Chapter Text
For those in mafia clans, the golden circle had always been traditional. Honoring the names of the family was like attending a religious mass. It had been nothing but devotional worship in a caste dominated by praises of who’s better and who could contribute the most.
With that, it had caused a torn of the stereotypical roles within the Gretcher clan. Those who stayed in the low ranks stayed there, while those in the higher positions elevated. It’d cause a really bad shift and had nearly caused the clan internal dispute.
The past boss that had advanced for her impressive commitment to the family had been The Godmother. She’d stepped up and puts everyone to place in their family, maintaining rightful order.
Born as Gwyneth Gretcher, she was greatly known as Gwen Gretcher... having to be the first woman in the family that had transformed how things worked.
Reform had been important to The Godmother, so in order for change to occur, she had to fight the system from inside. Listening to retaliation that come from the mouths of cynical members has been an ear sore. The traditionalists stayed true to the century-old ideologies of the Gretcher name as she ascended through the crime ranks.
Gwen had left a tale, a bedtime story told to those swearing into the mafia family. The Gretcher cognomen. They have told a legend of The Godmother and till now, it remains truer than ever. Her legacy continues to live on.
Today, it had marked another milestone in history since The Godmother. For the trad members, they had narrated revulsion. For everyone else, it had been an audience filled with commendation.
Within that family, even though there had been order, there will always be chaos if no leader strong enough steps up.
Yet at the age of twenty-six, Olka Gretcher had advanced to Gretcher Regent of the family.
It meant the boss. She's now the second woman ever since The Godmother decades back to climb her family ranks. And Olka did not need to prove her worth to those that thought of her as powerless.
She’s already the greatest from the moment she was born.
Olka had clearly remembered the moment where she made progress. The position was hereditary most of the time. And usually, the family's Board of Trustees had always determined one distinctive individual.
Sometimes the eldest child would inherit it, other times it would be based on proficiency. It had been the day her dad, Gram Gretcher, was at the edge of a cliff. He was on the run and had been hiding in Nortica from the international state troops. They’d follow him all the way to Hugaria and had alerted their national defense forces through.
"Olka," Gram had called his daughter one evening as he was seeking refuge. The Boss had been on the run from every secretive and national defense force of this republic. For her two brothers Paul and Otto, they had ended up being fugitives. They had escaped to Nortica before making their way to Septevia. During this whole process, they had converted their names to a new identity.
Olka would have been next if they hadn't found a new topic of idea for someone else to coerce to take the fall for.
"If I end up getting caught by the national security-"
Olka closes her eyes, soothing herself to keep her ground. Being the only scion left to a powerful family was an adversity. Craving for power and validation was something... that had grown on her as she puts herself more into this dirty business.
"You will be the successor to our business," Gram has always been frank in telling things. For a criminal like him, if he couldn't make everyone like him, they had to fear him. There was no choice. He had laid an emblematically burdensome tap on her arm with a secured smile. To her, she had rarely seen him smile so valiantly.
"I have alerted the family's Board of Trustees."
With this weight, she had a duty to uphold and a new era bloomed upon.
"Olka. I entrust everyone to you."
After a bloodied quarrel with one of the gangs, the Gretcher units had managed to seize control and win the battle. With triumph and boasting from conquer, they had taken control of the Red Circus.
It was more of if they choose to stay under the Gretcher name, they will be financed and supported. And if not, well.
The rest need no words.
”Lady Gretcher,” Vadim calls her out. He had been one of the remnants of the Red Circus that had been coerced into the mafia. "Have you met with the Garden's leader?"
Olka was in charge of the gangs – ranging from the street gangs loitering all over Berlint to the national-based syndicates headed by soiled members of the parliament. Truce amongst the crime groups had been important to keep order in the underworld.
Even Olka had contemplated dispatching a middleman in the crime gangs... operatives only the Gretcher Board of Trustees know about to keep structure.
"We believe the retired mobsters had assigned you one of the finest bodyguards,” Vadim had started off. When he had highlighted the retired mobsters, in some way it must have included her now-detained father. Fortunately for the mademen and unfortunately for the regent, Olka's grandfather had also retired from the gangster life moreover.
He still held much influence as Olka, and if not even more.
He adds on swiftly, hands firm together ready for a decree. “And if the rumors are true, she’s from the Garden. One of the old boss's friends. The assassins of the Garden are a league of their own, a soldier fighting an entire fleet is outstanding.”
Vadim had given her the credentials of the said bodyguard all sealed within a manila folder. And to Olka, she was a bit thrilled to hear about this guard. The bodyguards the trustees had granted her in the past years were... well, incompetent and had given up too easily when it came to the regent.
