Chapter Text
The lighter hanged limply from the man's hand. A sudden rain storm had extinguished its light but after a quick reset, it had reignited quiet easily. Too easily. As a result of his carelessness, ten innocent people died. All of them deemed unworthy.
The first person who arrived on the scene quickly fled to call the police but the second saw an opportunity. There was no one around to see him. If he searched through their belongings carefully enough, no one would even know he was here. Acting quickly, he pick-pocketed their wallets and jewelry. As he turned to leave, the lighter caught his eye. It’s intricate design probably indicated some sort of value. It would sell well at a pawnshop.
Just as the police arrived, he easily slipped away into another crowd of people.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
After the police searched him, the assassin calmly entered the cell's guest room. While he had no tangible weapons on him, the man could’ve easily killed the man in the cell. He could’ve said the same concerning the police officers but he wasn’t here for a job. Well, it kinda was but it was more of a meeting.
As he peered through the glass window, the Capo began rising from the ground into his usual shape. Although he had seen the act before, he couldn’t help but be disturbed. And this was coming from the man who had killed over one hundred people in his career.
"So you finally arrived, Risotto. For someone so efficient, I’m surprised you didn’t arrive earlier."
"My apologizes, Polpo. I had a mission to deal with beforehand. I had just come back when my teammate informed me of your request."
Polpo disliked the assassin's bluntness. He felt like it was a challenge if anything.
"I’m not one for excuses but now's not the time for nitpicking." Opening for the fridge, Polpo reached for a wine bottle. As he tried opening the bottle, a corkscrew slowly floated towards him. Finally noticing it, Polpo grabbed it and opened the bottle.
"How useful."
Despite the compliment, Risotto's expression remained the same. As expected. Pouring himself a glass, Polpo sipped his wine before continuing, "I’m sure you know my lighter test, correct."
How could he forget it? It’s how he got Metallica in the first place. Even now, he could feel the Stand moving around in his bloodstream. It had taken a while to get used that, though.
Polpo took his silence as a yes. "One of the interviewees was unworthy along with a few others. It has happened before and my personnel have always managed to recover the lighter but this time, it has gone missing." A raised eyebrow coerced the Capo into another tangent, "I would’ve let one of my own groups handle it but the Boss has insisted otherwise. I’m sure you understand the circumstances then?"
The Boss. A word most refused to even whisper. The man or woman, had never been seen but any orders coming from them were to be immediately followed. Or else.
Risotto understood his predicament quiet well.
"The exact orders are as follows. Kill the thief, retrieve my lighter, and return it to me. You have three days but I’m sure with your abilities, you won’t need that time. Am I right, Risotto?"
"Are there any leads?"
Polpo took another sip of his glass before he answered. "The woman who found the bodies said she saw nothing. Don’t ask to interrogate her."
"...Thank you for the information."
An unwarranted wrath filled the Capo's cold dark eyes. "Just Get Me My Lighter."
Risotto did a small bow before leaving the room. Just before he closed the door, the sharp crunching of glass reached high ears.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
He had become a pretty good hoarder over the past year. After being kicked out from the last apartment for not paying rent, the money he had saved up was quickly running out. If his lousy parents would’ve taught him banking instead of how to be an asshole, maybe he could’ve been avoiding this situation. Stealing wallets and nicknacks was far from his favorite hobby. Not like he had any other, though.
As he turned into the alley, the lighter from before fell out of his pocket. Before it could even reach the ground, he swiped it from the air. He had already dropped plenty of valuables before and he was trying to break that trend. Before he stuffed it back into his pocket, he took a moment to appreciate the trinket. It seemed to be engraved in some flowery design and its polish hid its age quiet well. Opening the lid, he noticed a small engraving etched onto it. However, all of his squinting was in vain and he quickly shoved it into his pocket. Maybe if it fetched a fair price he could buy glasses.
Despite this hope, he knew quite well where the money would actually go. As his nails dig into his skin, blood steamed down his palms and onto the concrete. Fucking mobsters. They thought they were hot shit when they were just a bunch of fuckers. They hid behind a name that meant nothing and that would die with nothing. But as much as he cursed them, he knew quite well he couldn’t do anything against them. If they had one thing above him, it was numbers. Cockroaches probably served as a good metaphor despite his hate for them.
For now, he just needed to find a decent pawnshop that didn’t rip him off. He had already visited half of them and from that half, he had only failed stealing from five. Luckily, those five were "honest" businesses and most of his run ins with the mob had been by chance. A chance that still stole eighty percent of his profit.
