Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

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Mercedes watched in helpless horror as the Raven managed to make it to the roof, only to find his escape route cut off. Literally. Dammit, things can’t end this way!

By now, her strategy of running and hiding had gotten her closer to the warehouse. Closer to the burnt bodies of the men she struck with her improvised bomb. One of the dead men offered up a tommy gun, and without a better option, she picked it up. Don’t aim. Just spray and pray. Knuckled whitened over the grip as Mercedes urged herself to squeeze the trigger. She gasped aloud once she managed to, her voice thankfully covered by the thunderous roar of machine gun fire.

The first dozen shots went wild, before she gained control of the barrel, aim in the general direction of the rest of the gangsters. They spread in all directions like cockroaches fleeing the light. Then her gun emptied the magazine, steel like a red-hot poker to the touch. She picked up another gun abandoned by a dead man before ducking behind the building to evade return fire.

Blind bullets ripped through the air, drowning out the pounding of her own heartbeat, but Mercedes kept running. Her willingness to shoot back with a tommy gun made her a more urgent target than the Raven. Once she’d circled back to her car, she unleashed more covering fire, bracing herself against the vehicle to shoot a bit straighter. Two men went down this time, as she swept a horizontal line across the warehouse. Fuck, out of bullets, again. Tossing the empty gun away, she had one last plan. It would either save them or kill them.

She ducked into the driver’s seat and turned the key. By the time the Cadillac purred to life, she was already shifting gears and slamming on the gas. Gunsels jumped out of her way as she gunned it towards the warehouse, smashing the brake just before crashing into the side. The hope was that the Raven would take advantage of her distraction, and jump on the roof, so she could speed them both away.
 
Ducking behind the brick walls of the stairwell, the Raven ejected an empty magazine and slammed a new one home, rocking the slide back to cock the gun. Not good. Not good at all. This was a terrible place to be trapped, able to be rushed from above and below. Although not well from above. Two f the gunsels were dead, and two more down. Was there a fire escape? Grimly, the Raven remembered there wasn’t.

There was a squeal of tires down below. Maybe a way out? The car was, after all, idling down there. With a grimace the vigilante decided to risk it. Fire erupted from the pistol held in the Raven’s grip as the vigilante sprinted towards the edge, forcing the last gunsel back under cover. A quick glance revealed a black sedan, perhaps 15 feet below. With a nod the vigilante jumped, crashing into the roof with a grunt and a flexing of knees. A quick glance through the windshield revealed the masked figure of Mercy Morello - or perhaps the “Nightengale” name was more accurate?

Either way, the vigilante rolled off the roof and onto the asphalt, tossing another tear gas grenade in the process. The passenger door swung open, and the Raven shot a goomba over the roof before leaping inside. “Go!” rasped the vigilante.
 
Mercedes didn’t need to be told twice, punching the accelerator before the Raven even closed his door. Once more, gangsters had to jump out of her way. One man was not so quick or fortunate, and the car thudded over his leg, shattering his ankle. The Cadillac pealed out over the roads, fleeing the scene.

They had a good head start, but soon the streets would be littered with Vinnie’s thugs trying to find them. So she maneuvered the streets of Chicago, before finally settling on the Gilded Cage. No one would expect to find him here.

Once they stopped, Mercedes sunk back in her seat and tore the balaclava off her face. He already knew who she was, after all, and her features were drenched in sweat. “Fuck,” she breathed, heart still pounding beyond her control. The action that had been too fast-paced and dangerous to process at the moment replayed in her mind. How many men had she burnt to death? How many had she shot? Jesus, what had she become? Sleeping around on Vinnie and killing his men. A whore, a queer, and a murderer?

“You okay?” she asked, seeking conversation to drown out the concern whirling in her mind, “Didn’t get shot or nuthin’, right?” Clammy hands rubbed sweat off her brow and brushed back damp hair. How the hell did the Raven do this? Night after night? “It ain’t gonna be safe to go back for your vehicle for awhile,” she explained, as her breathing finally stabilized. Turning towards the Raven, his features were inscrutable with his mask on. “Wanna come in? I dunno about you, but I need a fuckin’ drink.”
 
That had been close. Too close, really. Without Mercy’s intervention, the Raven would probably be dead right now. It was a thought that left the vigilante’s thoughts chasing themselves around Nd in circles. A trap. It had been a trap. Now it would- “You okay?”

“Hm?” the Raven replied, glancing up sharply. Mercy’s eyes, shadowed behind the balaclava she wore, glanced over him quickly before returning to the road. “What?”

“Didn’t get shot or nuthin’, right?” She clarified, peeling the hood off with nervous hands. Sweat-damp hair stuck to her forehead.

