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"Bucciarati! I think I heard something over here."
Bruno glanced over at Mista who had his gun out and at the ready, back pressed to the wall as he glanced cautiously around the corner.
"Go, I'll meet you around the other side, we'll trap him between us," Bruno told him.
Mista nodded and cautiously stepped around the corner as Bruno turned and began to head down another hallway.
They were in an old, abandoned house that had definitely seen better days. They'd heard reports of people going missing in the vicinity and showing up dead under mysterious circumstances. The police reports had all said suicide, but that many suicides in the same place in such a short amount of time had made Bucciarati and his team suspicious, so they had decided to check into it themselves.
So far, they still had no idea about the culprit or if he or she was even a Stand user, but as soon as they had found this house, Bucciarati had just gotten a feeling, and when they'd caught sight of a man looking out the upper story window of the house, he was certain he had been correct in his assumption.
The sound of gunfire suddenly snapped him out of his musings, however, and he rushed forward, only to hear Mista's cry of shock and pain.
"Mista!" Bucciarati shouted, manifesting Sticky Fingers and getting ready to meet the Stand user head on.
But as he turned the final corner, all he saw was Mista lying on the ground, shuddering, a pool of red spreading out underneath of him.
"Bu-Bucci…ra…ti," Mista gasped out.
"Mista!" Bruno cried, looking around sharply, seeing nothing nearby. He ran to the fallen man and crouched by his side, looking down to see two bullet holes punched right into Mista's chest, all too close to his heart, filling his lungs with blood.
"Mista!" he said again, rolling the young man onto his back to slow the bleeding, propping him up against his arm. "Mista, where did he go? Did you see him?"
Mista only gurgled and twitched in Bucciarati's arms, a hand fluttering toward his chest. Bruno grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly before he reached for his phone, hurriedly dialing the others.
"Giorno!" he cried as soon as the phone picked up. "Get in here, Mista's hurt…"
Mista suddenly seized in his arms and choked, blood splashing over his lips, staining Bucciarati's white suit. Bruno propped him up further, watching in horror as the young man fought for breath.
"Mista, hold on," he said, then turned back to the phone. "Giorno! Did you hear me? Get in here right now…"
He trailed off as he realized no one was on the phone at all. It was just a busy tone beeping in his ear. What the hell?
He tried again, but got the same result. Furious, he threw the phone to the ground and focused on trying to stop the bleeding in Mista's chest, but the young man seemed to be fading faster and faster by the second.
"Stay with me," Bruno pleaded, pressing a wad of Mista's sweater against the wounds.
More blood dribbled from between the gunman's lips in a wheeze and his eyes fluttered.
"Mista!" Bruno cried, shaking him. Mista's eyes slid shut and he collapsed limply in Bruno's arms.
Bucciarati frantically felt his throat for a pulse, but couldn't find one. He pressed his shaking hand to Mista's chest, but there was no heartbeat either.
"No…" he breathed. "No, Mista!"
He shook the gunman sharply but Mista gave no response.
He was gone.
"Mio dio," Bruno breathed, unable to believe it. "How…"
Something grabbed the back of his neck, and he cried out in shock before everything went black…
~~~~~~~
Bucciarati and Fugo approached a place in the house with a double hallway.
"I suppose we should split up," Fugo said, a little uncertainly. "That way if the Stand user is down there, we'll be able to trap him."
Bruno nodded but glanced over at Fugo. "Don't be nervous. You'll be fine."
The boy clenched his hand into a fist at his side but nodded, straightening his shoulders slightly. Bruno gave him a reassuring smile before they parted ways and each took one hallway, preparing to meet in the middle and trap the Stand user between them.
Bucciarati readied himself to call out Sticky Fingers, but suddenly felt something—a presence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he was about to turn around, sure someone was behind him, when he heard a startled shout, cut off by a terrible gurgle.
"Fugo?" Bucciarati called, rushing forward with his Stand behind him.
He made it around the corner just in time to see a dark figure dart around the corner at the opposite side of the hallway, but he had no time to pay attention to that because Fugo was staggering backwards, hands clasped to his throat.
"Fugo!" Bucciarati cried and rushed forward as the boy began to collapse. He caught Fugo and saw the blood flowing from beneath his hands, pouring down his chest, soaking his skin and clothing red. Bucciarati's hands were already coated in it as well, fingers slick as he pulled Fugo against him.
Fugo's eyes were wide with terror and desperation as he gurgled, chest spasming as he fought to breathe.