As his cursed under his breath, a slight chill crept up his back. Checking his surroundings, no one seemed to be paying attention to him. Disappearing into the crowd again, he decided to head to the pawnshop he visited last week. The shop owner was absent minded enough to deal with.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Risotto felt cheated by the coincidence. Just as he exited the prison, he saw the lighter fall from the boy's pocket, though, he could only say they differed by a few years. A wild search through the city with his teammates had quickly turned into a simple follow mission. While he was relieved his time wouldn’t be wasted, he also felt strangely disappointed by the turn of events.
Oh well. Who was he to complain about a simple mission?
Despite its apparent simplicity, however, the thief had quickly disappeared into the crowd again. If it wasn’t for his height, Risotto was sure he would’ve lost him. Luckily, a few strides later and he had quickly caught up with him. Killing them in the crowd would’ve been foolish so his best choice was to wait until he arrived at his destination. Or at least, he thought he had one. The thief's movements were scattered like a rat trying to escape a predator. Did he manage to see them before? No, he couldn’t have. The thief was probably just nervous. All thieves were like that or at least the ones he dealt with. But eventually, Risotto realized he was trying to get away. Not from him but from someone else. Some people, rather. They must’ve started right when he noticed the thief from the gate.
There were nine of them, all male. Their outfits were gaudy at best and their hair was already out of style by the late eighties. He probably could’ve wrote them off as common thugs, however, their posture suggested a different story. Besides having straight backs, their stride was also confident or at least a show of it. Instead of remaining hidden, they wore their intentions on their sleeve. They were going to rob this kid.
As the kid went into another alley, the gangsters followed him while Risotto stuck to the entrance. If they took the lighter, he would have to make sure of it.
"Hey hot head! You have our money yet?"
Hearing their voices, the thief made a mad dash for the other side before being promptly cut off by two of the gangsters. Despite their bravado, the thief immediately kicked one of them in the shin before running past them. By then, however, the rest of the gang had arrived and he was quickly shoved against the wall. The nickname "hot head" fit the thief well at least.
Even as they held him there, the thief was struggling against their grasps.
"Ow! You bit me?!" one of them yelled.
"You think he has his shots?" another one asked.
"He better hope he has decent dental!"
Before he could get his revenge, the leader of the gang blocked the attack before calmly pushing his ally to the ground. The mud quickly stained his suit but he made no comment about the push.
The leader continued from there, "Do you have our money?"
"It isn’t yours," he hissed.
A swift punch in the gut shut him up.
"Do you have our money," the leader barked again. After receiving no reply, he said, "Grab his jacket."
As the pulled at his jacket, their grip loosened. Taking the opportunity, the thief broke away from his captors before booking it to the other side. Unfortunately, the teammate that had fallen before was still recovering on the ground. Reacting quickly, he grabbed the thief's leg causing him to fall face first onto the ground. Before he recovered, the other members took off his jacket and began searching the pockets. Their ohs and ahs filled the alleyway.
"Who’d you rob this time? This is actually pretty good stuff."
"Wallets too? Did you kill these people or something?"
"Nah, he’s too much of a pussy to do that."
After taking all the valuables, they shook the jacket to get whatever remained before tossing it into the mud. Besides a few tissues and assorted pens, the lighter was the only thing to catch their eye. The leader carefully picked it up from the ground before taking in the details. Risotto quickly turned his gaze away from the scene.
"Nice trinket you got here. Where’d you-"
Although he couldn’t see what was happening, the sound of the punch echoed throughout the alley. The thief had recovered the lighter and was once again making a run for the exit.
Before any of his teammates could retaliate, the leader stopped them, "Don’t bother." After wiping the blood from his mouth, he finished, "When we see him again, we’ll take the money he gets from that mangey thing and then kill him."
The leader just said it loud enough for them to hear his words. The thief spared one glance before running back onto the sidewalk. If he had any sense, he would head to the nearest bus stop. Risotto cursed under his breath. He might as well kill two birds with one stone then.
Stepping out from the wall, Risotto strolled into the alleyway. "A friend of mine once said that once you declare your killing intent, your target's already dead. I’ll ignore his advice for now...May I ask what mob you are a part of."
Immediately following his debut, the group shrunk from their pretentious power. Even rats understood when a cat was approaching. Still, one of them had the nerve to bite back. A terrible mistake really.
"Heh, I suggest you back off. You’re dealing with the Pane mob," one of them hissed.
"Sorry. Never heard of it."
The silence that followed suggested an inevitable outcome. Some of the members in the back were already pulling out pocket knives. Maybe the cops will assume they slit their own throats. Just before the leader barked out a command, their vocal cords were cut through by the scissors that emerged from their throats.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
As much as he liked the city, he knew his time was up. He wasn’t deaf just almost blind. But irony still found its way into his life and as he counted up his remaining cents, he discovered he didn’t have enough to ride the bus. His mud stained jacket blanketed the ground once again as he stomped it into the sidewalk. He only received passing stares as he carried out his anger.
