ÆlÆNOR

Once you see ÆlÆNOR Rife this way, shuffle your feet slowly away... unless your head does not have hole in  it yet.

Credits - Memoirs

THANK YOU: Josephin for inspiring me to start a novel series on Facebook

                     Germaine for her help in some of the Installments

                     People who subbed

                     People who have been supporting this ambition the whole time 8DDD

                     (Even if you are too lazy to read)

Memoirs - Initiale

NOTE: Sorry!! The spacing for this got screwed up...

The phrase ‘Where am I?’ broke the silence in the dimly candlelit room, in a mansion off the coast of Cagliari, Italy. ÆGLÆCAsat up from hislying position, with a sharp

pain shooting through his shoulder, not to mention a blinding headache. Bearing

the pain through the grit of teeth, ÆGLÆCAfocused his

vision to figure out where he was. Getting his feet of a sofa and setting them

on parquet flooring, he began to scan his surroundings. This was definitely his

home, and he spotted a shrike throwing knife placed on his crystal gate-leg

table. With a rude jolt he vaguely recalled what happened.The armed syndicate of the Genovese family launched a siege onÆGLÆCA’s family, the Lucchese

family. With this sudden recall,ÆGLÆCAslid down the stairway

railing in his socks, eventually ending up on the first floor from the second.

Expecting a razed space, he was taken aback by the sight of a proper living

room with nothing obviously out of place or out of the ordinary.‘I took the

liberty of tidying the living room, Sir.’ A voice behind him sounded.ÆGLÆCAspun round,

startled, to find his butler putting on the finishing touches on a bust of

Hades, the Greek god of Death.‘In the past, if

you were not so disorientated, you would have sensed me immediately,’ the

butler Pierro quipped. ‘Here, have some water.’Thanking his

butler,ÆGLÆCAsipped his specially

imported Irish spring water while paying attention to the damage report by his

butler.

‘The Lucchese has suffered a huge number of casualties which has reached a

death count of...,’ Pierro’s eyes lost its focus and his voice trailed.‘Of what? Tell

me.’ÆGLÆCAinsisted.‘We were the

only two who survived. You saved me and dragged me off when I was unconscious,

then you passed out to not long after. It was fortune that allowed me to wake

up and bring us to a safe place.’ The loyalButleradmitted.

‘I would not have expected anything less from my butler,’ÆGLÆCAgrinned.

The grin did not reach his eyes. That was weird,ÆGLÆCA’s displays of

pleasure were always well portrayed, the butler noted.

‘Displays of levity over,’ÆGLÆCAsaid with deadly and chilly

calm. ‘Excuse me while I go take a shower, and make plans for our future. Plans

that will make use of our limits, and my deviousness.’

Pierro nodded. WhenÆGLÆCApushed himself to his full

limit, no one would be safe. No one except for those on his side.In a polo shirt

and cargo pants, ÆGLÆCA did not bother to dry his

hair and walked up to his room. He sat on his pearl grey Cantilever chair and

extended his specially modified Willow-wood drawing table and began to

strategize. It was a beauty to watch as ÆGLÆCA laid out plans

with advanced precision. After three hours of strategizing,ÆGLÆCArubbed his temples and

crashed into the bed in exhaustion, facing his exquisite golden chandelier. He

had just finished arranging a strategy blue-print comparable to the German

BlitzKrieg itself. The next hour

was a blur.ÆGLÆCAshowed and discussed the

blue-print of the strategy with Pierro. After adding the finishing touches to

the plan,ÆGLÆCAand Pierro decided to make

this the greatest and last illegal venture for the Lucchese family. After this,

they would be going straight. The sacrifices and casualties in the Mafia were

too much a price to pay.ÆGLÆCAput on a full

Dragon Tang Chinese suit sewn by his butler. Along with that, he put on a black

wide-brim Akubra and a transparent scarf. His artillery was a .41Æcaliber UZI Carbine, along with countless shrike knives hidden round his

body. Pierro’s outfit was a full Tiger White Tang Chinese suit with a deliberately

torn crimson scarf. His artillery was a 20Ft lash Bullwhip and a .22LR caliber

UZI-micro.ÆGLÆCAwas ready to avenge his

family and create a peaceful future for himself and his butler.ÆGLÆCApulled up in a

Keaton ’89 BM in front of the Genevese mansion. The siege of a ratio, 2:243 was

about to start.Pierro gained access

to theGenoveseMansionby gunning down the five

professional guards without a sweat, at close quarters. Apparently the opposing

syndicate was immediately alerted because the momentÆGLÆCAand Pierro stepped into the

mansion, they were greeted with a friendly welcome of about seventy guns all

pointed at them. With mutual understanding, Pierro andÆGLÆCAbegan to work on their own

halves.ÆGLÆCAran up the velvet walls and

faced eight opponents all at once, and threw a few shrike throwing knives at

them. What was left were eight headless opponents without the ability to ask

where their head went.ÆGLÆCAtook out his gun and began

to gun down seventeen of his opponents with ease. The opponents did not even

have the dexterity to dodge a ray of light, how could they defeatÆGLÆCA? The remaining ten were

left unable to walk or write due to the lack of body parts to perform those

advanced daily actions, and the lack thereof was caused by five shrikes thrown

with precision at them.Pierro opted for

a more time saving method. He used his whip to tangle clusters of his opponents

and began to demonstrate his UZI’s penetration power. Guess who it was

demonstrated on, and the penetration power should be easily guessed considering

the fact that Pierro was able to take out three opponents per shot, through the

place where their puny minds were thinking, ‘Oh no, please no.’ The remaining

were taken out by them slipping and being hit by a tiny bullet in a

split-second, mid-air.Now with the

ratio of 2:173, everything was so much easier. Rooms were stained the same

color as their velvet walls, and the two Lucchese family members were drenched

in crimson. The crimson was not theirs though.AsÆGLÆCAand Pierro reached the

final room, they began to have their most candid and probably final

conversation.

‘Pierro, where did your formal nature go?’ÆGLÆCAasked, with a

grin that reached his eyes.

‘Formal I may be, but I am still a Pierrot in my inside’ Pierro responded with

a jester’s accent and giggle.ÆGLÆCAturned away

from his comrade and opened the Oakwood doors, preparing for the worst.Two men of lean physique were standing on both sides of an old man in the

middle. One man was wielding a traditional katana, while the other was

clutching a pair of dual-wield knives. The room was comparable to a ballroom,

albeit a ballroom that was to be a battlefield with hostility and a losing

side.The man with the katana charged toward Pierro, and the two got involved in

an all-out brawl, though professional martial combat was closer to the description.

Pierro used his whip handle to block the first slash by his opponent, and

delivered a lash that would have totally ripped the skin of a normal person.

