Chapter Text
11. Meeting everyone
Giorno had been lucky it wasn’t the Squadra who had followed him the day of his first kiss with Pannacotta. But he was only 16 years old, he was in love for the first time, and he let his guard down again. One evening, when Mista, Narancia, and Trish were having a drink on the terrace in Piazza Bellini, with the turtle between them, four men approached their table.
"Good evening, young people. That's a nice turtle you have there..."
"Get lost!" Narancia growled.
"Is that how you talk to your elders?" Prosciutto asked haughtily. "Pesci, grab the turtle."
Pesci was far from the table, but Coco Jumbo flew towards him as if pulled by a thread. A Stand, the three teens realized. Like Sheila, and like...
"Giorno Giovanna, does that ring a bell? He's our minion, we wanted to know why he wasn't cleaning anymore, so we followed him, and what do we find? The Boss's kids... Don't move or we'll kill you."
Mista had his gun on him, he wanted to pull it out but his hand was covered in ice. All three of them were frozen, and paralyzed.
"Leave us alone!" Trish shouted. "We're not hurting anyone, we just want to be free. The Boss doesn't care about us, he just wants to lock us up and let us rot."
"Whining, and whining," Prosciutto scoffed. "Come on, everybody in the turtle. How does this thing work? You, the whiner, we know the turtle houses a room, when it was stolen it was quite a scandal. Get in there, or we'll kill your buddies right here, in front of everyone."
"They have nothing to do with me! We were just having a drink, I just met them."
"Don't lie to us, Trish. See that guy? His name is Formaggio, he’s been spying on you all day yesterday, hiding in Mista's ass pocket."
"Ew," Mista said.
"Ew to me, yes!" raged Formaggio.
"They have nothing to do with us!" insisted Trish. "It's me the boss wants, not them!"
"Aww, so cute. But we're not going to separate friends, we have a heart. Get in there."
Prosciutto pressed the turtle against Trish's cheek, and she was sucked in. He repeated the process with the two boys.
"There you go. Ghiaccio, freeze the shell so they won’t be able to go out."
"I hope Sheila E and the boy are in there, too."
"We'll see. If they're not, we'll find them soon. The boy is dating our Giogio, after all."
They took their catch back to HQ. For once, everyone was present. Risotto had kept Giorno in sight while his men went to get the kids.
"Risotto!" Ghiaccio thundered as he entered, getting everyone's attention. "Look what we found!"
When Risotto lifted the turtle, Giorno's face lost all color.
"What's that turtle?" asked Melone. "New pet for Formaggio, now that he's not allowed to torture cats?"
"Not exactly. You've been in Passione for four years, Melone, so you don't know, but in 1993 someone stole a turtle from Passione's annual party, and it was quite the drama, we all got searched, there were people killed for it.”
Buccellati remembered that. It was his very first annual party, the one where he had met Pannacotta in the piano room. The turtle had a Stand, which is why Passione wanted it back. He didn't know if it had been found since.
"And it's this one, the turtle?" asked Melone again. "What's so special about it? I thought you were out looking for the boss’ kids."
Risotto's smile widened.
"Giorno will explain it better than we can. Right, Giorno?"
Giorno remained mute, his face off. Buccellati knew him well enough to detect the panic on his motionless face.
"Come on, Giorno, explain to us! What's inside this little beast? Don't be shy, it's thanks to you that we were able to find it."
"Risotto," Giorno finally said, "they are not our enemies. They want the boss to fall as much as we do."
"What are you talking about?" intervened Buccellati.
"Let’s make the introductions."
Risotto removed the ice on top of the turtle, and shook the animal roughly. Giorno leapt forward, but the Squadra that surrounded him prevented him from acting.
"Come on, in there, everybody out," Risotto called, waving the turtle. "Everybody out or I'll kill the turtle, either it'll get you out and the result will be just the same, or you'll stay locked up in nothingness for eternity."
Another shake or two, and a staggering teenager appeared, followed by another, yet another, up to five.
