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Mandarino kept his mildly shaky hands at bay in the comfort of his large coat pockets, determined to not let anyone else in on his obvious discomfort, the sound of gravel breaking beneath the feet of the team he was currently walking with.
Today had been a sullen day for several reasons, about to be wrapped up by the dark, rainy clouds that were starting to roll in at that tense moment. Raising a still shaky hand to his face, Mandarino swore he felt a drop or two fall from the sky and onto his face. That was, however, the least of his problems at the moment, as he had reached his destination: an old, abandoned warehouse that absolutely no-one could be bothered to check out.
Well, except for him and the other people that were there right now.
Mandarino visibly gulped from his position behind the four other men ahead of him. On one hand, he really didn’t want to be here, but on the other, he wanted to prove himself as someone who was brave, who didn’t cower in the face of trouble. He had endured the loss of his parents and living with a neglectful sister, surely he could endure this.
How naive he was.
Being age 16, turning 17 in a few days, he was meant to be having sleepovers with friends, studying for school tests, going to bed early so he would be well-rested for a date the next day, anywhere else but here. But alas, fate had different things in store for him, and the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that what’s done is done and he was here now.
It is what it is, he had been told time and time again by several people, not just his fellow soldatos, but also people he would least expect it from. People like Underboss - no, former Underboss Mista.
Mandarino felt his throat close up at the thought of the man, deciding to push the thoughts far to the back of his mind. It’s been a whole year now. He shouldn’t have been as emotionally distraught about him as he was, he had no place in that, or so he told himself over and over again. He didn’t deem himself as someone who was worthy enough to even think about someone as exemplary as Underboss Mista. The man had been an icon, an inspiration to more people than he may have realized, and most of all, the person who had likely been a very significant pillar in Don Giovanna’s life.
Don Giovanna…
An admittedly terrifying man who had, according to rumours, taken over Passione at the young age of 15, and he here was 7 years later, a 189cm-tall, mighty tower in the form of a man. Mandarino felt chills travel down his spine at the thought of the big boss, sparing a glance at the man in question himself, way at the front with two other supposed guards on each of his sides. Mandarino may not be able to see his face, but he could feel the hardness of those emerald eyes that had once looked upon him with concern, care and an odd, distant look of remembrance.
Those emotions were far gone now, locked up and never to be seen by anyone, except, perhaps, for Mandarino and the other people in the Don’s really inner circle, but even that was a strong maybe.
One of the guards opened up the entrance to the warehouse, going in first to make sure that there would be no unfortunate surprises waiting for them as soon as they stepped through those doors. At the flash of a thumbs-up signal coupled with a nod, the second guard proceeded to go ahead into the warehouse, followed by Don Giovanna himself and the other man behind him. Mandarino let out what he hoped was a silent, yet shaky sigh and entered as well.
The warehouse was large and tattered, vacant for the most part, save for the bits and pieces of rusty, mouldy equipment that would’ve been a pain to remove. With the Don’s approval, two of the guards set out to quickly scope out the rest of the building to make sure no unwanted company was there, leaving one specific room for last, as it would be their real destination.
Impatient-sounding foot taps drew Mandarino’s attention, the teen turning to the source, only to discover it came from Don Giovanna himself. As if he was aware he was being watched, the blond man turned to face him, and the teen felt like his heart would drop any second.
Step. Step. Step.
Too caught up in his own nerves, the teen failed to notice the blond coming closer to him till he found himself face to face with a crouching Don Giovanna, minimal strands of the latter’s blond hair falling from behind and framing his face, his turquoise eyes piercing into that of Mandarino’s peculiar lavender.
For a split moment, the teen thought he saw a glimmer of who the Don used to be in those eyes.
“You seem nervous, Manny,” the older’s smooth voice broke through the mostly silent room, breaking Mandarino out of his haze. Don Giovanna hadn’t called him Manny ever since that day, exactly a year ago.