However, the opponent side-stepped, feet landing with a thump louder than a

full series of pyrotechnics, which was louder than expected though the hall was

so spacious that each echo amplified every sound made. Eventually, after a

series of exchanged blows, Pierro was driven up the wall, only physically. He

ran up the surface and somersaulted over to his opponents blind-side. The

samurai managed to turn faster than the speed of a cheetah. Not fast enough. A

red rose blossomed on his chest as the spiked end of the Bullwhip pierced

through his torso, back to front. It was withdrawn swiftly with a sonic boom

and the samurai slumped onto the marble flooring, staining it poppy red.ÆGLÆCAlocked his gaze

onto the man with dual knives and surged toward at him with his shrike dagger.Sparksflew and the

metallic sound echoed round the hall. The opponent glared calmly atÆGLÆCA, and that glare was

spine-chilling, as it looked similar to the gaze that Pierro locks onto an

opponent that he would successfully eliminate. The opposition attempted a

downward thrust toÆGLÆCA’s neck, only for his knife

to be deflected.ÆGLÆCAslid smoothly across the

floor with a piercing and lengthy screech, and threw 3 shrike knives at the

opposition. The opponent was quick and skilled enough to deflect all the knives

moving at the speed of sound. However, with a snap of two fingers, the opponent

lost the ability to think, due to the blinding pain that compassed the whole of

his body. He slumped onto the floor, his fleshed ripped in various places,

making him look like a piece of writing paperÆGLÆCAoften used.‘You forgot that

I use wires to slice, not only daggers’ÆGLÆCAgrinned, while

strumming a fine wire that was tough and fine enough to slice through steel.

The very type of wire that ripped through his opponent’s flesh. ‘Or did I

forget to tell you that?’The elder was

the only person left in the hall. AsÆGLÆCAapproached, he

seemed to look concerned for him, and also seemed to accept the fate that would

be applied to him.A voice sounded

behind the duo. ‘Please, don’t do it.’Pierro looked

back at the fallen dual blade and was mildly surprised. He then asked why didÆGLÆCAnot finish him off.‘He seemed to

bear a resemblance to you.’, was the reply.Pierro turned

toward the dual blade and asked him why not and the reply was,‘He is your

father,ÆGLÆCA.’ÆGLÆCAstood frozen in

time for a moment, then observed the elder carefully. They bore the same golden

eyes, and their clothes, the elder was wearing a Gold Dragon Tang Chinese suit,

which was exactly the same design withÆGLÆCA’s own.‘I will still continue to pray,please bestow upon this child your love,upon our

joined hands, leave a gentle kiss.’ The elder whispered audibly.ÆGLÆCAlooked at his

father in shock. That was the phrase his father always used to comfort him in

times of distress. However, this father was the one who destroyed his Lucchese

family and left him.‘Your father

left you because he did not want to risk your safety while he was working in

the Underworld. However, as you walked in his footsteps, your father decide to

form this group, to eliminate the syndicate that would lead you astray. Your

father wanted for you a life of peace,ÆGLÆCA.’ The fallen

dual blade pleaded.‘What is your

name? ’ÆGLÆCA asked, with an apple in his

throat.‘Harley, the

Harlequin.’ Was the reply. ‘I am your father’s right-hand man.’Everything was

connected like jigsaws in a puzzle now. Both families had a clown as their

right-hand men, both had the same signature outfit and both father and son knew

the stanza of that sacred children’s lullaby.ÆGLÆCA broke down and

began to reflect on his past. He had spent his life as a Mafia boss in raids

and anarchy, while his father was dealing in business dealings, albeit not entirely

legal.ÆGLÆCA spent his life in chaos

while his father was trying to bring him back to peace. He realized he was the

one who had gone wayward, and was left speechless. He was in the wrong.The father,

Ællen, reached his hand down and patted his son’s shoulder. He used the hand of

forgiveness and apology to lift him up, and promised a peaceful life, as father

and son, of course the two right-hand men too. A peaceful life as family and

friends.

Memoirs - Memory 2

Sparrows chirping, the peaceful sound of tree leaves rustling and the quiet ambience of the afternoon surrounding and engulfing me in calm silence… Seems like a position anyone would wish for, right?

Not me.

In Math lesson I was bored stiff as the teacher just droned theory after theory, equation after equation, while expecting the whole class who is scared stiff by her not to fall asleep. Heck, I would might as well tell her that I bought x kilograms of peanut butter for $y and make her so proud of me.

Do not get me wrong. My Math teacher is awesome. She explains theory in a detailed manner that would shame any college lecturer. However, if she would cut down on her harsh attitude and understand weaker students like my Second Language teacher, whom is one of the best teachers to me, my Math may have improved by leaps and bounds compared to now.

Great! Five minutes have passed; hence I am left with only about an hour or more left with dreaded arithmetic. Sarcasm is not my second language, but I was pretty sure I got the message across to myself.

Twirling a compact shrike throwing knife round my index finger, I behaved in class and kept quiet to at least do my best conduct wise in Math class. The knife was given to me by my father. I never seen him, but my guardian used this phrase a lot. Well… a lot as in, well, you get my point.

‘Oh, your parents? My, your mom is working abroad in some foreign country, while your father is… um, conducting some… business in Italy, Cagliari.’

Oh well, she did a good job of covering the fact that my mom was the victim of an unfortunate fate for quite a while. It was three days when I found out Mother was buried six-feet underground.

After one thousand, four hundred and ninety-three revolutions, Math lesson was over. At least I learnt how to count above a thousand by myself.

The jovial Science teacher then entered into the classroom. He is one of my favorite teachers, and I did not even notice it was his period then. I shone a smile and greeted him jovially. It was heartening to attend a lesson you could understand.

That hour was one of the best times I went through. I was doing a chemistry lesson with the girl I was fond of, while we went through the lesson happily with each other with a jovial Science teacher to aid us on our learning. That hour was a blur, my heart was cart wheeling around, I did not even know if I was blushing or not, but never mind that. I was quite sure I was radiating happiness and joy based on the fact that my partner always laughed with me. Oh well, this is part of youth.

A gunshot sounded. Total silence, followed by a clearly organized catastrophe, followed by total chaos. Our Science teacher told us to stay still, and relax. Apparently he was not relaxed himself, because he was clasping tightly on an emergency hammer, as if he could out maneuver a speeding bullet with a giga impact to the gunner’s head.

Two masked men appeared at the door. It did not seem fashionable for them to be wearing black holey scarves to cover their faces, leaving only their piercing eyes full of cruelty and hate, with their mouths also uncovered, accentuating their red feminine lips, but I decided not to point that out in fear that I may get shot by one of their .41Æ bullets put through my thick skull.

The class was ordered to kneel with our faces down, as they operated machinery that sounded like a… bomb. It was a pity; they chose our class out of all the rest to plant a bomb that could take out a full building. I could not deal with the situation, I could not do anything. With a desperate prayer, while the anarchists were frisking my friends for their phones, to cut off communications, I pressed the number five on my phone, hard. That was the speed dial button for my father or his butler, whom, in one chance in a million, may not be in Italy but come to our aid.

