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Risotto can’t comprehend how he got into his current predicament. Rather, he can list the order of events that led up to where and what he is currently doing. But the mental gymnastics needed to come to terms with the fact that he had not only successfully taken one of Bucciarati’s men hostage, but the brat was casually sitting in the back of his stolen borrowed car as though this was his average Tuesday afternoon.
"So," Narancia drawls, leaning into the backseat. "You come here often?"
Risotto turns to look at him, the corner of his eye twitching. "What happened to the duct tape?"
The other grins. "I ate it." Narancia burps, swiping a hand over his mouth. "Kind of dry, though. 7/10." He slumps back into the seat, fiddling with the seat belt yet neglecting to put it on.
Risotto senses the switchblade hidden behind Narancia’s back but says nothing.
The raven-haired soldato- no, the child is lounging in the back of his car, feet up against the back of the passenger seat with his arms folded behind his neck acting as a makeshift headrest as though he were in the car of a close friend and not a dangerous kidnapper.
This whole situation is bizarre.
Risotto flicks his gaze back to the rearview mirror. "Do you want to go back in the trunk? Because that can be arranged."
Narancia pouts, kicking the back of Risotto's chair. "No. I'm fine up here, thanks."
They turn a corner, tires screeching. Risotto talks over the blaring sirens on their tail. "Then be quiet. Or maybe I'll tell Bucciarati to forget about the money; let him scrape what's left of you off of the pavement."
Ah. The sirens. How could Risotto have forgotten about those?
It was Narancia’s fault they were in this situation in the first place. One well-placed scream for help and the entire plaza was aware that something not-so-legal was occurring in the market. Risotto had not intended the police to get involved, why would they? He told the shop clerk that the loud child was his son as a realistic excuse to take him away.
In hindsight, nephew would have been more believable given the variation in their complexions, although maybe it was the shopkeeper’s fault for assuming things based on outward appearance alone. And here he mistakenly thought the world was becoming more accepting of diverse families.
A police blockade comes into view.
The gas pedal is pressed.
"Yeah, yeah- I get it. I'll be a good hostage."
"Much obliged."
A beat of silence.
"So, I was wondering... any chance we'll be stopping near a bathroom? You caught me at a bad time. I drank so much water today; like a lot, since Fugo keeps saying that it's important to hydrate, and-"
"No." Risotto barks, firmly cutting off Narancia's rambling. "Until Bucciarati wires the full ransom to this bank account, you are not leaving this car."
Narancia shrugs, bringing up a hand to itch at his scalp. "Fine- don't blame me if I piss all over these nice leather seats."
The droning screeches of police cars grow closer, a fleet of seven visible in the side mirrors. More are drawing upon the sides, caging them in.
One officer hangs out of their passenger side window, a megaphone obscuring their face. "Naples Police! We have you surrounded! Cease immediately and step out of the vehicle, or we will be forced to open fire!"
Narancia startles, leaning over Risotto's shoulder. He throws a glance at the police cars in pursuit, voice tinged in panic. "Uh, did he say fire?" He pokes the side of Risotto's head, causing his hat to slip.
"Because I heard fire."
“Get off of me.” Risotto swipes a hand at the teenager, shooing him away as the assassin surveys the area for the path of least resistance, eventually settling on a section of the blockade out in front.
“I’ll handle this.”
“This is your last chance to step out of the vehicle.” The police officer shouts again.
Risotto had yet to make a move, which only caused Narancia to frenzy. “HANDLE IT THEN!”
“Not until you put your seatbelt on.”
“We. Are. About. To. Get. Shot.” Naranica mumbles, aggressively rolling his eyes while still doing what he was told. They were criminals, but there were some laws regarding safety that deserved to be respected.
He gives his passenger no warning as Risotto slams his foot on the gas. The vehicle sputters in place for a moment, then immediately lurches forward, throwing both of them back as the assassin drives headfirst into the police barricade. With one swift motion, he calls forth Metallica just as the police car parked firmly in his path enters his range.
It’s surprisingly easy to flip the car overhead, landing just shy of doing any bodily harm. For the record, if Risotto had more time and wasn’t in an ongoing police chase, the assassin would have made an attempt to parallel park the car… on its wheels and not upside down how he left it.
