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He felt a hand hesitatingly pushing against his chest and stopped. Antonio couldn't quite hide the disappointed flicker in his eyes as he slowly backed away. His fingers still lingered on the soft skin, feeling the rhythmic shifting of muscles beneath his fingertips. He allowed himself one last longing caress of Romano's belly and then finally released the panting Italian from his passionate embrace. At once the younger man turned away, embarrassed by his own arousal. He shivered a little, even though it wasn't cold at all, rather stuffy and hot. The Spaniard smiled softly while his friend took his time to calm down. He didn't want to push Romano, so he never complained about him ending things way too soon, yet he couldn't help his former curiosity morphing into impatience. Every time they were together in privacy he went a little farther, let his hands wander deeper, brought himself closer to him. Of course, that didn't slip Romano's attention. Sometimes, when Antonio got too excited, too lost in the moment, he would put a stop to it and hurry to make room between them. That was what just had happened. It always hurt to get rejected but fortunately the Spanish man was an expert when it came to cover up his real feelings with a cheerful smile. So he smirked and said: "You did very well."
Romano just shrugged; his cheeks flushed bright red when he glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing in this whole world that could be compared to the look in the Italian's eyes. Antonio could feel his heart picking up speed again as he continued to stare into those big golden seas, all too willing to drown in them. The sheer honesty and insecurity displayed on his face nearly made him leap at the Italian again. Since he couldn't do that without scaring him and receiving several hits on the head, Antonio carefully reached out to touch Romano's chin. This mere contact of skin was enough to electrify both of them. As intimidated as the Italian was by his just recently discovered sexuality, he couldn't deny that the proximity of the Spaniard had a major effect on him. That was also the reason he didn't want his friend to hug him in public. But they weren't in public now…
Following his silent request Romano turned around until the two men were face to face again. He half-closed his eyes, head reeling, and leaned closer. He cupped the Spaniard's face with his hands, barely touching him and ignored the surprised expression on his face. Then he brought his lips down on his, a pleased smile twitching in the corner of his mouth. He cherished these times when he finally could be himself and let his guard down. There was no one but Antonio who could make him feel that safe, not his brother and certainly not his boss. Their kiss was very innocent, a mere stroking of their lips, but it was so oh so sweet.  He would never admit it, but it was those kisses he enjoyed the most. He couldn't express his feelings in any other way so he gave his entire being to this simple contact. He felt the Spaniard smiling against his mouth and retreated. Just when he wanted to say something an annoying voice sounded through the villa of Heracles Karpusi.
"Fratello!"
"Dammit, that's Feliciano."
"I guess so…"
He couldn't be far away judging by the loudness of his shout. At once Romano was on his feet and rearranging his clothes, calling out: "What do you want?"
Antonio didn't bother to fix his appearance, he often looked a little messy. The door opened and filled the room with bright daylight that had been shut out before by the thick curtains neither of them had needed to be pulled aside. In the frame stood a young man with chestnut brown hair that looked around innocently.  "Brother, what are you two doing in here?"
"Talking about tomatoes." His elder sibling hurried to reply matter-of-factly, but he had hesitated for a split-second. Feliciano raised an eyebrow questioningly but didn't point out the clear lie. Instead he chirped: "Tomato sauce goes great with pasta!" He announced that as though he just had found a cure to AIDS. He really wasn't the brightest light in the chandelier. Antonio and Romano exchanged a brief glance and then shrugged simultaneously.
"So what do you want?" the Italian repeated his question from before. The chances were fifty-fifty that his younger brother had already forgotten why he had been searching for them. But he seemed to remember the reason. With his thumb he pointed over his shoulder, "Mr. Karpusi wants to talk to you. He said it was important."
The Spaniard rose to his feet, a hard gleam in his eyes. "If he says so it is important. Come, Romano."
"Yeah, yeah…" the man grumbled in response and followed his friend when he darted out of the room. He walked sluggishly, with his hands in his pockets and a pout on his face. Whenever Heracles whistled Antonio, his lap dog, would jump, wouldn't he? He knew that the wave of jealousy that hit him was unnecessary and childish but he couldn't do much about it. Ever since Antonio had found him in the orphanage and taken him home they had been together. It was still not clear how the Spaniard had managed to achieve the custody. At the time Romano had been twelve years old and he seventeen. Feliciano had been given away already, with five years, just one year after their parents' demise, he went to live somewhere in East Germany. There he had been raised No one had wanted to adopt the older brother, though. He could even remember the list of reasons the people gave when they had been asked about it. He was too loud, he was too cheeky, he was too unsocial and he just wasn't as adorable as Feliciano. Despite all that the Spaniard hadn't needed a second to make up his mind. So it was only natural that Romano wanted Antonio all for himself, as when he had been a child. At the time he already had been working with Heracles but he never had prioritized anything above his charge's well-being. Well, that had been back then, after all.