During the tense and threatening moment, I reflected on my life. I had learnt the true meaning of ‘emergency and danger’. I never knew my father’s name, or even his butler’s name. I had spent my youth creating applications that earn me thousands of dollars and I had the girl whom I liked holding my hand for assurance. I gave her my best reassuring smile and waited, for our fate.

It was our turn. An armed ruffian kicked me and stepped on me. He took away my wallet, which had no cash anyway, and frisked me for my phone. As he reached into my pocket, warm red liquid gushed out. My phone was not taken. The blood was not mine. A man in full Dragon Tang Chinese suit, Along with a black wide-brim Akubra and a transparent scarf, his artillery a .41Æ caliber UZI Carbine, he was the one who put a Mokbi bladed throwing disc into the neck of my potential robber and killer.

Black faces turned to the new-comer, with more eyes pointed at him. Those extra eyes could fire bullets that could very well kill the class’ savior. The person arming the bomb stopped work for a while and requested for backup. None of the terms ‘Dead’, ‘Eliminate’ or ‘Neutralize’ boded well for me. I took out the Shrike throwing knife my father gave me and sliced open the neck of one of the ruffians. My necklace was ruined. My Science teacher gasped in horror, some of my classmates cheered and told me to go for it, while the rest fainted or left their mouths wide open in terror and disbelief. I hoped my father was like that too, because if he was not, he would be real mad at me if he ever heard about what I did.

The next hour was a blur. The mystery savior threw knife after knife, taking terrorists out from far ranges. As he threw out wave after wave of chrome blades with extreme precision, I went berserk. My skill was not as high as his, but my mind was set on protecting my friends. With that one knife, I sliced through enemies, eighteen times my number, which was of a ratio 1:18. I might have laughed once or twice, a laugh of pure maniac that may have scared my friends and opponents, even me, if I had heard it. I protected my friends well.

The remaining five were well coordinated and possibly the best. I got two bullets into my shoulder, and believe me. That pain is one of a kind.

Imagine yourself getting hit by a cross-pein hammer, hard on the sharp side, twenty times. Then multiply that pain by twelve. That is the approximate level of pain felt when two bullets not longer than your index finger gets through into your shoulder.

I gritted my teeth and ignored the look of concern given to my by the savior. I jumped onto the railing, leapt and ran up the walls of the corridor, eventually landing behind the barrier the elite mobsters made. As soon as they turned back to face me, what was left were five headless opponents without the ability to ask where their head went.

Good blade, I thought.

The savior raised an eyebrow at me and went into my classroom, disarming the bomb planted. My class was safe.

I felt giddy with adrenaline and human fatigue. I felt giddy with the success of protecting my friends and people special to me. However, what scared me most was that I felt giddy with pleasure of shedding blood. The blood of others. Anyways, I began to cool down and feel relief with the emergency taken care off, with none of my friends harmed.

As I proceeded back into class, my classmates and teacher had gotten back to their feet, staring at me with multiple implications.

The girl I was fond of, ÆlÆNOR, rushed at me and gave me hug of gratitude and a feeling deeper. I was frozen in trance, and I could have continued to be that way until a voice sounded.

‘Well son, I’m happy for you to have found someone you care for, and someone who cares for you. Butler Pierro is tidying up the house now, when I received your distress call. You certainly take after me, your prowess in combat and thirst for bloodshed’ the class’ savior said with a wink. ‘Afternoon to you son, I am your father. My name is ÆGLÆCA.’

Memoirs - Memory 3

CREDITS: Germaine for telling me in general what goes on in the mind of a girl that I as a boy could not understand even if it were explained in detail to me for three days (Nobody said males could not write romance novels)I will be writing in a gal's viewpoint. This essay is rated Appropriate for All Ages.

I was hugging ÆSEN in gratitude, and in fondness. He saved me and the class from imminent danger, in such a professional manner too; it was beyond my control when all my feelings for him rushed out and expressed themselves with a hug and a blush. His body was grimy with sweat and blood, but he saved us all, the whole class.

ÆSEN's father commended him for his prowess in combat, while the whole class was looking ant both the father and son in shock. I was also shocked though. Where did ÆSEN learn to fight and defend lives like that? The more I looked at him, the more malevolent and mysterious he looked. Somewhat like the calm aquamarine blue sea, with secrets under its depths, ready to unleash a tidal wave at full force anytime. In fear, I slowly released my arms from his lean and well-toned waist.

ÆSEN, for the next few days, began to withdraw himself from the class even more. It was strange, as from what I gathered he has never seen his father before, until about three days back. He... he should be happy right? What has happened to him? Out of care, I approached him during the lunch break and tried to find out what was wrong.

Things did not go as planned. I thought I had mustered enough will-power and courage to talk to him. However, being a girl, my heart-rate shot up.

'Er-erm, hey' I stammered, forcing a confident smile to my face.

ÆSEN looked genuinely surprised when I sat next to him, trying to talk to him. That was when I realized that I was sitting a hair's breadth away from him. I abruptly backed off.

'What's wrong? You have tied your sandwich lunch into a knot.' ÆSEN commented.

I looked down and saw my butter sandwich tied up like a rock candy wrapper. Oh, I am such a genius, I brushed away the subject, and rushed straight into the point, which made things even harder for myself.

'Well, you do not seem to be in top form, what is wrong?' I said slowly trying to show the concern in my voice instead of the nervousness.

ÆSEN was not offended but was quite open, to my relief. He explained things to me briefly which made me want to pull him close to me and tell him all would be fine. However, I did not think I could do that.

'It's my family. I have a tragic and... complicated family history that would be best kept secret. I really do not know who I am, or what my life should be anymore.'  ÆSEN shook his head as his shoulders drooped.

'Meet me in the park at three o'clock tomorrow.'

'What?'

'I said, meet me at the park tomorrow!' I said slightly louder, mustering my courage. Heads turned. My courage ran away like a coward.

Blushing, I tried to keep my voice a little bit softer from then on, while ÆSEN looked at me quizzically. He assented and left the table. The bell rang.

At three o'clock, I proceeded to the park. The scenery was great there, and this was the first time I noticed it. Lush greedn trees whispered secrets to each other through the rustling if their leaves, birds were chirping random songs that somehow seemed good when heard. The lamposts were off and the light-brownish road was faintly litted by the sunset rays of light. ÆSEN was sitting on a wooden bark bench, reading a book.

'Hi,' I called.

ÆSEN turned and acknowledged me. He closed his book and did not mind as I sat beside him.

'Peaceful day, right?' He asked.

'Agreed,' I replied.

'So what do you want to talk about?' ÆSEN asked,'I have a ... family to attend to.'