"Sheila E," Risotto greeted with a terrifying look. "As we meet again."
The girl, still dazed from the shaking, managed to spit out hatefully:
"Squadra..."
Buccellati, meanwhile, was staring at another of the newcomers:
"Pannacotta?" he could not help but exclaim, incredulous.
And next to him, it was Trish. Both of them had grown up well.
"Buccellati!" stammered Pannacotta just as stunned.
"Oh? You know each other?"
Think fast , Buccellati told himself. These idiots had never left Naples. Risotto didn't want to use them to find the boss, he wanted revenge. Fighting the Squadra here would lead to nothing, Buccellati was no match, alone against all of them. Abbacchio's Stand was not made for fighting, and he knew that Sheila E's Stand wasn’t either. He didn't know if the others had one.
The only asset Buccellati had was the relative trust Risotto seemed to have in him now. He didn't want to lose this one card.
"We met during the annual party, the one where the turtle was stolen, precisely. So he's the boss' son? I never would have imagined it."
Trust me, he tried to mentally tell the teens at the same time . I'm on your side.
They must have understood, because neither Pannacotta nor Trish protested.
"You met a kid the same age as the boss’ son at the annual party, and it never occurred to you to tell us about him?" Ghiaccio asked skeptically.
Buccellati shrugged.
"I had completely forgotten. I was a kid myself back then, so it didn't seem odd."
Without warning, Sheila E pounced, all claws out, on Illuso, knocking him down. Illuso yelped.
"You!" Sheila screamed. "You killed my sister! I gave up my revenge, I let you live...!"
"What the hell is this crazy brat talking about?" Illuso shouted. "Help me!"
"MY SISTER, CLARA CAPEZZUTO! YOU KILLED HER IN PALERMO ON JUNE 1995! DON'T YOU REMEMBER? SHE WAS ONLY 12 YEARS OLD, SHE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A STAND! SHE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MAFIA!"
Illuso did not answer. Formaggio released him by grabbing the girl by the braids.
"Nice, your new look, Sheila E. But what's even nicer is that we get to avenge Sorbet and Gelato's death."
"She had nothing to do with their deaths!" Trish cried. "It was Cioccolata, the boss' doctor who killed them. We'll tell you anything you want! Don't hurt her!"
Risotto laughed.
"I have a feeling we'll have no trouble getting them to talk. But it's not just information we want. We want revenge." He approached Trish: "Your dear daddy, kiddo, mailed us the corpse of one of my guys, cut up into little pieces in front of his lover. We thought we'd do the same with you and your brother. Which one we cut up, which one watches? Any preference?"
"You guys are freaks," Narancia growled.
"No shit."
At that moment, the walls of the HQ were covered with brambles. A branch wrapped around Risotto's wrist.
"Don't touch them," Giorno threatened. "They'll help us find the boss if they can. There's no point in hurting them."
Risotto snatched the branch from his bloody wrist.
"You are aware that a few thorns are not going to allow you to speak to me in that tone, are you?"
The brambles were already covered with ice. The same ice that held the boss' children and their friends trapped on the ground.
"Giorno," Mista whispered. "Is it really you who..."
"He's part of the Squadra!" Sheila E understood. "Was this all a trap? Your feelings for Panna, were they fake, too?"
Pannacotta wasn't really listening, he had his eyes on Buccellati, who was giving him meaningful looks from time to time. He jumped when he heard Sheila say his name.
"That wasn't a lie!" Giorno replied, "Pannacotta, I swear to you. They must have set me up. I'll get you out of here!"
"We’d like to see that," sneered Ghiaccio, whose ice trapped the plants created by Gold Experience.
Giorno glanced desperately at Buccellati, and Buccellati knew he had one more ally. And not just any. Giorno was the only person Buccellati knew capable of competing with the terrible Risotto Stand. Metallica turned blood into metal objects, Gold Experience could turn objects into blood. At least inside Giorno's body. He had never tested it, but they had talked about the possibility.
