Chapter Text
There were a lot of things he could’ve been doing. He could've been helping Risotto with their collective taxes or he could’ve been buying groceries. Heck, he could’ve been enjoying his time doing absolutely nothing. Anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than buying booze. The bastard was already drunk enough and it wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet. If Formaggio hadn’t won that lousy bet, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
The cheap alcohol rocked carefully back and forth in the plastic bag he had brought it in. While Formaggio tended to prefer the expensive shit, he had discovered that once the man was drunk enough he couldn’t tell the difference between wine and grape juice. Cheap booze it was then.
As he turned the corner into one of his many shortcuts, he realized his mistake too slowly to correct it. Something sharp was up against his neck. No, that wasn’t right either. He had plenty of knives held to his throat before but this, this was different. It wasn’t like the usually tipped blades or toothy knives. It felt like a needle or a...
A fishing hook.
Fuck. Talk about freaking karma.
"Hey, Pesci. Long time no see."
He never liked talking during these things. If he had a knife to someone's throat, he would just finish the job. But talking had a certain effect on other people. Sympathy was very important in these situations and from what he could remember, Pesci wasn’t one to ignore it either. Then again, revenge had a tendency to work against sympathy.
"Hello Contorno or should I call you Prosciutto now?"
He laughed. "It’s always been Prosciutto. We just figured we should change it for the mission. I’m not exactly well known but what’s wrong with being careful?" Of course, he wasn’t careful enough to tie all loose ends. Oh, if only he had. "So tell me, what’s the reason for the friendly chat? Anything on your mind?"
"Well...I do have a few questions."
Fuck. He wasn’t expecting a genuine reply. The mission took place a few months ago but you’d think such a life changing event could’ve given the kid thicker skin.
"Say it then. I don’t think this booze keeps for very long."
"Why did you set the fire?"
He shrugged but the hook only dug deeper into his throat. As a swarm of coughs came upon him, he could feel the line loosening a little bit. Huh...
"It was a good way to get rid of the bodies. Evidence too, I suppose. The police still deemed it as a homicide, though. Your family wasn’t too secretive about its dealings after all."
"Okay. Why didn’t you...Why didn’t you..."
"Already freezing up on the second question? Did you not plan ahead or-"
The hook pulled again as the words caught in his throat.
"Shut up! I was just thinking..." He sighed. "Was it quick? I mean, did my grandfather..."
"I’m sure you heard the first two rounds. Right between the eyes of course." He expected to hear some sobs from the other's end but only silence followed.
"..."
"Still there?"
His snark was replied with another tug. It loosened just as quickly, though.
"Okay...Was it always Passione's plan to attack both gangs?"
"Yeah. It was a double sided effort actually. We infiltrated both simultaneously. It was planned a couple weeks ahead. Getting intel wasn’t that difficult in the end." The Orso's boss's habit of ranting in front of mirrors had proved very useful.
There was another moment of silence, though, this time it was much longer. While he was distracted, the hook's grip only slackened. He just needed to wait for the right reaction and then he would have his chance.
A deep breath. An exhale. This was it. This was his moment.
"Why didn’t you..." He sighed. "Why didn’t you hunt me down? I know you’re an assassin so why didn’t you finish the job?"
His usually quick replies were stalled by silence. Maybe this time he needed to think on it.
"I was lazy. I figured I could-"
"You’re lying," Pesci hissed. "Don’t think I can’t tell."
Beach Boy wasn’t a conventional lie detector but its ability to track heartbeats had placed it in similar circumstances.
Pesci's reveal once again stalled the reply but when it finally came, there was nothing to hide. "There was no reason to. The Boss specifically asked for the end of the Bottarga's and the Orso's. From what I could tell from my short time undercover, you weren’t really that involved in it. Heck, the news didn’t even report your disappearance. They just reported on the old man and this one guy-"
"Aglio. His name was Aglio..."
He was crying now. He was crying in the middle of an interrogation. Just as the hook dislodged itself from his throat, Prosciutto turned around and aimed the gun straight at his head. However, he froze right before he pulled the trigger. He wasn’t crying. He was bawling his eyes out. Tears drenched his face while snot fell from his nose. The sight was honestly disgusting. What the hell was wrong with this guy?
"Hey. Hey? Hey! Can you stop crying already?! People are going to start staring if you continue."
However, his concerns remained unheeded and the idiot continued to cry. His prediction was already coming true too. People had begun to gather at the sight of this idiot crying. Guess they have nothing better to do. Of course, their presence still annoyed him. Simply standing by the guy had already made some of them associate him with the crybaby. He might not give a shit about any of their opinions but even he was getting tired of this. Drastic measures then.