Eventually, the cold managed to get to him and he picked up the soggy thing from the ground. Now it was useless against the cold as well. He cursed under his breath before resuming his course. Once he sold the lighter, he was out of this stupid city.
Luckily for him, the pawnshop wasn’t that far away and after turning into yet another alley, he had arrived at his destination.
It was a quiet little shop and the worn out sign above it read "Venice." For a moment, his anger suggested he burned it to the ground. It shouldn’t be "Venice." It should fucking Venezia. They weren’t even in Venezia for goodness’s sake. Before his jacket became his victim again, he slammed the door open and walked into the otherwise quiet little shop. His entrance seemed to be unnoticed by the old shopkeeper and it was only until he reached the counter, did the man notice him.
"Ah, good morning. Here to sell anything?"
"Afternoon..." he coughed.
"Excuse me?"
"It’s nothing...Yes, I am."
He pulled out the lighter and set it on the counter. The old man shakily lifted it up before pulling out his glasses to inspect the detailing. Maybe he could steal them later but then again, they probably wouldn’t fit.
"Fine thing you have here. Does it still work?"
"It was lit when I-Yes!"
"You’re not fooling me sonny but don’t worry. All we have to do is turn it on..."
The flame that erupted from the lighter almost reached the ceiling. As the flame quieted again, the old man turned it off before setting it down.
A smile plain on his face, he said, "It works quite well. Now let’s-"
The man appeared to freeze in place but his shaking hands suggested something besides paralysis. In mere seconds, the man collapsed onto the floor, an expression of fear clearly etched onto his face.
Well, that was odd. He had already seen someone die of a stroke so seeing it again wasn’t that surprising. As he neared the body, it was clear to see the man was dead or soon would be. His main focus now turned towards the register. There should be enough money to afford the bus and if he was lucky, maybe a plane. He was decently versed in other languages to at least get himself situated. But before he could open it, his focus returned to the glasses. They were wirier things befitting the frail old man. Reaching for them, he discovered they were a little to weak for his eyes.
Suddenly, a voice echoed behind him, "You saw it reignited, didn’t you?"
Turing around, he found himself alone until he felt a strange force dig into his shoulders. Appearing from thin air, a strange figure held him place. It wore black robes and a strange plushy looking hat. It’s face was etched into a frown and it’s eyes resembled yellow slugs.
He would’ve tried to pull away but he found himself unable to move. Now that he noticed it, he was floating away from his body. What the fuck was happening?
"There are two paths that you can follow. The first path is for the chosen ones who will live... and the other! The path of death!"
As the figure finished, a strange oriental arrow appeared from its mouth. Reeling itself back, it lunged forward and stabbed him directly into his neck. Darkness steadily filled his vision as the figure released him.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Finding the pawnshop was easier than he expected, though, the people he did ask were rather eager to see him leave. He didn’t take it as an insult.
As he entered the store, the first thing he noticed were the bodies. Someone turned on the lighter. He sighed. At least he didn’t have to do the job himself. The lighter was placed on the counter and after checking that it was off, Risotto left as quickly as he came. He retrieved the lighter and now, he was returning it.
Nothing was wrong with that.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
His reward for finding the lighter in under a day was a slight raise. He would have to discus the distribution with the others later but right now, he just wanted some alone time. As he entered the main hideout, he expected to be greeted by the quiet hum of the heater but instead he found company.
"Back so soon, Capo? Was the job that easy for you?" Melone hummed.
"Treat your superiors with some respect."
"Oh shove off, Prosciutto!" he hissed back.
Melone and Prosciutto glared daggers at each other before he interrupted, "Why are you both here?"
"Hey, don’t go discounting us, Risotto!" Sorbet yelled from the kitchen.
Gelato himself appeared from his main office which was really his bedroom in a sense.
"We heard you had a mission and Sorbet thought money. Honestly, you should really cut his share if you ask me."
"But how will I buy all the gifts I have for you?!" Sorbet yelled.
Gelato shrugged off the comment before seating himself on the couch farthest from Melone. Melone wiped fake tears from his eyes before returning his attention to him.
"So Ris, what was it? An enemy mob? A pure politician? Or perhaps, an act of revenge against a lost lover?" he exclaimed.
"It was a job for Pete’s sake, Melone. Don’t turn this into one of your trashy romance novels," Prosciutto whined.
"It’s research! I have to know all the positions if Baby Face is going to work."
"Don’t fucking mention that gross Stand," Gelato hissed.
"Gelato, why are you so cruel?"
Gelato flipped him off as a reply. Once again, Risotto found the situation out of his control. Acting quickly, he slammed the door behind him. Silence echoed throughout the room.