They aren’t out of the woods just yet, as a few of the remaining (intact) police cars still follow in pursuit, with no signs of Risotto’s earlier feat affecting their resolve. The assassin could only imagine how much taxpayer money was being wasted on as the chase continues.
“Okay, these guys are still on our asses. Seriously, are they even getting paid enough to put up with this?”
“I doubt it— GET DOWN!” Risotto shouts, lowering his head as a barrage of bullets fly through the air, shattering several holes through the back window. A lucky one managed to graze the assassin’s ear, turning his side door mirror into pieces.
All things considered, this is going surprisingly well.
Narancia flings himself forward, almost choking on the seatbelt before finally tearing it off as he makes his way to the floor of the backseat. "Gaaah! Why do these bullets keep hitting us!? I thought your stupid stand beans control metal or something!"
Stand beans!?
"You try concentrating on driving, holding some kid hostage, and protecting said hostage at the same time, and tell me a few stray bullets won't seep through the cracks!" He snaps back.
"Fine! Then let me drive then so you can focus on not getting us shot!"
Risotto takes a deep breath, calming himself as he turns back once more to lock eyes with Narancia, returning to his usual atonal way of speech. "I would rather reverse this vehicle back into police fire than allow you to drive anything."
The raven-haired teenager flicks his wrist over his face, summoning Aerosmith’s radar right in front of him. The sound of the miniature plane taking flight can be heard overhead, which means this confrontation was about to escalate even further... If Formaggio’s report about the pyromaniacal exploits of this teenager were to be believed.
“Please don’t set the street on fire. As it stands we’ve created enough new headlines to last the week.”
“You’ve created enough news headlines, Mr. Kidnapper. I’m just getting started!” Narancia shouts, fiddling with his radar as the sound of gunfire increases ten-fold.
“You can relax. I’m aiming for the tires so these assholes can’t keep following us. Bucciarati doesn’t like unnecessary casualties yah know.”
That same Bucciarati who allows a teenager to go on a high-priority mission with a high risk of bodily harm solo is the moral paragon this kid looks up to. Risotto understood the thought process that must have gone on the new Capo’s head, hoping to shape a proper mafioso out of this brat by having him face challenges head-on. But, to send him on a supply run twice without backup was a little irresponsible.
Prosciutto still accompanies Pesci on his missions…
The sudden burst of tires snaps the assassin out of his thoughts, the vehicle jerking side to side as he fixes his grip on the wheel to keep it steady. “That wasn’t our car was it!?”
“Nope! Theirs!” Narancia jumps up and much to Risotto’s horror, shoves his head out the back window in order to wave at the officers. “Eat shit assholes! Try catching up with us now!” A round of laughter follows after.
“GET BACK IN HERE!”
“Dude, it’s fine. There’s no way they can keep up with us now.” The teenager pulls himself back in and falls on his back, cackling like a mad man in the backseat. “You should have seen the looks on their faces! First, you flip their car and now I blast away their tires—”
He shut himself up immediately, turning to the rearview mirror (which thankfully, had survived the onslaught) with a ghostly look on his face. “Oh god, those bastards are gonna be so traumatized.”
“Most likely.”
“Shit… oh well.” Narancia’s attitude immediately perks back up. All the while, Risotto keeps his eyes peeled for any good places to hide if only for a short time to guarantee they lost the officers for good.
He soon found what he was looking for, taking a right and narrowly fitting the car down a backstreet, nestled between the business of the main road. Once the car was secured deep enough that a casual glance won’t arouse any suspicions, Risotto turns the ignition off and allows his tense muscles a chance to relax.
Now that the vehicle was idle, no longer being shot at and the risk of the engine spontaneously combusting having dropped significantly, the teen maneuvered himself between the car seats and into the front passenger spot.
“Well… this has been fun and all…” Risotto casually clicks on the child locks (something he should have done from the start) just as Narancia reaches out for the door handle. The teenager attempts to secretly pull on the handle... no luck. He does it again, and then a third time with each consecutive try getting him more and more agitated.
