Familiar Places, Bloodied Faces

Andrew stolled alongside the sidewalks of Knockturn Alley, weaing his pitch black jacket, jeans and shoes, almost making him invisible to the seemingly night time of Knockturn Alley. He wasn't there for anything particular, nor did he have a plan for what he was about to do. Rage had seeped into his head, making his decisions and emotions out of control. He had learned about the event at Satins. What Vito did to Chase. And now Vito was going to learn another lesson. Don't. Mess. With. Andrew.

He continued forward, every step feeling like he was walking on fire, pushing him forward every time, and his mind having only one thing in particular. The mental picture of Vito bloodied and hurt in the corner of the room, begging for mercy. Just the thought made Andrew want to laugh. It would feel good to see that happen, and Andrew would do anything to see it become reality.

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After searching Knockturn Alley for 10 minutes, he finally found Satins, the front door and bouncer in front of him. "Hang on," the bouncer said in a gruff voice "you can't-" And with that, Andrew punched him directly in the face, and probably would have killed him since he was wearing his gauntlets. Blood crept onto the silver gauntlets, illuminating the metal with crimson.

Andrew smiled.

Andrew then opened the door slowly, hearing the thundering sound of music playing and people enjoying their poisons. Now Andrew was going to have fun of his own. Standing in the darkest corner of the room, he aimed his hand out towards the large speaker and said silently "Bombarda Maxima," Suddenly, the large speaked exploded with the sounds of dying music and people screaming as they tried to avoid the debris and sparks. Aiming at the second speaker, he said the same words more silently and the speaker again exploded, leaving the entire room only in a dead silence with the occasional screams.

He would wait all night for Vito if he had to.

“Alright, it seems its all here, as usual,” a rather old looking man with snow white hair and wrinkled skin spoke, ruffling through the paper money he had been handed. He folded the money in half with his long, boney fingers, and stuffed the bills into his back pocket. “Every time you say that, you sound surprised,” came the smooth, quiet voice of Vito Dee Symons as he smirked, looking over at the man on the other side of the table from where Vito sat, leaning back in his chair with his ankles crossed underneath the table. The older man chuckled, “With a reputation like yours, Vito, its hard to believe Satin’s has been up and running for twenty-something years. In fact, twenty years ago I would have bet my life savings that the place would crash and burn only days after you’d opened it- but you’ve proved me wrong many times before,” he replied, folding his hands on the table. Vito rolled his dark brown eyes, “I’ll always prove you wrong. Along with everyone else who expects something from me,” he spoke, though the amusement that had been heard in his voice earlier had vanished, making his words sound more threatening than they would have had such a shift in his tone not taken place.

The older man frowned and shook his head, “Always so quick tempered. That is a trait that is going to ruin you, Vito,” he told him, almost in a warning voice, one that said ‘yes, I will call the police and shut down your club if you loose your temper with me’. That man had always been rather strange about the way he dealt with Vito’s temper, it was almost as if he knew more about Vito than he was letting on, but was constantly hinting at it.

Vito flicked an eyebrow upward and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table that was between them; a shield protecting the man from an awful fate, “So I’ve been told…” Vito replied slowly, biting down on the insides of his cheeks in order to keep that temper of his, which they were speaking of, under control; angering people with the power to close down his beloved club was definitely not something on his list of things to do. “You have a good day, sir, I’ll see you next month,” Vito spoke once more after a moment of calming himself, and stood from his chair in the small café, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his dark brown hair. He pulled a few more bills out of his suit pocket and laid them down on the table, “For the drink,” and with that, he walked out of the place, his head held high despite the words that the older man had spoken.

Why did people always find the need to butt into Vito’s life? Jack had done so, as did many others. Jack… Vito hadn’t seen her in days. He slipped his hands into his pockets and continued forward. Good; he would no longer have to put up with her annoyingly childish voice and her constant questions- but hadn’t he enjoyed that? Hadn’t their arguments been his source of daily entertainment? It had been awfully quiet since the last time he had seen her. Since he had tried to the rid the world of Jack Dyllan.

Sure, Chase Moor had paid him a visit, but honestly, even if Chase had been rather entertaining, she was a lot weaker than Jack; Jack would never have broken down crying the way Chase always seemed to when Vito got angry- no, instead, Jack always seemed to test Vito when he was angry, push him further just to see what would happen.