She had been labeled as a bitch who could have never kept her mouth shut. A clever-dick. A type of gang leader for calling out everyone on their shit if they hadn’t done it correctly. If it had been her older brother Paul in her stead, they would’ve been licking the floor of his dirty boots and praising him for keeping them straight.
Oh, the double standards had absolutely baffled her. Olka always wonders why women get more shit compared to men.
Olka had looked through her files in silence as Vadim had to look around to keep himself busy. He had never been left alone with the new mafia boss before, let alone the one that had taken control of his group. So he was--in a certain degree-- batshit frightened of her. Olka's eyes darted up to meet his. "She's married?"
"I'm sorry, My Lady?"
She removes the clip from the front cover, showing Vadim of what seems to include a pocket-sized printed portrait from the folder . Pointing at the marital status adjacent to her cheekbones, Olka once says (and has no intention of repeating it again), "It says here she's married."
Ah! Vadim tells himself, his mind fuzzy with worry. He had a bad habit of overanalyzing everything, causing him to think of the possible worst-case scenario. "She's... well, divorced now."
"Hm," Olka nods in agreement. It hadn’t been her business to know about personal lives, but she at least could gather somewhat of it on a surface level. If the Board of Trustees have control over this decision, still thinking I'm incompetent, then I'll see with them. "Fair enough. You're excused then, Vadim."
Olka had wondered one thing and was really wondering how long this crime enterprise of hers could last. Her business may stand strong, and she had already noted her successor in case she gets eliminated. As a gangster, she must prepare for the absolute worst, which means either detainment or death.
Vadim acknowledges, taking a deep sigh of relief from all the anguish repressed because of this moment. It'd been bad like this before, and he'd never had the chance to manage it. Before stepping out the door of her office, Olka calls her underling once again.
"Hey, Vadim."
Without a second to spare, he turns around. Swallowing the tension, Vadim stresses, "Yes, Lady Gretcher?"
"Do you or the other members have any idea on who had ratted out the former Boss?"
The last thing Olka had heard was a rumor surrounding the Red Circus being there during the time her father had been on the run. That'd been nearly three years ago. But the leader of the certain faction Olka had headed, Billy Squire, was killed tragically with his late wife Bella, one of the founders of the Red Circus Movement.
Vadim, in a way, had been the late leader's right-hand man. For sure, he could have made up a theory much to curate Olka's assumptions. But on the contrary, she had learned not to expect so much in the crime world and just go with what she could control and what facts are legit.
Lies in the underworld can lead her straight to hell. And trust was all that matters in the crime network.
”Forgive me if I can't give you a solid answer," Vadim starts, afraid to hear admonition if that wasn’t the answer Olka had been looking for. "But the remaining members and I... we believe it had been Officer Lionel of Ostania’s National Defense Force to have arrested the former Boss .”
Meeting Yor Briar for the first time had been a change for Olka. Being the last remaining member of the Briar family was an appealing spin for the heiress.
There had been formal introductions and clandestine meetings at spots they needed to rendezvous to. Olka has been marked by the State Police and she needs to lie low. She had no option but to fool the police, making sure to leave open spots in her “fixed” schedule. Losing them had and always been this easy for a gangster.
That of course, if you knew who’s tailing you.
Olka had known from the beginning it had been that lapdog from State Security, Gascoigne, and he’d always been more than an airhead to Olka. He was proficient, she could say that, but everything else had canceled out for her. Making her mildly dislike him.
The two parties had convened at one of the exclusive clubs. This society had been so high-class, VIP memberships sold out like the Ostanian singer Amy’s concert when she’s on a national tour.
Of course this place had rather been stuff for people to get loose and get reckless. The majority of the statistics from what Olka had gathered was that they’d for sure regret their mistakes the next morning. It had been lucid through their actions that they'd be doing something very unforgettable.
That had been the funny thing about regrets. You’d be in shame too late.
”Do you understand, Miss Briar?” Olka stated. “When she initiated new members into the family, blood or not, it had always been the head that had been in charge of all the protocols and rituals .
”Of course boss,” she acknowledges as she crosses her legs. Olka had hated when fresh members did this as she found it incredibly disrespectful and didn't pay attention, but with Yor, it hadn’t been either of those two.
Yor in fact, had done quite the opposite. Her eyes remain attentive to the boss and even though her legs are crossed in a manner that seems inappropriate (and she had seemed too naive according to Vadim), this was a woman that trained in stealth and protection .
Her upbringing had been to kill. That had been her job’s purpose, and the strive to push forward even if she had no family this entire time.