When Romano entered the tech lab Heracles and Antonio were all caught up in their discussion already and neither raised his head when he arrived. They were staring at the small monitor by the Greek's desk and furrowed their eyebrows in unison. But it wasn't their worry that made the Italian's stomach turn a somersault, it was flicker of fear in their eyes. He hurried to their side to see what could cause such a reaction from the two men. On the screen the footage of a security camera was running. It showed some airport and judging from the Cyrillic signs in the background it was in Greece. A young attractive woman with long dark brown hair just entered the screen; a simple suitcase in her hand and a self-confident smile on her lips. The camera slowly followed her path as if someone was steering it, which was probably the case. There was nothing unsettling about it, though.
"Cute" Romano commented. "Who is she?"
Heracles tilted his head towards him and then answered: "Her name is Elizaveta Héderváry. And she's here."
The way he said the last part sent a shiver down the Italian's spine. Once again he scrutinized the woman that now was about to leave. At his puzzled expression Antonio explained with a stern voice: "She is an assassin, Romano, one of the best. As far as we know she often works for Adnan. The fact that she's in Greece can't mean anything good."
"Do you think she's here to kill you?" Romano arched an eyebrow and looked from Antonio to Heracles. It wasn't uncommon for people to send killers over in order to get rid of the Greek. They never were a problem to him, especially because no one knew where he lived. For all the authorities knew this mansion was owned by a German technology company.
"I don't think she's after me." The Greek muttered and ran his hand through his hair.
"You are the only one they've seen in person so far. We believe she's out to get you, Romano…" While he spoke the Spaniard paled. His fingers clawed the backrest of Karpusi's chair as he stared at the younger man with expressionless eyes. The Italian returned the gaze, mouth suddenly dry. He felt his heart beating furiously, outraged, disbelieving in his chest.
"W-What do you mean? Me…? But I…" Besides meaningless stammering there was nothing he could say.
"We could be wrong, though. There is a chance that she isn't here because of any of us." Heracles now shrugged half-heartedly. He didn't believe in his own words, to be honest. Antonio opened his mouth to confirm the comment but before one sound could leave his mouth Romano stormed off. He didn't stop when they called him back and didn't stop when he nearly ran into his brother who came his way. He stamped onward without looking back, practically running for cover. There was a small bathroom to his left and he yanked the door open without thinking twice. He locked it swiftly and then sat down, leant against the wall. In this business you couldn't waste time with being shocked, you had to realize everything at once. So the Italian hit the back of his head against the hard ceramic tiles, biting his tongue to stifle his sobs. His eyes were burning and his breath came fast and heavy. It was one thing if they were out to kill Heracles, that wouldn't be that much of a problem to Romano but this… He didn't feel as though he was making a scene; not at all. Somewhere out there was someone who wanted to see him, no one but him, dead.  All that was that bastard Heracles' fault! Because of him he was sentenced to death!
He knew from the start that he shouldn't have expected to survive but now, that it was somewhat finalized and a well possible outcome he realized that he really, really didn't want to die.

"I better talk to him…" Antonio whispered. His boss nodded without turning his face away from the monitor. He heard the steps of his friend disappear as he hurried down the halls after the Italian. He had expected the young man to react like that but it still got to him. For the past week he had waited for Sadiq's answer full of impatience, and that was the way the Turk chose to reply? Such a cheap and dirty trick sure fitted into his personality, though. Instead of coming out to meet his end like a man he sent someone else to do the work for him. Heracles stood up and turned the screen off. Antonio would take care of Romano, calm him down or whatever he was doing. A subtle throat-cleaning made the Greek look up. Feliciano Vargas, the newest member of his little club, was standing in the doorframe, a troubled expression on his face. For a few seconds the two men just stared at each other, neither willing to break the silence. "What?" Heracles barked indignantly. He hadn't the nerve to deal with trivialities now. The next second he regretted his reaction. The boy probably was worried about his brother and wanted to know what was going on. The Italian yelped at his shout and ducked his head a little. "What will happen to Romano?" he asked quietly, yet not without faltering. Obviously he had heard most of their conversation.
