Infiltration (Day 1 - 6)

Day 1

“Is that him, boss?” Doppio asked on the phone, looking at Risotto Nero through his hotel window.

“Yes, you are to get close to him and know every move he and his team make against me. I’ll lend you some of my abilities. Can you do that, my sweet Doppio?”

“Of course, boss. Do I ask to join him?”

“No need. I’ll message Risotto to expect a newcomer. That will be you. Try and get close to Risotto.”

“Will do, boss!”

-

Risotto returned to their hideout and went into his office. He should relax, but maybe their boss might give them something to do. Checking his computer, he got a message. He hoped somebody needed to die today, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, the boss informed Risotto that a newcomer would arrive at their hideout. He sighed and got up from his seat.

When he exited his office, Prosciutto was at his door.

“Risotto, has the boss given us anything new?” the blond asked.

“No, we have a newcomer.”

He sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell everyone.”

Risotto entered the room where they gathered. He sat in his usual spot, looking at the empty seat the newcomer would fill. The rest of his team joined and sat down.

“So, who’s the newcomer? What does he look like?” Pesci asked.

“Wasn’t told,” Risotto answered. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

While they sat quietly, Melone brought out his stand, Babyface.

Formaggio looked bored, and Ghiaccio tapped his foot.

“Is this guy ever going to show up?” the blue-haired assassin asked.

“Do you think the boss hired the newcomer to…” Prosciutto trailed off.

“No, that would seem excessive,” Risotto said, “and I doubt he would trust another assassin.”

“I think I see the new guy,” Melone said.

Prosciutto looked at Babyface. “No way. Is this a joke?”

Curious, Risotto got up and checked, spying on the pink-haired guy at their door. He looked like a teenager. Though, Risotto did murder somebody when he was 18, barely an adult. The guy could be 18 or around that age.

“Wait, Melone, when did we have security cameras?” Illuso asked.

“I suggest it to Risotto,” he answered. “He agreed. I even installed security cameras where everybody lives. And not just in your front and back doors. I placed cameras in everyone’s living room, bedroom, bathroom, closet—”

“The fucking bathroom?” Ghiaccio yelled.

“I agreed, but I didn’t say invade everyone’s privacy,” Risotto said.

“How small is Formaggio’s cock?” Illuso asked.

“Small than Pesci’s, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” Melone answered, causing Illuso to snicker and Pesci to smile.

“Dude, come on!” Formaggio furrowed his brows.

“I never said Pesci had the second smallest dick,” Melone said. “He has the second largest dick.”

Illuso stopped laughing and got serious. “Wait, who has the smallest dick?”

Prosciutto sighed. “Enough! Someone needs to get the newcomer.”

“I’ll go,” Risotto said.

-

Doppio stood outside the hideout. It seemed like a rundown, shady place, and graffiti was on the walls. Feeling he had the wrong address, he was about to leave when Risotto opened the door.

“Ah!” he panicked, unexpecting the execution team’s leader. He was tall, taller than him.

“Relax,” he said. “The boss said to come here, correct?”

Doppio nodded.

“Come in and follow me.”

He entered and followed him into a room with very colorful people sitting down. He knew their names, but they didn’t know him.

“This is him?” Formaggio questioned. “This jailbait is a killer?”

“Excuse me?” Doppio looked offended.

“You don’t look like much,” Pesci commented. “But at least I’m no longer the new guy.”

“Are we going to be doing anything?” Doppio asked Risotto. He wondered if the boss thought of anything next. He’ll have to wait for his call tonight.

“The boss would’ve told me,” he answered. “He messaged me that you were coming but nothing else.”

“We’re to do nothing?”

“Yes, that’s what we’ve been doing ever since two of our members died. By the way, what’s your name?”

“It’s Vinegar Doppio. Just call me Doppio.”

After everybody introduced themselves and chatted, Doppio had some thoughts about everyone. To Doppio, Formaggio seemed weird and made him uncomfortable. So long as Illuso didn’t put him in the mirror world, he was okay with him. Pesci looked ugly and creepy. Prosciutto seemed stuck up, and Doppio immediately didn’t like him. Melone looked like a slut. The boss informed Doppio about Ghiaccio’s anger problems, so he’s staying away from him, and Risotto seemed apathetic but also scary.

