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clean

 

The thunder was rolling in as Petyr drove up the winding road to the hills. It had been a long time since he had taken this road and knew what lay at the end of it. The soft hum of his Jaguar contrasted that of the storm that was coming behind him. By the time he got there, Petyr was sure he was going to get drenched and wished he brought his trenchcoat. He touched the console and pleasing sounds of jazz filled the car relaxing him. He didn't know why he was so tense; it was just another job to clean up.

Cersei Lannister texted him forty minutes ago demanding that he haul his arse up to the Stark's mansion in the hills and fix a problem. Petyr truly hated her and her damned arrogant son, Joffrey. Out of all the mafia families he technically worked for, the Lannisters were the worst to clean up after. Joffrey was a spoiled rich boy with far too much power after his father, Robert, died from a knife to the belly. The Baratheon's were the family to contend with in the mob world and Robert was not a man to trifle with. He was ruthless and killed anyone in his path keeping the other families or houses, as they were nicknamed, in line. It was only a matter of time before someone killed him, for the crown was heavy in this dark underworld.

It didn't surprise Petyr in the slightest at his death. In Robert's final year he was getting sloppy, predictable and too content with his power. He spent most of his nights at Petyr's exclusive club that catered only to the rich and powerful. Robert went through whores like a child eating candy. On multiple occasions, Petyr needed to persuade Robert's wife, Cersei, that her husband was elsewhere. It was bad enough when Robert was alive but now his wife and son were unbearable. They strived to keep their power over the other houses but with her son, Joff's unpredictable bouts of madness and lust for depravity and killing, Petyr never knew quite what to expect anymore. They were becoming very unreliable friends and it was about time to get rid of these two pebbles in his shoe.

Petyr rounded the corner and saw the cast iron gates to the Stark compound. The Starks were an old family and the only one that really rivaled that of the Lannisters in power but maybe not so much in wealth. Robert married Cersei solely for that vast wealth her father Tywin held. The Starks were a conundrum, Petyr thought. Ruthless when needed, but overall just did business as usual and tried to keep out of the squabbles between the other houses. Brandon and his father were feared but when the younger son, Ned, took over, it was clear he didn't have the stomach for the family business. Petyr always chastised him for his honourable ways and thought it would get him killed one day. Ned wanted to get his family out of the business, but Petyr knew better. You didn't just walk away from this. One couldn't decide to quit and think it wouldn't have dire consequences. Ah, but the Stark's were never the brightest of the houses. Brute strength and loyalty was their calling card. Petyr never understood why Cat married him.

Cat, he sighed. Petyr hadn't seen her in years.

Petyr drove into the compound and stopped on the cobblestone driveway. The music was indulgent as he lit a cigarette and waited in the car. He didn't want to hear that annoying brats voice just yet and took a long drag of sweet tobacco. Thinking back, Petyr was just a boy from the city when he fell into this world. He did odd jobs for the Arryns and Tullys and came to know them very well. Not long after both Tully daughters were married off did Hoster and his wife find themselves murdered in their own bed. Petyr grew up with those two girls as Hoster, their father, took a shine to him and kept him within the family. Petyr was not a physically menacing lad but he was smart and learned everything there was to learn. Only when he overstepped his bounds and fancied the eldest daughter, did Hoster send him away to the Arryns. After a time, he found that the youngest daughter, Lysa, was in love with him but he had only eyes for her sister Catelyn. He used Lysa to climb the ladder and make himself indispensable. Petyr found that he was brilliant with finance and getting people what they wanted or getting rid of problems. Soon, he was sought after by the Lannisters and Baratheons to help keep the books and broker deals between the houses. Petyr ended up making all the houses a great deal of money as business soared and he left the Arryns for his own place in Kings Landing, a place where money and power were the game.