“OH, COME ON!” He dives for the floor, frantically searching for his switchblade to brandish at Risotto’s face. “After all we’ve been through? Can’t you cut a guy some slack and let me go?”
“No.”
Not after all the trouble, Risotto had just gone to get him this far. And there were still no signs of Bucciarati answering his demands either.
“Pleeeease?” Narancia widens his eyes to evoke some kind of sympathy from the assassin.
It did not work.
“I recall you saying that you were going to be a good hostage? So sit tight while I make a phone call and I might consider driving through one of those American fast-food places.” Risotto lifts a finger to hush the teenager as he rummages around in his pocket, pulling out a cellphone.
Just as he is about to start dialing the stubborn Capo to check in on how his demands are coming along, a body decked out in a red jumpsuit falls from the sky. The women's combat boots make contact with the hood of the car, creating a sizable dent at her feet.
The woman jerks her chin upwards, a sadistic smile happily plastered on her face as she eyes the assassin in the front seat.
“Risotto.” She lingers on each syllable as she speaks.
“Adagio.” Risotto lowers his phone back into his pocket. The phone call will have to wait.
“Honestly, I expected the head of La Squadra Esecuzioni would be a lot more subtle. With all those cops loitering around, it wasn’t too hard to sniff you out.” Adagio’s gaze shifts from Risotto to the startled teenager next to him. “Since when did you start working with kids?”
“I don’t. He’s just an unwilling tag-a-long.”
“It’s true ma’am. I’m just sitting here like a good little hostage.”
“Shame. I was hoping to bring in two heads for the boss. But instead, I’ll settle for yours.” Adagio raises her right hand as a stand manifests over the outstretched appendage. A white and red gauntlet now covers most of the woman's arm with a large, sound speaker-like device resting atop of her forearm.
“Sorry kid, looks like you might get caught in the crossfire on this one. Thunderstruck ain’t known for its precision.”
Risotto, taking note that the top of the vehicle’s hood was metal (a combination of steel and aluminum to be more specific) which was quite convenient for him. It would be awfully unfortunate if he were too…
Giving no sign of his plan and swift summoning of Metallica once more to his aid. The small colony stand—not in any way shaped like a bean—under the hood of the vehicle launches outwards, sending it and the stand user flying.
“You— w-what!?”
How was the teenager surprised by this? It was not so different from how he handled the cars from before?
Narancia quickly got his thoughts in order, “And who’s she!? Doesn’t look like any police officer I have ever heard of!?”
“Adagio Allegretto. She is one of the Boss’s Elite Guard. Most likely, she got wind of the hitman team’s defection and like the scavengers, she associates with, is trying to pick us off while we’re down.”
“Wait, time out.” Narancia shifts in his seat, now one leg crossed over the other so he can comfortably face Risotto. “If the Boss wants his daughter kept all safe and sound, why not use the elite guard instead of the bodyguard team? Aren’t they like Bodyguard-plus-plus? They have ELITE in the name!”
Several meters down the alleyway, one of the woman’s hands begins to twitch.
“I would assume the reasoning was to prove Bucciarati’s loyalty to the famiglia now that he had been bestowed the title of Capo. Actions do tend to speak louder than words.”
As they continue bickering back and forth, Adagio pulls herself to her feet, taking an extra second to wipe away noticeable splotches of dust and grime.
Narancia slams his fist onto the dashboard, waving his other hand in the air as he stutters out in bewilderment “That’s so… so god-damned stupid! The whole point of words is to speak with them!?” The teen falls back against the seat, “Actions can’t speak! Even I know that!”
With a loud grunt, Adagio lifts the battered remains to the car hood and holds it between herself and the two still in the vehicle, akin to a shield.
“That is not what the phrase means.” Risotto remains straight-faced, despite the teenager now screaming in his ear. Curiously, this conversation was becoming eerily similar to the multitudes he’s had with a certain ice-skating cat-boy back at home base…
“RISOTTO!”
The duo turn away from their conversation and towards the opponent both had admittedly forgotten about. The woman was now seething, still keeping up that smile despite the rough shape she was in.