But even with Sticky Fingers, it would take a while to get five teenagers caught in the ice to disappear. And if they got away, Pesci could catch them with his fishing rod, and rip out their hearts.
Abbacchio stood next to Buccellati, ready to fight.
"The tall one, with a hat," he whispered to him. "He has a gun."
Prosciutto, who had just come out of the turtle where he'd been checking to make sure no one was hiding anymore, couldn't use his Stand with all his allies around him. Melone needed time to generate his. There were no mirrors in the room, and Formaggio's Stand was lame. That left Risotto, from whom Giorno was the only one who could protect himself, Ghiaccio, and Pesci when they’d flee. If the big guy with the gun killed Pesci while Buccellati took care of Ghiaccio... but even without Stands, the others would attack them. Buccellati hated the Squadra, but after spending all these years with them, he didn't want to see them dead. They would have to join forces to defeat the Boss, that was within their reach now that they had gotten their hands on his children.
"Risotto, Giorno," he said, trying to sound indifferent. "Don't fight. Pesci doesn't like it when teammates fight."
Indeed, Pesci looked at them, wringing his hands nervously.
"Pesci," Prosciutto ordered. “Go to your room."
"Aniki, who are all those people who came out of the turtle? Are we going to kill them? Giorno wasn't in the turtle, he's not the one we should attack."
Prosciutto had his gun pointed at the teens caught in the ice. He didn't have time to deal with Pesci.
"Buccellati, take him away. Pesci, go with Buccellati, I'll explain everything later."
"Come on, Pesci," Buccellati called softly.
He ignored Abbacchio's puzzled look, Pannacotta's pleading look, and Giorno's confused look, and led Pesci into the hallway, hoping that no one would die in his absence. He had an idea.
After leaving Pesci in his room and putting on a cartoon, Buccellati walked to Risotto's bedroom door. Light was filtering under it. Buccellati was about to knock, but he changed his mind. Murolo would have tachycardia if someone knocked on his door unexpectedly. He called softly:
"Murolo?"
A few seconds, and the spy’s grim face appeared in the doorway.
"What do you want, Buccellati?"
"I just wanted to give you some good news, we found the boss' children. We're getting closer to our goal. That is, if the Squadra refrains from killing them for their revenge."
Murolo stared at him for long seconds, and Buccellati wondered if he had been a little too bold. He didn't know Murolo well, but he knew that the spy was smarter than the Squadra members, and more cautious, too, more wary. The manipulation was probably a bit too obvious.
"I know things about you, Buccellati," the spy warned. "Quite a bit. My cards, All Along The Watchtower, they're everywhere, they hear everything."
Buccellati kept his cool. Whatever Murolo had learned about him, he had not told Risotto. All was not lost.
"I know what you want me to do. You want me to stop the Squadra from hurting the boss' kids, because you know them, because you wanted to recruit them to your team, before you were sent to the Squadra."
"They are children, Murolo. They have nothing to do with Passione."
Murolo cut him off:
"I also know you want to overtake Risotto. Defeat the boss before he does, and become the new leader of Passione."
"You didn't say anything to Risotto, though."
"I didn’t."
They remained silent for a moment. Buccellati could feel sweat on his back. He knew he'd only make short work of Murolo, but what would become of Pannacotta, Trish, and Sheila E? What about Giorno? What about Abbacchio and himself? And the two unknown boys?
"I'll tell you why," Murolo finally revealed. "I want the boss to go down. Him and his inner circle. Maybe I'm the one who wants him to fall the most. But if Risotto kills him and replaces him, Italy will fall apart. Risotto won't make a good boss, he's too sanguine and too badly surrounded. You, on the other hand, could bring some sense to this crazy organization."
"Thank you." Buccellati replied, not sure where all this was leading him.
Murolo offered him a sinister grimace.
"Go join your buddies before there's any drama. I'm coming. But I want two promises in return. First, you'll kill the boss."
"I will. You have my word."
"Good. Then, when you take his place as head of Passione, I want you to ensure our safety, to me, Risotto, and all those jerks. They’ll have a place in the new Passione and will be treated with respect."