Manny remembered it all too clearly: waiting in the Don’s office for Underboss Mista’s return, the blood-stained Passione medics that had entered his office with faces as pale as a sheet, the rushed, yet heavy words that had flowed from their lips and eventually rendered useless as Don Giovanna suddenly bolted out of the office, Mandarino trying to catch up at the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
The news of the huge explosion at a separate warehouse where Underboss Mista had been on a mission gone horribly wrong.
The Don had been too fast for Manny to catch up with, having already left Passione’s mansion and into the darkness of the night, likely going to the scene of the incident. It had been hours deep into the night before the blond man returned to the villa, the grim, yet thunderous expression written on his face one Mandarino would forever be haunted by in his dreams.
That bright, determined glint that often graced the Don’s eyes had vanished. His suit and hands looked dusty and dishevelled, as if he had rummaged through the ruins of a fallen city with no tools but his bare hands. Manny noticed something in one of the said hands, the grip on it as tight as the sensation the teen felt in the pit of his stomach. Manny caught onto the distinctly purple colour he had grown to remember, the outline of an item so familiar that he wished it wasn’t what he thought it to be. It couldn’t be.
But it was. It was unmistakably Underboss Mista’s signature revolver that had miraculously survived the supposed explosion, though not in one piece.
Mandarino desperately wished he could say the same for its owner.
No-one needed to tell Manny what the conclusion was, he had put 2 and 2 together. And from the way Don Giovanna seeped with vengeful dread, so had he. Manny had become suddenly afraid, not just for himself at that moment, but for the people who had been responsible, assuming they were still alive.
If Passione mourned the loss of its Underboss and most skilled gunman, then it mourned in silence. Mandarino wasn’t sure if he ever saw Don Giovanna cry. If he did, it was certainly never in front of him. Although, there had been moments when the teen spotted deep, dark circles under the man’s reddened eyes.
Anyone and everyone who entered the Don’s office after that day must’ve taken notice of the inescapable golden display cabinet that hung graciously on the wall high above the Don’s seat, the interior holding none other than the iconic purple revolver that once belonged to Underboss Mista, now fixed up and polished, displayed for the rest of the world to behold.
Manny had been allowed to take a closer look at it moments before it was hung up. He had been told the case was made from the finest of gold, the designs simple, yet delicate, and had a certain aura to it that could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. It reminded the boy a lot of Mista.
The gun never left its place ever since then.
As for Don Giovanna, something had surely shifted in him. His demeanour had certainly gotten colder, and defectors had the unfortunate privilege of being on the receiving end of his even harsher, toe-curling punishments. Manny may have never met his deceased confidant and advisor - who, bizarrely, was rumoured to have been a talking tortoise -, but he knew the loss had affected the Don and his Underboss greatly from the way they usually spoke about him.
And now the Don had to suffer the loss of his Underboss as well, and while it may not have been clear to others outside of the inner circle, it was very clear to Manny that what they shared was something deeper than what they let on. If not from observances, but from the darkness that constantly clouded the blond’s eyes.
And now those same eyes were staring at him, waiting for a reply of any sort. Mandarino blinked and shook his head, he had to stop getting lost in thought. But he couldn’t help it, especially today of all days.
“I’m fine...Don Giovanna,” the teen managed to croak out, fearing his voice might disappear forever if he didn’t say a thing. He had been given permission long ago to address the Don and his then Underboss without their authoritative titles, and while he had been more comfortable doing so with Mista, his utmost respect for the Don couldn’t just bring him to do so. “Just a bit shaky, that’s all.”
The other man hummed and Manny felt like his entire life story was being read by those steely eyes. The teen decided to brave out his next words, “You haven’t called me Manny in a long time.”
The blond chuckled and stood up straight, smoothing out any wrinkles on his luxurious-looking suit and coat. “It’s a special day today, don’t you think?”
No further explanation was needed, Mandarino knew what he was referring to, and the tightness in his chest returned as he gazed up at the sunken eyes of a man who seemed to have everything, yet lost his entire world all at the same time.
