[u][b]Antonio “Gemini” Fierro[/b][/u]
[hider=Gorillaz - Double Bass][youtube]wRewkpWZTzA[/youtube]
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Of all the damn days Mercedes had to work late, it had to be today. 

Laid out on the living room couch in a lazy manner, Tony Fierro glared hard at the old television against the wall, as his grandmothers telenovela’s played out on the screen. Every few seconds past the dramatic spanish screaming, he could hear the soft clinking of his grandmothers spoon hitting the bottom of the bowl, weakly trying to fish out the remaining noodles in the sea of broth. This was soon followed by loud, and slow slurping as she eventually brought the spoon to her lips. The tiny woman was sunken in the cushion of the oversized chair, comfortably nestled into the soft seat while quilts and blankets covered her legs and shoulders. 

With age, his grandmother lost weight and grown weak. The optimistic, powerhouse of a woman who had raised him and his sister was now a frail, tender old lady. It was almost strange to see his grandmother like this; covered in a mess of wrinkles, and sagging skin. She had withered away before his very eyes in a matter of years, and now, after taking care of so many for so long, she was now the one who needed to be cared for. Of course, when Mercy wasn’t home, this became his responsibility. Not that it was a problem for him. The gang didn’t seem to mind either, considering who his grandmother was and what she had done for them over years. Tony knew to appreciate the time he had with her as well, his grandma wasn’t getting any younger, or healthier, for that matter. 

Unfortunately, if it had been any other day Tony would have been happy to watch over his Nana, but Mercy with her perfect timing as always, just had to work over-time on the day of Matt’s promotion. Since late afternoon he had been receiving messages on his phone from other Skulls. Pictures of them drinking, sharing joints, and partying. An here he was, laying on the couch, and watching telenovela's with his grandma.

After a while he soon found himself staring at the catclock just above the television, his eyes watching the long hand tick clockwise as the cats black eyes flicked back and forth in beat with the ticking. His lips slowly began to curve into a scowl as he watched the cat. It’s eyes looking back and forth, with the coy smile on it’s face—it almost felt like the little fucker was mocking him. Dramatically squirming on the couch in discomfort, his ever noisy grumbling continued as he pulled out his phone and began to furiously tap his thumbs along the screen.

[[b]‘Are you off work yet?’[/b]] Sending his sister the text, he began to look through his inbox, deleting messages with a few taps along the screen and a frustrated grunt. If he wasn’t going to get to experience the celebration himself, then he was going to simply deny its existence for the time being.

Annoyed, and bored out of his mind, Tony lifted his left leg into the air, and as he brought it down with a heavy swing, he sat himself up along the couch with grunt. A cigarette, or a joint was sounding [i]pretty[/i] good right about now. Pushing off the cushion and walking across the wooden floor, he stepped beside his grandmothers chair and eyed her empty plates along her food trey, “You all done, Nana?” Placing a gentle hand along the older woman’s shoulder, he watched her slowly turn her head up as clouded, grey eyes narrowed happily in his direction. In a heavy spanish accent, Dolores smiled softly as her bony hands raised up out of the covers, lightly shaking as they reached out and took Tony’s hand weakly, “[b]Si mijo,[/b]” She answered, patting his hand softly in assurance before she returned them to her lap back beneath the sheets, “[b]Your cooking gets better every time I eat it.[/b]” She spoke in a raspy voice, rough like an old smoker. Still, despite the gravelly tone, he couldn’t help but blush lightly at the compliment before letting a small smile creep along his face, “Thanks, Nana.”

What his grandmother didn’t know was that rather then making the food from scratch, like he had boasted to her, Mercy had actually been leaving him a list of ingredients for the night supper. A cheat sheet really, but he was still the one cooking the meals. Setting the dishes down in the sink, he rinsed them out with water and left them sitting their. Mercedes could deal with those. He saw that it was was only fair, seeing as he had taken care of their grandmother all day.

From the kitchen, he bee-lined to the front door, stopping briefly to put on his shoes and jacket before he called down the hallway, “I’m gonna step outside for a smoke.” Receiving a, “[b]Que cochino.[/b]” from his grandmother in the other room, he gave a light chuckle before stepping out the front door and onto the porch. The cold fall air stung at his face, while the soft drizzling of rain filled his ears. Taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the freezing air, he dug a hand into his back pocket and brought a pack of marlboro reds. Pulling out a single cigarette and returning the pack to his pocket, he was just about to light his cigarette when two gun shots echoed throughout the neighborhood. 

His reflexes kicked in almost immediately as he dropped to a crouch along his front porch, eyes wide and searching desperately for the source of the gun shots. “[b]Qué fue eso?[/b]” His grandmothers sudden voice caused him to jump lightly, causing his cigarette to fall from his lips and into a puddle along the stairs. This earned a frustrated sigh from the boy as he mentally kicked himself for getting so startled. Staying low still and quiet, rather then answering his grandma back immediately, he peaked through the fence posts and focused on the street ahead. Searching for any suspicious activity, his eyes widened suddenly as he saw two figures at the end of the street sprint across the crosswalk and out of sight. ‘[i]What?—[/i]‘

“[b]Antonio![/b]” His body seized again, jerking from his position as his grandma yelled his name. With an exasperated sigh he leaned into the door, peaking his head in at the bottom as he continued to crouch along the porch, “Ah.. E-está Bien.” He said hesitantly, as he was unsure of his spanish seeing as he wasn’t as fluent as his sister, or grandma were. “Wasn’t anything to worry about,” Reaching in quickly, he snatched his keys off the nightstand next to the door, "I’m gonna head back out to smoke, now. Be right back.” Eyeing the street behind him, he closed the door behind him a soft click and made sure to lock it before he bounded down the stairs of the town-house and onto the sidewalk.

