Wednesday, September 29, 2021
Monday, September 27, 2021
Bruno Bucciarati Week 2021 - Birthday
“Do you have what I need?” Narancia spoke softly to the stranger.
“Yeah, and the cash?”
“Here.”
Bruno, who was hiding in the shadows, heard everything. He couldn’t believe it. His heart dropped. Narancia bought crack from some guy in a white van. The black-haired boy put the white substance in his back pocket. The stranger drove off. They didn’t even check to see if anyone saw their exchange.
Did he just buy drugs in broad daylight? he thought, clenching his fists.
People went about their day. Not a single person cared about what Bruno just witnessed. He burned the license plate into his memory. For now, he followed Narancia, who was heading to the Libeccio, the restaurant they always hung out. For some reason, the sign said closed, but the host let Narancia enter. Bruno then approached the restaurant.
“Bruno!” the host said. “Hey, sorry, you can’t come in yet. We’re currently planning something.”
“How come Narancia was allowed in?” he asked.
“He’s helping.”
“With what?”
“Sorry, come back later.”
He went to the side of the building where their table was, looking through the window. Narancia, Fugo, and Mista were at the table. He wasn’t sure where Abbacchio was. The three of them were speaking.
“I got what we finally needed!” Narancia spoke as he plopped down the white substance on the table.
“Is this--” Fugo said, opening the bag and using his fingers to taste it. “Oh, it is!”
“This is ridiculous!” Abbacchio shouted. The tall man walked out of the kitchen, black clothes covered in white powder. “Why do I have to cook?”
Hearing enough of this, used Sticky Fingers to zip open the walls.
“What’s going on here?” Bruno demanded.
“Bucciarati!” they all panicked.
“Narancia, what the hell?” Bruno interrupted, shouting at him.
“What did I do?” he asked.
“You know exactly what you did. As for the others, I can’t believe this.”
“I should’ve known the host couldn’t stop you,” Fugo said.
“Bucciarati,” Abbacchio said, “I tried to bake the cake as fast as I could, but someone forgot to bring the sugar.”
“Wait, what?” Bruno was confused. “This bag doesn’t contain cocaine?”
Everyone in the room was silent, and then Narancia and Mista burst into laughter.
“Don’t tell me you forgot your birthday,” Fugo said.
“You could’ve got the chef to bake the cake!” Bruno said.
“That’s what I told Mista,” he said. “He said that one of us had to bake it so that it will be special.”
“Speaking of baking,” Mista said, “Abbacchio, let me help.”
“No, don’t accept his help!” Narancia interjected. “He can’t even cook spaghetti.”
Bruno took a seat and watched as the two started arguing. Fugo looked like he was about to pop a vein.
“Guys!” the blond shouted. “This place isn’t decorated. I’ll help Abbacchio bake the cake. You guys can place the decorations. Bucciarati, I’m so sorry. It did look shady, the way the sugar was in a plastic bag. We’ll try to be quick.”
Mista and Narancia decorated the room with blue, white, and yellow balloons and streamers.
“Let me help,” Bruno said.
“But it’s your birthday!” Mista said. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m going to help.”
The restaurant’s tablecloths were placed with blue, white, and yellow ones. Any flower that wasn’t those colors was replaced. Each seat had a balloon tied to it. Once they were done, they sat at their table, waiting for the cake. Fugo walked out of the kitchen, covered in powder and blue frosting staining his suit.
“Wow, you guys did amazing work with setting up the decorations,” the blond complemented. “The cake is done. We’re not patissiers, but we only knew how to bake a simple cake. Are you ready?”
“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Bruno said. “I’m ready for the cake.”
“He’s ready!” Fugo shouted.
Abbacchio walked out of the kitchen, holding the blue-frosted circular cake. Whip cream surrounded the edges of the cake. “Happy Birthday, Bruno!” was written in yellow frosting and cursive. He placed the cake in the middle of the table.
“Happy birthday, Bucciarati!” they all said to him.
Abbacchio stuck the birthday candle in the middle. He then brought out his lighter, lighting the candle. Bruno thought for a few seconds and then blew out the candles.
“What was your wish?” Abbacchio asked.
“That’s a secret,” Bruno replied.
“Can we grab a slice?” Mista asked, sounding impatient.
“Let Bucciarati have the first slice,” Abbacchio said.
Bucciarati took a slice, and then the others cut a piece for themselves.
“Yeah, and the cash?”
“Here.”
Bruno, who was hiding in the shadows, heard everything. He couldn’t believe it. His heart dropped. Narancia bought crack from some guy in a white van. The black-haired boy put the white substance in his back pocket. The stranger drove off. They didn’t even check to see if anyone saw their exchange.