“No,” the vigilante replied. “I’m fine. And put your mask back on.” The mask moved, as if there were a smile behind it. “The Nightengale can be seen with the Raven, but Mercy Morello shouldn’t be.” He gestured around. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

She complied with an ill grace, clearly not comfortable with the knit mask “It ain’t gonna be safe to go back for your vehicle for awhile,” she finally said, bringing the car to a stop outside the Gilded Cage. Despite the mask her eyes were bright and tired as she turned to look at him. “Wanna come in? I dunno about you, but I need a fuckin’ drink.”

“Service entrance,” the Raven replied, pointing at the alley. “It’d look suspicious for two masked vigilantes to just walk in.” He hesitat d. “But yeah. I could use a drink.”
 
Mercedes groaned as she put the mask back on, unable to argue with his logic. “Nightingale? I like that. But now everyone is gonna think I am your side-kick.” That was a humorous thought, but the reality was far darker, grittier. She pushed open the service door and lead him in, hitting the light in the back office. It wouldn’t be seen from the outside, and his paranoia was rubbing off on her now. Eyes and ears everywhere.

Walking around, Mercedes pulled a bottle of gin from one of the drawers and a couple glasses. She poured a generous serving in each one before coming around to the front of the desk. “To surviving another day.” Their glasses clinked and she downed the drink, letting the buzz calm her nerves.

“You should use me,” Mercedes declared, unable to help her face growing flush as she considered the implications of her words. “Against Vinnie, I mean.” Well, not just in that way. “I can help you. I know things. I hear things. We could take him down, together. Ruin him, burn his empire to the ground.” Her dark eyes grew darker at the thought, the fantasy. So close she could nearly touch it, nearly grasp it in her fingers. Lust for vengeance mingled with the adrenaline of the firefight and teaming up had her stomach tightening and left her even more flush. Blindly, she groped for the bottle,

“I almost shot him, the night he…” The word wouldn’t come, and she poured herself another drink. “The night we met. I couldn’t do it alone, and you can’t either. But, together?” She shuddered, everything she wanted, so close now. “Let Vinnie face our combined wrath.”
 
Face inscrutable behind the black and white mask, the Raven watched the Nightengale pour two drinks. “To surviving another day,” she said, lifting her glass. The Raven people coed the other one up and touched it to hers. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he pulled his mask up just enough to sip the clear liquid, revealing a strong jaw with a hint of stubble.

“You know this stuff is illegal,” he said after swallowing, maintaining the harsh growl he used. “You could go to jail for it.” The voice was clearly false, but the humor in his smile was genuine. And, based on the way he finished the drink and poured another, he wasn’t concerned about the illegal booze.

“You should use me,” the Nightengale declared, and the surprise of the statement nearly made the vigilante drop his drink. “Against Vinnie, I mean,” she stammered out hurriedly, the exposed part of her face flushing. “I can help you. I know things. I hear things. We could take him down, together. Ruin him, burn his empire to the ground.”

“That’s my plan,” the Raven growled, downing his next drink and pouring a third. There was a darkness in he tone, hatred far harsher than the growl he affected. “But I want the bastard to sufferfor what he did. What he did to...”. He bit the sentence off.

“I almost shot him, the night he…” The word wouldn’t come, and she poured herself another drink. “The night we met. I couldn’t do it alone, and you can’t either. But, together?” She shuddered, everything she wanted, so close now. “Let Vinnie face our combined wrath.”

“Nightengale and Raven,” the masked man laughed, clinking his glass against hers. “I think we’ll be good together.” He sipped at the liquor. “A good team, I mean.”
 
Mercedes, or Nightingale, she figured, since she was still in costume, watched his fingers lift his mask, just enough to drink. She didn’t think he would reveal himself to her (even if she did save his life) and she certainly wasn’t going to ask, but she was still curious. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could divine from his chin. Perhaps she’d have to pay better attention, in the future. A man, possibly a fan, given how he recognized her voice, with a strong jaw and stubble. Why, couldn’t be a huge chunk of Chicago, not by any means.

“I think we’ll be good together.” He sipped at the liquor. “A good team, I mean.”

I bet we would be. Nightingale drank before she could give words to her thoughts, or admit the vivid dreams she’d had of him. Leaning back against the desk, she finished another glass, adrenaline burnt away into a soothing buzz. Except, she was still goddamn hot. She want to peel herself out of her clothes, damp with sweat. Or maybe the Raven would peel her out of them? That thought didn’t help her any, and she pulled off the coat, and tossed it in an empty chair.

“We would need a way to meet, or at least pass messages back and forth. I can warn you when it will be dangerous to hit Vinnie, and when it would be best. It was what I was trying to do tonight, but Silvio had you surrounded before I even had a chance.” Still hot, sweltering under the thick shirt and the tension between them, she unbuttoned three buttons., revealing just a hint of cleavage. Not nearly as much as she displayed on stage. “I don’t expect you to tell me who you are. Not unless you want to. But I could give you coded messages here, I suppose. In my song choices, perhaps? Unless you got a better idea.”
 