The Mockingbird was a very private club in the heart of the city. For all intents and purposes, it was also a front for many of the shady dealings within the mob families. The exclusivity and posh atmosphere made it the hot spot for all the wealthy, politicians and powerful people in the city,¦ their friends, associates and unfortunately families. It catered to all pleasures Petyr sold to them. Business deals could be struck in one area while playing cards and drinking cognac while others were in the private rooms delighting in sexual pleasures of every kind. Petyr had so many politicians and police in his pockets, among enough information to blackmail them anytime and anywhere, that he never feared being arrested. Knowledge was power and wielding it just the right way was more effective than thugs and guns. Petyr was neither a strong man nor a skilled assassin, but his brain and cunning ways were the key to his success and keeping tabs on those around him. Information was the game. Knowing your foes, keeping those enemies close and how to move each piece was how Petyr played his silent chess game. He was trusted, reliable, and indispensable as far as keeping the business running. He couldn't have been in a better position to break each house down and eventually destroy them. They would never know what hit them until it was too late and took control of everything. Petyr tired of being their man long ago; to do their bidding when needed. He either wanted out or wanted to take it all but he would be smarter than the Starks.

Petyr looked at the softly lit mansion. It was rustic and not his taste at all. The Starks were never city people. He could understand Ned's desire to get his family out of the business. He had daughters to think of and in this syndicate, sons, and daughters usually married into other houses to ensure trust, make amends and strengthen alliances like in the days of old. Ned just went about it in the wrong way by declaring his intentions by refusing to wed his eldest daughter to Cersei and Robert's boy, Joffrey. It was all the talk in the city and after Robert's demise; Cersei took it upon herself to run her husbands house. The Lannisters and Starks never did get on but Robert had a soft spot for his friend, Ned and became the barrier between the two. Now, there was no one to protect the Stark house from the Lannisters wrath at being insulted.

It was only a matter of time, Petyr thought again. Joffrey was unpredictable and anything could set him off. Whatever happened, the Starks paid a heavy price if Petyr was called to clean it up. He knew they all must be dead inside. Ned, Cat or their eldest son, Robb, would never have allowed anyone from the syndicate to enter their compound. Petyr just hoped it was quick. He would have hated to think that Cat suffered. He had tried to call her a few times urging her and the children to leave Kings Landing, but not once did she reply. She probably never forgave him for working with the other houses so closely or backing the Starks in business deals with Robert and the Lannisters. Petyr was no fool, choosing the Starks would have been his death as well. The Starks never really knew what game they were playing or how to play. It seemed poor moves cost them dearly.

Petyr was about to flick his cigarette butt out the window but remembered why he was here. Extinguishing it inside the car, he exhaled the smoke as the rain began to pour down.

"Fuck, I knew it," he muttered under his breath. He zipped up his leather jacket and opened the door exiting the car quickly. Popping the trunk, Petyr rifled through the items he would need and picked up the leather duffle bag. He made his way to the front steps noting where he stepped and looking for any evidence that the stupid blonde boy may have left behind for the cops to find tying him to what he bet was a family homicide.

Petyr would have preferred to leave something behind to link Joffrey and send his arse to prison, but he knew the Lannisters would kill him for fucking it up and not saving their golden boy heir. Petyr put on his gloves and opened the door. Just as he as instructed Cersei to tell her boy, he was sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase with his two minions for friends. Joff was wearing gloves but the two idiots with him were not, which meant fingerprints. Petyr cursed their stupidity for it only made his job more difficult. He glanced to the left and saw Ned's dead body. Multiple gunshots and it appeared he tried to crawl away before bleeding out.

Joffrey went to stand, and Petyr held his hand up. "Stay there," he commanded with authority as he looked around the foyer.

"I'm not a fucking dog, don't tell me what to do, Cleaner. You'll clean the shit off my arse if that's what my mum told you to do," the boy sneered.

"If baby wipes are all you need, then I daresay I'm done here. Your mum could have sent anyone to a convenience store for you," Petyr turned to leave, "Unless, you're certain that there are no fingerprints or any evidence at all that will send you and your friends to prison for the rest of your lives?" The smile on Petyr's face didn't reach his eyes but he knew by the look on Joffrey's that he hit a nerve.

"I am not one of you or your mum's dumb henchmen. If my services aren't required then I wish you boys the best of luck," Petyr chuckled and began walking out when one of the boys called out.

"Wait!"