The Don turned away to leave, not without a somewhat awkward pat on the teen’s hat, the latter hoping it didn’t ruin the work he had put into his dark hair. Not like it mattered anyway, with the hat and all. Manny could’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of purple in the Don’s inner coat pocket, but the thought didn’t last long as someone had called out.
“Don Giovanna,” Manny raised his head to see that one of the guards had returned. “We’ve searched through the other rooms, there seems to be nothing of concern. Shall we go to the last room?”
“Go.”
Any trace of concern had evaporated from the blond’s voice as he gave the simple instruction, not needing to say anything else for the last remaining guard and Manny to know they were to follow as well. The guard bowed slightly and turned again to make his way over to the supposed room, everyone else trailing behind him.
As the four made their way closer to what was meant to be their real destination, Mandarino could make out what he thought were muffled sounds filled with...struggle? Arriving at the door to the final room, they met up with the other guard who had not initially returned, and the team was complete once again.
“Don Giovanna,” the other guard bowed in respect, and probable fear if Manny was being honest.
“Open it.”
At the blond’s instruction, the door was opened and the rest of the team entered, the other guard deciding to stay outside the door just in case.
Manny had underestimated how much he was prepared for what he saw inside.
In the dimly moonlit room were about 12 men lined up on their knees, bloodied with tattered clothes, all struggling against the ropes that restrained their arms behind their backs, few of them having additional ropes binding the entirety of their torsos, all having tears stream from eyes concealed behind tightly-set blindfolds. Manny noted several marks on their bodies, like they had been whipped and lashed and tortured beyond understanding, likely courtesy of the special Torture Division that had once been headed by Underboss Mista himself. The brunet also didn’t miss the two other people that stood behind the kneeling captives, a lady and a man, both without clear expressions on their faces. They had probably been keeping an eye on the people knelt before them.
The room stunk of iron, dust, mildew and rotting flesh, and had he not wanted to prove himself a strong person, Manny would have probably passed out there and then from the sight and smells.
At the realization that someone had entered into the room, the detainees started to quiet down their struggles and attempts to break free, all except for one, who didn’t quite want to give up just yet, resulting in a kick to the head from the lady at the back.
“Quiet, you! The Don is here to question you,” the lady hissed out, causing the rebellious detainee to quiet down, Manny noticing streaks of tears pooling out of blindfolded eyes. The room fell into a heavy silence, no-one made a move or a single sound, all anticipating Don Giovanna’s first words or actions. And the fact that no-one, not even Mandarino, knew what the Don would do made the silence much more unbearable. Overhead, Manny could hear the rumble of thunder and the gentle pitter-patter of drizzle on the roof.
After what seemed like an eternity, Giorno finally spoke up.
“Mercy,” he started, his cool and collected voice dripping with venom, like a cobra ready to strike at any moment. “I had shown you mercy the first time this report reached me. I could have slaughtered you all like the animals you are, yet I thought reasonably. Now, I feel that may have been a mistake.”
A particularly loud clap of thunder rumbled the room and Mandarino slightly flinched, the atmosphere too unnerving for his liking. Giorno, however, didn’t even shake as he reached into his coat pocket and seemed to grip something.
“Now, I’m only going to ask each of you once. It would be in your best interest to answer straight away, I’m sure you must be aware of how much I hate to repeat myself.”
Out of his coat pocket, the blond drew out what seemed to be a gun, but upon closer inspection, Mandarino held in his gasp as he realized it wasn’t just any gun, judging from the familiar frame and colour. That’s Mista’s revolver.
Giorno walked over to the first person in line, the latter likely having sensed it as he began to violently shake and whimper, but none of the sounds moved the Don as he checked the likely full bullet chamber. Giorno restored the chamber and tapped the captive’s cheek with the revolver as a way to silence him.