"As far as we know soon someone will try to kill him, Feliciano."
"But… why?"
He folded his hands in his lap and lowered his gaze as he thought about how much he could tell him. The Greek didn't move but said: "Because we are fighting a very evil person. Actually, your brother has nothing to do with it, yet Sadiq Adnan wants to see him dead. I'm sorry."
"What kind of person would do such a thing?" Feliciano whispered, staring blankly ahead.
"Adnan is a very, very sick man who needs to be put down like a wild dog. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yeah, but…"
Heracles gave him a warm smile that didn't reach his eyes and interrupted him softly. "Now, now, we'll do everything we can to protect your brother. Just promise me something."
The Italian looked up with his confused wet eyes. "What…?"
The helpless expression on his face nearly made the Greek reach out to touch his shoulder comfortingly, but then he changed his mind. Instead he whispered, using his most persuading voice:  "You have to promise me that you will help me against all those evil persons. We have to put a stop to them, Feliciano, so your brother can't be harmed by them, especially Sadiq. You understand that they need to be punished, don't you?"
"Y-Yes, I understand that… sir." He stuttered, insecurity plain to see on his face. The sudden advance of his boss startled him. But he didn't want Romano to get hurt and neither did he want that individuals like this Adnan could do whatever they wanted without facing the consequences. Even though Feliciano was very easy-going himself he would never put up with someone getting away with crimes like murder. It seemed Heracles shared his opinion and if it was for the sake of making this world a better place he would do his best to help him.
"Will you make that promise? It would be our own little pact to protect the ones we love. That way I will know that I can trust you and you can trust me. We will fight those evil-doers together." The words rolled over the Greek's tongue like a lullaby, hypnotic and intoxicating. The young Italian gazed at the taller man with big eyes and then nodded. The request still seemed a little odd but the Greek's voice calmed him down and chased his worries away. "I promise to help you with all my strength." Feliciano vowed and gave a tiny smile hoping the other would return it. He didn't but tousled his hair a bit, missing the striking curl at the side of his head by half an inch, and said: "Good boy, now I have faith we can defeat those bastards who want to harm your dear big brother and my close friend. Now, go and search for him. He will need your support for the next days."
The Italian nodded, relieved and even a little proud, and left the room. Heracles flinched a little when he shut the door close behind him. Then a grin flickered in the corners of his mouth. Who would have thought that it could be so easy to replace an underling? One brother died and the other took his place, it was the circle of life or something. Heracles had dealt with the Hungarian assassin known as Elizaveta Héderváry before and knew how rarely one of her victims escaped. He was familiar with her record. For the past five years not one survived her visit. He often regretted that he had hesitated at first and that she now was almost an established part of Sadiq's group. She was still as corrupt as any assassin these days but still…
All in all, Romano's time was up. He would miss the kid, he was amusing. Plus: He didn't even want to imagine the next months with a grieving Antonio around. He stifled a groan and got up. For the next hours nothing would change so he could as well take a walk outside. He missed the warm afternoon sun shining on his face and the creeping heat that slowed down your body altogether until you could do nothing else but lie in the shadows beneath an olive tree and doze. He left through the back door and when he stepped outside he instantly took his suit off.  He hadn't noticed it was already June. Heracles left it by the entrance and began to stroll down the street. His feet reliably steered him through the familiar streets, passed stores and restaurants and made way for excessively excited tourists until he found himself near the metro station Acropolis. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground he wandered aimlessly through the countless lanes and alleys of the Plaka. The narrow streets and high rows of buildings that enclosed the tiny souvenir shops and snack bars threw giant shadows on the pavement. After a few minutes he decided that he was hungry enough to eat something. The good bars were still closed so he would just settle for some souvláki. He groped for the coins in his pocket and slowly counted his money. Despite the huge amount of valuables he possessed, divided on more than hundred banks all over the world, he carried rather little cash around.  After he bought his lunch he sat down on a bench near a small chapel. Its façade was already a little tarnished and weather-beaten but with the trees, which branches were heavy with fragrantly blooming flowers that surrounded it an atmosphere of faith and vitality was the major impression people got from it. While chewing on the juicy lamb meat deliberately he let his eyes wander across the crowd. Without his doing his thoughts returned to the young Italian that was about to face his end. Maybe Romano was expecting some encouraging or reassuring words from his boss or the promise to protect him. But maybe, and this was more likely, he was mad as hell at him. Of course he felt bad for him and didn't want him to die, but what could he do? Heracles had to juggle about a hundred things at once in order to survive; he had neither means nor time to help the Italian, as well. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the small hand that sneaked into the pocket of his pants. He grabbed it and held it in an iron grip before even turning his head around. With eyes as green as a rainy forest and as cold as ice he glared down at the tiny figure that writhed in his grasp. It was a young boy that squealed and whined, desperate to escape the man's clutch.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled under his breath. The child couldn't be older than ten but there was a hard gleam in his eyes that proved he had seen better times. It was probably a stray that tried to survive by pick-pocketing. The Greek towered over the boy, still not letting go of his wrist. He squeezed it a little causing the kid to yelp in pain.