”The Gretcher organization will protect you,” Olka says firmly. It’s an established fact. With the Gretcher’s having the leading mafia business in top three in the entire continent, the protection they offered for their advocates was by all means. “We will give you our full allegiance so long as you do the same. I think you should already be aware of this but, betray us—“
Olka leaned forward, Vadim and Bruce who had been on either side of the heiress swallowed the insurmountable tension in the atmosphere. And it didn’t help that the VIP room they had been in made them a bit claustrophobic. A rare amount of those trying to swear into the mafia usually renounce their loyalty the moment Olka finishes. The real talk that the mafia life isn’t just for anyone. It’d take a lot of guts just to even consider it.
In that small percentage of that rare amount, some don’t even let Olka finish what she says. Which she found incredibly rude like, at least let the woman finish the damn sentence!
”We will need to kill you.”
Yor copied her exact same move, not backing down from the intimidation and had matched at the same intensity of Olka’s stare. Nodding with a strong expression, her rosy eyes bore deep into her obscured ones, “I swear my loyalty not to Ostania or the other countries, but to the Gretcher family and them only.”
Those were the precise words Olka wanted to hear come out of her mouth.
For the years they’ve been acquainted, Yor and Olka could have been considered as the closest friends in the mafia business. They’d been close, but not too close for the sake of the establishment. It was enough for Yor to become Olka’s permanent advisor, having to beat the other members of her family to it.
Under the Gretcher name, Yor was able to get at least a proper education. To finish high school and get credentials for college to earn a degree. It may have not been perfect, (it was rather shitty in Olka’s words), it had suffice for accreditation.
She’d even managed to get some sort of scholarship based on athletics that had helped the young woman out tremendously. To find legit jobs in the real world, she would need some type of education.
And also the right connections.
With Olka’s network and Yor’s perseverance of not backing down, she was able to open up her own nightclub. A bar, something she could officially call hers.
She’d named it Heaven’s Dress.
Olka had detested conferences where she always had to take the lead. Instances where she had to conduct the meetings hadn’t been rare, so it was well enough for her to at least be prepared.
She had concocted a plan, and it had been to track down Lionel with the help of Yor. Last thing Olka had heard of was him dying, but realistically he had fled the country after faking his death.
With a small business presentation from Bruce and Vadim, Olka had come to one conclusion.
“He’s Twilight.” Yor blinks, staring at the board and then back at Olka. For the amount of time Yor had studied the boss, she had never settled with a theory till there was solid evidence enough to hold someone pawn. “Certain? No take backs?”
“It’s plausible but not a hundred percent,” Olka says, honesty etched in her tone. Although it mattered what she had to say, how she said it was of the utmost importance. Even being hesitant, she was definitely putting her toes in the water for the risk.
This was her first time and she had a too-sacred-for-words type of feeling to even express it.
”To further stabilize my claim,” Olka stands from her chair, finding her poise. Vadim and Bruce make way for the heiress as she walks towards the center of the panel at the committee.
“The organization indeed did send someone to Westalis,” she reminds them of their strategy for their current ploy. They had only sent the member a few months ago, and Olka could only hope he didn't get caught. That could compromise everything they’ve worked for so far.
“Despite being sent there to learn more about our enemy, he is also taking care of our gambling ring in Westalis and taking out any rats trying to pry information.”
The Gretcher’s own the biggest gambling ring in Ostania, Westalis, and Nortica. Despite it being underground gambling, it was also legit enough for it to stand amongst the other legitimate businesses.
“As you all know, the Gretchers have the biggest gambling ring in the continent. As for Wheeler —“
Olka had removed multiple papers posted on the board, moving it around to show which was the most important and how it was going to be played out. No plan was a goner and a well-executed plan meant their operation has a high chance of succeeding.
”—He’d successfully infiltrated the intelligence agency and knows Twilight’s true appearance. As far as we know from the State Police, he has the pseudonym as the master of disguises and traps. He’d also sent us a code on how there’s a drug lord here that knows what happened to the boss.”
”The main objective of this operation has always been to take down our enemies." Olka repeats one of the ideologies. It's nice to refresh their minds once in a while to make sure their memory retains it.
”Yor,” Olka calls, catching the attention of the former who had looked up at her. In meetings like these, Olka had always asked her to take notes of anything she's missing. As advisor to the Regent, Yor had been Olka's second pair of ears.
“As of this moment, your task is to take him out.”
Take him out? It'd be easy for Yor. It's not like she hasn't done something like this before. However... "You want me to cross Ostania's border to assassin Twilight in the west? He fled back for the time being, didn't he?"