“Now that I’ve established the rules of this session, listen very closely and answer me this. Drug peddling and exchange next to several primary schools, attempted sale to some of the children there, which spanned out for more than 2 years. Not to mention recovered blueprints and plans on overthrowing me. The gall of you all.” Giorno paused for a moment, his voice having been loud enough for the other people present in the room to hear.
“Now, did you or did you not engage in these activities?”
The mouths of the hostages had been uncovered since there was nothing threatening they could do with their mouths except throw pointless swears. The man knelt in front of Giorno merely whimpered all the more, struggling to get any words out.
“I….p-please, Don Giovanna. i-it’s not what it looks like, I s-swear…”
Giorno delivered no words as he turned around and began to walk away from the man, the latter somehow sensing it again as his sobs and laboured breathing began to calm down, thinking he had been spared.
BANG!
The man doubled over in obvious pain, a searing bullet lodged right where his heart would be, Giorno’s half-turned body and outstretched hand not wavering as smoke came out of the muzzle, the blond’s face not betraying a single bit of emotion.
Mandarino had admittedly been shocked, but what shocked him, even more, was how the man seemed to be screaming more than you’d expect from a gangster suffering from just one gunshot. Looking closely, the teen could make out...something moving around the man’s chest. It seemed to be...growing? It looked like....tiny legs.
Multiple...multiple legs.
There were creatures growing in that man’s chest and bursting out of it.
The screaming continued as Manny looked on in abject horror. He had also been aware of the rumours of the Don and Underboss being... special people who could apparently do bizarre things. Manny had found it silly, and it had been one of the topics he brought forward to the two men. They, however, merely laughed about it and brushed it off. It was never brought up among them again.
But at that moment, Manny figured those rumours were 99% true.
By the time Mandarino finished his thoughts, the man had already fallen forward to the ground, a rapidly increasing pool of blood surrounding him as his now burst-open chest leaked more blood, the small creatures running aimlessly around his corpse, bits of organs and rib-bones scattered around him.
It was mortifying.
“For the sake of the rest of you, I will say this one more time,” Giorno began, already making his way to the second person, the rest of the captives evidently shaken by what just happened, judging from the gunshot and the screaming. “Don’t waste my time, and don’t make me have to repeat myself. I find it useless, and I hate it because it’s useless.”
Already in front of the second person, the Don asked his previous question after tapping his cheek with the revolver, “Did you or did you not engage in these activities?”
The second man just started crying even louder and seemed to...piss himself? Manny felt his eyes widen as he noticed the dark patch beginning to form in what was left of the man’s pants, trickles of golden liquid spilling onto the floor in the process.
BANG!
A clean shot straight to the forehead. The man fell back, his cries silenced as Don Giovanna moved on to the next person, Mandarino taking note of what looked like branches blossoming from the forehead bullet hole at a rapid rate, blood gushing out like an open tap. The rain was now coming down full force, the sounds of water hitting the roof reverbing through the room.
The next person, the same old procedure. A tap on the cheek with the revolver, the question being asked. The third man had just been like the first, pleading with Don Giovanna for mercy, saying all other things that were definitely not answers to his question.
BANG!
The third man let out a guttural scream as blood bubbled up and out of his mouth following the quick bullet to his throat, some sort of creature developing in it that Mandarino couldn’t quite make out. Giorno stepped over to the fourth man, who seemed to be relatively less shaky than the rest. Manny realized it was the same man who had initially refused to quiet down.
“I’ve grown to adapt, from very trusted sources, special care when it comes to the number 4,” Giorno said, tapping the man’s face with the barrel of the revolver. “You won’t disappoint me now, will you?”
The blond’s voice was still clear as ever, despite the ongoing downpour. Even though the man was blindfolded, Manny could guess he was attempting to give the nastiest stare he could pull, considering the way his lips contorted to a snarl-like look, showcasing blood-stained teeth in the process.