Petyr turned around and raised his eyebrows.

"Joff, don't be a fucking prat. I'm not going to prison for this. This was your bloody idea." The boy urged and Petyr had to stifle a laugh. How did these morons manage to pull this off in the first place?

"Fine. What do we need to do?" Joffrey begrudgingly huffed out.

Petyr unzipped his jacket and set down the duffle bag. "Was this fully planned or just a colossal fuck up that you managed to live through?"

The boy glared at him but Petyr didn't care. He wasn't here to stroke this kids ego, but to clean up the fucking mess he made as best as possible.

"We - I planned it. We took out the few guards outside quietly before entering the house and..."

Petyr cut him off, "Where did you enter from?"

"The front door, of course."

"And Stark didn't find it odd that you were calling so late at night? What time did you enter the house?" Petyr scanned the foyer looking into the adjacent rooms. He could see a man lying face down by the sofa with his legs stretching out. Multiple shots could be seen in the walls. Hell, even he was a better shot, Petyr thought.

"About ten. I told him I wanted to discuss the marriage to Sansa and just opened fire on his arse. Fucking Robb came bolting in and we killed him too. Got that wanker in the chest over there by the sofa."

Petyr opened his bag and slipped surgical booties over his shoes and pulled out latex gloves. He threw pairs of each to the three boys. "Put these on. Where is the rest of the family?"

Petyr wanted to smack the smug look off of Joff's face. "I made that cunt watch as we killed the little boys." Petyr walked over to Ned and checked his vitals to avoid looking at that little fucker. He needed to stay cool. They were all dead and there was nothing Petyr could do to save them now.

"Where?"

"In one of the bedrooms. That little girl was the most fun though. Never thought that bitch had it in her. She almost shot me, but I took her out in the hallway," Joffrey jeered with delight.

"Fuck you, I shot her to save your stupid arse. She was close to killing you, you arsehole," the other boy objected. "The way you talk, it sounds like you're one man army gunning them all down. Never would have made it past the guards without us..."

"Shut... the fuck... up," Petyr growled. "What about the other sister, Sansa, is it?"

"Oh, that cock tease? She got was she deserved." Joffrey glared at his friend, "I shot her twice including a head shot. She's dead in her room. Would have loved to fuck that firecrotch of hers first, but she tried to stab me and then ran off when I fired at her." He smiled grotesquely and added, "Should have fucked her anyway, that pussy would have still been warm as she died."

Petyr had heard and seen some fucked up shite in his day, but this boy really took the cake. The only other that rivaled him as king of the sick and twisted fucks, was Bolton's boy, Ramsay.

Petyr looked around him and at the three teenage boys before him. "You two," and he pointed at Joff's idiot minions. "We need to retrace your steps and everything you could have touched." He gave them cloths and spray cleaner. "Miss anything and you two halfwits should enjoy being the new fucktoys in prison. Next time you plan a killing spree, where fucking gloves. All of you, put your guns in the bag."

The two boys dropped their Sig 9mm's and Joffrey's custom Colt .38 with the magazines in the trash bag.

"I'm getting that back, right?" Joffrey demanded but Petyr took the bag and didn't reply.

"You, with me. Watch where you step, do NOT step in any blood if you can help it." Petyr signaled Joffrey to follow him into the sitting room where Robb's body lay. "How did you plan for this to look once it was done?" He bent down and checked Robb careful not to step in his blood.

"What do you mean? We took out the guards and then if they let me in, we would just kill the rest of them. Fuck the Starks. My family always hated them."

"Exactly." Petyr looked at him in the eyes."I will ask again, did you have this planned or was it just a fucked up shoot out?"

Joff's eyes were vacant, as he didn't understand the question and Petyr sighed. "Motive, boy. That's what they will be looking for; not just the cops but the other houses as well when they find out the whole family was gunned down." He hated having to explain the most obvious shite as if speaking to a five-year-old. "Your family has the most to gain with the Starks death and had motive by Ned's refusal to marry Sansa to you."

Finally, realization clicked and the blonde started to look nervous. Petyr's mind began to plot out scenarios.