“We would need a way to meet, or at least pass messages back and forth,” the Nightengale said, tossing her coat over a chair. “I can warn you when it will be dangerous to hit Vinnie, and when it would be best. It was what I was trying to do tonight, but Silvio had you surrounded before I even had a chance.”

“That’s a good idea,” the Raven agreed. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled his own overcoat off, draping it across the same chair. It made him feel slightly less hot, but only slightly. The long-sleeved black turtleneck he wore tucked into his mask and gloves still trapped heat, and the shoulder holsters and web belt left patches of sweat that seemed glued to his skin.

“I don’t expect you to tell me who you are,” she sad. “Not unless you want to.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just looking to get me out of costume?” he asked, feeling hypnotized by her fingers as she undid her top three buttons. “I mean, see me out of costume?” Because he wouldn’t mind getting her out of costume right now...

“But I could give you coded messages here, I suppose,” she suggested. “In my song choices, perhaps? Unless you got a better idea.”

“Hm.” He considered that. “Dead letter drops might be better for detailed information. But the songs could work.” He poured himself another drink, and refreshed hers. “And it would give me an excuse to see more of you out of costume...”
 
MF Smut Scene: Raven and Nightingale
  • Index
    • Hot damn, he looked good under that coat. All tight and firm and strong as hell. And she didn’t miss the ways his eyes lingered, caressing her with a hungry glance.

    “You thinking ‘bout getting’ me outta my costume?” the Nightingale giggled, her southside accent thicker as the alcohol worked on her. She sure as hell was. Thinking about getting both of them out of these costumes, wrapped up in his arms and between her legs. She drifted closer and breathed in his scent. Closer still, misjudging the distance between them perhaps, (or giving in to her own desires to touch him), and she brushed against his cheek, their masked rubbing together.

    Pull back, some quiet voice in her mind whispered, pull away. Easy to ignore that voice of reason now, liquid temptation flowing in her veins. So, her nose ghosted his exposed jaw, trailing towards his lips. Finding his mouth with her own and exploring his lips with her tongue.

    “I want you,” the alcohol admitted for her. More buttons came undone, the cool of the night a glorious respite to the heat of her skin. Not for long, though, as she pressed herself into the Raven, offering herself and demanding more of him. “I wanna forget, for justta bit…”
     
  • Index
    • “You thinking ‘bout getting’ me outta my costume?” the Nightingale giggled as she leaned close.

    “Yes,” the Raven replied, the word escaping his lips without conscious intent. God, she smelled good. Tasted good, too, as her lips traced his jaw. Part of him knew this was a terrible idea - she was a married woman, after all, even if her husband was the man he wanted to destroy. The rest of him, the majority decision that opened his mouth and tasted the slippery warmth of his tongue, didn’t care.

    “I want you,” she whispered as she paused for breath. His response was to trace the exposed skin of her breasts, gloved hands fumbling at tiny buttons in a desperate hunger to see more of her. Her hands joined his, opening her blouse to his touch as he found her lips once more. “I wanna forget, for justta bit…”

    Hands clad in durable leather tugged at her her shirt, then molded to the soft mounds of her breasts. “I want you,” he husked, voice slurred by alcohol and desire. He squeezed, tasting her sudden gasp as he savored her gin-flavored lips. Then an arm snaked out, scattering the papers and phone on her desk to the floor with a crash. “Now,” he said, lifting her and laying her back on the bare wood.

    His lips found hers once more, hungry and possessive as he feasted on her. His hands flawed at her belt, at the buttons of her trousers as he climbed onto the desk with her, kneeling between her thighs. The wool of his turtleneck and the leather of his shoulder harness scraped her bare skin as he leaned over her, tugging her pants down over her ass. “Touch me,” he whispered, drawing her hands to his belt. “Show me.”
     
    I don’t even know who he is. That thought, which should have worried the Nightingale, turned her on more than she believed possible. More than Vinnie ever had, for sure. By now the button-up shirt was open, framing her breasts in the thin bra that couldn’t hide erect nipples.

    The wooden desk against her back threatened to bring up memories again, feelings of helpless terror and betrayal. She pushed the Raven up –but not away– moving both of them into an upright position. Once more safe from that trauma, she worked open his pants, as eager to undress him as he had been towards her.

    “Oh fuck,” she murmured, exploring his shaft with fingers. So many of the men she met in this life carried guns to compensate for what she imagined to be a short-coming. The Raven, to her delight, was not among them. “All this for me?” A lascivious giggle left her lips, excited and nervous and horny as fuck. She worked his length, toeing off her shoes and kicking off her pants and panties. So exposed before a virtual stranger, a man whose face and name were unknown to her. But not his cock.