Vito growled, scaring a young man who had been walking past him on the sidewalk, almost causing him to fall over into the street. He could never escape her, no matter how hard he tried to drawn those memories in alcohol and all the other distractions that came with being a successful club owner in Knockturn Alley. Why? Vito had learned the hard way that you couldn’t just rid yourself of Jack Dyllan, no, once you met her, there was no turning back… unfortunately.

He had been in a decent enough mood when he had left his room in Satin’s in the morning, but in seconds it seemed, that good mood of his had switched into one of frustration with everything and anything. Well, at least he had paid the money it costed to run his club, and wouldn’t have to worry about the place being shut down that month- no, he wouldn’t allow that, he would have Satin’s until the day he… ‘died’.

Rounding another corner, Vito made his way towards his home, or, at least, the closest place to home that Vito had ever had. He wore an irritated frown; he wanted to slide into his favorite booth and have a smoke or two, maybe even watch some TV in his bedroom- how long had it been since he had watched TV? Vito couldn’t remember, which irritated him, of course; everything did when he was in a bad mood.

“Mr. Symons! Mr. Symons!” a familiar voice shouted, and when Vito looked up with his dark eyes to see who it was that was calling his name, he was shocked to see one of his employees pulling himself up off of the ground, clutching at his bloodied face. “What the f*ck did you do wrong this time, run into the damn wall by mistake?” Vito asked, his voice becoming very threatening, very fast. “I tried to stop him, but he punched me before I could react- he’s inside!” the man replied, his voice sounding rather nasally as he tried to stop the blood that was flowing from one of his nostrils.

Vito groaned and ran a hand through his hair once more, preparing for the worst as he pulled open the front door to Satin’s, entering the place- but he wasn’t greeted by the blasting music that always filled the place, no, instead, there were screams and shouts. Normally, such noises would be music to his ears, but he wasn’t the one making those people scream, and that infuriated him. “What the f*ck is going on here?” Vito asked the people, his eyes darkening as he scanned the area for the cause of such a mess so that he could tear his/her head off.

Andrew heard the slimy voice of Vito, merely minutes after all the destruction began. Now Andrew had the element of surprise with him as well...things were just too good at that moment. Andrew motioned his left and right hand towards the wine rack that was at the bar and casted another Bombarda Maxima. Suddenly, glass shattered, flying in all directions, hitting several people in the process. Wine and alchohol collapsed onto the floor, the entire section smelling rather foul afterwords. And that was only just the beginning of Andrews rage.

Taking another stance, he aimed his hands over towards one of the booths and whispered Incindio. The booth waited a couple of seconds before turning into a burning seat, no one even sitting in it to begin with. The fire began to spread slowly, forcing people to get up and retreat from the fires, making Andrew grin with an evil passion. Just to poke fun, Andrew aimed his gauntlet downwards and casted Avis. Birds then flew around the already paniced bar, hooting and fluttering as tehy tried to look for an exit. Sure, Andrew could have done more to the place, yet he wanted to see Vito sqiurm. He wanted to see him get angry and try to find the one responsible. But no, Andrew was hidden in a corner, ready to go invisible if need be.

The Unforgivable Curses began to loom within Andrews mind, almost begging him to use them as everyone screamed and ran for the exit. Maybe a death or two would be more than enough to get the place shut down...who would've know at that point. Yet, he was not at the point where he could just kill an innocent bystander, someone that did absolutely nothing towards him.

Now for the dramatic entrance.

Casting another Incindio, he aimed it at the spilt booze and liquer that lied on the floor, shooting the bar completely up in flames, almost illuminating the entire bar. Andrew stepped out of the santucary of the darkness, pulling down the hood of his jacket to show his true colors. He stepped out into the light and looked towards Vito Symons, a chilling calm look in his eyes. "Hey Vito," he said, a manaical grin on his face "did I mention you didn't want me as an enemy before you tried to have sex with my girlfriend? And don't play the 'I don't know what your talking about' card, I know what happened between you and Chase." He grabbed the nearest liquer bottle, one that looked very expensive, examining the curves and the label of the bottle. It sounded French almost. "Now you know why. I have not come looking for your redemption. I have come for that thing you call a head!"

And with that, he threw the bottle at Vito.