"So hot."
"Shut up, Melone."
Risotto quickly spoke, "To answer your question, Melone. I had to retrieve Polpo's lighter."
A soft hiss came out of an unexpected teammate. Prosciutto quickly recognized his mistake and immediately quieted.
Melone picked up the pace, "Failed test I’m guessing?"
"Quite right but someone managed to snatch it before it could be procured. I handled the situation well enough, though."
"Does that mean raise?" Sorbet commented.
Risotto nodded.
"...So raise?"
"Keep cooking, Sorbet!" Gelato yelled.
"Gotcha!"
"Ok, next question. By easy, do you mean?.." Melone snapped.
"Yes if I’m correct on your message."
Melone hummed, "Poor unfortunate soul. Mind spilling a few detail?"
Before Prosciutto could interrupt, he quickly replied, "If you find their arbitrary, blue curly hair. Most distinctive feature."
"How interesting..."
Despite the few looks Melone received, Risotto understood his teammate's intentions well enough. Although their Stands differed widely, he himself had to research various metal objects for Metallica. Knowing how to use one's Stand in the most efficient way was a staple amongst Passione members. Melone just took an abstract approach to it. Baby Face worked weirdly like that.
Seeing as the conversation ran its course, Gelato yelled out, "Is the food ready yet?"
"Just about!"
Risotto quietly seated himself and awaited the burnt offerings that Sorbet was known for. Maybe a little company wasn’t that bad.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
He woke up with a start. Everything was so fucking cold. Dragging himself onto a chair with the counter top, he peeled off his wet jacket and threw it onto the floor. He immediately regretted his decision and fell onto the floor once again. His landing was only soft thanks the body of the shopkeeper cushioning it. Scurrying away from the body, he stared at it for a few seconds only to notice the somewhat worn overcoat covering it. It was better than a muddy jacket.
As he pulled the overcoat off the man's stiff shoulders, the room got warmer but only by a slight margin. Otherwise, everything was still freezing.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A grandfather clock steadily rang from the corner. Getting closer, he noticed the time was nine o’clock. He had been there for six hours in a wet muddy jacket. No wonder why he was so cold. But then again, why’d he pass out in the first place. Was it because he saw the old man die? Well, it didn’t really matter, did it? As long as he didn’t do it again, he should be fine. But now that he was alone, maybe he could take advantage of his situation. The pawnshop was now empty and there weren’t any witnesses around. If he organized the transportation with the money from the cash register, he could eventually sell off most of the items in the store to other pawnshops. It was a decent enough scheme but putting it into practice might’ve been a hassle. There were also those mobster he had to deal with.
Before he could fully consider his next actions, the front door opened. Acting on instinct, he dived behind the counter before stealthy peering over it.
"Mr. Mela. I noticed your lights were still on. You ok-? Mr. Mela!" she screeched.
Dashing forward, the woman leaned over the shopkeeper's body and grabbed his wrist. The lack of a pulse sent her stumbling backwards. It was a decent enough distraction. Dashing forward, he crossed the store in mere seconds before shoving the door open. He only caught her panicked yelp as he fled into the alleyway. The plan was too convoluted anyway.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Waking up from his slumber, he shock off the soft powdery snow around him. Despite the strange weather appearance, he failed to notice it and pulled his new coat closer to his body. It was still freezing. The only reason he managed to get to sleep in the first place was by sneaking into an abandoned apartment. If his luck continued like this, someone would definitely find him. The apartment was one of his many hideouts but most of the time, it was occupied by a homeless person or some druggy. He hated drugs. Anyone who took them was weak...
Pulling his coat closer to him, he stood up from the moldy carpet and climbed out the window. If he was going to get a bus fare, it had to be today.
Wandering through the streets had become his job at this point. Besides picking pockets, passing fruit Stands was his main food source and his quick pocketing skills had served him well. Picking up a small baguette, he calmly strolled away before eating the majority of it. The rest of it should get him through the bus trip if he was lucky.
After breakfast, he quickly got to work finding unsuspecting tourists. Most of them came to the country without knowing the language. If anyone deserved to get rob, it was those idiots. As he worked his way through the crowd, he managed to find a wallet before its owner quickly noticed him. The man immediately tried grabbing his wrist but another passerby accidentally ran into them allowing him to escape, though, without the wallet. As he fled through the crowd, he caught a few curses before getting out of earshot.
Five blocks later, he deemed it safe to begin his practice again. Instead of going through the crowd, he decided to choose his target first. As the crowds walked before him, he leaned against the brick wall waiting for the perfect opportunity. After a few minutes, it came in the form of a clearly lost tourist. He looked like he was asking people for directions and his accent suggested Japanese descent. His constant mention of Venezia told him the tourist also bought the wrong ticket. To think, he actually considered helping the man since he knew the language.