    Pulling the Raven closer by his cock, the Nightingale rubbed against him, dripping over his thick head, and teasing her own clit. Bare feet caressed his legs, opening and bringing him even closer in her. “I want you,” she moaned, pressing her body into his until he was inside her. “Fuck, I want you…”
     
    The Raven groaned in response as her fingers explored his shaft. “All for you,” he repeated, moving slowly against her grip. She slid up and down, the movement of her hand augmented by the delightful rolling motion of her body as she wriggled out of her pants. Then she pulled him close, stroking her slick folds with his head as her half-naked body pressed against him. “I want you,” she moaned, pressing her body into his until he was inside her. “Fuck, I want you…”

    His gloved hands gripped her hips, pinning her to the edge of the desk. “I want you, too,” he gasped in reply, slowly stroking deep into her. “Fuck, you feel so good on me.” He dragged himself back, moaning at the feel of her walls clenching on his shaft before thrusting in once more, leaning forward to capture her lips with his as he filled her again. Then he kissed lower, nipping at her throat as he rocked against her body. “Say it again,” he husked, struggling not to leave marks as he savored her skin. “Tell me... you want me... again...”

    His hips met hers again as he leaned back, watching her expression as he fucked her. Her mask obscured her features, letting him see only her heavy-lidded eyes and her mouth as it opened in a soft moan of pleasure. Her breasts, framed by her open shirt, moved softly as he buried himself in her heat once more. God, she could be anyone like this - and the feeling of anonymity just made it hotter as she pulled him to her, her body demanding more.

    His gloved hands skimmed up her sides and over her ribs, molding to her breasts as he filled her once more. “Sing for me,” he husked, biting her lower lip. “Sing for me, Nightengale.”
     
    The Raven’s pace in her was so different from Vinne’s. Slow, deep thrusts that fit himself inside her, not forcing her to take him. Vinnie just pounded her, mistaking hard and fast to skill. The Raven savored her, exploring her skin and body with a charming curiosity. Responding to her body, only increasing his rhythm as she met his hips and pulled him in deeper.

    “Raven…” his name was a gasped cried, carrying pleasure and desire in its syllables. Need inflected her tone, his name climbing higher up the scales each time she called, “Raven…I want you, Raven!”

    A newly familiar weight pooled in her core, inspiring more desperate writhing against him. Fuck could she cum like this, tight around his cock? While he leaned back, taking in her body and expression, she moved one hand down her one body. Letting him watch the path of her fingers, trailing over her stomach and reaching towards that point of connection between them. Fingertips brushed against his cock as he pounded her, smacking her hips with wet slaps. Her moans matched his tempo, breathy and senseless, crying out for him with words.

    One arm remained wrapped around his shoulders, pulling his closer, deeper, as her rapture grew. “Raven…Raven…” A coda of bliss, repeated as everything else fell away.
     
    She sang his name, desire flavoring her words as she did. He leaned back a little, still moving in her, watching her body move with his. She took advantage of the opportunity, tracing her fingers over her curves and down, stroking his cock where it filled her and then stroking herself as well. The music of her gasps and moans changed, becoming more insistent as her fingers teased her clit and his cock filled her again and again in an increasing tempo.

    He felt her orgasm as a tightening on his shaft and the sharp cry of his name. She leaned back, hanging from his shoulders and taking him deeper, moaning in pleasure as she moved against his thrusts. “Nightengale...” he groaned, leaning forward to drink his name from her lips. “Oh god, Nightengale, I... I’m close...”. The movement of his hips became harder, more insistent, less concerned now with her pleasure as he chased his own. He caught her lips again, hus tongue sliding interesting her mouth in mimicry of the insistent motion of his cock. “Close...” he repeated, feeling himself harden even more as his own climax neared.

    A moment of clarity stabbed through the lust. She was a married woman, after all. “Where...” he groaned, “where... should... should I... pull... out..?”
     
    By now, Nightengale was so slick, hungrily swallowing his shaft each time he thrust into her. Wanting, needing more as she came down from her climax. Was the Raven reading her mind, as he drove deeper and harder inside her, or just reading her body?

    “Where...” he groaned, “where... should... should I... pull... out..?”

    Fuck, she didn’t want to think right now, didn’t want to worry. All she wanted was to lose herself in carnal pleasure. But the Raven reminded her of the danger, of the risk, as he posed his question. “If… if you want, but…”

    Fuck that, and fuck Vinnie. This too was an act of revenge and rebellion against her rat bastard of a husband. Returning home full of another man’s cum. Not just any other man, but his enemy, the Raven. She didn’t want him to pull out, and it wasn’t just spite fueling her desire. She wanted that heat, that proof of his passion deep within her, damn the consequences. Was it really any worse than what they were already doing?