Buccellati had never thought that far ahead, but if it would earn him the help of Risotto's booty call...
"I promise you. The Squadra is not my enemy, our goal is the same, I just want to spare those kids and find the boss."
"I know. Go ahead."
Buccellati whispered a thank you and left, a little confused. Was Murolo serious? He would soon find out. He pushed open the door to the living room, and scanned the room to see if everyone was still alive.
"Where's Giorno?"
"Illuso locked him in the mirror world," Abbacchio informed him. "That's the only place he can't escape from. He let himself be caught voluntarily, when Prosciutto threatened to kill the boss' son who is also apparently his boyfriend."
Now was not the time, but Buccellati's heart swelled with tenderness at the thought that Pannacotta and Giorno were in love. If everyone survived, he would want to know all the details.
"Sheila E took a beating," Abbacchio continued to inform him. "She used her Stand, it made mouths appear on the floor, that started repeating all the crap that was said in this room. It was kinda fun, but now everybody's very pissed off."
Sheila E had had to call back her Stand when the Squadra had threatened to kill Mista or Narancia. There was nothing the teens could do, as long as they protected each other.
"Have we decided what to do with them?" Buccellati asked Prosciutto.
"Basically. The two boys have nothing to do with Passione, we have nothing against them, so we’re gonna give them a quick death. Sheila E will of course be tortured to death, and we're still trying to decide which of the boss' kids to chop into small pieces and which to force to watch. Melone wants us to chop up the girl, for the perverse reasons you can imagine, but Ghiaccio objected that girls have too high a voice, and her screams will break our ears. Formaggio kicked him in the balls (Sheila E's Stand repeated everything Ghiaccio said about Formaggio's Stand the other day) and Ghiaccio screamed in such a high-pitched voice that it made us laugh a lot. So now, while Risotto is beating up Sheila E, we're trying to figure out who has the highest voice, but the kids don't want to talk anymore. Did you put a cartoon on for Pesci? So he won't come back down?"
Buccellati nodded slowly. The Squadra would never stop pushing the boundaries of absurdity.
"Did you ask them what they know about the boss?" he asked again. “Maybe there's no need to chop anyone into small pieces. Giorno said they are on our side.”
"Giorno is a traitor," Risotto growled as he dropped Sheila E to approach Buccellati. "Criticize my judgment and you'll be a traitor, too. We'll chop one of these two kids and send them to the boss by FedEx. First we get revenge, and then we find him and kill him."
Murolo entered the living room at that moment, dragging his feet, without a glance at Buccellati.
"You're making a lot of noise. Who are all these kids? Are you opening a daycare center? Oh, hi there, Sheila E. I thought you were long dead."
Sheila E recognized Murolo, the spy whose the boss had killed all the relatives of to ensure his servitude. But she was gagged, she couldn’t answer. She had nothing to say to him anyway, he was just a toy of the boss, as she had been.
"Were we too noisy?" Risotto asked.
As always in the presence of the spy, Risotto was torn between his authoritarian attitude to intimidate his men, and the care he took not to scare his booty call.
"So it’s them, the boss' kids?” Murolo asked. “You found them! Well done! Thanks to them, we'll finally be able to find the Passisone’s boss and get rid of him once and for all. Have they spoken?"
"Not yet..."
"What do you mean by ' First we get revenge, and then we find him and kill him'? Didn’t we agree that finding the boss is our top priority?"
"Cannolo, do you mind, this is a Squadra matter. Stay out of it."
"That I stay..." Murolo burst out laughing, suddenly pale. Buccellati wondered if he was such a good actor, but probably he wasn't acting. He suddenly exploded: "OF COURSE, YOU WANT ME TO STAY OUT OF IT! I'M BENDING OVER BACKWARDS FOR THE SQUADRA, I'M PUTTING MYSELF IN DANGER LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA, BY BETRAYING THE BOSS! BUT THAT'S SECONDARY, YOUR REVENGE COMES FIRST, I JUST HAVE TO STAY OUT OF IT!"
