Chapter Text
The night had started off sober but as he downed his seventh glass of wine, the room started spinning around him. However, the buzz he was getting managed to alleviate the worst of the symptoms and he had plenty of distractions to keep his attention off the room. His teammates were of course the best of these.
"So Pesci...Enlighten me on why 'We have too many members'—Prosciutto recommended you to the team?" he slurred.
The raised eyebrows of his fellow teammates proved he wasn’t the only one wondering. Though, the smug smile of one of them told him not all of them were in the dark. Illuso only raised his glass towards him before retreating back into the mirror world. He definitely wasn’t getting any explanation from him then. That was fine of course. He preferred the challenge.
For his part, Pesci was as flustered as he imagined he would be. "What are you talking about Melone? There’s nothing to know."
The way Pesci curled in on himself told Melone he had struck gold. "So there is a story? Come on Pesci. I’ll tell you my backstory if you’ll tell me yours. Heck, I’ll even throw in Ghiaccio's if you want it."
"What’d you say about me?!" Ghiaccio hissed from his room.
Whenever they had nights like this Ghiaccio was usually the first to withdraw for the night. Of course, this didn’t stop him from hearing their conversations into the night. His hearing was definitely better than his sight at the very least.
"Nothing Ghiaccio!" he lied. "Go to bed already!"
"If you’d be more quiet, I might be able to!"
The sound of his voice stung at his ears. Maybe he should get to bed too, huh? As he automatically poured himself another glass of wine, he figured it was too late for that.
"Anyway...Please, Pesci. If you want, you can just tell me how you met Prosci. That isn’t too hard."
"Well, Prosciutto and Risotto told me not to-"
"Risotto knows the story too! Now, you have to tell!" he shouted.
Even Formaggio wanted the details. "Yeah, hold up. If Risotto's giving orders, this has to be interesting. Spill Pesci! Spill!"
"I thought you passed out an hour ago."
"Yeah but I mean, come on? Really?"
"Fucking shut up already!"
As Formaggio and Melone got into a shouting match with Ghiaccio (one they will surely lose), Sorbet chuckled quietly to himself. Their teammates were freaking idiots sometimes. For a group of trained assassins, one would expect them to be more serious than this.
Of course, Melone had raised a good point. Always go for the kill, Prosciutto requested that timid and unskilled Pesci to be able to join a hit man team of professional assassins or at least, experienced killers. When did they even meet? From what he could tell, Prosciutto barely had a life outside of his work. The only company any of them had was each other and nights like this were their hangouts between jobs. Outside relationships were heavily discouraged within their field after all. He had gotten lucky that Gelato took up the same craft.
Speaking of Gelato...Maybe this mystery could be solved rather easily.
"Hey Gelato, you still awake?"
"Yes Sorbet..." he yawned. "How could I sleep when we're around these people after all."
"Good point..." He kissed his forehead. "Though, mind doing me a little favor? Just need to sate some curiosity."
Gelato leaned into his embrace. "Curiosity kills but sure. What is it?"
"Just need you to snap a picture with that Stand of yours. I’m sure you know what for."
Their gazes drifted from each other to the mess in front of them. Apparently within the short time frame his attention was off of them, Ghiaccio returned to the living room and was now directly shouting at Melone and Formaggio with Pesci sitting awkwardly in the middle of it all. The steady snowfall surrounding the group suggested White Album was soon to make an appearance and following that, Metallica probably.
They collectively sighed. The night had started off fine too. Regardless of present circumstances, however, Gelato quickly snapped a pic of the fish boy and showed it to him.
The sea stretched behind two figures who were holding an impressive looking fish between them. While one looked like a younger Pesci, the other was unexpectedly familiar. Sorbet gaped at the sight of the older man while Gelato started in silence. No wonder Risotto told Pesci to remain quiet.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
"Mr. Bottarga, do you really think it is a really good idea to trust these people?"
His grandfather nodded. "They’re our best bet Salmone. We have to secure those routes to ensure our future."
He could feel his gaze shift towards him. He flinched at the thought of it. Future? What future? He had already failed him throughout his life.
Salmone's glare agreed with his thoughts, though, neither of them voiced theirs. "As you wish sir. I shall inform them that you’ve agreed to such terms."
Despite the finality of his words, they remained until his grandfather waved them away. Once they were alone, he ushered him to his side. He followed the orders quickly but the old man still rewarded his pace with a slap.
"Idiota! Hurry up next time."