“Did you or did you not-”
“Yeah, I did!” the man suddenly barked out, interrupting the Don mid-questioning. Manny felt his eyes widen, fully expecting Giorno to punish him there and then for such rude behaviour. Surprisingly, the blond merely took a step back, face still betraying no emotion as he lowered the revolver slightly.
“Seems the number 4 really is special after all. Speak.”
“We were flourishing, flourishing I tell ya! Things were fantastic back then, under the old boss’s rule. Drugs flying left and right, who cared if it got to those bitch ass kids? Hell, I even used to invite some over for a couple doses ‘nd even more, if ya catch m’drift!”
The man threw his head back and let out a sickening, twisted laugh that rang through the room. He seemed hysterical, even more so with what he had just said, and it made Manny sick. Don Giovanna merely looked at him in silence, waiting for his time to step in.
“And then YOU!” the man suddenly stopped his laughter and roared out. “YOU came out of fuckin’ nowhere and you’re suddenly supposed to be the boss? Of Passione? Of me??? Don’t get it twisted, you lil' fucker!”
The man paused for a bit, letting out tiny bits of laughter, and the Don still made no move, perceiving there was more to come.
“You know, Don Giovanna, I may take pride in what I’ve done, but I think one of my biggest accomplishments dates back to somewhere last year. It left me...how do I say? Exploding with excitement. You know how it is, don’t you?”
The man erupted in uncontrollable laughter once again, accompanied by a clap of thunder, reminding Manny of the ongoing downpour outside. The teen took a look at Giorno, biting his lip as he noticed the blond’s grip on the gun had gotten tighter, veins popping out beneath his skin. Manny could tell his jaw was clenched as well, and he must’ve been trying so hard not to rip the man to shreds there and then.
It couldn’t be…it couldn’t be…
These people were responsible for last year’s warehouse explosion.
These people killed Underboss Mista.
Mandarino was brought out of his daze as he noticed that the man’s laughter had started contorting to ear-piercing screams. Tears from his eyes mixed with the blood that was gushing out of his mouth all of a sudden. What was happening? There hadn’t been a gunshot, and Don Giovanna hadn’t shot him or done anything, not even moved an inch from his position.
Unless…unless the blond did something Manny couldn’t see…?
The man fell back and began to violently convulse and thrash around, his screams only getting higher, and Manny was able to make out some words such as “Stop!” or “Help!”.
Whatever it was that was going on, Don Giovanna definitely had something to do with it.
There was a hissing sound and Manny instinctively stumbled backwards. The ropes that had bound the man's torso were no more, wrapping around him instead was a huge snake that only seemed to keep wrapping around him. A four-lined snake, Manny recognized, he had come across them from time to time and they always scared him shitless. This one seemed to wrap all over the man's torso in a dangerously tight squeeze, and if the room was quiet enough, Manny was sure he'd be able to hear bones breaking.
Manny was sure that the other guards noticed as well, but none had said anything, like they were already aware of just how...special their boss was.
“Out.”
A single word from Don Giovanna and the rest of the guards didn’t need to be told twice to file out of the room, even more so to escape the Don’s obvious wrath. Mandarino was mildly confused. Was he an exception? Was he to join the guards in leaving? One side of his mind screamed morbid curiosity and the desire to stand by the Don’s side, the other screamed reasonableness and not having to make the blond repeat himself-
Mandarino flinched where he stood as he noticed he had been nudged by one of the guards, his eyes signalling to the door and back to Manny. Well, that answers the question. As the teen made his way to and out the door, he definitely didn’t miss the deep, haunting scream that was let out back in the room, followed by 3 quick, successive rounds of gunshots as the rest of the barrel had been emptied into the defiant man.
Only this time, Manny was 100% sure it hadn’t been a scream from any of the captives.
Manny had run past all the other guards and straight outside, out of breath and not just for the fact that he had just finished a run. His mind was racing, his blood was boiling, he felt sick. He was afraid, so very afraid. He had lost the desire to prove himself, he knew he was a coward now. He didn’t want to be in the Don’s circle anymore. He didn’t want to be in Passione anymore.
