Chapter Text
Buildings and people they passed on the street morphed into misshapen smudges against the landscape. By now, a few minutes had passed. Beneath her the car let loose a series of low grumbles, engine purring and body shivering. Teofila, unaffected by the lot of it, leaned against the window. Fingers spread across her knee, she stared blankly out upon the city and its inhabitants. Though outwardly she appeared tranquil, her mind was a jumble of racing thoughts. Among them were notes of how they had been travelling for about five and a half minutes, if her timing was correct, and that they had already circled the same two blocks three times over.
Sure, they were making progress. It would only be a matter of time before they slowed and dropped Teofila off in the designated spot, but they were taking the scenic route. The young Mafioso had known instantly that the driver was trying to disorient her, make her forget exactly where they had come from. Thankfully, Teofila knew she was better than what the driver was trying to accomplish. She’d been on roundabouts like these many times. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was stupid enough to approach the boss upfront or with ill intention.
Slowly, leisurely, her gaze drifting up to the two sitting at the front of the car. The boss had been kind enough to offer her a ride home, since she hadn’t arranged her own – she would walk, she had told him, but he hadn’t accepted that as an answer. Giorno had insisted that he would provide her with a ride home. So, some of his close associates herded her in the direction of one of his several cars, where she was later followed by some of the lower grunts; they had been to serve as the driver and the backup.
Teofila dragged her fingers along the top of her thigh. Much like a predator observing prey, she watched the two men. They were burly men, clearly suited to work as henchmen, but they were not stand users. As a stand user herself, she was sure of it. If she had been the vengeful, double-crossing type, Teofila could’ve easily taken them out.
But she would not. Giorno, though he may have a boyish appearance, wasn’t stupid. There was a reason he was the Don. He wouldn’t have sent these two idiots out alone – there was probably a stand user or two trailing them, waiting to report back to their boss. A lazy grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. This was a test, in a way, to see if she was staying true to her oath.
Rolling her shoulders, Teofila took her time in getting comfortable. Head lolling back and arms flopping at her sides, she leaned back into the cushioning. The seat molded to her back, welcoming her into an embrace that she had already half expected. She could now say in complete confidence that the boss had excellent taste in car interiors. Not that it was important, but it was an interesting tidbit.
At this point, a catnap sounded perfect. However, the Mafioso knew better than to let her guard down, especially when she was in close proximity with two strangers. Even if they weren’t stand users, they still posed a threat – how did she know if they were entirely loyal to the boss? Instead, she simply feigned ignorance. Absentmindedly she cast a look behind her, out the back window.
Just then, the passenger – the one with twin moles under his left eye – shifted in his seat. Eyes narrowing, Teofila watched him with a predatory glare. Obviously having felt her stare boring into his back, the one she had mentally named “Moley” began to squirm. Jaw clenched, he turned to face her, but only somewhat. It was as if he was afraid to turn and face her; which he ought to be.
“Is something the matter, Miss?” He was polite, at least. The driver, only now having taken notice that his two passengers were conversing, cast them a glance, but no more than that. His moustache twitched as he turned back to the road. In the meantime, Teofila took her sweet time in responding.
“Yes,” she said, voice cold. “There is.”
Moley’s shoulders immediately hiked up at the remark. His whole body tightened, muscles suddenly tense. His lips parted as if to make a retort, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “What is it, then?” That was what he had settled on, voice losing some if its polite tone.
Teofila took a moment to scratch her cheek. “You missed my stop.”
“Your stop?” This time, the driver piped up. Brow furrowed, he didn’t seem too pleased with where the conversation was heading. Clearly, he wasn’t as adept at sensing the mood as his buddy. “It’s still a good block or two away.”
“Well–” Having taken some offense to the driver’s words, the young woman cocked her head so that she faced him instead. Her voice was no longer cold; it was sharp, venomous. “No matter. You may simply stop here.”