As Grateful Dead made its appearance, its usual smoke failed to appear. Instead, the Stand approached Pesci cautiously before drying his tear ducts. Slightly taken aback by the action, Pesci looked towards him for answers.
"If you keep crying like that I’ll spread the aging to the rest of your face." As he began wiping away his tears, Prosciutto handed him a handkerchief. "Let’s just get out of here for now. Got it?"
Pesci nodded and they departed from the staring crowd.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
"Hey! Where the heck is he?!" Formaggio slurred. "I thought I told him to buy more alcohol an hour ago?!"
"Maybe he used the bet as an excuse to get away from this hell..." Ghiaccio grumbled.
"What was that-?"
"He said this was hell, Foramaggio. Maybe you should get your ears checked."
"Shut up you...melon. No body—Nobody asked you!"
With that final drunken shout, Formaggio passed out on the floor. Melone laughed at the sight of him while Illuso took a picture for blackmail purposes.
"Serves the bastard right."
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Just as they managed to collect their bearings on the newly revealed information, somebody swiped the photo from Gelato's hand.
"And what do you two think you are doing?" Prosciutto hissed.
"Just learning something new, Prosciutto." Sorbet smirked. "You and Risotto enjoy keeping secrets now?"
"It’s none of your goddamn business."
The steady smoke that began to fill the room threatened an unhappy end to the night.
Luckily, half of the duo was capable. "We apologize Prosciutto. We were only wondering why you wanted Pesci on the team. If we thought we’d find this, I wouldn’t have taken the photo."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"But the cat has nine lives," Gelato replied.
Prosciutto huffed, "Fine but I’m keeping this. Don’t take any more photos tonight, got it?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
With that, Prosciutto went on his way. Of course, he soon had to break up the shouting contest the other three had started but at least Risotto kept on sleeping and Pesci looked less stressed. Gelato smiled at the sight of it but his attention was soon drawn away by his partner. Sorbet was staring at him but in an amused sort of way.
"What is it Sorbet?"
"Nine lives? That comeback was spectacular, Gelato!"
"You’re kidding?"
"How could I be? Did you see Prosciutto's face? It was hilarious."
They laughed as they recalled it. It was quite funny, wasn’t it?
While Gelato tended to be the more serious of the duo, any good joke got him on a tangent of laughter. In this circumstance, Sorbet managed to recover much quicker but he still enjoyed the other's laugh. However, there was another thought to consider. While they only had the photograph for a short time, there was definitely a story behind all this like Melone had suggested. The man in the photograph was Mare Bottarga, a well know gang leader, who was murdered a few months ago. The new had reported it as such but they knew it was the truth. After all, they had been assigned to the mission along with rest of La Squadra. If Pesci was somehow related to the late gang leader, that would explain some things.
Of course, he was still curious but while cats have nine lives, he didn’t.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
He found him on the roof looking out onto the city. The others had spent the night drinking but neither of them had a single drop. Alcohol disturbed the other's stomach while he simply didn’t feel like drinking the night away. It was a good thing he hadn’t, actually. Who knows what those two could’ve done with that photograph.
Speaking of which.
"Pesci. I didn’t expect to find you here"
He turned around to face him. "Oh, good morning, brother. Did you have a good nights sleep?"
"As much as I could with those drunken idiots."
"Can’t say I disagree," he chuckled. "Well, anyway. What are you doing up here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"I just needed to get out for a while. You know even though we’re not that far from it, the sea still seems far away."
"You want to go fishing or something?"
"No, it’s not that. Just thinking..."
As silence took hold of the conversation, they looked over the horizon towards the sun rising over the sea. The sight was just as beautiful as all the other times they had seen it.
Of course, he just had to go and ruin it. "Hey, I’ve got something for you actually."
"Oh?"
He handed the photograph him which the other quickly took. "The ice cream duo took it while you weren’t looking. Gelato told you how his Stand works, right?"
Pesci's expression was uncharacteristically unreadable. Prosciutto waited for the reply he knew would come, however.
When it did, it was still surprising. "Do you have a lighter?" Prosciutto dug into his pocket and held it out for him. Pesci accepted it and quickly went about burning the photograph. "...I know I can’t hide my past and while I’m thankful you and Risotto understand my situation, at some level, I just don’t care anymore. It simply doesn’t matter anymore."
As the picture completely went up in flames, Pesci dusted the ashes from his hands and smiled. "Besides I have a better family now and nothing could ever replace it...My new family, my new brother. What more could I possibly want?"
'A lot!' he would’ve replied but the smile on the other's face held his tongue. He was an idiot just like the rest of them.
But maybe that wasn’t so bad either.