"No, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Forgive, forgive!" he screeched in broken Greek.  "Hungry much, no money! Üzgünüm!"
As if the youngster's skin suddenly had caught fire Heracles let go of him what caused the child to trip, fall to the ground and there start crying. A rather incredulous expression on his face he squatted down next to the boy and grabbed his collar to provide him from escaping. "Where are you from?" Normally he wouldn't have made such a fuss over it but with Sadiq closing in on him he couldn't take any risks. It would be like him to use a child for… well, whatever his retarded mind had thought up.
"Üzgünüm, üzgünüm, sorry, sorry, sorry. Don't hurt!" the child sobbed and tried to pull Heracles' hand away.
"Shut up!" Heracles barked and at once the chants for forgiveness stopped. Then he repeated his question, now a little calmer: "Where are you from, boy?"
"C-Cyprus."
This wasn't a very specific answer but since the kid could speak Turkish, probably even as his first language, the man simply assumed he was from the northern half of the island.
"You are alone, aren't you? Why are you here if you're from Cyprus?" Heracles asked and shook him a little. Besides a few whimpers the boy didn't reply anything. Heracles stood up and stared at the crouched figure in front of him, finally taking a closer look at him. He obviously was starving, his cheekbones stood out against the ailing skin of his face and his arms were too thin to match his stature. Tears were still running down his cheeks and his torso trembled with breathless sobs. Heracles tilted his head to the left with a frown. That was probably what he had looked like when that bastard Sadiq had found him, even though he had been a bit older back then. He remembered all too well how hungry he had been. Every crumb on the ground had been a feast to him, every projection of a roof had been a home, every stray cat a family member. The child probably felt the same way. The Greek man gave his best to fight the sudden pity that rose within him as he gazed down at the foreign boy who was still cringing at his feet. He knew how it felt to be all alone, with no one to rely on and no one to protect him, children shouldn't feel that way. The crowd began to notice their little encounter and murmurs got louder. Heracles paid no heed to their comments and questions. He could save the boy, he could give him a home and food, a life. He could do it, he just had to hold out his hand to him, he knew the kid would take it, gladly. Just as gladly as he had taken Sadiq Adnan's hand. Heracles just had to offer it with a smile and the boy would take his hand and his help. The same thoughts seemingly crossed the child's mind. When Heracles remained silent he looked up to him with an almost hopeful expression on his dirty, skinny face. Yes, he could save this unfortunate life if he wanted to. The Greek straightened up and with the most indifferent expression the tall man turned around and left the poor, hungry boy on the ground behind. He remembered the skewer in his hand, one last piece of souvláki was still speared on it. He put his other hand in his pocket and sank his teeth into the delicious meat. He was already full but he didn't want to throw the good food away either.
Thus he returned to his mansion way more relaxed than before. He took a long look at the big house he called his home. It was very Mediterranean as most buildings in this area but with slight French touch as seen in the decorated banisters that lead to the low porch. He yawned and rubbed his throat to chase the dry feeling away. He needed a drink. Before he could make this urge his first priority he decided to visit Romano. The kid was probably in his room shivering and trembling, all paranoid, with Antonio and Feliciano desperately trying to calm him down. Heracles, as his superior, should at least give him some words of encouragement. He took another step and reached for his keys. Before his fingers touched the cold aluminum the terrible noise of an explosion filled his ears.
Oh shi-!