Fire was everywhere… fire, and glass, and spilt alcohol.

Vito stood there for a moment, his face remaining blank of all emotion as he watched the one thing he cared about being destroyed by a particularly angsty young male who Vito only recognized because of the mention of the name ‘Chase’. Hadn’t he seen that boy before? Yes. Hadn’t Vito only been gone for a few hours? Yes, and yet, when he came back ‘home’, everything was literally up in flames. People were screaming and rushing out of the building, pushing and shoving each other; Vito was loosing costumers because of this boy. His home was on fire and had been completely destroyed, and he could feel the rage slowly building within him.

“Everyone get out of the building,” he told them slowly, but his eyes didn’t leave the clearly insane young man before him. “I never play that game, boy, and if your girlfriend told you anything about me, you should know that,” Vito replied in a dangerously low tone. The flames that were dancing about the place casted a shadow upon Vito’s face, which flickered with the fire, making his eyes look darker than they had ever before. “You’d also know that she came to me, not the other way around,” he added, taking a few slow steps forward, his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Oh, and to add to all of it, the young man just had to go and throw a freakin’ glass bottle at his head- which he ducked out of the way of, of course; smashing bottles over peoples’ heads had been Vito’s thing from the start, and so, naturally, he knew how to move out of the way when someone felt the need to turn the tables on him. “Ah, ah, ah, boy, you shouldn’t disrespect people with more power than you… it could get you killed, you know,” Vito spoke threateningly, continuing to near the boy as the fire ate up his life’s work, his beloved club. “Oh, but then that redhead of yours would be all alone…” Vito added, mocking the teenager.

Vito reached down, extending his fingers, and pulled a bottle of broken bottle of expensive liquor out of the fire, and straightened once more. The glass had been shattered towards the end, leaving it with jagged edges, “I can remember what she tasted like… sorrow, loss, and something dangerous, an evil just waiting to be awakened,” Vito continued to push the boy, hoping the tear his heart in two.

He examined the bottle in his hand, holding it by the neck, “You’ve made me angry…” his voice sounded very eerie in the empty place, “that was a big mistake on your part.”

Andrew's rage kept burning more intesnely, swallowing up his sadness and sorrow. He was too mad at that moment to care about what had happened. The only thing that was concentrated on his mind was to make Vito hate him more and more...to make Vito want to kill him. Others would think of it as a death sentence, yet Andrew knew that someone could only hate someone up to some point. You couldn't go any further. Another eerie smile crept onto Andrew's face, almost matching the spectres in front of him. He tightened his hand into a fist, gradullay making it more tight by the second.

"I already know plenty about you," he said actually taking a step forward "your just a bastardized image of some person that lost all hope. All you are is just trash that no one will ever come to accept. Jack and Chase felt pity for you because of the fact that you are hate. All I see is just another fu*king prancy who thinks he's better than everyone else. If you are as powerful as you think you are, why the hell didn't you kill Jack or Chase huh?! How come you spared them if you are so tough!? Face it, you're just a softy that needs pity because nothing else works for you!" Well that certainly felt good.

Now Andrew needed a way to distract Vito long enough to disarm him. He would've been screwed badly if it hadn't been for the liquor bottle. When he threw it, the bottle had managed to smash close enough towards him and Vito, the liquids flowing out in all different directions. "Incindio," he muttered, and a spark appeared on the liquid. The entire floor near them suddenly burst into flames, the fires growing higher as it got more fuel to burn against. Andrew could feel the heat on his skin, but hopefully that gave some kind of distraction against Vito. He arched his arm back and throwing his fist towards Vito, who seemed to be in a close enough proximity for contact. Regardless if it hit or not, he quickly threw himself to the side, avoiding another burst of fire that had managed to escape.

Getting up, he brushed off some glass off his arm, some wounds starting to bleed red ooze. Just what he needed, injury that he did to himself. Growling slightly, he turned his head back towards Vito, trying to anticipate some of his movement. Using his peripharel vision, he tried to spot something that had been on a table, anything that could help him out. The only thing was just a glass cup with some liqueor in it, most likely someone had left behind as the fires raged. He grabbed the small cup and grinned smugly. "Cheers!" he said, and threw the liquid at Vito. As the liquid colided with something, he casted incindio again, either catching Vito on fire, or the floor next to him.