'W-well, I just wanted to know what has happened. Why are you so troubled? When did you learn to fight to protect lives like that?' I stammered and asked.

'That is... Not something you want to know.' ÆSEN muttered,'I skirt on the sides of the law. If you value your life, please, do not come close to me that much anymore.' He held his face in his hands in dejection.

I stared at two bluebirds singing and tried to think of what to say. Before they flew away, I felt myself flying. The trailwind rushed along my legs and my hair trailed behind me. ÆSEN was carrying me, with his hair caught in the draft and his transparent scarf running along with the wind. In his wolf fur-coat and transparent scarf, he looked simply dashing.

Not to mention fatal and dangerous.

His eyes had the Ace of Spades symbol as the pupil, when I realized they were contact lenses. ÆSEN put me down and turned to face the danger. Several thugs, about twelve of them, were wielding hand knives, attempting to rob us. ÆSEN knew. Considering the fact I am a female, things could have been a lot worse for me. As those thugs advanced toward us, ÆSEN drew a scythe. About two metres long, with a wicked blade that could slice air standing at ninety centimetres. My mind and body instintively inched away from that harbringer of death. 

ÆSEN began slashing our assailants mercilessly with the scythe. Despite my admiration as he took out the terrorists in school before, This time I could not stand the bloodlust and the fatality of what he was doing. It was too brutal. I am a girl, I prefer innocent and cute stuff, while trying to find my dream life-partner. I looked for attitude and sensitivity in a male. However, what ÆSEN was doing was ... too much for me.

'STOP!' I yelled.

ÆSEN froze his blade as he was bringing it on a downward slice. When the thugs began to back off and run for their lives, I walked toward him and did something I never thought I would have ever done. I slapped ÆSEN, hard.

Surprisingly, ÆSEN did not look in disbelief or in hurt. He seemed to know what was coming, and he just accepted it. 

I started raising my voice at him, and I did not know what words came out of my mouth. I was too angry. Too concerned, too sorry. I finally stopped after a period of time and began to speak in a quiet voice to him.

'ÆSEN, please... Tell me what is wrong. You are much more different since I met you.' I sobbed to him. 'The ÆSEN I knew was caring and compassionate, willing to give others a second chance. However, now you seem troubled. Torn apart, uncertain and brutal. Please... Tell me what is happening, I will try to help.'

ÆSEN had a lost look in his eyes for a moment, and turned away from me. Not in pride or in rejection, but in the feelings or uncertainty and dejection. What I said later made everything worse for him.'ÆSEN, I am sorry. You... you are on a different level from me. A different status. We are not supposed to be together.' I said this, and I could not believe I did, and I regretted it.

ÆSEN carried on walking in the moonlit path, head down and hands in his pocket. 'ÆSEN, I am coming to help you soon. Just give me time.' I thought to myself.With a jolt, something awakened in me. I felt... smarter. More empathetic and with the ability to sympatize and to know what others are thinking and feeling better. As I looked at ÆSEN walking away, I could see the aura of fear and dejection emnating from his being. I could see some affection for me in him, something I never knew and was oblivious to. I resolved to help him all the more. ÆSEN disappeared into the shadows in dejection and rejection. We did not end up together. I planned to remedy that.

Memoirs - Memory 4

NOTE: And... Shucks. This is not my best, but at least the next and the last Installment would involve better descriptions, more action and more romance~ So wait for it! (I love how I managed to use foreign words and actions here XD)

The fire crackled heartily in the platinum fireplace, while thrushes chirped cheerfully in the midst of the lush evergreen trees.

The homely room area was peacefully dimly lit as a silver Neo-Baroque shone its vermillion rays of light shallowly around the room. The expected silence was broken by a allegro rhythmic pounding sound that would put have put a snare drummer to shame.'Nice, but I that does not suit my style. Too rooted.' A voice sounded, the location of the source unidentifiable.

ÆGLÆCA turned in surprise and tried to find the mystery visitor in his room. As he scanned the area and looked around cautiously, he literally tripped and scrambled back in fright as a shadow was cast right beside him.

'Dad, you can't be that weak right?' I asked. 'You were the one who taught me how to use my body to its full potential.'

'ÆSEN, please, you are on a skill level too high for me to keep up anymore.' Dad protested. 'The Parkour that you picked up, it allows you to blend in, and allows you to move at Godspeeds. Maybe allowing you to be a traceur was a big mistake.' Dad heaved a sigh of mock regret.

I laughed it off and began to look around. This is one of the first times I felt really at home. As Dad resumed his bullet hacking, I sat on his Cantilever chair trying to visualize new moves and reflect on my life. 

ÆlÆNOR had seemingly dumped me, though that was only on a surface level perspective. School was getting more and more boring and I have mastered the full art of Parkour, though new moves kept coming up in my head. I began to know the meaning of 'Live to learn, learn to live'. I got up and slipped out of the room, Dad fully unaware. I heard a sizzling noise. That was the fifty-sixth punching bag Dad burst, I deductively reasoned. I smiled and got out of the room.

My training room was in the basement but I was on the third floor. I did not take the stairs. No, my house had no elevators. I dashed toward the terrace balcony of the house and...executed a Saut de Fond. The white polished ornamental stepping stones neatly arranged on the deep green grass seemed to inch nearer as I allowed myself to freefall. Executing a cat-twist in mid-air, I built up momentum as the continuous rotatary motion made me go faster and made everything so much cooler, both physically and figuratively. I straightened myself, head down, corkscrewing with both my hands and arms by my side. My raven black hair was swept backward by the slicing trailwind as I continued to corkscrew plummet down. I stretched out my hands, performed a Demitour, grabbing a grip on a mango tree branch, that broke off immediately after I grabbed it. The Passement Assis was considered useful in that situation, as, if I did not learn that, I would have fallen all the way down together with that weak branch. As it fell all the way down, I did  not have time to heave a sigh of relief. I gained enough momentum to propel myself forward as I managed to swing the instant I gripped the branch. I rushed toward the open window of my room, landing with the format of the Saut de Rotation on the first floor, allowing momentum to do its job. I entered my room with savage speed, ending up in my bed. I got up unscathed, dusted my clothes and leapt through the trap door under my Arabian carpet, which lead to the basement. No elevators or stairs were used. Not even a ladder.

The walls were pine brown in color, and the floor was full asphalt. The area was a jungle of wooden and stone obstacles and railings for me to practise Lâchés, Saut de chat inversé, Saut de précision, Passe murailles and many other more Parkour stances. My record on the 150" Plasma screen was standing at three minutes to overcome a full 50m x 25m asphalt flooring indoor sports hall. I planned to best that today. I did, and I almost sprained my ankle. I did not. I beat my record standing at two and a half minutes.

I executed Passe Muraille to get up to my room, then proceeded to the grand hall. Ællen, my grandfather, was sitting on the couch reading articles on Chinese history and the British Economy. I greeted him and settled down on the davenport sofa to catch my breath. As the house was in almost total silence, I heard heavy running steps outside the apartment.

