Daughter of a Mobster
"Annabeth Clarisse DiCario!" Her father's voice snapped Annabeth awake; startled she flailed on the bed in a mess of blankets before she fell onto the floor in an ungraceful heap. A loud laughed from her door frame caused her to groan and untangle herself, looking up to find her father standing there with a wide grin as she snarled, "what the hell?"
"Well you don't want to be late for your first day of college, do you?" he teased as a panicked expression befell her face. He left the room as his laughter continued, shutting the door behind him as she bolted around her room, and breathing out curses that would make a sailor proud.
Thirty minutes later she was dressed and ready to leave, only to look at her clock and see she had an hour before her first class. She hissed angrily and stomped out of her room, knowing she would find her father at the table, "DADDY!"
Christopher DiCario looked up from his paper, smiling, "morning Banphrionsa. Did you sleep well?" She smiled and sat down, her eyes holding a dangerous spark has she answered in a sweet tone, "oh, I was sleeping wonderful, until an ollphéist fathach broke into my room and almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Ollphéist fathach?!" Her father nearly choked on his coffee and set it down, trying to hold his laughter, "oh my!" Annabeth hear soft footsteps behind her and turned to see her mother, Maria DiCario, walking in the kitchen, "Annie, your father is not a giant monster."
"Giant monster?" Angelica, Annabeth's six year old sister padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eye sleepily, "where is a giant monster?"
"Don't worry aingeal beag," Annabeth purred as she reached down and pulled her little sister up, "the monster is too busy attacking bacon and eggs to notice you." The six year old giggled and slid off Annabeth's lap as the older women stood, walking to the back door, "well I'm off!"
"Wait-" her mother cried whirling around, "what about breakfast? What about the first day of college picture? What about my good bye hug?" Annebeth rolled her eyes and hugged her mother, "I am twenty-one years old. I am too old for back to school pictures and I am grabbing breakfast on the go." She turned to walk out but her father cried, "Wait!"
"What?" she whined.
"What about your body guards? What about your escort? What about my hug?" He cried, rising as he reached for his cell phone, probably to call for her guards.
"I am just going to my first classes," Annabeth sighed as she walked to her father, sliding the phone across the table and out of his reach, "I don't need an army faction following me around- I will be fine. And as far as the hug goes-" She wrapped her arms around her father, burying her face into his chest.
Christopher DiCario was a tall man, standing at no less then 6'3" with 230 pounds that were mostly muscle. He, like his daughter, had raven black hair that was close cropped, and had a few grey streaks. He had forest green eyes and a strong chin; a gentle man but had a mean side if you threatened his family or friends.
"Hug!" Angelica cried, willing her sister to laugh and pick her up, "I will see you after school, aingeal beag." Angelica DiCario was the opposite of her older sister; with bright red unmanageable curls she received from her mother, and her father's forest green eyes she was precious without a doubt.
"I will see you all later!" Annabeth called as she ran from the door, escaping before anyone could stop her.
"I hate people," Annabeth grumbled as she walked the too large campus; her hazel eyes scanning the buildings as she tried to locate the right one, "-HA!" She headed to her next class confidently, having finally found the correct building.
Twenty-one and a freshman in college just felt lazy to her, she didn't want to wait this long to continue her education. It wasn't really her fault, her damn over protective father only just agreed to allow her to leave the house and move into her own place- even though she had to wait a month after school because her father wanted to make sure she could handle the pressure.
Gotham is ruled by five major mobs.
Carmine Falcone runs the Italian mob, he is the Don for the largest mob system here.
My father, Christopher DiCario, runs the Irish mob; we are the next largest mob in Gotham. The Falcone and DiCario families go way back, and my father practically grew up with Carmine. That earns us a bit of relief, but we still have guns on us when they visit for Thanksgiving.
Tetchen Rosturr is the head of the Russian mob, with the next largest.
Gambol Nndekwei is the head for the Nigerian mob, and the least major is the Canadian mob family, with Francisco Bleist leading it.