"Merda!" Bucciarati cursed and manifested Sticky Fingers again, prying one of Fugo's hands away from his throat so his Stand could install a zipper across the wound, closing it.
"Giorno!" Bucciarati shouted as he cradled Fugo in his arms, lowering them both to the ground as Fugo weakly spasmed against him, eyes fluttering, mouth gaping as he still fought for breath.
Bruno checked the zipper and saw, to his horror, that blood was still seeping from under the zipper. How? This didn't usually happen, why was this happening?
Fugo's hand weakly clawed as his arm and caught for a second before slipping away, his head lolling back against Bruno's shoulder as his terrified eyes dulled, staring up at nothing.
"Fugo!" Bruno cried, shaking him roughly, before laying him flat on the ground, frantic to do something.
No more blood seeped from the zipper, Fugo didn't move.
Was he…was he really gone?
Bruno placed a hand on the still chest, breathing hard. "What the hell?" he gasped.
A dark shadow flitted out of the corner of his eye and he whipped around, rising to his feet.
"Hey!" he shouted.
He started forward, but before he could summon Sticky Fingers, something grabbed him from behind and everything went dark…
~~~~~~~
"Hey, I'm going this way, you take the other hallway—we'll get him between us."
Bucciarati blinked, then shook his head, putting a hand to his temple. That was weird, why did he feel dizzy all of a sudden?
"Bruno!"
He snapped his head up to look at Abbacchio, seeing the other man eyeing him with a frown.
"You good?"
Bruno took a steadying breath and nodded, straightening his spine. "Fine. Let's go."
Abbacchio gave him another look then shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Bruno ignored him and started down the other hallway to get into position.
The house was silent, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone lurking nearby.
He blinked again, another random wave of dizziness overcoming him and he stopped. Why did this feel…like he'd done it before? This hallway even…there was something familiar about it. Bruno could help but feel like he was experiencing a very strong case of déjà vu.
A footstep ahead of him startled him and he brought out Sticky Fingers, falling into a fighting stance, only to realize it was Abbacchio, stepping out of the dim light.
"Nothing?" the other man asked him.
Bruno exhaled, wondering why the hell he was so jumpy. "No, nothing."
"All right, I guess we should check the rest of the h—"
The sudden bang of a gunshot came out of nowhere and Abbacchio whipped to the side, blood spraying from his head.
It covered Bruno as he stared in shock; blood, Abbacchio's blood, and worse, dripping down his face and chest.
"L-Leone!" he cried looking down in horror at Abbacchio, violet eyes dull and staring up at nothing, mouth half open in a cry of shock he never got the chance to voice.
Bucciarati blinked and visions flitted across his mind; visions of more blood, on his own hands—Fugo falling backwards against him, throat cut, cradling Mista in his arms as he bled out from a gunshot to the chest…
"What the hell?" he whispered shakily, taking a staggering step away from Abbacchio's body as he pressed a hand to his suddenly aching head. "What the hell is this?"
"Figuring it out yet?" a voice echoed through the hallway.
Bruno whipped around. "Where are you? Show yourself, you bastardo!"
A chuckle was all he got in return. "No, a few more times for you, Bucciarati. You still have a ways to go."
"What the hell do you mean?" Bruno demanded, rushing toward where he thought the voice was coming from.
"Heat of the Moment."
Something clamped down over the back of his neck and he didn't have a chance to cry out before blackness took him…
~~~~~~~
"Bucciarati?"
Bruno inhaled sharply, glancing over at Giorno who was watching him carefully. Something strange had just come over him. Why was he thinking about blood? Whose blood? He reached up to touch his face, sure he would find some there.
"Bucciarati!"
He snapped out of it as Giorno called to him again.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he replied quickly, though wasn't sure that was true.
Giorno eyed him, his mouth still pressed into a worried line. "I was just wondering if we should split up. I thought I heard something that way. It might be the Stand user, and we'll have a better chance of catching him if we both go the opposite direction."
Dread settled into Bruno's stomach, something telling him that wouldn't be a good idea, but he found himself nodding all the same. "That's the best option, I think."
Giorno nodded and summoned Gold Experience before heading down the hallway to the right.
Bruno felt a sudden need to stop him, to rethink the plan, but dismissed it. He was being ridiculous. He'd never been in this house before, why did it feel so familiar.
Why couldn't he stop thinking of blood?
He pushed himself down the hallway before he heard Giorno's call.
"Bucciarati, I think I—"
His voice was cut off by a shocked cry and Bucciarati raced forward, terror in his throat, somehow already knowing what he was going to see when he got there.