Boltons. They've always been jealous of the Starks, Roose had made an attempt on Robb's life once before and made threats about killing Ned to gain everything he had. Ramsay is bold enough to do something like this and not think it through and has a reputation for being unpredictable and brutal. Executing the children and mother is right up his alley.

Petyr looked at Joffrey and shook his head. "No one would believe you pulled this off."

Joffrey was ready to argue with him, but Petyr stopped it before it began. "You would have bragged about this, yes? Well, you're not going to. Maybe you're proud to murder women and children, but you're not going to say a fucking word. Your high priced lawyer will tell you that. After you leave here, you will shut your fucking mouth, do you understand?"

Joffrey nodded and something clicked in Petyr's mind. "Give me your mobile."

"What the fuck for?"

"You took pictures and video, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question; somehow Petyr just knew this moron couldn't resist recording his triumph. "Didn't you?" Joffrey's eyes told him the truth and he handed over his phone.

"Please tell me you're not dumb enough to text this shite out." Petyr said more to himself as he scanned the boy's phone. "I'm deleting all of this and breaking your sim card. Mummy will just have to buy you a new one." Petyr's sleight of hand removed the memory card before demolishing Joffrey's phone. "Bring me their mobiles." Petyr pointed to boys cleaning up their potential evidence.

Petyr never understood this generation and their need to record every fucking thing. The three memory cards he would hold in safe keeping in case he needed it in the future. This was something he could barter with or sell to the right bidder. After he dismantled the phones and put them in a trash bag he summoned the blonde to follow him.

"Come with me upstairs and show me the rest."

This is what Petyr had been dreading. He had no problem with anyone else that he had to clean but he wasn't truly prepared to see what these boys did to Cat and her children. At the top of the stairs, he saw the dark-haired daughter, Arya. Shot on the side of the head and leaning against a chest of drawers in the hallway with a rather beautifully engraved Ed Brown .45 still resting in her palm. Petyr wondered how a girl her size even handled a gun like this. She had to be only a few years younger than the eldest daughter who Petyr knew was approximately twenty. Examining the gun, Petyr saw Arya's name engraved in the polished steel and thought better to take it along with the extra mag in her pocket. It would be better if she looked more innocent than deadly attacking her murderers.

In the master bedroom, Petyr held his breath and pushed the door open. By the edge of the bed huddled together were mother and sons. A sadness filled his eyes knowing he could do nothing for them now. Cat didn't deserve to die like this, watching her children slaughtered before being executed herself. All three were shot in the head execution style and Petyr couldn't stop staring. Cat had a wound to her throat and knew the bastard missed and she died most horribly before finally put out of her misery. He wanted to kill this damned boy right now, but he knew the time wasn't right. He would bring down this fucking family and make Cersei and her boy suffer for this.

Petyr could sense the murderous boy leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face. Petyr took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. He would take his revenge later. It was always best not to act out in anger and make mistakes. No, a cooler head needed to prevail here if his plans were to work out.

He held out an empty trash bag to Joffrey. "Fill it. Jewels, money, anything valuable," Petyr instructed.

"Why? I don't want their shite. Don't you know how rich I am?" Joffrey scoffed like the arrogant bastard he was.

"Yes, and so does everyone else. Sacking the house and taking all the valuables will help make it look like a robbery gone wrong or at least a murder by someone that needs the money. At the very least, you want to cast doubt that it was you."

Petyr hated this boy, but he needed him and his mother to think he was actually helping them. Joffrey took the bag with glee and began tearing drawers out and filling the bag with Cat's valuables. Petyr thought there would be a safe somewhere but it didn't really matter. As long as it looked more like thievery rather than a straight-up premeditated mass murder, maybe he could kill two birds with one stone - the Boltons and the Lannisters.

Petyr moved down to the end of the hallway, to the only open door left. The eldest daughters room was simple and elegant. She had her mother's taste. Coming around the bed near to the bathroom, he saw her laying face down with a shot to the shoulder and head as far as he could tell. Petyr bent down to check her and almost jumped out of his skin. She was alive! Her breathing was shallow and she still had a pulse. Checking her head, Petyr could see that the bullet must have grazed her temple causing quite a bit of blood to run down her face. Joffrey probably assumed he made a clean shot. The gunshot to her shoulder was deep as she lost quite a bit of blood but if he got her to safety, wasn't life-threatening. At his gentle touch, her eyes opened a bit but she still seemed hazy. She didn't try to move at all.