Our simple door was barged down and Carabinieri started to storm him and scan the place. I was shocked as the unwelcome visitors began to tell us to put Gramp's and my heads on our heads, but we obliged. They started questioning us on where Dad was. I was confused, on what crime Dad had commited. He has got a file on Interpol but, he would have been professional enough to cover his tracks.

I calculated the odds of each scenario. First, I let my Dad be captured, then Gramps and I bust him out of prison. Second, we fight off the cops then buy us some time to strategize, with Dad. I gave a meaningful glance at Grandpa and executed a Saut de Mur, gaining swift access to the staircase. Then Passe Muraille from the first flight of stairs to the second storey, leaving all the machine gun bullets missing me narrowly. I rushed toward Dad's room and the last scene I saw was Gramps changing his stance, ready for his หมัดเหวี่ยงกลับ, the most originally modiefied, and the most fatal Muay Thai techique of his. One would have felt sorry for the ratio of a 1:24 battle scenario. Felt sorry for the twenty-four people that is.

Ællen took out the first cop easily by jabbing his fist into the opponent's neck nerve cluster. What followed were sequences of rapid fire หมัดเหวี่ยงสั้น, leaving many Carabinieri  bodies battered and beaten. The jabs were all speed, but little weight, however with Ællen หมัดเหวี่ยงสั้น rapidly in succession, the accumulated impact would have been enough to fall a medium sized hippopotamus. The last few immediately arm shields, pointing Desert Eagles at the fighter whom had just felled about half of their professional strike team. One cop took aim and fired. Ællen equipped his steel metal gloves and wristguards with a reinforced iron elbow and knee pad. He executed a ศอกพุ่ง to deflect the spinning bullet at terminal velocity, and he used a ศอกเหวี่ยงกลับ-กระโดดศอก to immediately knock out the opponent. The metal brace on his elbow immediately shattered the protective tinted plastic face shied, allowing full access of the impact to reach his pitiful face. The cop's face was not a pretty sight.At close quarters, the rest of the cops were dispatched with multiple ศอกกลับคู่ in succession. The last one had his shield and plastic visor shattered by a กระโดดชก-กระโดดศอก. To watch Ællen in mid-air ready to land a final blow was as elegant as watching a ribbon gymnast twirl, albeit a ribbon gymnast whom uses her ribbon to tie up and incapicitate her enemies. Ællen unequipped his combat gear, tied the law enforcers up and threw them into the attic. After dusting his hands, he proceeded to ÆGLÆCA's room. Something was amiss and something had to be done.

Gramps entered the room to see me and Dad finishing the final plot. When he asked what was going to be done about this, Dad simply replied.

'This is a carefully planned set-up by another opponent, and this one is good, possibly on par with us, considering the fact he also has the law on his side. First I go to jail, then we take out whoever is doing this to us.'

Dad,go to jail?  This was going to be the most exciting venture, possibly the last.

The room door opened. No one else was in the house except us three who were in the room. As we got our defenses up, a feminine voice sounded.

'Mind if I help?'

I looked up in total shock at the grinning face of ÆlÆNOR Rife, the top strategist in class.

Memoirs - Memory 5

'I've got your tracks covered.' ÆlÆNOR reported. 'You are clear to enter the Carabinieri HQ.'

Of course, I trusted that voice. ÆlÆNOR was the Lucchese family's strategist. No surprises she graduated with a Doctorate of Physics and a PHD of Law Enforcement at the tender age of 14.

The back story of me, a member of one of Italy's most deadly Mafia groups entering the major Italian law enforcement HQ is that my dad was sent to jail because of a tip-off, conspiracy, corruption and most importantly a severe miscarraige of justice.

Not that he minded though. Dad was the one who waltzed into the Carabinieri HQ singing the song 'Party Rock Anthem' in front of the counter. It took about 15 minutes for the poor guy to identify a Mafia member with a 50 terabyte Interpol profile. Dad was locked up in the local guantanamono within half an hour, because he coorperated.

However, that was the plan. Dad get caught and we let him taste prison food for a day, then we bust him out of jail. In this case, the one busting him out is me. I put on my print-on tattoo on my fore-arm, then proceeded into the Carabinieri HQ. 

The first thing I did when I entered was to lean against the officer's counter, spilling all his coffee and flaunting off my tattoos. After yelling in pain for several minutes, he cooled down and shot me a withering glare. Obviously with my tattoos and actions, he already has got a bad impression of me. Not like I gave a damn though. That was going to be the last we would see of each other.

'What do you want?' The officer snarled. It was hard to take him seriously though. His face was comically tomato red, and I could have bet on my blood that I saw steam hooting out of both of his ears.

'I want to rent a room, 3D2N, Lunch and dinner provided.' I replied. Apparently my poker face drove Mr Officer crazy.

'This is not a goddamn hotel, smart boy.' Mr Officer growled. 'You want a room you get off my counter and look for a proper hotel, and I hope your bedsheets are torn.' 

'I thought the sign outside stated Hotel de Police,' I inquired 'I have heard that people have stayed a lifetime here for free.'

'ÆSEN, serious.' A stern voice sounded in the earpiece attached to my ear. 'We are on a jailbreak mission and this is no time to crack jokes.' I obeyed. Of course, since it was ÆlÆNOR, I would always obey her. One, she was the Lucchese family strategist. Two, well... I see her in a different light from all my other friends. You get my point, and no more probing!

Mr Officer rolled his eyes. 'You ever commit a crime smart aleck?'

I replied a simple No. That was the biggest joke I have ever told in my life.

'Then you come back when you have commited one.' Mr Officer retorted. I raised an eyebrow. Apparently Mr Officer required more baiting.

I leaned forward, my face centimetres away from his. 'Dude, I am a potential criminal,' I whispered ominously into his face, 'You let me go now, I may screw everything up. Big time.'

The fat guy in blue pushed me back and told me, 'I tell you what, smartass. After you have screwed things up, then you come to me. I will have a nice gray cell for you.'

I stopped leaning on his counter and turned my back to him. I took a step forward, pretending to get out through the door. Without warning I jumped, turning in mid-air. I stretched out a leg and smashed Mr Officer in his face at point blank. That was the second time in 15 minutes his face turned beetroot again. His subordinates subdued me in less than 5 minutes, because I coorperated. I chuckled as I heard the swearing and yellings of Mr Officer in the background.

Mr Officer personally escorted me to my nice gray cell.

'The view would not be a problem.' Mr Officer insulted. 'All cells have the same visual landscape.'