Manny’s breathing only got increasingly laboured as he stood outside, completely disregarding the fact that he was getting wet from the rain that had only slightly decreased. He couldn’t keep it together, he felt like he was about to lose himself at any moment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here.
BANG!
Manny jumped and let out a shriek as he heard yet another gunshot, ringing deep into his eyes despite the rain.
BANG!
Another one, rather quick. It seemed that Don Giovanna had skipped the questioning and gone straight to killing them all. Manny’s mind was racing so fast that with each shot that rang, the events that led to this moment flashed through his eyes at lightning speed.
BANG!
“Oi, kid! Are you hurt too bad?”
"Where...where am I?”
“Safe place. Some idiots were roughing you up pretty bad so I beat the shit out of 'em. Found some of the hard stuff on them so it could've been that. Don’t remember?”
“I...huh..?”
“Guess you don’t. Don’t worry, m’boss will fix you up real good soon. Hey, Gio! I’ve got an early birthday present for ya! By the way, the name’s Mista.”
“...Mandarino.”
BANG!
“No.”
“Please, Giorno!”
“Are you both fully aware of what you’re asking here? This is no place for someone his age, Mista. He’s barely 14.”
“And people have joined way younger than that!”
“Only due to circumstances-”
“Didn’t you listen to his story? If he goes back out there on his own, who knows if he’ll survive?”
Mandarino had taken a look at the Don and bowed, the blond’s sceptical eyes analyzing him. “Please, Don Giovanna… I owe you both my life. I want to learn to be strong. Fearless. And maybe...helpful.”
The Don seemed to be in thought when his Underboss suddenly took his hand, looking him square in the eyes.
“Doesn’t he remind you of a certain someone, too? Resemblance-wise?” Don Giovanna turned back to the young teen, taking in his dark hair and prominent violet eyes. There was something about him, a sort of...fire and potential lying underneath. “I’ll take on training him and all that. He’ll be under my wing. Trust me, please.”
That seemed to convince the blond as he let out a defeated sigh. A small smile graced his face as he turned to face his Underboss, “I’ve never doubted you in the past, Guido. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The Underboss grinned and placed a chaste kiss on the blond’s knuckles. “When have I ever let you down, my Don?”
And for some odd reason, Mandarino felt that kiss and those words, plus the way they regarded each other, went beyond just their relationship as Don and Underboss.
Also, “Guido”??? Where the hell did that come from??
BANG!
“You seem to be quite the character, Manny! Let’s just hope you don’t become a mini version of Mista over here."
” Hey! You take that back!”
Manny tried to hide his embarrassment, “Thank you, Miss Una. I can’t believe I’m talking to an actual celebrity! My sister adores you, I think…”
“Oh, I’m no-one special! Just here for a quick visit to make sure Tweedledee and Tweedledum are doing okay.”
“And while appreciated, I keep assuring you that we’re doing well. There’s no need to go through all this hassle.”
“Oh Giorno, always the considerate one. I keep telling you that it’s no hassle at all. It gives me peace of mind knowing that you’re all safe.”
There had been something about the way Miss Una said those words that stuck to Manny, like there were several unspoken words and context that only those three knew of, and Manny was afraid to ask...
Mandarino hadn’t been aware when he had crashed to his knees, hunched over, head clutched and eyes shut like he was trying to wake up from a never-ending nightmare, his breathing nowhere near back to normal. He had long forgotten the rain that continued to soak him and his clothes, his hat barely providing protection for his head as it was on the verge of falling off completely.
He remembered Miss Una’s pained tears and lamentations when she had been told of the news regarding Mista. The teen hadn’t heard from her ever since, but she likely kept in touch with Don Giovanna.
BANG!
“Mista...you and Don Giovanna once said something about me looking like someone. With all due respect, would it be fine to ask about it..?”
