Disclaimer: “ Gangsta.” is originally created by Kohske and is an ongoing series you can follow by purchasing GO GO Bunch or the manga sets (7 boxes, plus the “Gangsta: Cursed” spinoff), which I highly suggest. “Seven Sirens” is a fan fiction and is not part of the original source material. Characters and settings borrowed from the original do not belong to me and I am not profiting from the creation of this series. This is for entertainment purposes only. Without Kohske’s story, this would not exist. Much love going out to one of my favorite stories and hope you enjoy this one as well.
Every morning she wakes up to the sound of the front door opening, Mama’s feet moving from one end of the room to another. Each step caused the loose floor boards to squeak in protest against her old weight. The matryoshka-doll dressed, hunchback woman would pause to look into the bedroom. Her charge lay, nestled under the green, military blankets. Tuffs of red hair billowed out onto the white pillow cases. It reminded her of a suicide victim who blew their brains out.
“Good morning,” Mama’s scratching voice attempted to force a reaction. Adelaide would lay still, watching from her hiding place. “Alright then… two letters came in from central office… and I’m sure you’re aware of the chaos outside.”
Adelaide glared towards the window. Gunfire finally seemed to die down after two days of it remaining constant. Rumor had it, anti-twilight factions were getting out of hand again. First, the all out brawl at Bastard’s Bar, which led a persistent smell of blood that flowed through the window. Then came the explosions at the Paulklee Guild that shook the building, and disturbed her sleep.
Every new report blended into one another, some rumor, some truth, all pointless. If the phone did ring, they couldn’t do a thing. If he wasn’t in trouble, Adelaide wouldn’t make it a priority.
Mama knew all too well that she’d go against orders to make sure she was there to ensure he lived to fight another day. She owed him that much; she loved him that much more. The countless ash trays packed by used cigarettes — his favorite Pall Malls — spoke for her feelings. She didn’t smoke, but the room smelt like she did.
“Phoenix,” Mama grumbled, placing the tray of black coffee, over-hard eggs, bowl of fruit and toast on to the table. “Someone threw him out a window.”
“What?” Adelaide sounded pained by that.
“Dr. Theo called,“ Mama took a seat, taking one of the pieces of toast in her wrinkled fingers and lifting it to her thin lip. “A gray-haired punk stabbed him and tossed him out a window. He was trying to defend Monroe’s headquarters.”
“Is he alive?” Phoenix hissed.
“According to my sources, Nic and him have been deal with this shit since -”
“Answer the goddamn question, Madeline! Is Worick alive?” The red-headed woman erupted out from under the blankets.
Adelaide’s sat there, slim form deck in a pair of boxers, and sports bra. Her body was a mess of pale-colored scars. A beautiful kintsugi of a woman looking not a day over 30.
She glared at the old woman. Though her muddy, feldgrau-colored eyes begged for an answer, her heart prepared itself for the worst. The last time they exchanged words had been a verbal assault, a litany of unapologetic poisonous. She could still see his face contorted with pain after she plunged a rusted-knife of insults into his chest.
“You weren’t there when she died… and I don’t need your here to make me feel any better about it. You’re a distraction. I don’t need a distraction.”
Fingers raking the blankets, Adelaide bit her lip on the verge of tears.
Raze jumped down from behind a nearby curtain meowing his own protest to her discomfort. The two women jumping at the sight and sudden interruption the gray-striped tabby offered the two. He pressed his front white-mitten feet against the bed, stretching his back out after sleeping on the sill. Adelaide studied him, shocked at his blasé mentality over recent events. She wished she could be so aloof.
“He’s fine,” Mama broke the woman’s focus from the cat. “Banged up pretty good, but he’ll live.
Adelaide loosened up, placing her bare feet on the cold wooden floor for the first time that morning. It was a Monday. Worst day of the week and after the scare, she was ready to get to business.
“Status report on the situation outside, Mama,” she groaned, reaching for her coveted pack of Pall Malls. She pulling one of the slick cancer sticks out from its holster. Bang, she lite it and let the smoke fill the room. “It’s my understanding Corsica has called in the Destroyers.”
“Yes,” Mama smirked, chewing on the piece of toast. “Based on incoming reports, Corsica is looking to burn the whole place down. First the Cristianos, and now Paulklee.”
“Are you assuming that the attack on Bastard’s was Corsica’s doing?” Adelaide stood, stretching like Raze did. “That’s a rather interesting theory despite us knowing he wants nothing to do with Twilights. Wasn’t one of them suspected to be Delico’s missing sister?”
“That’s what some in Monroe’s group are saying,” Mama looked at Raze who poked his head out from under the table. “But I guess you’re right to question it. We haven’t figured out who hired them and the fat fuck of a Four Fathers wouldn’t exactly hire Twilights outside the hunters.”
“Keep Chap on the phones,” Adelaide was now standing in front of the old woman. Mama looked up unimpressed by the move, but upset by the red-head reclaiming the toast she was eating.
“I was going to finish that,” Mama grumbled, arms crossed.
“That wasn’t the agreement,” Adelaide crunched down on the half eaten bit. “Tell Nora to keep the basement open, and Lin and Lorelei to start filtering any survivors here.”
“And Edna?” Mama said, cracking her teeth.
Adelaide knelt before the small table, sighing.
“Put Edna on lookout duty until otherwise noted,” she pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “No shots fired unless we’re given the all clear. And Mama…”
The old woman raised her gray eyebrow.
“Keep tabs on Worick and Nicolas,” Adelaide continued eating.
Adelaide crinkled her nose.