Did he just buy drugs in broad daylight? he thought, clenching his fists.
People went about their day. Not a single person cared about what Bruno just witnessed. He burned the license plate into his memory. For now, he followed Narancia, who was heading to the Libeccio, the restaurant they always hung out. For some reason, the sign said closed, but the host let Narancia enter. Bruno then approached the restaurant.
“Bruno!” the host said. “Hey, sorry, you can’t come in yet. We’re currently planning something.”
“How come Narancia was allowed in?” he asked.
“He’s helping.”
“With what?”
“Sorry, come back later.”
He went to the side of the building where their table was, looking through the window. Narancia, Fugo, and Mista were at the table. He wasn’t sure where Abbacchio was. The three of them were speaking.
“I got what we finally needed!” Narancia spoke as he plopped down the white substance on the table.
“Is this--” Fugo said, opening the bag and using his fingers to taste it. “Oh, it is!”
“This is ridiculous!” Abbacchio shouted. The tall man walked out of the kitchen, black clothes covered in white powder. “Why do I have to cook?”
Hearing enough of this, used Sticky Fingers to zip open the walls.
“What’s going on here?” Bruno demanded.
“Bucciarati!” they all panicked.
“Narancia, what the hell?” Bruno interrupted, shouting at him.
“What did I do?” he asked.
“You know exactly what you did. As for the others, I can’t believe this.”
“I should’ve known the host couldn’t stop you,” Fugo said.
“Bucciarati,” Abbacchio said, “I tried to bake the cake as fast as I could, but someone forgot to bring the sugar.”
“Wait, what?” Bruno was confused. “This bag doesn’t contain cocaine?”
Everyone in the room was silent, and then Narancia and Mista burst into laughter.
“Don’t tell me you forgot your birthday,” Fugo said.
“You could’ve got the chef to bake the cake!” Bruno said.
“That’s what I told Mista,” he said. “He said that one of us had to bake it so that it will be special.”
“Speaking of baking,” Mista said, “Abbacchio, let me help.”
“No, don’t accept his help!” Narancia interjected. “He can’t even cook spaghetti.”
Bruno took a seat and watched as the two started arguing. Fugo looked like he was about to pop a vein.
“Guys!” the blond shouted. “This place isn’t decorated. I’ll help Abbacchio bake the cake. You guys can place the decorations. Bucciarati, I’m so sorry. It did look shady, the way the sugar was in a plastic bag. We’ll try to be quick.”
Mista and Narancia decorated the room with blue, white, and yellow balloons and streamers.
“Let me help,” Bruno said.
“But it’s your birthday!” Mista said. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m going to help.”
The restaurant’s tablecloths were placed with blue, white, and yellow ones. Any flower that wasn’t those colors was replaced. Each seat had a balloon tied to it. Once they were done, they sat at their table, waiting for the cake. Fugo walked out of the kitchen, covered in powder and blue frosting staining his suit.
“Wow, you guys did amazing work with setting up the decorations,” the blond complemented. “The cake is done. We’re not patissiers, but we only knew how to bake a simple cake. Are you ready?”
“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Bruno said. “I’m ready for the cake.”
“He’s ready!” Fugo shouted.
Abbacchio walked out of the kitchen, holding the blue-frosted circular cake. Whip cream surrounded the edges of the cake. “Happy Birthday, Bruno!” was written in yellow frosting and cursive. He placed the cake in the middle of the table.
“Happy birthday, Bucciarati!” they all said to him.
Abbacchio stuck the birthday candle in the middle. He then brought out his lighter, lighting the candle. Bruno thought for a few seconds and then blew out the candles.
“What was your wish?” Abbacchio asked.
“That’s a secret,” Bruno replied.
“Can we grab a slice?” Mista asked, sounding impatient.
“Let Bucciarati have the first slice,” Abbacchio said.
Bucciarati took a slice, and then the others cut a piece for themselves.
Thursday, September 23, 2021
Wednesday, September 22, 2021
Bruno Week 2021 - Team
Bruno looked at the alleyway. It was dark, but it wasn’t completely so. He held the escort’s sweaty hand tightly. The boy’s arms and legs were trembling.
“Hey, Bucciarati,” Narancia called out, trying to contain his panic, “we’re surrounded here. Why do they want this kid anyway?”
He did not answer. They were never told why, but only to follow. And if there was a reason, it did not matter.
He looked at the alleyway again and saw something move. Fugo saw what he was looking at.
“Don’t tell me we’re going into the alleyway,” the blond said.
“We have to. It’s that, or we get riddled with bullets.”
“You know, Fugo and I could probably handle them. Mista, too, maybe,” Narancia added.