“I have an idea!” Formaggio grabbed Doppio’s attention. He looked and smiled at the pink-haired man, bringing out a glass jar.

“Is this where I think it’s going?” Melone asked with a smile.

Formaggio giggled evilly. “Oh yes, you bet!”

Melone licked his lips, sending a shiver down Doppio’s spine.

Wanting to know what happened, he used his boss' stand ability to see into the future. A lot was going on in the image. Formaggio slashes him with his stand, and Illuso takes Doppio into the mirror world, waiting for Little Feet to shrink him. For some reason, Melone unzips his pants and is reaching for the jar.

“Ew, no!” Doppio yelled.

“Wait, how do you know what I’m about to do?” Formaggio questioned.

Everyone stared at him intensively, expecting a quick answer.

Earlier before, the boss said they might keep their abilities a secret and had told Doppio about everyone’s stand ability. Even if he hadn’t told him, Epitaph would predict it. Normally, whatever Doppio saw in the image would come true, and nothing could prevent that from happening unless a stand could alter fate. Maybe he was in control of his fate the whole time and altered it from happening. Whatever the reason why it didn’t happen was giving Doppio a headache different from his usual ones, and right now, he needed to think of something quick.

“Uh, why else would you bring a jar out?” Doppio answered. “Your stand probably has the ability to shrink me, and I’m a newcomer. You’re plotting something humiliating for me!”

Formaggio let down his guard and smiled. “Wow, you’re smart. I did the same thing with Pesci, except a jar wasn’t involved. Prosciutto would’ve killed me. Instead, I made him sit on a whoopee cushion during a meeting.”

The others were relaxed except for Risotto. It was hard to read him, but he continued staring at him, making Doppio uncomfortable.

“Doppio, what do you do?” the leader asked.

“Me? Are you talking about my stand ability? I thought we were keeping that a secret. I’m sure you guys are keeping yours a secret from me too.”

“Yeah, true,” Formaggio commented. “We are, but since you guess my ability, I’ll help you. Illuso can take people into the mirror world.”

“Formaggio!” The brunette glared at him.

Prosciutto sighed. “Is this over yet?”

“It is,” Risotto answered. “You’re free to do what you want. We have nothing to do, anyways.”

Doppio felt sorry for them. The boss was the boss, but he never knew why he didn’t trust the assassination team.

-

Day 2

Doppio woke up in his hotel room. Nothing happened after he left the hideout, and the boss didn’t call. After eating breakfast and taking a shower, he returned to the building, heading to the gathering room. Prosciutto was the first one there, but before Doppio could sit down and mind his business, the blond got up from his seat, approached him, and gripped his shoulder.

“Ow!” Doppio responded. He turned around and looked at the glaring man. “Did I do something?”

“Let me warn you,” he said. “Don’t waste Risotto’s time. He’s been stressed out, looking for work for us. And yesterday, while you guessed Formaggio’s ability, I had guessed yours as well. I think you can see into the future.” Doppio suffered a slight headache. “You look too young and inexperienced. No way was that a lucky guess. Maybe I’m wrong, and you could be a spy. Either way, I don’t trust you.”

Prosciutto shoved him and walked away to a room.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked.

The voice came from behind, but nobody was there.

“Prosciutto wasn’t the first one here.” The voice revealed himself.

“Oh, Risotto! H-hello! Did you find work for us?”

“No, I’m letting Melone and Ghiaccio ask around. However, I need to see your stand.”

“My stand?”

“I need to know what you can do with it. If you need to be in a fight to show it, then just tell me what it can do.”

“I see ten seconds into the future. That’s all.”

“So, Prosciutto guessed right. May I see what your stand looks like?”

Epitaph appeared on Doppio’s forehead, and Risotto placed a hand under his chin, tilting his head, almost as if they were about to kiss. The pink-haired man stared into his eyes but looked away out of shyness.

Then somebody opened the door. “Hey, bro, are you—ah!”

It was Pesci, and Formaggio and Illuso were right next to him.

“Well, well, well,” Illuso commented.

