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Sometimes, being in Passione had the of glitz and glam that the mafia was known for in the movies. Missions like these—a drug bust at a ritzy Neapolitan club where the rich would coordinate their cocaine to their Chanel handbags—beat having the tar kicked out of him. Mista, whose family lived nearby, knew the neighborhood like the back of his inordinately-hairy hand, so he and Leone, who also had used to frequent the area as a cop, had been assigned to the task. The two soldati made a great combo, from a tactical standpoint; Mista with his long-distance attacks, and Leone with his recon abilities (courtesy of Moody Blues) and his fists (courtesy of… well, himself). From an interpersonal standpoint, well…
Guido had joined only recently, which left Leone still trying to read the guy. His lack of tact made Narancia look as if he were a master in subtlety. His bullet-fairies Stand was annoying as shit. He also wouldn’t stop discussing cannibalism every time they ate. Still… if these were the worst things he had as grievances regarding Guido, Leone could live with that.
He looked over to his partner, seeing that the sap was already blushing bright red and holding a hot babe with cherry earrings, a scarlet dress, and long, blonde hair, chatting her up. Leone rolled his eyes. There was no time to flirt; they had a drug bust.
So, Leone put a stop to Mista’s flirting efforts as the girl giggled and slid a piece of paper into the young man’s hat. Of course, while he had managed to drag Guido away, it didn’t take long for the hairs on Leone’s back to raise after they’d left the bar and pushed past the bouncers— something was following them, but he couldn’t quantify what.
“...I think we may have found our Stand user.”
Leone froze in his steps. “What the fuck does that mean.”
He turned to see Mista, clearly trying to rationalize what he was reading, holding the paper the girl had given him—with the writing swiftly changing to say, Right behind you! ❤
Leone dropped to the floor, taking Mista with him as something hit where Mista’s head had been—a bomb. It exploded and a familiar voice cackled. Oh, of course the girl that had been all over Guido was a fucking enemy Stand user!
“Can’t believe you dodged my Cherry Bomb! Damn, you Passione boys are smarter than ya look…”
Leone growled. “I take it you’re the one who’s been shoving the coke through the club, aren’t ya.”
She approached them, a red bomb—as the name implied, shaped like a pair of cherries—levitating above her hand. The woman clapped. “ Ding ding ding! Ciliegia Rossa’s the name, and dealin’ for Apatia’s my game!! Color me surprised, since Passione’s most infamous ex-pig got it on his first try!” A dramatic clap followed, as if she were the audience on a game show, before Rossa continued monologuing. “It was too easy to find you boys! Especially with this guy.” She pointed to Mista before turning back to Leone. “I had to get close and confirm you were with Passione. Why the hell else would I have been all over this neanderthal? He reeks.” —And back to Mista, who appeared to be absolutely devastated: “I would say ‘no offense,’ but I mean it. Full offense. Use some fucking deodorant.”
Leone readied his Stand, Moody's power rippling through him. “You know what happens if you cross Passione.”
“Oh, I do, I do. But I don’t give a shit.” Ciliegia moved between the two Passione soldati , her back to Mista as she spoke to Abbacchio. “So, listen here—you boys are gonna let me kill ya, and then this bar’s gonna be under Apatia control, and—!”
Before the enemy Stand user could continue, a loud bang! rang out. A spray of red mist burst forth from the side of her head as Leone heard the Pistols whoop. Her Stand’s name, Cherry Bomb, felt oddly ironic, considering… The ex-cop mused as such as he dully watched her bleed out.
After a moment, processing this, Leone raised his gaze to be greeted by the sight of Mista, blowing smoke off the front of his pistol. He was silent, and his eyes were hidden by his hat. But, it didn’t take a genius to know that he was upset by what their adversary had said, and that he’d taken all of her insults to heart.
Leone walked to his coworker, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a pat as Mista put his gun in his holster. “Good work, newbie.” Then, after a moment of silence, he managed, sheepish: “...And, for the record, you aren’t a caveman. She was just being an asshole.”
“...Really?” Mista’s eyes lit up. He was incredibly endearing sometimes; Leone had to admit.
A nod. “But, I do have to second her point about deodorant. You reek. ”
“—It stains my sweater, dude!”
“Sweat stains are worse. We’ll get you some deodorant tomorrow.” It was small, but Leone exhaled in something approaching a chuckle.
Guido couldn’t help but smile, readjusting his hat and hiding some of his dark, curly hair beneath it. “Sounds good to me.”
The two called for cleanup. As they waited, Mista, after a cacophony of noise from the Pistols, asked: “Wanna get some grub?”
Right as he said this, Leone’s stomach grumbled.
Once the Passione-provided cleanup arrived, the two of them were on their way to the nearest food stands. As Mista jabbered on about the best things to eat in order to avoid a hangover the next day, Leone nodded noncommittally, but had to concede to himself that, even if the drug bust had been, well, a bust, he could get used to having this guy as a teammate.