Giorno was on his knees, hands fluttering in front of him as Bruno saw several knives sticking from his torso, one buried in his throat.
"Giorno!" he cried, skidding to his knees just in time to catch the boy as he collapsed backwards, shuddering and gagging.
"Hold on," Bruno begged as he manifested Sticky Fingers—where the hell was Gold Experience?—and cringed as he pulled the knife from Giorno's throat and tried to close the wound with a zipper.
Giorno gurgled, blood foaming from his mouth, telling Bruno that a lung had likely been punctured as well. Was he too injured to call his Stand?
"Easy, we'll fix this," Bruno murmured, having his Stand pull out more of the knifes, closing the wounds as he went.
But something felt all too familiar about this. He remembered Fugo and Mista bleeding out, Abbacchio lying on the floor, his head half blown off. What the hell? Why was he thinking of that? What brought those images into his head, too real to be a nightmare…
Giorno made a terrible sound and seized in his arms, scrambling at him. Bruno held him close, feeling him shudder, feeling his last breath as Giorno whimpered and went too limp.
"Giorno!" Bruno screamed, terror overcoming him as he tried to figure out what was going on. Was this even real? He ran a hand through the boy's blond hair, shaking, as he looked up. "Where the hell are you?! Show yourself!" he screamed.
"I can't believe you still haven't figured it out," a voice said mockingly. "And I thought you were smart, Bucciarati."
"Damn you," Bruno snarled. "Tell me what this is! Now! Is this some kind of dream, hallucination?"
"Oh, no it's no fun if I tell you. Besides, not all of your team members have made an appearance yet." Bruno saw a dark figure standing at the end of the hallway, walking forward, coming closer and closer to being out of the shadows…
"Heat of the Moment," the Stand user called.
Bruno whipped around as the hair stood up on the back of his neck and this time—this time?—saw a strange figure behind him. A Stand? Something clamped around the back of his neck, and he saw no more…
~~~~~~~
Bucciarati blinked and he was staring at two hallways.
"What do you think we should do?"
He glanced over at Narancia who was standing beside him. Something deep and primal inside Bruno made him want to shove the boy aside, tell him to run. Why did he feel like that?
"Bucciarati?"
"Perhaps we should each take a hallway," Bruno said, before he felt like biting his tongue. Wait, hadn't he just been worried about Narancia? And why? But splitting up was the logical choice, if the Stand user was in that part of the house. He didn't understand what he was feeling, and why he had the terrible premonition that something awful would happen if they split up and went down the hallways alone.
But Narancia was already heading down the hall on the right, and Bruno took the left, though reluctantly, his skin crawling, feeling a doom overcoming him. Why was he so sure something would happen to Narancia? Why did this feel so familiar.
Because it happened before, he told himself.
Wait, what? Why was he thinking that?
His head was aching…
A scream of pain sent his heartbeat skyrocketing and he burst into a sprint.
"Narancia!"
"Bucciarati!" the cry sounded, terror with agony mixed in.
He skidded around the corner, seeing Narancia curled on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he shuddered, sweating. Blood pooling under him.
Bruno staggered, images of the other team members flashing across his mind's eye, dead and dying, bleeding in his arms.
"No," he whispered.
"Bucciarati!" Narancia sobbed. "Help…"
His voice was weak and blood dribbled from the side of his mouth. Bruno pushed himself forward, kneeling beside the boy and taking his face between his hands, swiping the blood from his lip with a thumb.
"I'm here, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"J-just…came out of n-nowhere," Narancia whispered, coughing and whimpering as blood spilled across his hands where he was pressing them against his belly.
"Let me see," Bruno coaxed, trying to bite back his own terror and the horrible, ominous feeling of déjà vu as he reached out and took hold of one of Narancia's wrists.
"N-no," he moaned.
"Narancia…" Bruno tugged, and realized finally that the boy was actually holding his own insides in.
"Merda," he choked out as Narancia sobbed and curled further, pressing his forehead against Bucciarati's knee. Bruno reached down gently to pull him against his chest to cradle him as he called out Sticky Fingers to try and repair the damage even a little. "It's okay, we'll go get Giorno, he'll fix you up…" Even as he said it, he vaguely recalled holding Giorno just like this, watching his eyes lose their life….
"You really won't give up."
Bruno whipped his head up to see a man standing at the end of the hallway, a sadistic grin on his lips that even the shadows couldn't hide. "Though I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing you suffer over and over."