 He attempted to key in the passcode on the keypad at the side of the gate. He tried, and failed. Before his fat hairy arm reached the keypad, I backflipped and smashed his face for the third time in the row, against the railings. I hooked out the keys from his back pocket and unlocked my handcuffs. I used Mr Officer's handcuffs against himself, and cuffed him to the railing of the cell. After chucking his own sock into his mouth, I leapt to the ceiling and kicked off a loose tile. I then proceeded to find my father.

After scouting through the rest of the cells, I finally found my dad. He was clocking his three hundred and sixty second sit up against the wall when I entered.

'You took your time.' Dad commented.

I rolled my eyes. Assassin or not, I was still a human teenager. 

'You want me to come back later?' I retorted. 'I feel like getting myself some bubbletea, you know?'

Dad smiled and told me it was fine. He gave me a bear hug as a father and I returned it as a son. I released after a few moments. That was when men in black started to swarm into the corridor.

Dad frowned and whispered, 'I thought you came in... didn't you?'

'Getting into prison, that's easy.' I muttered as a guilty child, 'Getting out, the difficulty is about the same as solving Pythagoreas Theorem.' 

Dad shot me a withering glance and surged forward. I stood my ground, looking for all possible escape routes. I knocked out a SWAT team member and pickpocketed his taser. I then strode over to an elevator and shorted out the button circuit. The doors opened with a pleasant 'ding' and I was greeted with the sight of tangled looking cables and wires. 

'That's your shortcut?' Dad asked, with an eyebrow raised.

I shrugged and began to absail upward. Dad sighed and said this uder his breath.

'I'm too old for this.' That was one of his best jokes.

After we got out of the HQ and into the fresh air outside, I was first to realize that we were trapped. The great gate that led to the streets outside. I saw a trickle of sweat slide down Dad's side of his face. I also felt the same way. We had to take action. Fast.

I swung my head, panning over the area. There had to be some way out. Dad started to dent and tear open the gates. However that would have been of little use even if we got out of that fortress. The Carabinieri would be able to catch up with us easily because they had...

I swung my head wildly to my left and dashed toward in that direction. I shattered a window made of bullet proof glass into smithereens and vaulted through the gap. I hotwired the Aston Martin Law Enforcement Stealth Interceptor and revved it to full speed. I did a 360 degree drift at 276 kmph and tripped Dad over his feet. The frontal passenger door was open hence he fell neatly into the car seat in a sitting position. I advised Dad to fasten his seatbelts. He complied, but I had a feeling I would be grounded for a few months after this was over. 

Dad helped me keep a lookout of the surroundings. Something caught his eye.

'That demolisher, I hope it would not be used against us.' Dad quipped.

I looked into the direction of the said demolisher. It was a Scania Primer, a prime-mover most probably used by the Italian Police to form roadblocks. Many metal rails were resting on a 45 degree angle. Dad saw the intent in my eyes and did the best he could do. Facepalm.

I revved the Interceptor up to its full horsepower, and executed a wheelie. The front wheels jerked up and barely made it to the makeshift ramp. I pumped the accelerator even harder, taking the Interceptor higher. 

We reached the end of the full length of the metal railings, and I let momentum do its work. The Interceptor leapt off solid ground and leapt into open air, after a period of time, which seemed an eternity, the Interceptor jolted and landed violently on the marble flooring of the third storey of the Carabinieri HQ.

I slapped myself to knock off the shock of the impact from the landing. I did not spare anytime to check up on Dad, but in case anyone was wondering, yes. He was perfectly fine. I drifted around a corner and went down a fight of stairs. I glanced at the blueprint of the building, which was conviniently pinned up on the wall. I used my heightened sense of direction, derived from my Parkour, and began to plan the quickest route out of this metaphorical lion's den. I made a drift U-Turn and proceeded West. Toward good ol' Mr Officer's head study.

Let me tell you people a little something. My impression of a study has always been a space where many encyclopedias were kept, with a bespectacled doorman at the side guarding the entrance, lined with an oakwood frame. It never occured to me that a study had doors as an entrance.

Dad seemed to wake up from his shock and trace and started to talk in steely tones. Apparently he was trying to keep himself calm, and I did not blame him.

'ÆSEN, son , there are doors ahead.' Dad said.

I admitted the point.

'Let's renovate.' I simply suggested. 

I smashed the Interceptor through the double willow-wood doors and sent dozens of books flying and strewing them about. Then I did something stupid.

I revved up the engine even more, and smashed the Interceptor into the window, that led to the exterior of the Carabinieri. For the second time in 15 minutes, I flew again.

We were suspended in mid-air for a long while. Not surprising considering the fact it was about 55 feet high. What followed after was a falling sensation and I started to perk up my senses. The Interceptor landed on all four wheels and I immediately executed a drift to minimize impact. After spinning 1080 degrees, I sped off, running over a police officer attempting to beat the car up with his baton. I reported in.

'ÆGLÆCA is fine.' I enuciated clearly. 'Making my way back to base.'

'Great!' replied ÆlÆNOR, 'Now what are the next mission parameters?' she asked.

'Let's talk over dinner.' I replied. 'I'm hungry.'

ÆlÆNOR chuckled and cut of the communication. It was a sweet sound.

Memoirs - Memory 6

Author's note: This series is may be reaching an end soon. When she left, all my inspiration was lost. However, I would finish writing these last two Installments as a tribute and a reminder to what has happened. Well, these last two Installments are written from the heart, and I hope all reading this would appreciate it :/ Anyway, I'm counting on her to continue the series, and remind me of the Memoirs of the past, and whory cow, this is gonna be a long one.

I stabbed a dice of carrot with my fork, savouring the taste of the lettuce in my mouth.

'You really like vegetables, do you?' ÆlÆNOR commented.

'Well, yeah.' I replied. 'They are tasty, soft and healthy anyway.' I then popped the carrot dice into my mouth.

The situation was quite relaxed now. Dad was at home chatting with Gramps about his younger days while ÆlÆNOR and I were just relaxing, without any stress, for now. 

I brushed up my senses and announced over the dining table. It was a bit melodramatic actually. I stood up with a poised stance, with the chandelier light shining over the table. I just got my point through.

'The Lucchese family has got a bigger threat to deal with now. One which conspires with the law and the underworld at the same time.' I stated, 'Shall we lay out all the plans and strategies ASAP?' 

Dad agreed and ÆlÆNOR started to think, but I gently stopped her. 

'This time, I will be taking charge.' I declared, 'All of us will be fighting, except for ÆlÆNOR of which of course, she has a choice.'

ÆlÆNOR pouted and protested, which of course, did not really look intimidating but quite placating.

'Hey... ÆSEN! Are you kicking me out? Geez.' ÆlÆNOR protested, 'I am part of the Lucchese family as well you know.'

I gave her a weak grin and conceded. She may be a strategist, but she might be a sure hand in combat as well. That was when I realized ÆlÆNOR did not have any weapons. She realized that too and annouced she would be looking into our artillery closet. I called out to her and stopped her in her tracks. I proceeded to my study table and heaved out a chest. I unclasped it and revealed two jade hunting knives, elaborately and elegantly carved, both a metre long each.