The driver’s lip curled up, and his moustache along with it. “We were instructed to drop you off at a specific spot, one that you told us of yourself. Now, lady, I would suggest you shut up for the rest of the ride.”
“Excuse me?” Teofila’s words cut through the conversation like a sharp-edged knife. She slowly rose in her seat, sitting up as tall as she could. All at once the driver realised where his foolish words had gotten him. Sensing his fear – sometimes she swore she could taste it in the air – Teofila leaned forward, encroaching upon the man’s personal space. “If I was the one deciding the drop off location, shouldn’t I be able to change it? That settles it, then. Drop me off right here – that’s an order.”
Before his cohort could fuck them over even more, Moley leaned over and gave the driver a harsh nudge. “Just do what she says, Lino. Wouldn’t want the boss gettin’ angry at us because we upset one of his guests, right?” The driver scoffed, shaky, and gave the steering wheel a jerk. The three came to a sudden stop at the corner; all but Teofila lurched forward with the momentum of it.
Without so much as a goodbye or a farewell, Teofila opened the door, stepped outside, and slammed it closed. Somewhere behind them, someone honked. As soon as she was standing properly, the car’s engine revved, and the two remaining inside sped off. All that was left was a puff of exhaust and the horrible smell of burning oil.
“Simple minded grunts, the lot of them,” Teofila huffed, striding down the sidewalk. Heels clicking beneath her, she set a fast pace, nearly gliding down the street. Placing her hands in her pockets, she set all of her senses on high alert. Those goons weren’t the ones who were bothering her; they had been nothing worthy of note. Instead, it was something larger that interested her.
Turning sharply, the young woman rounded a corner. Her speed slowed considerably, and with her head twisted to regard the busy streets, she observed. Many cars were driving around right about now, but there was a certain vehicle that had caught her attention. It only took a few seconds.
Ah – there it was. Eyes widening so that she could take every detail in, Teofila watched the sleek car rumble by. Its pace was slower than the others on the street. And, most curiously, it had been following her since she had left the boss’ presence.
One of those in the vehicle noticed her right away. Trying to remain somewhat subtle, he nudged the driver, mouth moving soundlessly. From a distance she could see his white hair bob as he talked. The driver, however, wasn’t as indirect as his passenger. Leaning over his associate’s lap, taking his eyes off the road, he squinted in Teofila’s general direction. The young woman noted that he wore bright colours, and favoured a rather peculiar hat. Horrible fashion, if she did say so herself. Teofila gave him a slight, taunting wave. Mouth morphing into an “O”, the driver was promptly shoved back into his seat by the passenger. Before she knew it, the tires gave a squeal, and the two strangers were lost to the commotion that was Italian traffic.
Her suspicions had been correct. There was no doubt in her mind that those two were stand users, sent by Giorno himself to tail her, just in case things went in awry – whether she had started an uproar herself or not. The two had even been in the immediate presence of the boss, which further solidified her conclusion.
‘Now that that’s over and done with,’ Teofila thought, carefully turning in a circle to take in the entirety of her surroundings. ‘I can head back to base. Let’s hope those idiots haven’t gotten themselves into any trouble.’ After confirming that there was nobody around to watch, she ducked into an alley where shadows loomed high above her.
The shadows cast eerie shapes over her suit; her collar, shining gold, reflected what little light there was in the dim alleyway. With fingers splayed, she reached out to a particularly large shadow upon the brick wall. Focused, her fingers travelled over the cool surface of the stone.
“Shadow on the Wall,” she whispered, breathy and distant. There was a flash of gold and a curl of smoke as a hand reached out from the shadow. Claws tightening around her shoulder, the arm gave a light tug. Following its lead, Teofila took a step forward. Before her, the shadows parted, and the young woman vanished into the darkness.
Following her exit, a patch of shade a touch darker than the rest writhed where Teofila had vanished. In a flash it began to move, slipping from the wall and onto the ground. As soon as it made contact with the concrete below, the shadow became just like all the others. Just like that, all traces that Teofila had been in the alley disappeared.