Going into a possible dangerous situation with no powers equipped, Tony knew he was risking it. All he had on him was his switchblade, but he knew that could only do so much against a meta. Coming to the end of the street, he slowly peaked around the corner. Considering how much noise the gun fire had caused he would have assumed the shooters had fled the scene just as soon as things went down, but one could never be too cautious. Besides, it wasn’t like he was looking to become their next target. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped out from behind a fence and turned right. Heading down the block, he caught sight of the street sign just as he turned down another sidewalk. This was Haber street. 

[hider=The Black Keys - Unknown Brother][youtube]iaQVFg54rU8[/youtube][/hider]

His caution high, Tony’s steps began to slow as he caught sight of a man laying on the concrete. Like a spot light, a single working lamp post shined down on him, its bright rays making him stand out even through the rain. Drawing closer, his eyes widened as he realized who the injured man along the floor was. His name was Dennis Fern, a guy maybe a few years older then him who had started dealing in this part of town recently. He wasn’t a bad dude, a bit of a tweaker, but who wasn’t in these parts? 

Dennis clutched his stomach and wriggled around in pain on the ground. His sobbing was muffled by the blood gurgling in his throat and spilling down his lips, only adding onto more to the morbid scene. The dark liquid was already pooling beneath him, leaving a long, shimmering trail down into the gutter. The rain would carry most of it away, but there was sure to be a stain here tomorrow. Taking a knee next to him with utmost caution, Tony licked his lips anxiously as he looked over the large wound. A fist sized chunk of meat was displaced from Dennis' lower torso, and by the smaller holes surrounding the cavity he could tell it was caused by a shotgun. Judging by the size and damage, the poor bastard had probably taken the shot at close range too.

Gently, Tony slid a gloved hand beneath the dying mans head, lifting him slightly so his back leaned against his leg. Snot dribbled from his nose while blood continued to spill, his body was shaking uncontrollably, most likely from shock. It didn’t look like he was going to make it. “Shh, it’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay.” His comforting did nothing for the other as he continued to stare up at him with wide, terrified eyes. A chill ran down his back now, and it wasn’t from the temperature, or rain; It was like he could almost feel this mans life slipping away. As Dennis gasped for breath through his sob, Tony pushed past his own thoughts and finally spoke, his voice clear, and firm for the other man to hear, “Tell me, who did this to you?”

The muscles along the other mans throat flexed with each gasp, “..[b]Gir[/b]..[b]girls[/b].” He gurgled out before falling into a coughing fit, wheezing heavily in his arms. Tony tried to comfort him with a small hush, but it was to no avail — If only he had access to his sisters powers right now. “Girls?” He repeated to himself before continuing, “What did they look like?” 

The other mans eyes began to move about unfocused, his breathing growing weaker with each breath. “Hey, come on, stay with me.” He gave the man a light shake, forcing him awake long enough to focus on his question, “Tell me, what did they look like?” Eyes glossed like marbles, and skin as white as a ghost, Dennis whispered out two last words in his final breaths, “..[b]The same[/b]..” 

Tony’s eyes were wide with confusion and shock. What did he mean by they looked 'the same?’ Were they twins, or did they look alike? Maybe they dressed the same? However there was no way to get any more answers now. Dennis was as limp as a rag doll, and his face had softened into a peaceful expression. A tight feeling knotted in Tonys chest as he stared down at the other man. He had never had someone die in his arms before. It was sad, and almost to surreal for him to comprehend. But as the other man stared blankly up at him, unmoving and silent, Tony had to accept the reality of the situation. 

“Goodnight, man.” With a gentle hand he closed his eyes and laid him down along the concrete. It felt wrong to just leave him there, but as police sirens came from a few streets over, he was quick to head back down the street and take out his phone to alert the others.

[[b]“Murder on East Rail. Two blocks from Haber Street. Could be Ghouls .”[/b]] Sending out the message to Damian, he tucked the phone back into his jeans before looking over his shoulder at the body once again. Even if it wasn’t Skull related, something this close to the headquarters always meant bad news in the long run. Turning down the corner, he tried to hurry before the police arrived and tried to place the blame on him. Pulling out his cigarettes once again, he placed one between his lips and held a hand over his lighter, blocking out any rain from snuffing it out. Tugging at the collar of his leather jacket to cover his face as he hurried down the side walk, he tucked his lighter away and exhaled a heavy breath of smoke. Keeping his head low and a weary eye out for anyone or anything suspicious, he made his way back to home to wait for his sister, and if any further instructions came from the text message he had sent out.