Before the tourist could get actual sound advice, he made his move away from the wall. Except he couldn’t move. While his focus was elsewhere, he had become frozen to the wall. Was the wall wet without him noticing it? As he tried to pull away, he felt his coat tear at the seems. He froze. Oh fuck no. He just got this coat and he wasn’t going to waste it that quickly. Carefully, he took the coat off and discovered the problem. It wasn’t just frozen to the wall. There was a block of Ice attaching it to the bricks. Any hope of retrieving the coat quickly went up in smokes. Turning away from the lost cause, he calmly strolled away from the scene and towards the nearest market. He was going to eat something with this lousy baguette even if it got him arrested.
As he left the wall, another quickly approached it. So it wasn’t his imagination after all. Melone smiled before running off after the supposed thief.
He had seen him stole the baguette before and while he was curious, he had mocked it up to coincidence. Sure, there weren’t many people with blue curly hair but there weren’t many walking dead men either. After watching his escapades through the crowd, he was convinced enough to trip the failed prey for him. If he got arrested, there wouldn’t be a chance for anything fun to happen. It was while he was stalking him through the crowd that he noticed the steady snowfall. From there, he picked up a few other details like the small ice crystals forming at his sleeves and sealing the tips of his hair. If Risotto had been wrong about the lighter, the thief's survival could be chalked up to a rather late coming Stand.
As he followed the thief, Melone couldn’t help but get excited. A new Stand User and from the looks of it, he didn’t even know it. Observing his actions would be a treat and maybe if he had the opportunity, he could afford to study him up close. Baby Face did allow for precarious furniture to appear out of thin air.
Arriving at their supposed destination, the thief began stalking through the various food stands before pausing. After a moment of consideration, he walked forward like a cat sneaking up on a mouse. Melone watched in anticipation for the kill... Which was unfortunately interrupted in the span of three seconds. The man he had tripped before had noticed the thief from the crowd and after coughing a few curses, directed a pair of police officers towards him. Melone could only watch as the officers quietly approached the thief who remained unawares to their presence.
It was then when Melone recalled a certain story Sorbet told him when he was drunk. There was a time when Prosciutto wasn't as proficient with Grateful Dead as he was now. Knowing this, Gelato proposed a simple dare. If Sorbet successfully scared Prosciutto, he would would cook dinner for once. Sorbet had taken it like a fool. One prank later, Sorbet experienced all of the horrors of old age in the span of a second. After that, Prosciutto trained by himself until he mastered Grateful Dead's abilities.
The moment of truth came when one of the officers grabbed the thief’s shoulder. The result was magnificent. In an instant, the officer's hand was frozen solid. As he yelled out in pain, the thief ran away despite losing a piece of his sleeve in the process. Melone couldn’t help but break out into a fit of laughter. It probably would’ve been funnier if it was Prosciutto but the thief helped his imagination. This guy was a source of entertainment wherever he went. Running past the crowd and the officers, Melone once again caught onto the thief's trail, though, it abruptly ended. The thief had managed to locate a park and was currently resting against one of the more secluded trees. As he approached, he felt chills creep up his spin. The ground around the thief was frosted over while the tree he rested against was beginning to form icicles from its branches. The thief himself looked more pale than before and ice crystals were now scattered across his clothing.
Despite his sorry looking state, the thief still noticed him. "Fuck off..."
"That’s rather cold of you," he laughed.
At his comment, the frosted grass straightened into frozen spikes stabbing into his shoe. Startled, he lept away onto softer pasture. Melone expected a glare to come with the Stand attack but all he received was a side ways glance. Not a good sign.
"Hey, you don’t look so good. Need help?"
"I said fuck off," he hissed.
"Fine but I’ll be back."
After all, Melone wasn’t going to let such an entertaining thief die so quickly. While he couldn’t actually carry him to safety, he didn’t need to carry him, just whatever Baby Face found appropriate. Knowing fully well he would stay where he was, Melone began searching for a fitting "mother."
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Prosciutto stared at the cigarette case before ultimately pulling out one of the cancer sticks. He should really break this stupid habit. Besides being bad for him, they left a distinct smell on him which made sneaks attacks more difficult. Luckily for him, he could bypass this disadvantage with the excuse it also disguised his Stand. However, one small cigarette couldn’t produce the amount of smoke Grateful Dead could so that excuse was dead in the water. He sighed. In the end, he was still smoking them wasn’t he. As he put the stub into the ash tray, there was a knock on the door. He wasn’t expecting any visitors. Assuming the worst, Prosciutto grabbed his gun from behind the couch and slowly approached the door. Looking through the key whole, he was met with the Melone's visage. Oh great.