"No," Olka turns to her direction. "Our main focus right now should be the drug lord Edgar . Winston had mentioned he should be coming back soon, so the moment he sends another signal... I need you to stake him out when Twilight arrives."
Those who fight back tend to get in trouble and Olka and Yor had learned that the hard route. It had never been easy, and there were sets of trial and errors. It'd been a long evaluation, but what the two of them have gathered from this rule of thumb was--
To not get caught.
Reconnaissance had never been taken into Yor’s consideration. She had been more of a frank, let’s-get-this-over-with gal. She could do it, but even if she’d tried hard enough, she'd give away her location.
She wastes no time in getting her assignments done.
Keeping the drug lord Edgar and his cronies under her surveillance had been such a hassle. She had not wasted a heartbeat in disturbance in the midst of their money heist. With the help of some of the associates, the cronies held captive were brought into the Gretcher's interrogation room.
Defenseless and silent.
“I brought them here,” Yor had kicked the back of Nguyen not-so-gently to fall forward onto the floor.
Olka scanned the men dropped to their knees with a look of vain. She’d approach the leader of this herd and all— Edgar.
”Good morning, Edgar!” Olka greets, pulling a wad of hair in her grasp. Bigoted bastard. With his mouth muffled and hands trussed, she sends him a crafty leer. “I believe you are in possession of information I desperately desire.”
Edgar had immediately turned to his men, disgustedly frantic that he’s afraid one of them might tattletale. That had been the risk of having underlings after all, they could betray you if they are given a better offer.
Olka had removed the piece of cloth covering his mouth- “If one of you rats out,” Edgar exasperatedly says, looking at his cronies with an alarming expression. "I swear--"
“As if we’re gonna say anything, boss!” a blindfolded Nguyen retaliated, waltzing around at the voice to see where it was coming from. Yor's eyes had narrowed at the man with a buzzcut. Silently approaching the man, Edgar's eyes follow suit as Olka lets her.
Not a single word came out of her mouth. It had only been the echoes of her black heels as she took each step. To Olka, when Yor didn't ask for instructions, she knew exactly what she was doing.
Once she had knelt to his level of dirt, she’d roughly yank off the blindfold, the obsidian-eyed man now faced to the Thorn Princess.
“Thorn Princess? ” Nguyen had asked, out of words. He looked around, finally absorbing where he was. It finally hit him how he’d been put hostaged with his fellow members, and Yor’s patience was being tested. “How did you—“
“You don’t wanna get on the Garden’s bad side, don’t you?” Yor had cut him off with a whisper. He stared blankly at her, a staring game that Yor refused to call defeat. This conversation can only be heard between the two, so Edgar and those without the blindfolds could only stare in anticipation of what Yor was about to bring to the table.
”Right?” she asks again.
”N-No!”
Yor leaned closer to him, the curiosity piquing her and the urge to blackmail stronger. She never blackmails because she’d go straight for the kill. But this time, she had an option.
”Don’t tell that woman shit, Nguyen!” Edgar reminded him, “Remember who you work for!”
“Do you really want the biggest crime family in Ostania to be your enemy, Nguyen?” Yor says with a sinister expression. In this world, in this country, only power mattered. To put yourself against a mafia family, let alone the Gretchers , would be a really dumb move. “Do you want to be our enemies, or our allies?”
Edgar had tried to decipher what the two were talking about. With his hunch, it’d been bad. What had that hellbent woman been telling Nguyen?
On Olka’s side, she couldn’t help but scoff. Remember who you work for? Please, Edgar had been given his part of the territory from the last two bosses. So in reality, Edgar had worked for Olka.
He just didn’t know because of the recent, but unexpected promotion.
“Edgar,” Olka calls him with a taunting smile, “Do you remember me?”
Edgar had turned to Olka, obviously annoyed that he had to grovel to his enemies. To let his opponents see him in such a state. At the view of Olka herself he squints, staring into her eyes. He’d seen her eyes before and they were hauntingly intrusive to him.
One thing that sets the Gretcher family apart from the rest of the crime families was their eyes. Whenever a new boss gets promoted, you could see the inherited scorch in their stares from several feet away.
That had meant a leader was in the making.
To Edgar, her eyes had defined the last Gretcher boss. The same frightening aura when you make out who this woman is, the same malevolent glare Edgar’s late grandfather had quoted when they first got their part of the land in Ostania.
Broken coughs out of fear and the effect of emitting fumes into his pleurae, ”Don’t tell me your Boss Gram’s—?”
”Daughter?” Olka finishes, looking down at him as if he were some troubled pest that had to be taken out. “The one and only. And as the Regent of the Gretcher Crime Family, you are in Berlint territory.”