"I didn't mean it like that..."
"AH YES? YOU WEREN'T TELLING ME TO MIND MY OWN BUSINESS WHILE YOU TORTURE KIDS FOR FUN? EVERY SECOND OF MY LIFE I RISK GETTING KILLED BY THE BOSS, BECAUSE I’M HELPING YOU! IS THAT LESS IMPORTANT THAN YOUR REVENGE? YOU GUYS COULDN'T STAND SORBET AND GELATO!"
Murolo had tears in his eyes now, wheezing. He headed back down the hallway and Risotto followed him.
"Where are you going? Hey, wait!"
"I'M GOING TO GET MY STUFF. I'M LEAVING, SINCE I HAVE TO STAY OUT OF THIS. IF IT'S TO SEE CHILDREN BEING CHOPPED INTO SMALL PIECES, I'M JUST AS WELL WITH THE BOSS, AT LEAST I DON’T RISK MY LIFE ANY SECOND!"
"Canno... Come on, Cannolove, listen to me!"
A door slammed, and only muffled voices could be heard. In the living room a great silence had fallen.
"Now we know that Cannolove shouldn't be chopped into small pieces," Melone said. "He really has too high a voice."
This drew a nervous laugh from the Squadra. Then, in Risotto's absence, it was to Prosciutto that they turned to:
"What do we do now, Pro? They'll freeze to death if I leave them in the ice too long."
Prosciutto sighed.
"We're not going to see Risotto or his booty call again until tomorrow. We better lock the kids up somewhere until our leader makes a decision. Illuso, can you send them to the mirror world?"
"I can, but it's best to avoid it. The mirror world is as big as our world. Giorno will stay by the mirror because he won't want to be left alone in an empty world forever, and if he runs away it's no big deal anyway, but if we send all the kids and they decide to hide and make a new life in there, we may never find them."
"I could shrink them and lock them in a bottle," Formaggio said, "but you guys can go jump in a lake. That'll teach you to insult my Stand."
"Why don't we just lock them in Giorno's room," Buccellati offered. "They don't have a Stand, walls and a lock will keep them in enough. We put someone on guard and we're good."
"Mmh." mused Prosciutto. "I'll stand guard."
Buccellati didn't care. Giorno's room was touching his own.
"What about the turtle?" Melone asked. "Do we give it back to them?"
"Of course not."
"I can keep it if you want," Formaggio offered innocently.
Everyone winced as they imagined the poor animal stuck in a bottle. Prosciutto decided:
"Abbacchio, since you are the animal lover, you take care of the turtle. Don't let Formaggio near it."
"Okay."
"Come on, let’s move them to Giorno's room. One each. Buccellati, unzip them in two, they’ll be easier to carry."
Buccellati complied, splitting the teenagers in half at the abdomen. They were terrified, but none of them made a sound, even the one with the orange headband and tears in his eyes remained stoic. Buccellati lifted Pannacotta, and neither of them said anything the whole way, not a word of comfort or a reproach, but Buccellati hoped that from skin to skin, Pannacotta felt that Buccellati was reassuring him, that he was promising to get him out of there.
"Great, Buccellati," Mista murmured, long hours later, when the terror had subsided enough to let him speak. "You really have shitty taste, Panna."
They were in Giorno's room, on the floor, their bodies still cut in half. It was painless, but terrifying. Narancia managed a desperate chuckle:
"Totally! The two guys you've been in love with screwed us up."
"Giorno got set up," Pannacotta defended him. "He didn't betray us, it wasn't his fault. And Buccellati... Buccellati..."
He couldn't believe that he had seen him, like that, that he had finally found him. He wanted to tell his friends that Buccellati had been acting, and that he would save them, but he didn't dare. What if someone heard him? What if he was wrong?
"I'm sorry," he whispered instead, close to crying.
"Aw, don't be," Mista replied. "I have a pal, he invited a girl over to his place once, when he woke up in the morning, she was gone with all his money, his TV, and his stereo. He found her, but this chick had another guy, and he beat the shit out of him. He was probably a pimp, my pal had no idea. He was this close to fall in love."