"What do you want Melone?" he hissed.
"Should I kill him? Should I?"
Prosciutto immediately leapt away from the door and held his gun towards it.
"Why do you have one of those things with you?!"
"Oh, junior? Don’t worry about him. He’s just helping me deliver something."
"Just delivery. Just delivery..." the creature sung.
"Delivery?.."
Now he was curious. Against his better nature, Prosciutto lowered his gun and opened the door. Melone skipped into the room with the "junior" following after him with a wooden chair. Prosciutto had the feeling it wasn’t just a chair.
"Set it on the couch, Baby Face. This will only take a moment."
As the Stand went to carry out the orders, Prosciutto grabbed the chair from above it.
"Whatever you’re trying to do, Melone, I’m not going to sit by and watch."
Despite his words, the Stand hissed at him before lunging forward in an attempt of bite him. Prosciutto released the chair on instinct and the Stand promptly carried out its previous orders.
"Brilliant job, Baby Face. Thank you for your service."
Immediately following his words, the "junior" dissembled into small cubes and Melone unsummoned his Stand.
"You’re going to have to clean that up, Melone," Prosciutto hissed.
Melone shrugged before quickly picking up the Stand pieces. While he cleaned up his mess, Prosciutto turned is focus towards the chair he had brought with him. His original suspicions were correct. The chair slowly rearranged itself into a human figure who now laid peacefully on the couch. Their blue curls immediately served as a reminder for last night.
"That’s not who-"
As Melone tossed the remains into the trash, he replied, "Yep."
"Why’d the heck you bring him here?!"
"Well, I figured you’d have the most experience with this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?"
The ice crystals slowly covering his couch told him what he meant. It must’ve been Sorbet.
"Melone...This is different from back then." He paused. "I only had that problem for a short time and-"
"Prosciutto...I know you’re one who listens to logic so hear me out. Keep him here for a few days. If he dies, we dump the body and we move on with our lives. If he doesn’t, we have a few options. Depending on his Stand, Risotto might-"
Prosciutto tossed a blanket at him.
"Don’t push your responsibilities to me, asshole. Call Risotto and tell him you’re hanging out here for tonight."
"Sleep over! I like your style Prosciutto." He winked.
"Don’t make me have you sleep on the floor."
Melone zipped his lips before covering their guest with the blanket. However, ice crystals already began covering the blanket as well. Prosciutto cursed under his breath.
"What a pesky ability...Where’d you find him anyway?"
"Half starved and running from the cops."
Of course he did. Prosciutto would’ve felt for a fever but his hand would’ve probably stuck to the thief's forehead. Why were Stands so complicated?
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
When he woke up, he wasn’t in the park nor the hospital. Instead, he was in a soft bed with incredibly plush blankets. His first reaction was panic before the warmth of the blankets lulled him into better mindset. Someone had obviously brought him here and while he appreciated the thought, he knew how these things turned out. He’d at least give them the benefit of the doubt and only steal the cash in their wallet. Turning to get off the bed, his eyes met with pitch black darkness.
The monster spoke softly, "Good morning."
His scream echoed throughout the house startling the other guests.
As Melone tiredly walked into the hallway, the thief collided head first into him. Locking eyes for a moment, he quickly pushed him aside before running past. Melone acted partially on instinct and tackled the runaway to the ground. The subsequent collision between his head and the ground knocked him unconscious.
"What the heck is going-? Oh. I’m guessing the thief woke up then."
"Apparently..." he yawned. "He tried to escape and everything. Honestly, it was a close call. He was running like he saw a demon."
"Sorry about that." Risotto appeared behind him looking even more tired than usual. "I was checking his circulation when he woke up. My eyes must’ve spooked him."
They both hummed. While it wasn’t his fault, Risotto's eyes did have that sort of quality to them. They couldn’t say that out loud, of course.
While Prosciutto and Melone had originally planned to keep Risotto in the dark about the thief, Illuso ruined that plan just as soon as they thought of it. Apparently, the sneaking gremlin had been spying on Prosciutto, like you do, and had managed to hear the entirety of their conversation. If only to stir up trouble, he informed Risotto after a quick phone call to Sorbet and Gelato who came buzzing like bees to his apartment. Eventually the whole squad had arrived and Melone had to explain the situation. Much to Illuso's disappointment, everyone took it pretty well and Risotto offered his spare bedroom until things turned for better or for worse. He didn’t give his reasoning.
"We should probably move him back, right?"
"Unless any of you have any unwanted women in your lives, I can’t help you."
"Fucking disgusting," he sighed.
"Who are you calling disgusting?"
"Who’d you think, you dumbass!"
Melone gave an offended huff, "Rude!"