Description
He felt a hand hesitatingly pushing against his chest and stopped. Antonio couldn't quite hide the disappointed flicker in his eyes as he slowly backed away. His fingers still lingered on the soft skin, feeling the rhythmic shifting of muscles beneath his fingertips. He allowed himself one last longing caress of Romano's belly and then finally released the panting Italian from his passionate embrace. At once the younger man turned away, embarrassed by his own arousal. He shivered a little, even though it wasn't cold at all, rather stuffy and hot. The Spaniard smiled softly while his friend took his time to calm down. He didn't want to push Romano, so he never complained about him ending things way too soon, yet he couldn't help his former curiosity morphing into impatience. Every time they were together in privacy he went a little farther, let his hands wander deeper, brought himself closer to him. Of course, that didn't slip Romano's attention. Sometimes, when Antonio got too excited, too lost in the moment, he would put a stop to it and hurry to make room between them. That was what just had happened. It always hurt to get rejected but fortunately the Spanish man was an expert when it came to cover up his real feelings with a cheerful smile. So he smirked and said: "You did very well."
Romano just shrugged; his cheeks flushed bright red when he glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing in this whole world that could be compared to the look in the Italian's eyes. Antonio could feel his heart picking up speed again as he continued to stare into those big golden seas, all too willing to drown in them. The sheer honesty and insecurity displayed on his face nearly made him leap at the Italian again. Since he couldn't do that without scaring him and receiving several hits on the head, Antonio carefully reached out to touch Romano's chin. This mere contact of skin was enough to electrify both of them. As intimidated as the Italian was by his just recently discovered sexuality, he couldn't deny that the proximity of the Spaniard had a major effect on him. That was also the reason he didn't want his friend to hug him in public. But they weren't in public now…
Following his silent request Romano turned around until the two men were face to face again. He half-closed his eyes, head reeling, and leaned closer. He cupped the Spaniard's face with his hands, barely touching him and ignored the surprised expression on his face. Then he brought his lips down on his, a pleased smile twitching in the corner of his mouth. He cherished these times when he finally could be himself and let his guard down. There was no one but Antonio who could make him feel that safe, not his brother and certainly not his boss. Their kiss was very innocent, a mere stroking of their lips, but it was so oh so sweet.  He would never admit it, but it was those kisses he enjoyed the most. He couldn't express his feelings in any other way so he gave his entire being to this simple contact. He felt the Spaniard smiling against his mouth and retreated. Just when he wanted to say something an annoying voice sounded through the villa of Heracles Karpusi.
"Fratello!"
"Dammit, that's Feliciano."
"I guess so…"
He couldn't be far away judging by the loudness of his shout. At once Romano was on his feet and rearranging his clothes, calling out: "What do you want?"
Antonio didn't bother to fix his appearance, he often looked a little messy. The door opened and filled the room with bright daylight that had been shut out before by the thick curtains neither of them had needed to be pulled aside. In the frame stood a young man with chestnut brown hair that looked around innocently.  "Brother, what are you two doing in here?"
"Talking about tomatoes." His elder sibling hurried to reply matter-of-factly, but he had hesitated for a split-second. Feliciano raised an eyebrow questioningly but didn't point out the clear lie. Instead he chirped: "Tomato sauce goes great with pasta!" He announced that as though he just had found a cure to AIDS. He really wasn't the brightest light in the chandelier. Antonio and Romano exchanged a brief glance and then shrugged simultaneously.
"So what do you want?" the Italian repeated his question from before. The chances were fifty-fifty that his younger brother had already forgotten why he had been searching for them. But he seemed to remember the reason. With his thumb he pointed over his shoulder, "Mr. Karpusi wants to talk to you. He said it was important."
The Spaniard rose to his feet, a hard gleam in his eyes. "If he says so it is important. Come, Romano."
"Yeah, yeah…" the man grumbled in response and followed his friend when he darted out of the room. He walked sluggishly, with his hands in his pockets and a pout on his face. Whenever Heracles whistled Antonio, his lap dog, would jump, wouldn't he? He knew that the wave of jealousy that hit him was unnecessary and childish but he couldn't do much about it. Ever since Antonio had found him in the orphanage and taken him home they had been together. It was still not clear how the Spaniard had managed to achieve the custody. At the time Romano had been twelve years old and he seventeen. Feliciano had been given away already, with five years, just one year after their parents' demise, he went to live somewhere in East Germany. There he had been raised No one had wanted to adopt the older brother, though. He could even remember the list of reasons the people gave when they had been asked about it. He was too loud, he was too cheeky, he was too unsocial and he just wasn't as adorable as Feliciano. Despite all that the Spaniard hadn't needed a second to make up his mind. So it was only natural that Romano wanted Antonio all for himself, as when he had been a child. At the time he already had been working with Heracles but he never had prioritized anything above his charge's well-being. Well, that had been back then, after all.