It is typical for the families to stay close together, usually each living in the heart of their territory in a large estate with everyone from the grandparents to the grandkids. I didn't want that- I mean, I had full intentions of taking the family when my father passed but until then I am happy doing my own thing.
I sighed when I walked in to my first class, finding a couple students there. I looked to the head of the class to find another student by the professor's desk, shifting through the papers as he obviously looked for something. I pressed my lips into a thin line and walked to where I was sitting in the seat closest to the door; placing my back pack beside me in hope nobody would sit by me as I pulled out a book, hoping not to be seen.
'What are you looking for?' Scarecrow grumbled in the back of Jonathon Crane's mind, observing his other half's search of his desk.
'The attendance sheet for this class-'Jonathon answered back mentally, continuing his search. Needless to say, today was going to be a very hectic day; he had everything organized and ready, yet still somehow miss placed the first damn thing he was going to do.
'Finally,' he sighed when he found it under the hand out form that told the students what they would need for their classes. He looked at his watch and saw he had thirty seconds until his students had better be in and sitting down. He looked up and smiled, about ten of his twenty-seven students were scattered here and there in the class. He did frown when the rest of the class filed in: loud and laughing like drunks as they started to find their seats, mostly in the back.
The bell rang and the noise level dimmed only slightly. His students started talking to one another:
"Where's the teach?"
"Late on the first day~"
"I am taking a nap, wake me when Professor what's-his-name gets here."
Jonathon cleared his throat and caught the attention of the class, "Good morning class, my name is Professor Crane, your teacher for Minor Psychology." He was greeted by dead silence and wide eyes, and he walked to his desk and pulled out the attendance sheet, "let's call role, hm?"
Annabeth couldn't help but raise an eye brow at the "Professor". He was young- far younger then che expected him to be. Honestly he was only most likely a year or two older than her.
Professor Jonathon Crane- a tall, thin man that had dark slicked back hair and icy blue eyes. He was cute in a nerd way, from the thin statue to the glasses.
"Annabeth DiCario?" He called my name for roll and I answered back, "here." His eyes snapped to me and nodded, "Jacob Dommin?" The roll continued as he gave us an introductory speech, and an introductory lesson. Honestly- I got bored after I finished it so I decided to doodle. Throughout the entire lesson, I couldn't help but feel that someone was watching me, but every time that I looked up I couldn't find anyone.
Maybe I am just being paranoid- I am the daughter of a mob boss after all.
Throughout the entire class period, Jonathon couldn't take his eyes off Annabeth DiCario. He knew that name; the DiCario family was one of the most feared in Gotham, right under the Falcone family. She must be related, but even that didn't make sense.
The mob family stayed together, in packs like wolves. She was out here, exposed and he was fairly sure that she had no body guards in this class. So why was she here? Maybe she wanted to get away; Jonathon sure wanted to get away from his grandmother- he couldn't imagine still living with her breathing down his back.
'Good thing we killed the bitch.'
'Indeed.' Crane replied, staring at her. She had stopped taking notes and working, instead she was drawing. She had pale skin, flawless and without blemish; she looked tall, maybe 5'7", no taller than 5'8". Her long black hair was pulled into a loose braid, falling down to her waist easily; and she wore little make up, only slight blush. She was in a soft, dark blue low cut shirt with long sleeves; with black jeans and silver high heels. She had a silver watch on her left hand, and a small, silver cross hung around her neck.
She was beautiful, so beautiful he didn't see how she could belong to a family that majored in assassins and gun transport. Her eyes rose slowly and he continued on his work to distract himself. He wanted to know more, and he would. He would even if it killed him.
Alright guys, thank you for coming back to check this story out if you did and if not, oh well. Anyways, if you couldn't tell this is the first chapter, and is set before the pro-log / intro that you read first.
Banphrionsa = Princess
Ollphéist Fathach = Giant Monster
Aingeal Beag = Little Angle
Anyways, I promise to update soon, but until then take care!