Pigeons cooed in the sky high above, while the people of Italy milled about below them. The world continued to turn. Not a single soul in the city of Naples noticed the absence of one Teofila Barzetti.
Mere minutes later, a group of shadows nestled close between two buildings began to thrash about. Squirming as if they were living, breathing things, they began to leap off of the walls, all tendrils of endless black. A moment or two passed before a figure veiled in darkness stepped out from the frantic tendrils.
Teofila raised an arm to block her eyes from the sun. Squinting, she waved her hand in the direction of the writhing shadows. In the blink of an eye, they settled against the wall, still once again. However, the young Mafioso now found herself in a tight spot – quite literally.
Pressed tight in between the two buildings wasn’t that big of a deal. The worst she could do was scuff her suit, and that was something that was easily fixed. A few bills slipped over the counter would have it looking good as new. All she had to do was shimmy her way out of the confining space. And so, shuffling to the side – the gap was only large enough for her to fit sideways – Teofila made her way to the open sidewalk.
In one sharp turn, Teofila came upon a mammoth of a house. Made of brick, it was both taller and older than the other houses lining to street, at least three floors. This in itself was an oddity, for most of the homes were one floor, maybe two if they were lucky enough.
With great strides she climbed the front steps, fishing around in her pockets for the key to the door. As she pulled them out and jammed them into the lock, she stood under the shade of the portico stretching above her. Having no need to look behind her for possible prying eyes, Teofila felt her stand glare out from the shadows, a security in itself.
The lock gave a final, satisfying click. After the faint glow of her stand’s eyes vanished, Teofila swung the door open, showing no hesitation as she stepped inside. Quietly she closed the door, locking it before she ventured further. If anyone else wanted in, they’d need a key.
A moment or two after she’d pocketed the key to the house, Teofila spied a single pair of shoes sitting askew on the welcome mat. They were a man’s shoes; much too large for her, or really, anyone else on her team. And so, even before she saw whoever was in the house with her, the young Mafioso called out a greeting.
“Back from Venice, I take it?” Sliding her heels off, she wandered in the direction of the living room, arms folded across her chest. “Hopefully the mission went as according to the plan, Georgio,” Teofila continued, poking her head through the archway to look at the person sprawled across the couch.
At Teofila’s appearance, the man startled slightly, jerking upwards from where he had been laying. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he reached for a wide-brimmed hat – his hat – which had tumbled to the floor in his surprise. Georgio looked up at her with a drowsy grin. Fixing the drooping strap of his overalls, he swung his legs over the edge of the edge of the couch to face his Capo.
“Yeah, Teo,” Georgio drawled, offering Teofila a more genuine smile. She merely blinked in response, hardly caught off guard by the sudden use of the nickname. It had long since been established that Georgio was the single person within her team that could refer to her as such, for he never meant it in a teasing way, as others once had. “Everything went well.” He reached up to scratch at the crown of his dusty blonde hair.
Teofila eyes roved downwards and towards the coffee table, zeroing in on a few sheets of paper strewn across its surface. Nudging aside a stray pen, she picked up the papers – most of them blank – and began to read what had been written already. “You’ve only written two sentences for your report. And they’re nearly illegible.” The Capo spoke aloud, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.
Georgio let loose a quiet laugh, shifting in his seat. Fingers curling as he placed them on his lap, the young man looked up at Teofila from under his lashes. “I was havin’ some trouble remembering everythin’,” he remarked, rubbing at one of his temples for emphasis. “Havin’ a nap always helps me to remember stuff.”
Clicking her tongue, Teofila leaned against the arm of the couch. Gesturing in Georgio’s general direction, she silently urged him to tell him what exactly had happened on his mission. Easily taking the cue – Georgio and Teofila had been through this whole song and dance before – Georgio began to tell her of the mission; of rival gangs and rivers and gondolas.