"You—" Bruno snarled, but the man held his hand out and the flash of a gun muzzle was seen before the sound of a gunshot nearly deafened Bruno. Narancia jerked once in his arms and then stilled, blood dripping from a hole in his head.
"You son of a bitch!" Bucciarati cried out in a strangled voice, only holding Narancia closer to him, horrified, drenched in the boy's blood. Sticky Fingers stood and fell into a fighting position.
"Just putting him out of his misery," the man said nonchalantly. "You're welcome."
Bruno felt a growl starting in his chest and gently set Narancia down as he rose to his feet.
"Heat of the Moment!" the man shouted and Bruno felt something grab him from behind. Something that, now, felt very familiar. Something dug into the back of his neck and his vision faded…
~~~~~~~
Bucciarati walked down the hallway, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. Where was Trish? She had come in here with him, but how had he lost track of her? He knew he should have brought another team member as well to back them up…
Another team member…why hadn't he brought one? Where was everyone else?
Visions of everyone lying dead, covered in blood, flashed across his vision.
Bucciarati staggered and slumped against the wall for a second. His head ached. It felt like something was crushing it. Something was wrong. He was supposed to remember something…
"Thinking about it, Bucciarati?"
A disembodied voice snapped him back to reality, and he looked around.
"Where are you?" he demanded. "Show yourself."
Only a chuckle followed, and Bruno snarled, starting forward again in the direction he thought the voice had come from.
All he found when he rounded the corner was Trish lying on the ground.
"Trish!" he cried, rushing forward.
She didn't stir. He crouched down and gently rolled her onto her back, terror building inside of him without truly knowing why.
A cry escaped his throat as he saw a gaping hole in her chest, her heart ripped out…
"No," he croaked, cradling her against him. "What the hell do you want?" he screamed. "Stop this!"
"Have you figured it out yet?"
Bucciarati whipped around, still holding Trish, to see the man standing behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a dripping heart up for him to see. Bruno saw red, snarling.
"It's a time-loop, right? You're making me experience this, all of this, over and over again."
The man smirked. "Not bad, though it took you long enough to figure it out."
Bruno gently set Trish down, brushing a hand across her cheek, and rose slowly. "So, I'm guessing I kill you and it stops?" he growled.
"Not exactly," the man said sounding all too smug. "See, you kill me now, the last thing that happened becomes reality. Which means," he brought Trish's heart to his mouth and licked it. "Trish stays dead."
Bruno's heart rose in his throat. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if you kill me the last loop you experienced just continues on as actual time resumes. If you wanted the precious girl to stay alive, then you should have killed me before I got to her."
"Bastardo," Bruno snarled, fury and desperation rushing through him.
"But there's another way out too," he said. "Another way to break the loop that puts everything back to square one."
"And what's that?" Bruno demanded tightly.
The man grinned. "You're smart, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, good luck, Bucciarati. Heat of the Moment!"
Bruno tried to fight this time, but was still unable to escape the man's Stand who grabbed him and sent him back to the beginning yet again.
~~~~~~~
He had to endure it over and over and over. Watching everyone die in increasingly horrific ways. Never able to get there in time, and never able to find the Stand user and kill him before he killed the teammate he was partnered with in that particular loop, no matter how hard he tried.
It was when he was holding an impaled Narancia who sobbed and clung to him until he faded away that Bruno just couldn't take it another minute.
He stood up. "It's me or them, isn't it?" he shouted into the darkness. "That's the way out?"
A shadowy figure appeared, not the man this time, but his Stand.
"You got it," the man spoke through the Stand.
A gun clattered across the ground, coming to land at Bucciarati's feet. He stared at it for a long moment before he slowly reached down and picked it up.
"If I do this, you'll let the others go." It was not a question, but an order.
"Yes," came the reply, the Stand's eyes red and luminous in the darkness, looking all too eager.
Bruno looked at the gun. He had never, even on his worst day, considered suicide. But this was more self-sacrifice than anything, wasn't it? If it would save his team…
"Having second thoughts?" the man's voice slithered through the darkness, sounding like he enjoyed this all too much, which he obviously did. "Would you rather watch Abbacchio throw his insides up again? Maybe you'd rather see Giorno's head smashed like a melon instead…"
"Stop," Bucciarati nearly pleaded. He tried to calm his breathing, swallowing hard as he shakily raised the gun, pressing it to his temple. "Swear you'll let them go."
"Like you, I am a man of my word." The Stand placed a hand over its chest in a mockery of a promise.