    “I… want it… I want… you, inside…” she whispered, begged, pulling his face to her to kiss. Her legs tightened around his, beyond inviting him, to demanding. Molding her body to his, breasts pressed into the wool of his turtleneck. Close, and closer still, stretching out that moment of connection and completion with him
     
    The Raven gripped her hips, pulling her closer as her body molded against his. God, the turtleneck was infuriating! He could feel her bare breasts against his chest, feel her stomach pressed to him, but he wanted to feel her skin sliding over his own. So he threw that desire into his kiss, lips and tongue demanding the contact he craved as he thrust within her. Her legs flexed with his movements, pulling him into her with each thrust.

    A harsh gasp announced his climax as he drove into her. His meat pulsed within her, coating her walls with his cum as his gloved hands gripped her hips tighter, pulling her tighter against his body. His lips covered hers once more, letting her taste his moans of pleasure. “Nightengale...” he gasped, somehow remembering to use her costume name even as the world dissolved in orgasm. “Nightengale...”

    Finally, completely spent, he stroked her masked face with a gloved hand. “God,” he said, breathing heavily. “God, that... that was... was good...”
     
    Nightingale took another moment to lean into the Raven’s body. He wasn’t hard inside her anymore, but he was still hard, and felt so good. Was it weird she felt safer in his arms, a stranger, than her husband’s?

    “I wish I could just go home to him like this,” she whispered, head resting on his shoulder. “Wish I could see his face, in the moment he realized I fucked another man, and watch him lose it when I tell him it was you. I… ” wish I wasn’t afraid of what he’d do to me, if he knew, but the words fell away. With a sigh, and one last kiss, she forced herself to disentangle from the Raven.

    “Thanks again for… well, ya’ know.” She laughed at that, hands still caressing sleeved arms. “I’d invite you to come try out the new shower I had installed in my dressing room, but I am guessing this mask ain’t supposed to get wet. And I ain’t gonna make you tell me who you are. But, I hope someday you’ll…want to tell me.”

    Mercedes picked up her discarded clothes off the floor and carried them into her dressing room. Now that Vinnie was home, and home all the time, it no longer felt safe to kept this costume there. Fortunately, it was similar enough to the uniform worn by the waiters or the other musicians, that it wouldn’t attract much attention here. If found, it was simple enough to say these clothes got mixed up with hers. Not that it would prevent Vinnie from –rightly– accusing her of cheating with wrong evidence. Safer to keep it here, but still not safe.
     
    The Raven leaned into Mercedes, enjoying the warmth of her body wrapped around him. Wishing they had more time, that they’d been able to linger over one another. “I wish I could just go home to him like this,” she whispered, head resting on his shoulder. “Wish I could see his face, in the moment he realized I fucked another man, and watch him lose it when I tell him it was you. I… ”

    “If you tell him,” the vigilante replied, momentarily forgetting to disguise his voice, “tell him when you’ve got a gun trained on him. Because he’ll try to kill you.” She sighed, and they kissed, and reluctantly they disentangled themselves. “Don’t give me another reason to hate him,” he added, his voice the harsh croak once more.

    “Thanks again for… well, ya’ know,” she said with a nervous laugh, maintaining contact with him a little longer.

    “Thank you,” he replied, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. After a moment’s hesitation he pulled his mask down over his face, tucking it back into the turtleneck. “For saving my life. And for, well, for everything else.”

    Her fingers traced his features through his mask, and for a one time he was tempted to remove it. To tell her who he really was. “I’d invite you to come try out the new shower I had installed in my dressing room, but I am guessing this mask ain’t supposed to get wet. And I ain’t gonna make you tell me who you are. But, I hope someday you’ll…want to tell me.”

    He laced his fingers with hers as he drew her hand from his mask. “I do want to tell you,” he answered, caressing her bare chin with a gloved hand. “But... well..” Still gentle, he pulled her mask down over o fully cover her features. It made an oddly erotic contrast with her bare body. “For now, it’s safer for us to be the Raven and the Nightengale, instead of, well, whoever we are.”

    God, he wanted to take her in his arms again. But he stepped back, letting her fingers slip through his. “We shouldn’t meet here again,” he said. “Not in our masks, at least. No sense in giving any hints to the people who will try to kill us. Who will try to kill you, if you want to continue.” His features moved, hinting at the smile his mask concealed. “But I’ll be in the audience. Try to figure out who I am.”