A long silence followed, as everyone waited for the connection.
"Thank you, Mista," Trish finally said. "That was fascinating, as always."
That made them laugh.
"What I mean is, it can happen to anyone to fall for assholes. Sheila, how do you feel? They hit you pretty good, you're not in too much pain?"
"Those jerks broke my tooth," Sheila was acting tough but there were sobs in her voice. When she realized that no one had missed it, she dropped the facade: "I wish I had killed them. I couldn’t do anything. My sister's killer, right there. And I... I was useless. I didn't even protect you. Panna, Trish, I’m sorry, I’m lame."
"Don't say that," Trish said. " There was nothing you could do. None of us could do anything, not against the mob or my father. Have you seen what they're doing? The ice? The way they put Giorno through the mirror? What Buccellati did to us? What can we do about it? At least we... thanks to you, we’ve been free, Panna and I, for three years. And we met you all. So... so even if I get chopped into small pieces tomorrow, I, I don't regret it. It was worth it."
She was crying too, followed by Narancia:
"Without you I would have died. My eye disease, it would have killed me, and I would have died in a garbage tank, and my corpse would have been eaten by rats. So getting killed by Passione, next to that, it's nothing. Same as Trish, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm so glad I met you."
"Damn it, Stop," Mista whined. "I'm going to cry, too...ah shit."
"Try to bring... your upper body to us, Mista," Panna told him. "Let’s all hold hands."
They were all in tears now, their upper bodies tangled against each other. As they sobbed, they made promises and goodbyes and declarations of love. Near the wall in which he had unzipped a large breach, Buccellati felt a little like laughing. But he restrained himself. He pushed with his foot against one of Pannacotta's legs that was lying on the ground not far from him. Pannacotta jumped, and his gaze found his.
"Buccellati!" he whispered, hopeful.
He knew that Buccellati would come for him. He had never doubted it. The two smiled at each other.
"Buccellati," Abbacchio growled. “You zip them up? We still have Giorno to pick up."
"Yes, sorry." Buccellati approached the mass of teenagers staring at him. "Whose legs are they?"
Abbacchio silently left his room, Coco Jumbo in his arms. In the hallway, Prosciutto looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"Feeding the turtle. Be quiet, Buccellati is sleeping."
"Why would I care, that Buccellati is sleeping, while I stand guard like an idiot!"
"You want me to take over?"
"Nah, that's okay," Prosciutto sighed. "I couldn't sleep anyway, my room is next to Risotto's, I don't want to hear him and Cannolove making peace all night, if you know what I mean."
Abbacchio sneered.
"Cheer up. I'll bring you up a sandwich."
"How nice. And a beer, while you're at it."
"Got it."
Inside Coco Jumbo, Pannacotta was hugging Buccellati.
"I missed you so much! We were so worried about you!"
"I was worried too, I thought you had left Naples! The money we put in the basket..."
"We used it to fix Narancia's eye," Sheila explained. "Thank you."
"You did the right thing. We're going to get you out of here."
"What about the boss?" asked Trish.
"We'll defeat him together. If you want to."
"We would," Pannacotta replied. "But we don't have any Stands, except Sheila. We're not strong like you."
"Not strong? Look at you, Pannacotta, you've grown up so well! You too, Trish, you've managed to escape Passione this whole time! Without an adult. You're the only ones so far who have managed to escape the boss. And now you have the greatest strength, look at you, you have a team. You have accomplished what I have always dreamed of."
The brother and sister looked at each other, looked at their friends.
"You have a team too, Buccellati," Pannacotta whispered. "I mean, if you want us."
Buccellati looked at the gang of teens in turn. The team he'd always dreamed of, his own, with Pannacotta and Trish. He hadn't chosen the members, but as he looked at them, Sheila E spitting blood with a vengeful look, Narancia looking at him adoringly, and Mista who as soon as he was in the shelter had started preparing food for everyone, he figured he wouldn't have chosen a different one.