“That’s a lot of people, Narancia,” Bruno reminded him. “No, the alleyway is the only way. Mista, I want you to go ahead of us. I saw something move. Abbacchio, watch this child. Besides, we’re not here to deal with these guys.”
The boy got behind Abbacchio, and then the six of them went in. Mista had his gun out, treading cautiously. Bruno scanned the area around him. There was absolutely nobody here. As they got closer to the other end of the alleyway, the person Bruno saw earlier appeared. Shadows still cloaked the stranger, and they fled to the inside of a building. Mista pointed his gun at the door, finger at the trigger.
“Come out, you bastard,” Mista whispered to himself, focusing on the door.
As they were all focused on the door, save for Fugo, who spotted a yellow glow on the brick wall near him. He took a step back, bumping into Narancia.
“Is something wrong?” the black-haired teen asked.
“Move, there’s something wrong with the wall.”
Bruno and Abbacchio turned their heads to see what’s happening, and a yellow beam of light appeared, blocking their view of Fugo and Narancia. After the blast dissipated, the two teens were sitting on the ground.
“The hell was that?” Narancia panicked.
“I read something about this,” Fugo said. “I think they’re called Hamon users.”
Bruno summoned his stand, placing a zipper on the wall and opening it, revealing two people: a buff young man, who Bruno suspected to be the Hamon user, and a gunman. The gunman hesitated, figuring who to shoot first. As he finally decided on who to shoot and aimed the gun at the kid, Mista shot his brains out first. As for the Hamon user, he stood completely unbothered. Before Bruno’s group could attack, the Hamon user used his stand, a purple vine, to grab them by the necks. Bruno noticed how their heads were aligned as if someone was going to take them out in one shot. Narancia used Aerosmith to attack him, shooting him in the foot. The attacker let go of them and retreated.
“I’ll chase him,” Bruno said. “Mista, keep an eye on the door.”
The hatted man looked at the door again. It was open, and he could see the guy at the door. He looked like a cowboy.
“Never did I ever think I would be working with a Hamon user,” he shouted. “It almost reminds me of my time in Egypt, except I was trying to kill a certain Hamon user and his group, not five gangsters and a kid.”
The cowboy pointed his gun at Mista. He shielded his head with his arms. Once the other fired, the bullet hit his arms, staining his clothes.
“Narancia, a little help here?” Mista complained.
“You know those dudes who were surrounding us earlier? They’re right behind us,” Narancia replied.
“Quick, into the building!” Abbacchio commanded. “Bucciarati, hurry!”
Bucciarati was chasing the man who ran upstairs. There was nowhere to go for him except through the window and into the other building. Bruno looked at the other building and noticed a busted window. He used Sticky Fingers to open the walls and jump to the other side. The other left a blood trail, thanks to Aerosmith hitting him in the foot before. He followed it, which led him to the rooftops. Following the blood trail, he had to hop across many buildings until he ran out of them. Checking behind him, his team was far away.
“Well,” said the buff man, “what’s your plan to defeat me?”
Sticky Fingers charged towards the enemy, but before his fits could meet his face, the vines stopped him. It squeezed his arms, binding them. However, he could still move his arms around. Using Sticky’s bound arms, he dragged the Hamon user against the wall. The Hamon assassin released him, got up, and took a deep breath. Whatever he was doing, he was surrounded by a yellow light, as if he were charging for an attack.
“Bucciarati,” Fugo shouted, “get away from the rooftops!”
Bruno used his Sticky Fingers’ zipper to get down safely. As he got away, he looked up. The wind blew the smoke away.
As for the person who was still shooting at Mista and the others, he kept going.
“Hey, Hamon guy, what’s taking so long?” the cowboy shouted as he shot at the others. “Hamon guy?”
He turned around, seeing Bruno approaching him. Seeing as the cowboy was distracted, Mista took the opportunity to shoot him right back, hitting his shoulder.
He screamed and ran away.
“Shit, he’s getting away!” Mista said.
“He won’t be bothering us,” Bruno said.
“What if he comes back?” Abbacchio questioned.
“I have a feeling the man’s a coward,” Bruno answered. “Noticed how he didn’t attack us until someone else did.”
“That guy’s running far away from us,” Narancia said, looking at his radar. “Oh, also, the guys who were behind us are either dead or ran away.”
They took a moment to catch their breath, and then they took the target safely home.
“Hey, Bucciarati,” Narancia called out, trying to contain his panic, “we’re surrounded here. Why do they want this kid anyway?”
He did not answer. They were never told why, but only to follow. And if there was a reason, it did not matter.
He looked at the alleyway again and saw something move. Fugo saw what he was looking at.
“Don’t tell me we’re going into the alleyway,” the blond said.