When Romano entered the tech lab Heracles and Antonio were all caught up in their discussion already and neither raised his head when he arrived. They were staring at the small monitor by the Greek's desk and furrowed their eyebrows in unison. But it wasn't their worry that made the Italian's stomach turn a somersault, it was flicker of fear in their eyes. He hurried to their side to see what could cause such a reaction from the two men. On the screen the footage of a security camera was running. It showed some airport and judging from the Cyrillic signs in the background it was in Greece. A young attractive woman with long dark brown hair just entered the screen; a simple suitcase in her hand and a self-confident smile on her lips. The camera slowly followed her path as if someone was steering it, which was probably the case. There was nothing unsettling about it, though.
"Cute" Romano commented. "Who is she?"
Heracles tilted his head towards him and then answered: "Her name is Elizaveta Héderváry. And she's here."
The way he said the last part sent a shiver down the Italian's spine. Once again he scrutinized the woman that now was about to leave. At his puzzled expression Antonio explained with a stern voice: "She is an assassin, Romano, one of the best. As far as we know she often works for Adnan. The fact that she's in Greece can't mean anything good."
"Do you think she's here to kill you?" Romano arched an eyebrow and looked from Antonio to Heracles. It wasn't uncommon for people to send killers over in order to get rid of the Greek. They never were a problem to him, especially because no one knew where he lived. For all the authorities knew this mansion was owned by a German technology company.
"I don't think she's after me." The Greek muttered and ran his hand through his hair.
"You are the only one they've seen in person so far. We believe she's out to get you, Romano…" While he spoke the Spaniard paled. His fingers clawed the backrest of Karpusi's chair as he stared at the younger man with expressionless eyes. The Italian returned the gaze, mouth suddenly dry. He felt his heart beating furiously, outraged, disbelieving in his chest.
"W-What do you mean? Me…? But I…" Besides meaningless stammering there was nothing he could say.
"We could be wrong, though. There is a chance that she isn't here because of any of us." Heracles now shrugged half-heartedly. He didn't believe in his own words, to be honest. Antonio opened his mouth to confirm the comment but before one sound could leave his mouth Romano stormed off. He didn't stop when they called him back and didn't stop when he nearly ran into his brother who came his way. He stamped onward without looking back, practically running for cover. There was a small bathroom to his left and he yanked the door open without thinking twice. He locked it swiftly and then sat down, leant against the wall. In this business you couldn't waste time with being shocked, you had to realize everything at once. So the Italian hit the back of his head against the hard ceramic tiles, biting his tongue to stifle his sobs. His eyes were burning and his breath came fast and heavy. It was one thing if they were out to kill Heracles, that wouldn't be that much of a problem to Romano but this… He didn't feel as though he was making a scene; not at all. Somewhere out there was someone who wanted to see him, no one but him, dead.  All that was that bastard Heracles' fault! Because of him he was sentenced to death!
He knew from the start that he shouldn't have expected to survive but now, that it was somewhat finalized and a well possible outcome he realized that he really, really didn't want to die.

"I better talk to him…" Antonio whispered. His boss nodded without turning his face away from the monitor. He heard the steps of his friend disappear as he hurried down the halls after the Italian. He had expected the young man to react like that but it still got to him. For the past week he had waited for Sadiq's answer full of impatience, and that was the way the Turk chose to reply? Such a cheap and dirty trick sure fitted into his personality, though. Instead of coming out to meet his end like a man he sent someone else to do the work for him. Heracles stood up and turned the screen off. Antonio would take care of Romano, calm him down or whatever he was doing. A subtle throat-cleaning made the Greek look up. Feliciano Vargas, the newest member of his little club, was standing in the doorframe, a troubled expression on his face. For a few seconds the two men just stared at each other, neither willing to break the silence. "What?" Heracles barked indignantly. He hadn't the nerve to deal with trivialities now. The next second he regretted his reaction. The boy probably was worried about his brother and wanted to know what was going on. The Italian yelped at his shout and ducked his head a little. "What will happen to Romano?" he asked quietly, yet not without faltering. Obviously he had heard most of their conversation.