Abbacchio appeared.
"Okay," he said while observing the room he had just entered. "We're in the car."
"Who can drive?" asked Buccellati.
Narancia raised his hand.
"No way," wondered Abbacchio. "how old are you?"
"Seventeen. But I've known how to drive for a long time."
"He’ll do it. Abbacchio, give him the keys. Listen, Abbacchio and I are going back to get Giorno. Wait for us in the car. If there's any danger, or if we're not back in an hour, you go. Leave Naples for good. Is that okay? There's money in the glove compartment."
"I want to go with you!" Pannacotta exclaimed. "I... Giorno is my boyfriend. I can help you save him..."
"No way. You stay together. The rescue isn't going to be epic anyway, we'll just torture Illuso in silence until he agrees to release him."
"Let me come," Sheila E demanded in turn, "I want revenge on Illuso. He killed my sister."
Buccellati sighed.
"You all stay here. We have to be discreet, the more we are, the more risk we run. Pannacotta, I'm going to bring your boyfriend back. In exchange, I need you to keep Sheila from following us."
"I understand," Pannacotta said, which angered Sheila:
"You think you're gonna decide for me, Pannacotta Fugo?"
"You gave up your revenge when you helped us escape, remember?"
"So what? What if I changed my mind?"
"You've got so many punches in the face," Narancia chuckled, "You mustn’t even be able to walk straight."
"No one asked your opinion, moron!"
Narancia pulled out a knife.
"Are you callin’ me a moron? You made even more mistakes than I did in the dictation!"
"We have to hurry," Abbacchio said. "I promised Prosciutto that I would make him a sandwich."
"Perfect timing, I just made one too many." Mista handed Abbacchio a sandwich. "That will buy you some time. You can go, by the time you get back they'll still be arguing."
Illuso slept soundly. Bucciarati closed the zipper through which he had entered, then zipped the sleeper's mouth and unzipped his limbs before waking him up. It was going to be a piece of cake. He didn't even need Abbacchio, who was quietly drinking a beer with Prosciutto to allay his suspicions.
"Illuso... open your eyes..."
Illuso woke up and his eyes filled with terror as he realized he couldn't move or scream.
"You are going to free Giorno... Look, I brought a mirror. You're going to set him free without making a fuss, or I'll unzip you into lots of little pieces and I’ll feed Mr. Puss with it, mixed in with his kibble."
Strangely, the terror left Illuso's eyes, he nodded his head gravely, as if he wanted to cooperate. Weird. It wasn't like this dumbass Illuso to bluff. But Buccellati's threats usually sparked more terror than that.
Illuso still nodded, and with his arm unzipped, he motioned for Buccellati to unzip his mouth.
"If this is a trap, Illuso, you'll regret it."
Illuso nodded again. Intrigued, Buccellati unzipped his mouth, first a little, and when the guy said nothing, completely.
"I..." said Illuso then. "You want Giorno, right? The boss' kids, what did you do with them?"
"We took them away from here. We'll find and defeat the boss thanks to them. I will be the next boss of Passione. You can tell Risotto , if I let you live, that the next boss of Passione does not kill children. Now give me Giorno back or..."
"Drop your threats," Illuso replied. "I'll give you Giorno back, but it's not because you scare me."
"Oh no?"
"Okay, okay, stop with the zipper! There's no need to threaten me! I'm cooperating! But I want you to know that I'm not doing this out of fear of you, I'm going to help you for the girl."
"Trish?"
"Sheila E. Her sister."
Buccellati waited, as Illuso poked his head through the mirror to call for Giorno.
"He'll turn up. Zip me an arm so I can catch him. I didn’t killed that girl on purpose. I was chasing my target by car, and I was shooting at him at the same time, the sun was in my eyes. I lost control of the vehicle, there were potholes. She was walking along a low wall."
Buccellati waited again.