Adagio reels back her fist and blasts the scrapped car hood with her fist as a soundwave emanates from her speakers. The accompanying force launches the metal shard into the air like a razor blade, spinning at a dangerously high speed on route to directly cut clean into their car along with the passengers inside it.
Only, it didn’t make contact with the car at all.
Metallica clasps onto the scrap metal, halting its approach mid-air. The possibility of impact didn’t cross Risotto’s mind, though the same can’t be said for Narancia, whose grip on the seat had begun to tear into the upholstery.
“Stay here. Or, better yet, find cover. Now.” Risotto orders the teenager, stepping out of the vehicle without bothering to shut the driver’s side door. He doubts this encounter was going to take long.
“You think I’m going to make the same mistake twice there, Ris? If you had the range to kill me, we wouldn’t be talking, now would we?”
“I’d say the same to you Adagio. Your range is more pitiful than mine.” As he spoke, the assassin surveys the area in order to plan his next movie. At least one exit was blocked, but the walls of the buildings don’t seem to be unscalable…
Risotto uses Metallica to tear off bits and pieces of the vehicle’s frame, shaping them into fine, needle-like points in the air around him. With a snap of his gaze, each needle head affixes itself to his target, awaiting a simple command to let loose.
To which he does.
Adagio counters with another sonic burst from her gauntlet with intent to blast the projectiles back, but to no avail. The small narrow projectiles easily pierce through the shockwave, with contact being confirmed by the sound of her screams.
“SON OF A—”
Adagio lunges to the side, taking cover behind the large dumpster at the end of the ally all the while, Risotto starts to gear up for another round, once again summoning more projectiles to his side.
“Why didn’t you do that earlier!?” Narancia calls out from inside the car.
“Her presence annoys me.”
He waits for the woman to strike, but no movement can be observed. What was she planning now?
Adagio shouts from behind cover, “My range may not be anything to write home about, but I’ve found ways to fix that.” A couple of knocks can be heard as she taps on the dumpsters in front of her. “The thing about these dumpsters here—” unbeknownst to the pair, Adagio starts to wind up a punch “—IS THAT THEY’RE MADE OF PLASTIC!”
BOOOOOM!
She slams her fist into the dumpster, allowing the pressure of the sound burst to build upon collision and release, propelling the large bin down the alleyway into a head-on collision course with Risotto, who had no way to counter other than to tank the hit.
Narancia is left dumbfounded as the dumpster flies past, taking Risotto along with it.
Adagio places a hand on her hip. “I guess you could say you’ve been, Thunderstruck!”
“Booooo!” Narancia gives a thumbs down of disapproval and shakes his head from the car.
“One more comment like that and I make sure no one will be able to identify your body- well, if it's found that is.” She smirks, confidently stepping forward towards Narancia.
“Oh, fuck this.” The teenage gangster jumps over to the driver’s seat and jiggles the key in the ignition, praying for the goddamn car to start. By some miracle, even after all the abuse the car had taken, the engine spurs to life.
Grasping onto the clutch, Narancia shifts gears into the reverse position, displaying a middle finger through the shattered windshield for good measure as he initiates his daring escape… all of about ten meters.
The car has finally reached its end as smoke starts to spew out of the engine. Its wheels, no longer able to turn any longer.
May its soul find peace in getaway car heaven.
“Where are you running off to, kid? The party is just getting started!” Another pulse rifts through the alley, doing little damage due to the distance between them other than the minor pain that struck the teenager's ears.
Narancia rolls out of the driver’s seat and onto the pavement, using the increasing build-up of smoke as cover. There was only one place he could run and still make it out of this alive, his feet slamming against the pavement as he sprints towards the remains of the dumpster and around the corner to freedom.
At this point, he was unsurprised to see Risotto, kneeling behind the dumpster, looking no worse for wear.
He stifles a sigh of relief as Narancia turns the corner, glad to see the kid unharmed. What makes Risotto mad, was that instead of running off, the brat kneels beside him.
“So… what’s the game plan?”
“I told you to get lost.”
“Pffft. As if. And walk all the way back home? I’m sure you’ll figure out our ride situation later.” Narancia resummons Aerosmith to his side, keeping the plane in his lap to avoid the sound giving away their position.
