap her across the face, but that’s not what happened. With an honestly impressive speed, her head snapped forward and her teeth sank into his hand. Spandam screamed and tried to shake the girl off, but she only bit down harder and snarled.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, GET HER OFF ME!” The screech was so loud that it made Lucci’s ears hurt, but he obliged. An order is an order after all. 

Lucci yanked her back by the handcuffs while Kumadori was pulling on Spandam. This girl was holding onto that hand for dear life, and it took some genuine effort to separate them, but with one final tug they were pulled apart.

This was accompanied by a snapping sound and even louder screaming from Spandam who was holding the bitten hand to his chest and doubled over. Kaku could be heard muttering out a ‘good lord’, and before Lucci could investigate to see what prompted such a reaction from a trained assassin, (Y/N) spit something out onto the floor. 

A couple of quiet thuds were heard, and when he looked down, two fingers were rolling across the floor with blood spurting out of them. The pinky and ring fingers to be exact.

“I TOLD YOU TO KEEP HER AWAY FROM ME!” Never one to take accountability for his own stupid actions, Spandam was quick to direct his rage at Lucci.

“I did. But then you chose to approach her again,” it took everything Lucci had to keep from openly mocking him to his face.

“Boss, maybe we should get you some medical attention!” Kumadori was lightly pulling him towards the door, desperate to leave the situation before their moronic chief could possibly make it any worse.

Spandam was pulled out the main door and could be heard hurling obscenities from down the hall.

The room was dead silent and all of the eyes were on (Y/N). Robin and Franky were slack jawed, while the CP9 members appeared to be surprised but also mildly impressed. Not that she was paying them any mind. She was more focused on spitting out the blood in her mouth and trying to wipe off what remained using her shoulder.

Jabra strolled over and lightly nudged the disembodied fingers, “Damn, and you did all of that with your hands behind your back. I almost want to see what would happen if the cuffs came off.”

“Then do it.” She leveled him with a hard stare. Blood that wasn’t her own was smeared across the lower half of her face, “Uncuff me and see what happens.”

“No can do, kiddo. As much as everyone here might love to see that, we’ve got jobs to do.” Jabra flicked her forehead playfully and laughed when she tried to bite him, too. Lucky for him, she wasn’t quite fast enough to get him.

His eyes briefly flickered up to see Lucci’s face, and he cringed at the sight, “Hey kid, you might want to tone it down a bit.”

“Why?” Her response was snappy and sharp.

“Because I really don’t like the look on Lucci’s face right now and I’m pretty sure you’re the cause of it.”

She looked over her shoulder with an annoyed huff, but froze up once she made eye contact with the man holding her. A wide, malicious grin was plastered across his face as he leered down at the girl.

It was in that moment that Lucci knew he wanted this girl to live to see another day and not rot in prison. Letting someone with such a natural propensity for violence die now would be a horrendous waste. He knows that under the right supervision, this girl could be shaped into a damn good assassin, and he knows just the person that could train her.