"Sorry Mr. Bottarga-"
Another slap came across his face. "Enough with the formalities Pesci." He sighed. "Just call me grandfather for crying out loud."
"Sorry Mr-! Grandfather..." he corrected.
"Good. Now tell me Pesci...How are you getting alone with the fairer sex? You know when I was younger, I was quite the gentleman. Though, of course your grandmother Ostrica was the only one I had eyes for despite her terrible summer-"
"Grandfather..."
"I’m kidding Pesci. I’m kidding. You’re still young. I’m not expecting to see any great grandchildren yet, though, that’s not to say I wouldn’t-"
"Grandpa!" he cried.
"Kidding! I’m kidding..." He patted his hair down only for it to spring up again. "...You’re looking more and more like your father, you know."
Pesci reached for his hand and lowered it from his hair. Wrinkles permeated across his grandfather's skin and once hidden veins rose against his flesh. Loose grey hair draped across his face while patchy blisters ran all over his arms. There was a time when no such blemishes showed themselves but in his heart, he knew they were always there. Maybe if they weren’t, he wouldn’t say these small comments.
Bitterness soon returned to his eyes, however. "Hmph. Pesci, close the blinds. The light is bothering me now."
"Yes grandfather."
After the sea view was covered, Pesci quickly returned to his grandfather's side. His speed was rewarded with no punishments.
"Pesci, my boy. I’m sure you were paying attention to the meeting, correct?" He nodded. "Good. As you know the Orso are getting more involved with our trade routes. They need to be dealt with accordingly but our low security detail requires us to seek aid elsewhere. Luckily for us, Passione has offered the necessary force in return for our support. Small as they may be, I’ve heard they’ve managed to gain some territory from our enemies. For the sake of formalities, Passione has agreed to lend us one of their members as a temporary bodyguard. I’m sure you know what I’m implying, Pesci?"
"Yes grandfather."
"Good. While they’re here, I want you to keep a close eye on them. I’m sure if they try anything funny your, uh...What was it called again?"
"Beach Boy."
"Yes, your Beach Boy will be of use. I’m expecting the best Pesci. Only the best can be expected from a Bottarga. You know this, right."
He wondered if the best included dying. Was the assassination the best his grandfather could give?
"Yes grandfather."
"Good. I expect nothing less."
He never did.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
The first thing Pesci noticed was the smoke. It surrounded the man and remained within a certain area around him. By all accounts, he thought it was unnatural and definitely suspicious. However, it seemed like he was the only one who noticed it or at least, everyone else was being too polite to mention it. As one particular cloud of smoke passed right in front of his grandfather, the old man's continued silence suggested he do the same. The lack of smell further spurred him into ignoring the smoke and remaining as uninvolved as possible.
Besides the smoke, the man also had an air of professionalism to him. His hair was pulled back into tight buns and while his chest was exposed, the strange pendant around his neck distracted from it. What interested Pesci the most, however, were his eyes. They were a light blue and perhaps to some, they could be considered quite pretty. But when he gazed into them, something was off and that something inspired fear within him.
His nerves held his tongue and as such, the conversation continued without him. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure you already know the arrangements between us, correct?" His grandfather spoke, wasting no time on formalities.
"Yes. Until our common enemy is removed, I am to stay within this household and communicate between our organizations. Of course, I will also be disposed to any services you may ask of me within certain boundaries."
His grandfather nodded and motioned him forward. Pesci did so accordingly if not with some hesitation. While his grandfather and Salmone's eyes narrowed, the bodyguard remained stone faced. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.
"Hello. I’m Pesci Bottarga..." It took all of his focus to steady his voice. "Nice to meet you?" He didn’t mean to end it like a question but it still came out like one.
Before his grandfather could ridicule him, the man interrupted, "I am Contorno. It is nice to meet you too."
Following the reply, his grandfather continued, "For the time being, you will work as my grandson's bodyguard. I expect what I would from my own men when it comes to his protection. I’m sure you understand what I mean."
"Nothing but the best, sir. I will not disappoint you."
"Good. You will start your duties today. Pesci!"
"Yes sir?" he whimpered.
"You are dismissed. For now, the rest of us will straighten out further details."
His grandfather's glare encouraged him to leave the room as fast as possible. However, before he closed the door behind him, he stole one last glance at Contorno. The other caught his gaze and Pesci knew for sure this man was a killer. With one last squeak, he fled into the hallway.