'These will be your weapons.' I told ÆlÆNOR. 

She held one up experimentally and was genuinely pleased with the weight and shape. I took out the last weapon in the chest. A spiked jade ring. When she saw the ring, she glanced at it a little longer an averted her eyes from me. She grasped it and slid the ring into her silky long oak brown hair and ran up to her room. I watched as her back was turned on me and wondered if I did anything wrong. Then I realized that ÆlÆNOR, being a strategist, looked at everything from various perspectives. I sighed and polished my shrike knife.

A couple of hours later, Dad called for a briefing.

'Is everyone ready to take down the opposition?' Dad inquired to all of us, 'I done some research myself. We are up against the Inzerillo Famiglia. Their HQ is not that far from here, as it is just round Sicily.' He reported. He handed the spotlight over to me.

'Dad and Gramps would take care of the West wing, while I would take care of the South Wing. ÆlÆNOR would take care of the external security and the final demolition.' I completed.

ÆlÆNOR did not look too happy. It was apparent that she wanted to be engaged in combat a little more.

'ÆlÆNOR,' I tried to reason with her, 'I cannot afford to put you in mortal danger. Anyway, you are a girl so...'

ÆlÆNOR rolled her eyes and complained about sexism being alive and well or something. 

'By the way,' ÆlÆNOR continued, 'What do you mean you can't put me in mortal danger?'

I realized that I said too much and decided to change the subject.

'Meeting ajourned.' I declared, 'The sky is pretty blue now, isn't it?'

ÆlÆNOR rolled her eyes again and got ready. I decided to do the same. I wanted to allow the Lucchese Famiglia to live a peaceful life. However I had a hidden agenda as well... I was doing everything for her.

I vaulted into my Audi R8, fully modified. As a safety precaution, I slide in a different license plate and discarded the old one. It was already slightly illegal that a 14 year old was driving, but I did not really think that the law would take kindly to a 14 year old Mafia member drifting at 285kmph on the streets.

I let my engine roar and boosted my Audi out of the garage. The rest also followed suit. Dad was putting on his seatbelts in the seat of his Nissan 370z, fully modified with an American Corvette engine in place of the Japanese turbine.

ÆlÆNOR was trying to manoeuvre her Maserati GranTurismo out of the garage, in which, of course she did. Since she preferred precision, ÆlÆNOR retracted the Auto Drive and replaced it with a Manual Drivetrain.

Gramps was not too bad with these technical subjects either. He joined us with a BMW M3 and adjusted his seat. Old people can't drive, but my Gramps was only about 50, and he was much more nimble than any 18 year old gymnast.

Now that the whole Famiglia was in formation, I revved up my engines and left the rest in my dust. As I looked in my side mirror, ÆlÆNOR was also beside me. I accepted the challenge graciuosly and left behind my trailing lights which intermerged with hers.

ÆlÆNOR and I pulled up approximately 500 metres away from the Inzerillo HQ. It was quite prominent, and it was cleverly disguised as a textile mill. Dad and Gramps pulled up a few moments later and we began to carry out each of our part of the plans that I had drawn up. This would be one of our last ventures. The full Lucchese Famiglia working as one.

ÆGLÆCA and Ællen stepped into the vicinty of the West wing of the Inzerillo HQ. This was also considered a vital step for the plan. If cronies from both the West wing and East all ganged to protect the boss, ÆSEN would have a hard time as a result. Ællen paused to ask ÆGLÆCA on how to attract the attention of the rest of the mobsters. Obviously they would not be drawn out just by a simple fire alarm. The Inzerillo Famiglia were proven to be professional already. Once was enough. It was a relatively startling experience for ÆGLÆCA previously.

ÆGLÆCA hacked into the alarm system and called up the appropriate alarm wail for a raid emergency. After a few moments, a piercing electronic wail sounded throughout the West wing, and it was obvious a horde of mobster would be panning the West anytime then.

'Run!' ÆGLÆCA hissed.

Ællen complied and leapt into a cell in the basement of the West wing. ÆGLÆCA followed and vaulted into the darkness.

The basement was quite well hidden. It was concealed under the grassy courtyard at the back of the brick warehouse of the West Inzerillo. The senior duo waited for a moment, and ÆGLÆCA barely had time to widen his eyes before a swarm of mobster were seen heading his way.

Imagine a football stadium packed with fans, all hailing their favorite players. Next multiply that volume by two, and replace the cheering sounds with the roar of chainsaws and rumbling footsteps. That was the situation the duo were in, and on a more serious note, they were shorthanded.

'Any ideas?' Ællen whispered.

ÆGLÆCA tugged out his cellphone and push the speed-dial button number 8. 

'Hello?' an electronic voice sounded over the cell.

'Erm... Pierro?' ÆGLÆCA replied, his voice shaking, 'I'm in a little bit of a bind here... so can you please come? ASAP?'

The line went dead and after a couple of minutes of anxiety, more glass got shattered into smithereens, and a butler with the manners of a jester came waltzing in. He heard the noise and turn toward his master.

'Who have you annoyed this time?' Pierro asked, exasperated.

ÆGLÆCA got ready his Hwabi throwing knives while Ællen donned his platinum full clad knuckle dusters. Pierro followed suit and drew his micro-machine guns .41 UZI and the trio got into formation, and readied a combat stance. A gunshot sounded and what followed after was some catastrophe that could very well be described in detail to do the half an hour justice.

Pierro sounded his first gunshot, and a piercing bullet sped through 5 heads of the first wave. What followed after was a raging wave and barrage of ammo being fired in a spraying formation. However, not one bullet missed its mark. However, after a a few moments, Pierro heard a click. His UZIs had to be reloaded, but that was not the pressing issue. A trained Inzerillo grunt leapt, and in mid-air, he raised a thorned club and aimed for Pierro's head...

Pierro closed his eyes to brace himself for certain death. The mobster came down, but that wasn't to mean he hit his mark. Pierro opened his eyes and felt a weight on his shoulder. He glanced to his side and noticed ÆGLÆCA's arm resting on his shoulder, and a knife being held by him. The mobster, who was unable to control the course of gravity, jumped down and put his head through the knife positioned precisely. Wiping the red stains on his face, Pierro thanked ÆGLÆCA and reloaded his artillery. Unable to staned the slopping red drench on his coat, ÆGLÆCA ripped off his Innocenti white cloak to reveal a jet-black tough polyester sleeveless shirt, with an Innocenti white dragon print underneath. His physique was showing through the shirt, as abdominal muscles were showing through the core of his body, near his stomach. He whipped out a dozen of his Hwabi throwing knifes and lashed out at the oppostion. It was 1:12, and you had to feel sorry for the dozen. Each and every head of the twelve were multiplied into two. How? You split it into two of course. Any fool knows that. ÆGLÆCA backflipped and leapt off a wall, and in mid-air lashed out two boomerangs. The two steel curved arcs of fatality razed the battlefield, and what was left over were best used as headless mannequins for target practice or dress up.