"As far as we know soon someone will try to kill him, Feliciano."
"But… why?"
He folded his hands in his lap and lowered his gaze as he thought about how much he could tell him. The Greek didn't move but said: "Because we are fighting a very evil person. Actually, your brother has nothing to do with it, yet Sadiq Adnan wants to see him dead. I'm sorry."
"What kind of person would do such a thing?" Feliciano whispered, staring blankly ahead.
"Adnan is a very, very sick man who needs to be put down like a wild dog. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yeah, but…"
Heracles gave him a warm smile that didn't reach his eyes and interrupted him softly. "Now, now, we'll do everything we can to protect your brother. Just promise me something."
The Italian looked up with his confused wet eyes. "What…?"
The helpless expression on his face nearly made the Greek reach out to touch his shoulder comfortingly, but then he changed his mind. Instead he whispered, using his most persuading voice:  "You have to promise me that you will help me against all those evil persons. We have to put a stop to them, Feliciano, so your brother can't be harmed by them, especially Sadiq. You understand that they need to be punished, don't you?"
"Y-Yes, I understand that… sir." He stuttered, insecurity plain to see on his face. The sudden advance of his boss startled him. But he didn't want Romano to get hurt and neither did he want that individuals like this Adnan could do whatever they wanted without facing the consequences. Even though Feliciano was very easy-going himself he would never put up with someone getting away with crimes like murder. It seemed Heracles shared his opinion and if it was for the sake of making this world a better place he would do his best to help him.
"Will you make that promise? It would be our own little pact to protect the ones we love. That way I will know that I can trust you and you can trust me. We will fight those evil-doers together." The words rolled over the Greek's tongue like a lullaby, hypnotic and intoxicating. The young Italian gazed at the taller man with big eyes and then nodded. The request still seemed a little odd but the Greek's voice calmed him down and chased his worries away. "I promise to help you with all my strength." Feliciano vowed and gave a tiny smile hoping the other would return it. He didn't but tousled his hair a bit, missing the striking curl at the side of his head by half an inch, and said: "Good boy, now I have faith we can defeat those bastards who want to harm your dear big brother and my close friend. Now, go and search for him. He will need your support for the next days."
The Italian nodded, relieved and even a little proud, and left the room. Heracles flinched a little when he shut the door close behind him. Then a grin flickered in the corners of his mouth. Who would have thought that it could be so easy to replace an underling? One brother died and the other took his place, it was the circle of life or something. Heracles had dealt with the Hungarian assassin known as Elizaveta Héderváry before and knew how rarely one of her victims escaped. He was familiar with her record. For the past five years not one survived her visit. He often regretted that he had hesitated at first and that she now was almost an established part of Sadiq's group. She was still as corrupt as any assassin these days but still…
All in all, Romano's time was up. He would miss the kid, he was amusing. Plus: He didn't even want to imagine the next months with a grieving Antonio around. He stifled a groan and got up. For the next hours nothing would change so he could as well take a walk outside. He missed the warm afternoon sun shining on his face and the creeping heat that slowed down your body altogether until you could do nothing else but lie in the shadows beneath an olive tree and doze. He left through the back door and when he stepped outside he instantly took his suit off.  He hadn't noticed it was already June. Heracles left it by the entrance and began to stroll down the street. His feet reliably steered him through the familiar streets, passed stores and restaurants and made way for excessively excited tourists until he found himself near the metro station Acropolis. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground he wandered aimlessly through the countless lanes and alleys of the Plaka. The narrow streets and high rows of buildings that enclosed the tiny souvenir shops and snack bars threw giant shadows on the pavement. After a few minutes he decided that he was hungry enough to eat something. The good bars were still closed so he would just settle for some souvláki. He groped for the coins in his pocket and slowly counted his money. Despite the huge amount of valuables he possessed, divided on more than hundred banks all over the world, he carried rather little cash around.  After he bought his lunch he sat down on a bench near a small chapel. Its façade was already a little tarnished and weather-beaten but with the trees, which branches were heavy with fragrantly blooming flowers that surrounded it an atmosphere of faith and vitality was the major impression people got from it. While chewing on the juicy lamb meat deliberately he let his eyes wander across the crowd. Without his doing his thoughts returned to the young Italian that was about to face his end. Maybe Romano was expecting some encouraging or reassuring words from his boss or the promise to protect him. But maybe, and this was more likely, he was mad as hell at him. Of course he felt bad for him and didn't want him to die, but what could he do? Heracles had to juggle about a hundred things at once in order to survive; he had neither means nor time to help the Italian, as well. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the small hand that sneaked into the pocket of his pants. He grabbed it and held it in an iron grip before even turning his head around. With eyes as green as a rainy forest and as cold as ice he glared down at the tiny figure that writhed in his grasp. It was a young boy that squealed and whined, desperate to escape the man's clutch.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled under his breath. The child couldn't be older than ten but there was a hard gleam in his eyes that proved he had seen better times. It was probably a stray that tried to survive by pick-pocketing. The Greek towered over the boy, still not letting go of his wrist. He squeezed it a little causing the kid to yelp in pain.