    He stepped back again, forcing himself to move further away. Then he looked sharply behind and to the right of Nightengale. A simple bit of misdirection that - there was nothing there but, like most people, she looked. And when she did he moved quickly, leaving through the office door. He’d done it, or things like it, enough to know that it would look like he’d vanished. He’d have to teach her that, later.

    Later.

    Sliding silently through the dark theater, heading towards the service trance, he considered that. Later. This... complicated things. But, he found he didn’t mind. Then he stopped as he touched the doorknob, realizing something. His motorcycle was on the other side of town.

    It was going to be a long walk home.
     
    A blink and the Raven was gone, as if he had never been here. All that was left was the lingering scent of his sweat and the pleasure he left warm inside her. And soon, that would have to be gone too, if she were to stay safe.

    The shower was a splurge, but hey, since she was renovating the club anyways. Besides, it was hot under the stage lights, and it would be nice to get clean here, without having to stew in her sweat all the way home. She hadn’t expected to use it this way, but it gave her idea. She couldn’t meet the Raven here again, but she could me Marilyn here. Or maybe even William…

    After a quick shower Mercedes dressed in a spare dress from her wardrobe, hiding her costume under a thick fur coat. Since it was still the middle of summer, it shouldn’t draw attention or be disturbed for any reason. A temporary solution, but she’d have to figure out something more permanent. Maybe even a place she could meet with the Raven. To strategize, of course.

    It was after 3 am when she got home, and Vinnie stirred as she walked through the door. Luckily for her, he was still groggy, and wasn’t asking many questions after she offered him a pain pill. “Here, let’s get you to bed.”

    “Wha’chu doing up, anyways?” Vinnie asked, still slurring some as he used the crutch to help him stand. He groaned as he put pressure on his leg, and his pain was a small victory.

    “Thought I heard something. Been so worried that Raven is gonna try and hit you again.”

    Vinnie laughed, “Don’t you worry baby, that fucker ain’t a problem no more.” Vinnie laughed some more, and Mercedes strained to keep a smirk off her face. Vinnie didn’t know yet that he was safe. And he’d never know she was the one who saved him. Not unless she told him with a gun trained on him.
     
    Vinnie whistled to himself as he shaved, a pleasant feeling of contentment washing over him. Sure, his leg a bed still. But he was out of the damn hospital and Mercy had welcomed him home with an enthusiasm that... well, that he’d never seen from her before. She was smoking hot, but she’d always been kind of passive in the sack. He’d certainly never suspected she’d blow him in the kitchen, and let him cum on her tits. Pity she’d forgotten about his bum leg in the excitement, but just remembering it was getting him hard again. Maybe he’d have her right there right on the dining room table, give it to her good and hard?

    He rinced the razor off, dried his face, and slapped on some aftershave. Silvio should be reporting in, too. Maybe he’d wait until he got the news, make a celebration of it. Fuck yeah, that’d be hot. Celebrate the Raven getting put out of his misery by laying some pipe. Hell, now that he knew Mercy had a wild side, maybe they could try a few things. He’d have to be careful of his leg, yeah, but maybe he could manage fucking that hot ass of hers. Isabel sure got dc on that...

    Isabel. Fuck, there was a thought. Railing Isabel and Mercy at the same time. The thought put a smile on his face that stayed as he got dressed and limped out to the kitchen. Mercy was already there, cooking up breakfast like she didn’t have to do anymore. They had a cook for that, but it made him smile more. “Takin’ care of yer man, huh?” he whispered, pressing up against her so she could feel his appreciation pushing into her rear. One hand stayed on the crutch, but the other slid over her stomac and up, cupping and squeezing a breast. “Well, after breakfast, I’m gonna take care of you, baby.” Grinning, he kissed the back of her neck and pushed against her rear, then limped over to the table.

    Immediately, his mood changed. The morning paper sat in his spot, positioned between his silverware and his coffee. “GANGLAND SHOOTOUT ROCKS CITY” the headline screamed. In slightly smaller font it added “Explosions and fire destroy two warehouses, leave 12 dead”. Sinking into his chair he grabbed the paper, reading the article frantically. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Fucking fuck!” he snarled, throwing the paper across the kitchen. Shaking with rage, e grabbed his crutch. “No time for breakfast, dollface,” he growled, heading for his office. “I gotta make some calls.”


    “Your story?” William asked, laying the paper down and picking his coffee up.

    “Not just mine,” Marilyn corrected. “Once I heard what happens, I called up Clark and Jimmy and Peter, and we put a bunch of work into getting interviews and photos, and writing it up. We didn’t scoop anyone,” she looked smug, “but we sure as hell got more than any other paper in Chi-town.”

    Emmett nodded. “One of these days she isn’t going to fall me at three AM and scream ‘stop the presses’,” he gripped in good humor, “and when I finally wake up from a good night’s sleep the shock will kill me.” He looked over William, who was smothering a yawn and starting his third cup of coffee. “You all right? You look like shit.”