“We have to. It’s that, or we get riddled with bullets.”
“You know, Fugo and I could probably handle them. Mista, too, maybe,” Narancia added.
“That’s a lot of people, Narancia,” Bruno reminded him. “No, the alleyway is the only way. Mista, I want you to go ahead of us. I saw something move. Abbacchio, watch this child. Besides, we’re not here to deal with these guys.”
The boy got behind Abbacchio, and then the six of them went in. Mista had his gun out, treading cautiously. Bruno scanned the area around him. There was absolutely nobody here. As they got closer to the other end of the alleyway, the person Bruno saw earlier appeared. Shadows still cloaked the stranger, and they fled to the inside of a building. Mista pointed his gun at the door, finger at the trigger.
“Come out, you bastard,” Mista whispered to himself, focusing on the door.
As they were all focused on the door, save for Fugo, who spotted a yellow glow on the brick wall near him. He took a step back, bumping into Narancia.
“Is something wrong?” the black-haired teen asked.
“Move, there’s something wrong with the wall.”
Bruno and Abbacchio turned their heads to see what’s happening, and a yellow beam of light appeared, blocking their view of Fugo and Narancia. After the blast dissipated, the two teens were sitting on the ground.
“The hell was that?” Narancia panicked.
“I read something about this,” Fugo said. “I think they’re called Hamon users.”
Bruno summoned his stand, placing a zipper on the wall and opening it, revealing two people: a buff young man, who Bruno suspected to be the Hamon user, and a gunman. The gunman hesitated, figuring who to shoot first. As he finally decided on who to shoot and aimed the gun at the kid, Mista shot his brains out first. As for the Hamon user, he stood completely unbothered. Before Bruno’s group could attack, the Hamon user used his stand, a purple vine, to grab them by the necks. Bruno noticed how their heads were aligned as if someone was going to take them out in one shot. Narancia used Aerosmith to attack him, shooting him in the foot. The attacker let go of them and retreated.
“I’ll chase him,” Bruno said. “Mista, keep an eye on the door.”
The hatted man looked at the door again. It was open, and he could see the guy at the door. He looked like a cowboy.
“Never did I ever think I would be working with a Hamon user,” he shouted. “It almost reminds me of my time in Egypt, except I was trying to kill a certain Hamon user and his group, not five gangsters and a kid.”
The cowboy pointed his gun at Mista. He shielded his head with his arms. Once the other fired, the bullet hit his arms, staining his clothes.
“Narancia, a little help here?” Mista complained.
“You know those dudes who were surrounding us earlier? They’re right behind us,” Narancia replied.
“Quick, into the building!” Abbacchio commanded. “Bucciarati, hurry!”
Bucciarati was chasing the man who ran upstairs. There was nowhere to go for him except through the window and into the other building. Bruno looked at the other building and noticed a busted window. He used Sticky Fingers to open the walls and jump to the other side. The other left a blood trail, thanks to Aerosmith hitting him in the foot before. He followed it, which led him to the rooftops. Following the blood trail, he had to hop across many buildings until he ran out of them. Checking behind him, his team was far away.
“Well,” said the buff man, “what’s your plan to defeat me?”
Sticky Fingers charged towards the enemy, but before his fits could meet his face, the vines stopped him. It squeezed his arms, binding them. However, he could still move his arms around. Using Sticky’s bound arms, he dragged the Hamon user against the wall. The Hamon assassin released him, got up, and took a deep breath. Whatever he was doing, he was surrounded by a yellow light, as if he were charging for an attack.
“Bucciarati,” Fugo shouted, “get away from the rooftops!”
Bruno used his Sticky Fingers’ zipper to get down safely. As he got away, he looked up. The wind blew the smoke away.
As for the person who was still shooting at Mista and the others, he kept going.
“Hey, Hamon guy, what’s taking so long?” the cowboy shouted as he shot at the others. “Hamon guy?”
He turned around, seeing Bruno approaching him. Seeing as the cowboy was distracted, Mista took the opportunity to shoot him right back, hitting his shoulder.
He screamed and ran away.
“Shit, he’s getting away!” Mista said.
“He won’t be bothering us,” Bruno said.
“What if he comes back?” Abbacchio questioned.
“I have a feeling the man’s a coward,” Bruno answered. “Noticed how he didn’t attack us until someone else did.”
“That guy’s running far away from us,” Narancia said, looking at his radar. “Oh, also, the guys who were behind us are either dead or ran away.”
They took a moment to catch their breath, and then they took the target safely home.
Saturday, September 18, 2021
Wednesday, September 15, 2021
Friday, September 10, 2021
Sunday, September 5, 2021
Friday, September 3, 2021
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