While they broke out into another argument, Risotto carried the thief back to bed. After this, he’d never allow anyone to stay with him.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Waking up once again, he found himself in the same bed as before except with a massive headache. Looking around the room, he also was alone. The monster must’ve been a hallucination after all. Once again, his thoughts immediately turned to escape. While his usual game plan involved a window, seeing as there were none, his best option was through the front door. However, going out that way involved a lot of guess work and his chances of running into the homeowner was very high. Something he unfortunately had to risk.
Slowly opening the door, he saw a hallway in front of him. It was relatively short and only had two other branching rooms. Across the hallway, appeared to be a living room and the steady chatter of a television told him his luck was already sour. As he slowly crept towards the room, his stealth mission was interrupted when one of the doors opened. The monster from before appeared from a cloud of steam except this time he was shirtless. Locking eyes, they stood in silence before he made a mad dash back to the bedroom. After locking the door, he leaned against it condemning himself to be trapped there for eternity.
Meanwhile, Risotto couldn’t help but feel insulted. It wasn’t like his reaction was even surprising. Some of his own teammates had similar expressions the first time they met him but this thief had the audacity to do it twice? Although he supposed, those who had bothered making the same show twice were usually his targets and they didn’t last long. The soft click of the lock didn’t help his mood. Prosciutto could’ve handled this situation better but what was wrong with taking it into his own hands. Approaching the door, Metallica did short work of the lock and he pushed it open. The slight weight didn’t stop him although a quiet curse did make him pause. After the pressure had fully disappeared, he opened the door only to be stabbed at by the thief. So that’s where Sorbet hid the bread knife. Before the thief could plunge it into his chest, Metallica held it in place which gave him ample time to grab it from him. Stumbling back, the thief landed on his ass while he stood in the doorway.
"Good morning." After receiving no reply, he continued, "I’m sure you probably want to know what’s going on, correct?"
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No."
"Then what’d you want?" he hissed.
"Well first off, you’re going to answer a few questions. Firstly..." Taking the knife, Risotto made a small cut on his index finger. "Do you see anything strange?"
Instead of answering right away, the thief stood up and slowly walked forward. Risotto looked for weapons but upon finding none, he finally noticed the thief was squinting. Sighing quietly, he extended his hand allowing the thief to get a better view.
In turn, the thief raised an eyebrow at the sight of Metallica.
"Uh, I think so? There’s these weird little things wriggling in your blood. Is that normal for you or-"
"Good. Secondly, do you remember stealing a lighter?"
"A lighter? Yeah a couple days ago...Wait! How do you know about that?!"
Ignoring his question, he asked, "Did you ever light it?"
"...I think the old man did. What does that have to do with anything?"
Risotto sighed. He wasn’t surprised just annoyed. Though, he was more annoyed at himself considering what he was about to do.
"What’s your name kid?"
"Who they neck you calling kid? I’m twenty."
"Name."
After a few quiet curses, he replied, "I’m not-"
"Good. I didn’t really want it in the first place...Have you noticed any strange phenomenon after the day you turned on the lighter?"
Before he could respond, a chill ran up his back. Looking at his sleeves, he noticed small ice crystals running down the seams. As he dusted them off, small snowflakes fell from his back.
"It has been colder recently..."
Everything slowly clicked into place. Since he was slightly delirious, he had mocked the snow and ice to mere hallucinations. His lack of a jacket only pushed him further into this delusion. But that didn’t explain how this was possible. No human should be able to create ice from nothing.
"What the fuck is happening?"
"You have what we call a Stand."
"A Stand?"
"Yes. For example..." Using Metallica, Risotto lifted the bread knife into the air. "My Stand allows me to manipulate iron in various ways. This is how I was able to repel your attack from before."
"Iron? Does that mean you control people through their blood. Cause it has iron in it..."
"Yes but not quite. I can only manipulate the iron in the blood. Blood isn’t just made of iron so my manipulation of it doesn’t work like that. Rather I can make-" he coughed. "I apologize for that tangent...Thanks to the lighter, you were given a Stand."
"How did a lighter give me a Stand?"
"Do you know what Passione is?"
The grimace that appeared on his face wasn’t a good sign.
"Yeah I know of it. That's the stupid mob running around, right?" he hissed.
"One of many but yes. It’s the main one"
"Doesn’t matter which one they are. There just a bunch of high strung assholes who think their so great. Fucking fools if you ask me."
"The lighter belongs to 'those assholes.'"