All of a sudden Joffrey entered the room and Petyr gave the girl a firm squeeze as if to tell her to continue playing dead.

"Told you I got her. Right in the head even while she was running." The sick boy laughed heartily.

"Yes, it takes a big man to gun down a defenseless girl," Petyr quipped with distaste.

"Hey, she tried to stab me!"

"Oh, she brought a knife to a gun fight? I think she has larger stones than all three of you." Petyr needed him out of this room and all of them out of the house. Petyr pulled drawers out and emptied them. He knew she didn't have anything of real value in her room but nonetheless, he wanted it to look that way. He grabbed the bag from Joffrey and ordered him downstairs.

The boys were finishing up cleaning and Petyr looked over the house again. He would have it all figured out and when he talked to his paid detective on the police force, they would know how to make the evidence play out. He looked up the stairs and wondered about the daughter. He could finish her off right now and be done with it, but something in his chest told him no.

Putting everything in the bags, Petyr picked up his leather duffle and escorted the boys out of the house. He had very little time to finish up. The rain was still pouring down as they made their way to his car.

"Where are you parked?"

"Outside the gates, further down the road."

Petyr nodded and unlocked his trunk, placing the bags inside while pulling out one more bag filled with sweatpants and t-shirts for three.

"Strip."

"What?!" the boys chimed together, "Are you fucking kidding? It's cold and wet as fuck out here."

"Your clothes are tainted and need to be destroyed. Give them to me." Petyr was done playing around for he was also getting soaked to the bone. "If you get in your car, you will track evidence from the victims and house with you. Do it."

Reluctantly, the two boys began to strip and finally, Joffrey joined. Petyr threw them the bag of clothes and picked up their soiled garments and shoes tossing them into another trash bag. The boys quickly dressed in the rain and Petyr thought for a moment that he should have just sent them away stark naked.

"Now, get the fuck out of here and speak to no one about this. And I mean no one. If you want to stay clean of this, then keep your mouths shut. I'll finish up here and ring your mother to tell her it's done," Petyr commanded. The boys rushed out the gate and Petyr looked up to the upstairs window. He needed to move quickly.

Making his way back into Sansa's room, Petyr took a blanket from her bed and laid it on the floor. For a moment he stared at her. What the hell was he doing? He should just finish her off and be done with it. He rolled her onto her back and grazed her cheek. Gods, she was the spitting image of Cat when she was younger. No, she was more beautiful. He couldn't save Cat, but maybe he could save her daughter. Something tugged at his heart, and he knew he couldn't leave her here to die. She was smart enough to play dead. Perhaps he could even use her later on. Petyr knew it was a huge risk, but it could only make the game more interesting, he surmised. It was a calculated risk he was willing to make. The last Stark could be a powerful ally.

Petyr made up his mind as he rolled her onto the soft blanket. She moaned in pain when he picked her up but didn't have the strength to protest or fight back. She had lost too much blood and Petyr needed to get her back to the Mockingbird and see if she could be saved. If not, he could dump her body near the hills and it would look as if she tried to make a run for it during the murders only to die from her injuries.

The car was running in wait, as Petyr opened the door and gently placed her in the backseat lying down. He took one last look at the house and murmured, "Goodbye, Cat."

Petyr got into the driver's seat and texted Cersei.

It's done, but it is far from over. Control your boy next time.

He didn't care how she reacted. He was done cleaning messes for them. And if she threatened him, he had all the evidence in the world to send her son and his friends to prison for life.

"Who are you?" Petyr heard a groggy voice say from the backseat.

A friend?

What was he to her, Petyr wondered. "Don't worry about that now. I will not harm you."

"Where are you taking me?" He could tell she was losing consciousness fast. He needed to get back to the club quickly and call Pycelle.

"Somewhere safe."