    “I’m fine,” Will said, waving the question off. “Just had one of those nights where you can’t sleep.”
     
    Mercedes was on her second cup of coffee as she worked on breakfast. She didn’t usually cook this much, but when Vinnie woke up feeling amorous, breakfast was the only excuse she could muster up. But when Vinnie hobbled into the kitchen, still feeling amorous, Mercy wished she’d opted for an Irish coffee instead.

    “You need to take easy, while you’re healin’,” Mercedes argued, wishing it were that easy. Wishing the feel of his hard on prodding her ass, or the touch of his hand on her body didn’t make her want to vomit. She focused on breakfast as Vinnie limped away, flipping sausages and scrapping eggs off the pan before they could burn. Vinnie picked up the news with the swish of paper, and Mercedes found herself reaching for the butcher knife, just incase his rage turned towards her.

    But Vinnie stalked out of the kitchen instead, and once the door to his office slammed, Mercedes could finally release a long-held breath. Then, she got to work, crushing up a pain pill in his coffee, and making him a plate of breakfast. This gave her an excuse to eavesdrop on his calls, see if she couldn’t dig up a bit more information she could use, or pass along. Whether to William and Marilyn or the Raven, either appealed to her. But there was nothing to be gained this morning, as Vinnie filled his office and the connecting hallway with wrathful curses and angry demands.

    Still filled with a smug pride that she was the cause of his ire this morning, and he had no idea, Mercedes had to reminded herself not to smile as she entered his study. “Get it done,” he growled into the phone before slamming it down.

    “What’sa matter?” Mercedes asked, avoiding eye contact as she placed his plate and coffee before him.

    Nuthin’ doll, nuthin’,” Vinnie huffed. He stirred his coffee, his irritation coming through in the banging of metal against ceramic “How is the Cage comin’ along, anyways?”

    “Should be ready to open up again on Thursday. Gonna to try and have rehearsals on Wednesday afternoon.” Mercedes placed a pain pill on the desk, beside his food. “And eat something, please. You need to keep your strength up if you are going to recover.”

    “You sound like my mother, che Dio l'abbia in gloria.” Vinnie made the sign of the cross, before digging into his meal, “Let me get someone on you, for the reopening. I hate the idea that this masked joker might try and hit you just to hurt me.”

    His worries brought back memories of the Raven, of tasting his lips and tongue while his cock filled her. Oh, he hit it, alright. “The Raven would have to be just about stupid to show up again,” Mercedes waved off. Having one of Vinnie’s men follow her around would make it hard to meet with the Raven. Or the Stones, for that matter.

    “Yeah, well it ain’t jus’ one dumb lug gunning for me. I’ll put Paulie at Cage, to keep an eye on ya.”

    Great,     she was going to have to lose this goombah if she expected to get anyway on her revenge scheme. “Great, hun. I feel safer already”
     
    “Good to hear it, babe,” Vinnie grinned. “I’ll ring him up after dinner, have him bring a car done and shadow you while you’re shopping.” He chuckled at her confused expression, then swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “The Mayor’s throwing a big shindig tonight, and all the right people are gonna be there. And me, too.” He chuckled at his joke, but his expression quickly turned hard and sour. “Capone, too. And that Bronzevile spade, Eyeball Randall. If they weren’t going, I’d give it a miss.”

    He grabbed his cane and, with a grunt, pushed himself to his feet. Then he limped across the room and pulled Mercy close, free hand squeezing her rear as he kissed her with a coffee-flavored tongue. “Get yourself dolled up,” he instructed, his lips close to hers. “And buy yourself something’s by nice. Nothing’s too good for my girl right?” He kissed her again. “After the party, we can pick up where we left off last night.”

    A final kiss, and then he spun her and playfully swatted her dump as he sent her towards the door. “Go on,” he laughed. “I gotta to a few guys a new asshole, and Yu put me in way too good a mood to do that.”



    Pauline was a broad, squat man in an ill-fitting suit that smelled of cigarette smoke and the oil that slicked his stringy black hair down. The poor fit of his clothes wasn’t really his fault - his tailor had really tried. Pauline just didn’t have a build that was suited to suits. “G’mornin’, Mrs. Morello,” he rumbled, awkwardly twisting the brim of his hat in ham-like hands. “Boss said y’was needin’ a drive round.” He managed something like a smile with his blocky, swinish face. “Said that Raven freak my gut be after you. Well, y’ain’t got nuthin’ ta worry ‘bout. Not with me ‘round.”
     