Realization flashed across his face and like a mouse caught in a trap, he backed into the furthest corner away from him. Ice steadily began climbing the walls around him
"What I said before still stands. I have no intentions of killing you. I understand your fear but let me explain the situation how I see it." Taking his silence as a go ahead, he continued, "From my point of view you have two options. The first is to leave. As a sign of good faith, I will give you a two thousand dollars to do with as you please. Whether you decide to stay in the city or go elsewhere would be entirely up to you. I’ll even order my teammates to never speak to you if they do see you. The second option is to to join my team as a member of Passione. As a member, any mobsters that attack you will be our responsibility as well. Of course, you’ll get paid for any work you do as a part of our squad."
"Why the fuck are you so casual about this? You just fucking asked me if I want to be a part of the fucking mob?! Are you crazy?"
"Well, in all honesty, this is the first time I’m asking someone to join. Every other time, my teammates have been assigned here so..."
"Fucking-Fuck this! Just...Give me a moment to just... Leave-Just...Ah!"
Charging at him, the shorter man pushed him out of the room before slamming the door. Risotto heard a barrage of curses along with the click of the lock.
"So, how’d it go?"
Melone was sitting in the middle of the hallway while Prosciutto looked on from the living room. Ever the eavesdroppers.
"I might’ve been a little blunt but whatever happens, I think things will turn out ok."
"But what if he says yes? One paycheck split amongst seven people doesn’t sound very rewarding."
Before Melone could snark back, Risotto quickly interceded, "I’ll make it work as I have before. Don’t worry Prosciutto."
Prosciutto sighed before disappearing into the living room. Despite his assurances, Risotto understood Prosciutto's concerns. They were already receiving less jobs as of late and another member would just split their reward even more. Maybe it would be better if the thief said no but even then, having options must’ve been a comfort.
"Do you think he’ll say yes Capo?" Melone cooed.
Risotto sighed before walking past him. "It doesn’t matter."
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
It had been an hour since his conversation with the thief and yet, he still didn’t have an answer. The ice steadily creeping across the hallway also didn’t assure him in the slightest.
After enjoying the free coffee, Prosciutto left to buy groceries as an apology to his mooching while Melone continued to watch the bedroom door. Risotto retreated to his office in order to sort out their last payment for the lighter retrieval. The raise was more than what he was expecting but he understood the reasoning behind it. He did receive Metallica by the test just as other members have.
Thirty minutes later, while working on paperwork, Risotto heard unfamiliar footsteps making their way towards the kitchen although a familiar voice soon interrupted them
"So have you decided?"
"Who the heck are you?" the thief growled.
"Aw, you don’t recognize me? We met at the park two days ago."
"Two days?"
"Yeah, you slept through a whole day. In all honesty, I thought you were dead for a while. We were thinking of throwing your body into the ocean."
"What the-Body? What the fuck am I signing up for?"
The sound of the refrigerator opening followed.
"Oh, so you are thinking of joining! Yay! Might as well make introductions. I’m Melone. What’s your name, blood type, birthday, moon sign, favorite-"
It was then when his door flung open. The thief quietly walked in before closing and locking the door. For a moment, the handle jiggled rapidly before stopping. Thank goodness Melone didn’t know how to pick locks.
"Before I decide anything, what is it that this team does again?"
He hummed, "I suppose I should’ve told you in the first place. In Passione, we are known as La Squadra di Esecuzioni. We're professional assassins."
He expected something more than a yawn.
"You don’t seem that surprised."
Revealing an apple, the thief took a bite out of it before answering, "Between you and the nutcase outside, why would I be?"
For a moment, a smile crept on his face before it was extinguished. "So I’m guessing you’ve decided, correct?"
"I’ll entertain the second option for now. But one question, if you will...Why is that weirdo called Melone?"
"Our team has a habit of choosing code names. It comes with the job. Risotto Nero is mine and Melone is his."
"Oh, you’re picking nicknames! I vote Pizza! We need at least one person called Pizza!" Melone yelled through the door.
"Fuck that! I’m not going to be called Pizza for the rest of my life!"
"Then how about Uva! The color's kinda close to your hair."
Risotto shouted back, "Who said you have anything to do with this Melone?"
He whined, "But Ris..."
"Yeah stay out of this, you weirdo!"
"But with that in mind, do you have any ideas either? If you want, you can decide for yourself of course but I would rather not wait an hour."
The temperature in the room dropped. He struck a nerve there. Despite the snickers coming from behind the door, the thief managed to sit calmly in one of the chairs before him. It immediately froze over. Risotto quietly sighed. Another piece of furniture lost.
"...I’m not against suggestions but please, don’t push it," he hissed. The threat was childish but it had already been a long day.
He expected a glare in return but found none on the assassin's face. Instead, Risotto leaned back into his chair before smiling. The thief’s eyes lit up at his expression but otherwise his frown remained. Curiosity. Risotto could tell.
"I think Ghiaccio would serve you well."
Let it never be said that Risotto Nero didn’t know how to tell a good joke.