“Bro!” Pesci yelled as he ran away.

“Risotto?” Formaggio said. “No offense, but that looks—”

The large man stepped away from Doppio. “I was examining his stand. Nothing more.”

“Are you sure? Because that looked—” Before Illuso could speak, Risotto looked at him. “Sorry. I know you told us to forget Sorbet and Gelato, but it’s hard.”

“It’s fine,” Risotto replied. “I called Melone and Ghiaccio an hour ago, and they’re still finding work for us.”

“Still? Damn, I need some action,” Formaggio said. “Come on. Let’s do something, Illuso.”

Illuso sighed. “Like what?”

The two left the room, leaving the other two by themselves.

“Gelato and Sorbet, who were they?” Doppio asked.

Risotto sat down in his chair. “They were a couple. After I killed somebody at the age of 18, I thought for sure the police would never find my crimes. But the couple heard of the murder and destroyed the evidence. They told me to stop, but I didn’t listen. I continued a life of crime, doing whatever for a price. Eventually, I joined Passione and formed a team, recruiting Sorbet and Gelato. We weren’t trusted, and because of that, we had no territory. Sorbet and Gelato tried to discover the boss’ identity.”

“And they got killed because of it,” Doppio finished for him. He heard a sad sigh from Risotto, which he thought was strange because he seemed emotionless. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, I’ll be alright. Thanks for asking. I’m not sure if you were aware, but there’s a kitchen. Help yourself. I’ll be there shortly. I need to check if the boss left anything for us to do.”

Now that he mentioned it, Doppio was feeling a bit peckish. He went to the kitchen, where the rest of the team was.

“Doppio,” Prosciutto called. He was sitting down at a table and shot him with a dirty look.

“Hey!” Formaggio tried to calm him down. “Illuso and I were joking around. Pesci, what the fuck did you tell him?”

“Risotto kissed Doppio,” Pesci answered.

“That didn’t even happen!” Illuso said.

“Well, that’s what it looked like!” he argued.

Prosciutto got up from his seat. “I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

Doppio wasn’t sure what to think. “Oh, that’s alright.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure!”

The blond walked to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee. However, there was a feeling Doppio had. Curious to know what would happen in the next ten seconds, he looked at his bangs. In the vision, Prosciutto walks towards him and throws hot coffee.

Looking at the present, Prosciutto approached him. Doppio moved away before coffee could splash him. The coffee splashed on the walls, seeping down to the floor.

“I knew it!” the blond yelled. “You can see into the future. How else would you have known!”

“What is your problem with me?”

“Why would we have a newcomer when the rest of Passione doesn’t trust us?”

Risotto walked into the room right on time.

“If he’s a spy, I trust you all know what to do,” he answered. “But he hasn’t betrayed us yet, so relax, Prosciutto.”

The blond sighed and grabbed a paper towel. “I’ll clean up this mess.”

Seeing as Doppio needed to get along with others to fit in, he thought he should try to get along with Prosciutto. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help!” he snapped.

“What if I help, bro?” Pesci grabbed a paper towel and knelt on the floor, wiping the coffee away.

Prosciutto didn’t say but quietly accepted his help.

Doppio sighed and left the hideout, seeing nothing to do. He took a taxi and returned to the hotel to watch TV. There, the boss called him, and he answered.

“Hey, boss, so far, the hitman team hasn’t planned anything suspicious,” he reported. “I’ve gotten to know them a bit, and Risotto—”

“I appreciate the report,” he interrupted, “but Doppio, even though I told you to get close to them, do not get too close to Risotto. He’ll manipulate you. Remember, he and his group are a bunch of killers. All they care about is money. I need you to get close to the other members.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to head back. Prosciutto doesn’t like me much and thinks I’m a spy. Also, isn’t there something the hitman team could do?”

“I don’t have any task for them to do.”

“Could you think of something?”

“I need a reason to kill someone. Focus on the team. Know everything they are plotting. I have to hang up. Take care, my adorable Doppio."