Bruno steeled himself, standing straight and closing his eyes, trying to keep from shaking. This was it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one in particular, and a tear slid down his cheek as he hooked his finger around the trigger…
A gunshot sounded out, but it was too far away to be from the one in his hand.
Something loosened. Some invisible hold. Bruno's eyes shot open and he looked around at the dingy hallway he was standing in. He glanced down, and Narancia's body was gone…
"What?" he breathed.
A sudden, piercing headache overcame him, so fierce that he had to collapse to his knees and he cried out, the pain stealing his breath. What was this?
"Bucciarati!"
A familiar voice called his name but that was all he remembered as he once again sank into darkness…
~~~~~~~
Bucciarati slowly surfaced out of the darkness, trying to find the energy to open his eyes. He needed to wake up, he was sure of it. There was danger, wasn't there? Something terrible had happened…
He groaned and blinked, practically pulling his eyes open.
"Bucciarati? I think he's waking up."
His vision was blurry, but he saw a figure hovering over him, gold and fuchsia smudged together before he blinked and his vision cleared to reveal Giorno, crouching worriedly by his side.
"Are you all right?" the boy asked.
"G-Giorno," Bruno murmured before he was struck with the sudden vision of Giorno lying in his arms, bleeding out from multiple knife wounds, his life fading away.
He pushed himself up in shock, but his head instantly swam and he was forced to lay back down.
"Easy," said another voice that sounded like Mista, and the soft blanket that had been covering him was tucked around his shoulders again with a brief pat to his chest. "You probably shouldn't get up yet."
Bruno pried his eyes open again, though, studying his surroundings and realizing he was lying on one of the couches in Cocoa Jumbo. Mista and Giorno were crouched next to him, Narancia and Trish hovering behind them worriedly.
His breathing began to get erratic, as he looked around. "Fugo, Abbacchio," he asked, starting to panic as he remembered more horrific visions. Fugo, throat cut, a hole blown through him, screaming. Abbacchio, shot through the head, gutted, coughing up blood…
"They're fine," Giorno quickly reassured him. "We're in the car."
Mista stood up. "I'll go tell them you're awake actually."
He reached up to the skylight and disappeared from the turtle as Bruno sank back down, a hand to his aching head.
"Here," Trish came over and handed him a couple pain pills. He took then shakily from her hand and then looked up at her face, reaching out to touch her cheek, suddenly needing to know she was real. "You're okay. You're all okay." He looked between all of them and up through the skylight where he could hear Mista talking to Fugo and Abbacchio.
"We're fine, Bucciarati," Narancia assured him, looking slightly worried.
"What happened?" Bruno demanded.
"That Stand user we were after, his ability was to trap people in a time loop," Giorno offered. "You got caught by him when we split up and the house was essentially locked down."
"Until we found him trying to make his escape, and were able to take him out," Narancia said.
Bruno was unable to help reaching out, touching Giorno's hair, cupping Narancia's cheek and running his fingers along the back of Trish's hand. "I watched all of you die," he said in a strangled whisper.
They all looked pained. "That seemed to be what he liked to do. The nature of his time loops was always sadistic," Giorno said. "He'd make people watch their loved ones die or experience their greatest fears over and over until…"
"Until they killed themselves," Bruno whispered, suddenly distinctly remembering the press of a gun in his palm, the cold metal against his head. He'd almost done it. "Oh god."
He couldn't breathe, his hands went to his hair, ripping at it.
"Bucciarati!"
Narancia's arms were suddenly around him, and he instinctively clung to the boy, realizing a moment later that Giorno and Trish had also joined in, all of them holding him tightly. He couldn't believe he had actually been considering it, even for a moment. He had just been about to do it. If they hadn't taken out the user in that moment…
He pulled back, to look at them, touching them all briefly again just to make sure they were really there. This job had really rattled him and he wasn't sure he would be getting over it any time quickly.
"It's okay," Trish told him softly, taking his hand. "It would be a lot for anyone to go through."
Bruno took a steadying breath and squeezed her hand gratefully as Mista popped back inside.
"We're back home," he announced.
Bruno nodded and stood shakily, leaning against Giorno, who ducked under his arm to help take his weight. "Good."
He was home, his team was all here. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. Bruno thanked the powers that be for this blessing.
And yet he knew there would be no getting over this easily, no erasing what he'd experienced. Each of those loops had, technically, been real. In the moment, they had been real, and Bruno wasn't entirely sure how to process that.
But he also knew that he would be okay again, eventually. After all, he had his famiglia. They were alive, and that was all he could wish for.
That was all he ever needed.