"No, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Forgive, forgive!" he screeched in broken Greek.  "Hungry much, no money! Üzgünüm!"
As if the youngster's skin suddenly had caught fire Heracles let go of him what caused the child to trip, fall to the ground and there start crying. A rather incredulous expression on his face he squatted down next to the boy and grabbed his collar to provide him from escaping. "Where are you from?" Normally he wouldn't have made such a fuss over it but with Sadiq closing in on him he couldn't take any risks. It would be like him to use a child for… well, whatever his retarded mind had thought up.
"Üzgünüm, üzgünüm, sorry, sorry, sorry. Don't hurt!" the child sobbed and tried to pull Heracles' hand away.
"Shut up!" Heracles barked and at once the chants for forgiveness stopped. Then he repeated his question, now a little calmer: "Where are you from, boy?"
"C-Cyprus."
This wasn't a very specific answer but since the kid could speak Turkish, probably even as his first language, the man simply assumed he was from the northern half of the island.
"You are alone, aren't you? Why are you here if you're from Cyprus?" Heracles asked and shook him a little. Besides a few whimpers the boy didn't reply anything. Heracles stood up and stared at the crouched figure in front of him, finally taking a closer look at him. He obviously was starving, his cheekbones stood out against the ailing skin of his face and his arms were too thin to match his stature. Tears were still running down his cheeks and his torso trembled with breathless sobs. Heracles tilted his head to the left with a frown. That was probably what he had looked like when that bastard Sadiq had found him, even though he had been a bit older back then. He remembered all too well how hungry he had been. Every crumb on the ground had been a feast to him, every projection of a roof had been a home, every stray cat a family member. The child probably felt the same way. The Greek man gave his best to fight the sudden pity that rose within him as he gazed down at the foreign boy who was still cringing at his feet. He knew how it felt to be all alone, with no one to rely on and no one to protect him, children shouldn't feel that way. The crowd began to notice their little encounter and murmurs got louder. Heracles paid no heed to their comments and questions. He could save the boy, he could give him a home and food, a life. He could do it, he just had to hold out his hand to him, he knew the kid would take it, gladly. Just as gladly as he had taken Sadiq Adnan's hand. Heracles just had to offer it with a smile and the boy would take his hand and his help. The same thoughts seemingly crossed the child's mind. When Heracles remained silent he looked up to him with an almost hopeful expression on his dirty, skinny face. Yes, he could save this unfortunate life if he wanted to. The Greek straightened up and with the most indifferent expression the tall man turned around and left the poor, hungry boy on the ground behind. He remembered the skewer in his hand, one last piece of souvláki was still speared on it. He put his other hand in his pocket and sank his teeth into the delicious meat. He was already full but he didn't want to throw the good food away either.
Thus he returned to his mansion way more relaxed than before. He took a long look at the big house he called his home. It was very Mediterranean as most buildings in this area but with slight French touch as seen in the decorated banisters that lead to the low porch. He yawned and rubbed his throat to chase the dry feeling away. He needed a drink. Before he could make this urge his first priority he decided to visit Romano. The kid was probably in his room shivering and trembling, all paranoid, with Antonio and Feliciano desperately trying to calm him down. Heracles, as his superior, should at least give him some words of encouragement. He took another step and reached for his keys. Before his fingers touched the cold aluminum the terrible noise of an explosion filled his ears.
Oh shi-!