    “Thanks, Paulie,” Mercedes said with a wink, motioning towards the car, “I got a lot of errands to run today, so I hope you’re ready.” It was easier to fake amiable around Paulie than Vinnie, since Paulie wasn’t pawing all over her. Though, despite his demeanor, Mercy knew he was a brutal killer, one of Vinnie’s top enforcers. “Let’s go to the Cage first.”

    At the Cage, Paulie stayed outside, by back door. Mercedes made a show of inviting him inside, offering him a drink, but he remained steadfast in his duty. His dedication was almost admirable, if it weren’t for the fact that he was informer to Vinnie just as much as he was a bodyguard for her. Mercy was still confident Vinnie didn’t know nothing about her plan, but Paulie presented an obstacle.

    Still, the bit of privacy worked for her, as she made the call to the Chicago Daily News. William picked up. And much as she wanted to see him, or at least talk, it would never fly. Still, there was one way. “Have Marilyn meet me at the dress shop on Third and Grand, in an hour.” After all, there was nothing unusual about two women happening to be shopping at the same store. Then she could tip her off about the shindig at the Mayor’s.

    After a drink to clam her nerves, going over the last bits of paperwork to ensure that the reopening would go on without a hitch, Mercedes emerged back outside. Paulie moved to open her door for her, and she didn’t try to stop him, “Third and Grand. Vinnie wants me to pick somethin’ nice to wear tonight, so I might be awhile.”
     
    “Oh, I love it!” Marilyn gushed, playing up the ‘brainless socialite’ act just a little. Not that would have fooled anyone who knew her, or anyone who knew who it was writing under the name ‘M. Stone’. But it was amazing what you could learn with the act. Besides, the dress was a black sleeveless gown with the skirts embroidered with orange and gold flames and a Phoenix. It really was exquisite.

    “Would Madame care to try it on?” the salesman asked. He called himself Pierre, and he wore a pencil-thin Valentino mustache, and his French accent was a fraud but his gorgeous face wasn’t. Too bad he batted for the other team, she decided.

    “Of course,” she said off-handedly as she examined a shimmering dress of different greys. “Perhaps this one as well.”

    “It is too light,” Pierre declared. “Zee dark fabrics, zhey look better with your completion.”

    She examined the dress, and sighed wistfully as her gloved fingers trailed over the silk. “You’re right. I always thought I looked best in black.”

    “Perhaps zis one?” he suggested, showing her a black knee-length dress with elaborate pearl beading in an Art Deco style. Marilyn cooed over it, then looked up as the bell at the free nt door rang.

    “Mercedes!” she called, waving. “You simply must look at these dresses! I can’t decide betweenthem!”
     
    Mercedes grinned as she entered, so glad to see Marilyn again. It’d been a couple days, since the night they shared together. It felt like so much longer, while she fielded Vinnie’s advances and fought beside the Raven.

    “You would look good in anything,” Mercedes called, playing up her role. And look especially good in nothing, but that didn’t dare leave her lips. “Maybe you can help me find somethin’ to wear, since I got invited to a big party the mayor is throwin’ tonight.”

    Intrigue lit up Marilyn’s eyes, dark eyes that could pierce into truth any day of the week, and she smiled slowly, “Well, why don’t we start with a couple of these, while you tell me more about how you need to impress.”

    Taking several dresses with them, Marilyn pulled Mercedes into the fitting room. It was a tight fit, such rooms designed to fit one occupant, but Mercedes didn’t mind being so close with Marilyn. Maybe even missed her touch, a welcome touch as opposed to the way Vinnie groped her.

    “Well, all the big names are going to be there,” she announced before adding in a whisper, “all the big crime families, especially.” Keeping up the act of trying on clothes together, Mercedes turned around, and let Marilyn unzipped her dress. Again, pleasant memories of their night together flashed in her mind, but Mercedes tried to focus on the task at hand. “Something is going down tonight, and I believe it has to do with the Raven.” She tried on a sparkly black gown. Lovely, but showed far too much skin. Not that she was opposed to a provocative look, but she didn’t want to encourage Vinnie’s advances, as much as she could help it.

    Mercy wished she could go on about the Raven, confess the things they had done. But, beyond being a terrible idea for keeping her own secrets safe, Mercedes wondered how Marilyn might take to such information, given the night they spent together.

    Of course, Mercedes felt no guilt about her infidelity towards her husband. Vinnie had been unfaithful for years; why should she be any more loyal to him? But seeing Marilyn now, and remembering the night with the Raven made her uneasy. Was she cheating on them? Did she owe them her loyalty? What was she to Marilyn? Or to the Raven? How had this all gotten so confusing?

    Mercedes turned, brushing her body against Marilyn’s, further compounding her conflicted feelings. She helped Marilyn into one of the dresses she picked, and the fringe over her knees made for a tantalizing tease of skin. “If you find a way to crash it, I will cover you. Maybe we can find a scoop together?”
     
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