"It was an accident. It doesn't keep me up at night, I've killed others...but I didn't know it was Sheila E's sister. I guess she joined Passione to find me, and yet she never took revenge. She must not have found the opportunity. Come on, Giorno, are you moving? In my room! Buccellati has come to save you. I know that giving you Giorno back won’t be enough to calm her down, and I don't care, but still, if you could tell her that it was for her that I did it."
"I'll tell her," Buccellati said while thinking: you had no choice anyway . But he said nothing. He had promised Murolo that in the future, he’ll make allies from the Squadra.
"There he is. Grab my hand, Giorno, and don't attack as soon as you’re out, Buccellati is trying to sneak you free."
Illuso passed his hand through the mirror, and he pulled Giorno out. The kid did not attack, he looked at Buccellati hopefully.
"Pannacotta and the others...?"
"They are all safe. We're going to join them. Illuso, thank you. I won't forget what you told me. I was planning to knock you out before I zipped your limbs back together, to make sure you wouldn't raise the alarm…"
"Oh, do, do. I'd rather that than have Risotto think I let you go. Just don’t ruin my face, please."
Buccellati smiled, and he slapped Illuso's skull hard. The man collapsed. Buccellati zipped his limbs back in place, and said to Giorno:
"Come quickly, your boyfriend is waiting for you."
"That sandwich was too damn good, Abbacchio. Why do you usually make shit sandwiches?"
"Because I don't usually have the good ingredients."
"Did you forget the turtle in the kitchen?"
"I'll go get it later. I wasn't going to watch it eat."
"Yeah."
They took a sip of beer in silence, then Prosciutto confessed:
"Risotto's messing up. His booty call has a point. Why would we kill those kids, we all hated Sorbet and Gelato."
"Really?"
"Yeah. We gave you and Buccellati a hard time, but we all agree that you're a lot more fun, and it's not so bad working with you. It doesn’t look like it, but we all trust you. Even Formaggio likes you."
"I know," Abbacchio smiled. "Sheila E's Stand gave it all away."
"What a piece of shit, that thing," Prosciutto laughed softly. "Gotta watch everything we say."
"Yeah."
Of course, neither of them dared to say anything more. They stayed in a comfortable silence, until Abbacchio saw Buccellati waving to him at the end of the corridor. He finished his beer and stood up.
"Well, I'm gonna get the turtle. Have a good watch, Pro."
"Good night Abba."
Abbacchio felt like saying one last thing to him, a goodbye. Deep down, he too had grown attached to the Squadra boys. But a new, better team was waiting for him.
He joined Buccellati in the kitchen. Giorno was there.
Outside, five teenagers and a turtle were waiting for them around the car, completely disobeying Buccellati's order to stay inside. Near him, Buccellati felt how Giorno wanted to run into his lover's arms, but Giorno being Giorno, he didn't dare. He was probably angry at himself for having led the Squadra to them. Then it was Pannacotta who ran into his arms, followed by his sister, and all the others.
"I'm so sorry," Giorno said to them, but no one listened to him, amidst laughter and shouts of joy.
Abbacchio was trying to push everyone in the car.
"Come on, kids, we have to get out of here, we are still in the range of Prosciutto’s Stand. We're not all going to fit in the car, we need at least three back in the turtle. Sheila E, you're hurt, Giorno will fix you up. Are you fucking listening to me? We don't have time to waste, we still have Mr. Puss to pick up before we get the hell out of this town."
They somehow got everyone in the car and drove off, Buccellati and Abbacchio in the front, Fugo, Narancia, and Mista in the back, Coco Jumbo on their knees. They were singing along with the radio and bickering, and shouting with joy. It was like an old team that had just reunited.
Once Sheila was healed, she, Giorno and Trish got out of the turtle, preferring to stay piled on top of each other with six of them in the backseat.
"Should I unzip your legs again, to save space?" Buccellati half-joked, half-threatened.
"Yeaaaaaaaaah!" the kids replied.
And Buccellati thought: family . So hard that he almost ran off the road. Abbacchio caught the wheel just in time.
"We'll need a bigger car."