“Ah…” Mista turned to the direction of Giorno, unsure if to venture into the topic. The blond merely gave a small nod and spoke up.
“It’s fine, Mista. Of course, we won’t tell you the full story, but we can let you know of the great men who laid down their lives for a worthy cause and have my utmost respect and reverence.”
“Yeah, you reminded us a lot of one of them. Dark hair, purple eyes, shit you even have citrusy names! His name was Narancia, dude was like the brother I never had. You two act so similar, too! Hell, lemme tell you about this crazy dance he made out of nowhere…”
There was a pause from the shooting. Don Giovanna must be reloading, Manny thought. The rain had also reduced as well, the rumbling of thunder still making appearances from time to time. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep the teen’s mind from wandering...
“Wow, they all sound like very brave people! But...you mentioned you were 6 in a team, excluding Miss Una. And if 3 have passed away, and both of you are here, then...what happened to the last one?”
Giorno threw a glance at Mista, the latter’s expression turning sombre. The brunet had known Fugo longer than Giorno, so the blond felt it was only fair that he took the lead in most matters concerning their forgotten ‘teammate’.
“We don’t talk about him,” Mista had said rather annoyed, and Mandarino dared not risk bringing him up again.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Another moment of silence came, lasting far longer than the previous one. He must be finished...they’re all likely dead, the thought passed Manny’s very occupied mind, the teen not once bothering to lift himself from the ground up until he suddenly felt strange. It was like...something was looming over him. He hadn’t even registered footsteps…
Mandarino looked up from his position on the floor and took in the figure of Don Giovanna looming over him, his cold eyes boring holes into that of Manny’s. His suit looked absolutely ruined, splatters of blood covering several parts of the coat and the clothing underneath, like shooting the men alone had not been enough and he had torn the bodies apart with his bare hands.
As much as Manny didn’t want to consider that possibility, he had long since reached a point where he didn't put such an act behind the Don.
The teen realized he hadn’t said a word, just stared at his boss as shallow breaths left him. What could he even say? “I don’t want to be here anymore.” “I’m scared...so scared.”
“I’m so sorry...about Mista. I’m sorry.” That seemed like a good enough option, it was better than nothing at all. But just as the teen was about to speak, the man before him beat him to it.
“I told you all that time ago that this was no place for a person your age,” Giorno began, no emotions betrayed as he kept his voice on an eerily monotonous level. “And though you may have admittedly grown relatively stronger than the person you were in the past, no amount of growth could prepare you for the hardships that await you in the underworld, and no amount of growth could stop you from experiencing one form of loss or the other, be it a small or large one. This is the reality of this underworld. I couldn't save-”
His voice hitched for a moment, eyes wavering as his demeanour fell for a split second, and just as quickly as it went, it returned. There was also a sense of...distance in the blond’s voice like his mind wasn’t completely there. Manny took note of the revolver still in his hold, stained with blood he was 99% sure belonged to the dead captives.
“I couldn't save them. I couldn't save him, but I can save you. I present to you a choice, Mandarino,” ah, he had returned to the full-name basis. “Flee this underworld while I grant you this chance. Neither you nor I know what lies ahead, and though I run this organization, I cannot tell you I have much to live for. You, however, have many chances and opportunities ahead of you.”
Mandarino listened intently as he rose to his feet, slightly shuddering from the bone-deep cold that settled into him as a result of the rain. He agreed with Don Giovanna, he really did, but for some reason, something at the back of his mind was trying to fight to stay in Passione, and he didn’t know why.
“I will give you the necessary resources you’d require to settle back into a sense of normalcy, should you concur. But let me make something very clear.”
Giorno rose the hand that held Mista’s revolver, looking at it intently with hard eyes. “I will stop at nothing to make sure that this sort of disrespect will never happen again.”
And as Don Giovanna turned away, giving instructions to his guards to burn the building to the ground once the rain completely cleared, Mandarino strongly felt that that last statement was not directed at him.
Regardless, Mandarino had reached a final decision.