Another pulse, this time shaking the ground around them like a small-scale earthquake, sends the remains of their car flying into the city street, combusting on impact.
“Risotto!” Adagio sings aloud. “Where are you, yah emo bastard?”
At this point, the assassin didn’t have time to argue.
“Fine. You can stay.” Risotto eyes the miniature plane in Narancia’s hand. “How good are you at being annoying?”
The teenager’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “I have been told it’s my best quality!”
“Perfect. Utilize Aerosmith to keep Adagio’s attention. I’ll move in for the kill.” Risotto backs up, willing Metallica to render him invisible, much to the teen’s amusement.
Narancia nods, giving a thumbs up in approval while he wastes no time sending Aerosmith to the skies. Risotto reciprocates the thumbs up, albeit awkwardly and with not nearly as much vigor. Not that anyone would see it anyway, it was the thought that counts.
With Aerosmith in play, bullets rain down from the sky, tormenting the elite guard member. Adagio dodges left and right, short pulses blasting out from her gauntlets as she punches towards the sky, managing to tilt Narancia’s stand off its course.
“Aw, that’s adorable! A child with a toy plane!”
Using the small window of time without being shot at, Adagio flips into the air, as though she was going to do a handstand before activating Thunderstruck directly onto the pavement. The pulse launches her upwards into the air, allowing her to come face to face with Aerosmith.
Narnacia smiles a toothy grin. “Gotcha.”
Aerosmith immediately ascends, exposing its underbelly and the bomb underneath. Adagio releases another blast, the pressure great enough to set the bomb alight and explode, sending both the miniature plane and elite guard member into an emergency crash landing.
Simultaneously, Risotto has been approaching Adagio by sticking to the edge of the alley. He narrowly avoids Aerosmith’s explosion, something he should have been aware of before even kidnapping the kid, but you live and you learn.
Once Adagio’s back collides with the pavement, he closes in on the poor excuse for an assassin. He leans over her head, revealing himself in order to make sure she knows who lands the final blow on her soon-to-be corpse.
“Damn... Ris…” Adagio coughs out, “Nice partner yah got there.” She tries to lift her arms, but with one burnt over and the other too weak to move, it was no use.
“The fight is over. Don’t waste your breath.” Risotto is about to activate Metallica, “Kid, turn around if you know what’s good for you.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Suit yourself.”
The assassin forms a dagger out of the iron in Adagio’s blood, wrenching it out of her chest only to shove it back in, confirming the kill. One less problem to deal with in the future.
“That w-was…”
He awaits the teenager’s response. The terror that should have settled in early now rising to the surface.
Instead, he gets excited. “That was brutal! A-and awesome! Holy- you just stabbed her with her own… blood? Metal? I’m not entirely sure how that works b-but, like- whoa.” Narancia’s words devolve into ramblings as he stumbles a bit, falling forward slightly before catching himself.
“Are you alright?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fiiiine…” Naranica takes a knee, which eventually becomes his hold body as he sprawls out onto the pavement. “I just… need a minute to breathe. It’s been an exciting day for me.”
Risotto shakes his head, taking in the carnage left behind from their fight. A breeze in the air starts to dissipate the smoke and a moment for him to catch his breath as well.
There is something that remains on the assassin’s mind. “Why didn’t you run off? It wasn’t your fight.”
“Huh?” Narancia perks up before rolling his eyes. “I told you, I don’t have a ride home.”
The echoes of police sirens fill the air, the duo’s previous battle must have altered law enforcement to their current location.
“Come on. we have to get out of here.”
Narancia yawns, turning over to his side. “You can’t expect me to seriously run after all that!? I’ve been a good hostage, cut me some slack!”
“Yes, you’ve been a unusually compliant hostage, but now is not the time for this.” Risotto swiftly rushes over and lifts the teenager into the air, hoisting him over his shoulder, and proceeds to make an escape on foot.
After everything Risotto has gone through, he would be damned if he wasn’t going to get his ransom for this kid.
Moreover, he doubted Narancia would do well in prison life. The kid still has most of his life to look forward to, which prompted Risotto to make a mental note to speak with Bucciarati about his tendency to bring youths into the mafia.