Ællen had to play a part too. The opposition closing in from the sides would have over-run the trio. However, Ællen handle the situation well. He rooted himself in the southern middle and shifted his weight. The first pair, which came from both sides were taken down by a giga-impact from and single punch dealt by both of his platinum clad fists. The subsequent raging waves that followed were dispatched as Ællen raged a barrage of fist in a Muay Thai stance, in both directions. Rooted to that single spot, he barraged and panned over the horde that was attempting to overwhelm him. No success to them though. Ællen's torso dodged and twisted, while his platinum blows knocked out every offender.

Within half and hour, five dozens of headless figures, 46 figures with a hole in their heads and 53 figures with dents in their bodies were found splayed on the floor. ÆGLÆCA lit a non-tobacco, pure spearmint cigarette and slid agianst the wall to relax. Now it was all up to his son, ÆSEN.

I ran through the various corridors, taking care not to trigger and security devices. Dodging the thirteenth security laser, I wondered how paranoid these guys could get. I froze. A shiver went down my spine and I got that sensation. The sensation when someone walks over your grave spot. I turned back and saw nothing, nobody. I carried on and checked the blueprint at the same time. I was nearing my destination. Incorrect. I glanced up and saw double doors made of reinforced titanium. My destination was just right in front of me.

Some 20 metres away, ÆlÆNOR leant against an oakwood pillar, relieved that ÆSEN had not spotted her. She steeled her resolve and wielded her two jaded hunting knives.

I whipped out the shrike blade and ripped a tear in the door. Using a techinque, Bloody Prince, that I learnt before, I barraged slashes onto the wal that seperated me from my goal. A gaping hole faced me and I vaulted in, ready for combat. I was right to be prepared. A dozen flamethrower nozzles were trained at me.

I swung the shrike 360 degrees and my offenders did not have any means to hold their flamethrowers anymore. Two dozen hands dropped onto the floor and the flamethrowers dropped as well. The rest of the offenders were trying to clutch their hands in pain. However it's quite hard to do that if you do not have a hand to clutch a hand not attached to your arm in pain.

I rose and more mobsters obstructed my way. I sighed and lashed forward as my Dad would have. 

A little trivia about me. My combat mechanism is a little bit different from my Dad's or Gramp's. As soon as I slash open somebody, I go on a blood frenzy and will not know what I have done from then on. Hence, that was what happened when I slashed open a neck with my fifteen centimetre shrike. My humane nature was submerged under a wave of feral rage, and I rushed forward. I did not know what I was doing, however my subconscious would be the one recounting the following sequence of actions. 

I slid down, under and between the legs of an offender who was attempting to slice me into half with a katana. I boosted myself up and swept my shrike in a 180 degree range, backstabbing my initial target and some marksman in front of me. My black v-neck longsleeve shirt was drenched from fresh red fluid, and not to mention ruined. I did not care though. I rushed forward, slashing my way through, in tripping motions and rushing mannerisms. I reached a wall and planted my left foot on it. I used it as a booster and leapt off. As I was in mid-air, I caught a glance of the leader in a throne seat. I wired my shrike with a fine titanium wire and swept it over the altitude below me. Heads rolled.

After all that, I was in a bind. Some professionals had me trapped, and I the immediate problem was that they were advancing with their assortment of katanas and flaming swords. One false move and I was dead.

A shimmer of green swifted through my vision. A spiked mace rammed into the face of an offender. The spikes pierced right through his pathetic skull and he dropped to the ground, his body limp. I glanced up and realized there was no mace in sight. ÆlÆNOR adjusted her spiked jade ring in her hair and I got the message. We readied a combat stance. However, I was worried. If she faced fatal danger in this combat phase, I would never will be able to forgive myself.

When ÆlÆNOR appeared, I regained my senses. I was then able to attack with calculated precision. I felt much more energized and safer. As I watched her modus operandi of combat, it was elegant and nimble. ÆlÆNOR twirled like a gymnast, her spiked jade ring piercing any offender attempting to backstab her. Her hunting knives were a flurry of slashes, dissecting any opponent in front of her. As I continued with my fight, the last person left behind was the leader of the Inzerillo Famiglia himself.

'Quite pissed after what I did to your leader, eh?' The opposition taunted and chuckled.

'Why did you do that?' I growled.

'Power.' He simply replied, 'I am the leader of one of the greatest Mafia de Famiglia in Sicily, and I plan to take over Europe.' That cocky person replied.

'So you found the need to put my dad in jail and put the Lucchese in potential mortal danger?' I questioned.

'Yes.' Came the reply. With that, he drew a Derringer, aim and fired. 

That action was so sudden that I was caught in the middle of a trance for a brief moment. However I realized the gun was not aimed at me. It was pointing to ÆlÆNOR beside me.

With full adrenaline, I sidestepped into her path, right in front of her. I then threw my shrike. The shrike intercepted the speeding bullet, and sliced it into two. The two small titanium pieces fell harmlessly ahead of us.

'Thanks.' ÆlÆNOR breathed.

I was in a state of worry and urgency. ÆlÆNOR must never be in place of mortal danger. She was special to me. With this newfound resolve, I was determined to take down the leader of the Inzerillo Famiglia once and for all. 

I looked back and noticed ÆlÆNOR fiddling with her jaded knifes. They were curved, and I realized that there were specially modified grooves along the handles, obviously added by ÆlÆNOR herself.

'It would not be favorable in strategic terms if a weapon could only be used for melee purposes,' she explained, 'Hence I added this.'

When she joined the two hunting knives together, it merged to form a two metre boomerang. After she showed me that, ÆlÆNOR pirouetted onto my shoulder and leapt up into the air with a poised position of a graceful moonlight dancer. She flicked her wrist deftly, and allowed the boomerang to fly. The throne seat shattered before the Inzerillo leader could attempt to get out. Seeing him split into two, one part his torso the other from his waist down, I found it a pity I never knew his name. Not that I would be losing any sleep over that though.

As ÆlÆNOR and I exited the fortress of the Inzerillo HQ, Dad and Gramps came to meet us as well. I saw Pierro, our butler for the first time.  He was usually overseas doing underworld tradings et cetera.

As I got into my Audi, I started to race and drift through the streets. ÆlÆNOR, who was at the same speed, called out to me and thanked me for stopping the bullet for her again.

I averted my eyes from her and rushed at a higher speed. I did not want any emotions to affect my judgement and get the better of me. After all, I was convinced that between us, it was just fiction. I hoped it would not be so though. I sincerely hoped not. In this conflict of emotions, I sighed and made my way home, my red back-lights trailing behind me in the moon lit environment.