-

Day 3

Doppio woke up in his bed, got up, and made a bowl of cereal. As he poured the milk into the bowl, he thought about who to befriend. He didn’t like the prank Formaggio, Illuso, and Melone tried to pull in the vision. However, he wasn’t sure if Pesci liked him, and Ghiaccio was too hot-headed to approach. Prosciutto was out of the question. Risotto seemed to be the only reasonable one in the group, but he shouldn’t get close to him.

“Oh, damn it!” Doppio realized his mistake, looking at the milk-filled bowl. He made sure to pour his cereal carefully.

-

Risotto was the first to arrive at the hideout. Later, Prosciutto and Pesci arrived. The three were in the kitchen, eating and drinking. Risotto, who sat across from Prosciutto and Pesci, had a cup of black coffee while Pesci had milk and cookies. Prosciutto had a cup of coffee mixed with cream and some bread with strawberry jam.

“I don’t trust the newcomer,” Prosciutto said to him.

“I understand,” Risotto replied. “But what would happen if we killed him? The boss might have us eliminated.”

Prosciutto sighed. “Then what do we do?”

He didn’t know how to reply and stared at his cup of coffee. Focused, he could hear somebody enter the hideout and walk to the kitchen. Then Ghiaccio and Melone appeared. They didn’t seem happy.

“Have you found a target we can kill?” Risotto asked.

“Yes, but the person isn’t going to pay that much,” Ghiaccio said. “If we split it amongst us, the amount would be little, and I don’t know if the target is a stand user.”

“Who’s the target?”

“Some guy named Amedeo Parri. He lives close by,” Melone answered. “And if you’re worried he might run away, don’t be. He works at a McDonald’s and isn’t going anywhere.”

“I want McDonald’s,” Pesci commented.

“You got all that information yesterday?” Risotto asked.

“Melone wanted something from McDonald’s,” Ghiaccio answered.

“Here, Pesci, you can have my leftover fries from yesterday.” He handed it over to him.

“You’re the best, Melone!” he responded.

More members of La Squadra arrived in the kitchen.

“Good morning, everyone!” Doppio greeted cheerfully and made the room quiet.

“Morning,” Risotto replied. Other than him, nobody else replied. They chatted amongst themselves afterward.

“You should spy on him,” the blond whispered to Risotto.

“Will do,” he whispered back, getting up from his seat.

Doppio watched him. “Where are you going?”

“I have to use the bathroom,” he lied.

He left the kitchen, and once he was sure nobody was looking, he turned invisible.

-

Doppio sighed. It felt like nobody wanted to befriend him.

“Newcomer.” Melone grabbed his attention and had an arm around his shoulder. “What was your name again? Doppio, right? Why are you looking so glum? Don’t worry. It’s always like this. I think I prefer it this way. Nobody has to put themselves in danger.”

“Agreed,” Formaggio commented. “I can just sit back and relax.”

“You are aware we earn nothing by doing nothing, right?” Prosciutto said.

“Maybe that’s what you do,” Melone replied. “Me? I’ve been taking photos.”

“Oh, what do you take photos of?” Members of Passione committing crimes or perhaps anything that could reveal the boss’ identity? Doppio wondered.

“I take photos of people undressing,” he answered with a smile.

“Weirdo,” Ghiaccio commented.

“That’s a little dangerous,” Formaggio said. “Why not let me help you?”

“Then I’d have to split the money,” Melone answered. “Oh! I just remembered something. Doppio, how big is your cock?”

Prosciutto got out of his seat. “I’m leaving before things get weird.”

Pesci followed him.

“Does Pesci always follow him?” Doppio asked.

“Pretty much,” Melone answered and sat down where Prosciutto sat.

“Is there a reason for that? Why doesn’t he follow Risotto around?”

“Well, when the boss needs Risotto to kill someone, shit will go down. You do not want to be around him when that happens.”

“Oh my god, how vicious is Risotto?”

“If you knew his stand’s ability, you’d know,” Illuso answered.

“So…is anyone going to tell me his stand’s ability?” Doppio asked despite knowing.

“You’ll just have to fuck around and find out,” Formaggio said, sitting down in Pesci’s spot.

The kitchen got quiet.

“Risotto’s still in the bathroom, right?” Doppio asked.

“Hmm, let me check.” Melone at the kitchen table, using Babyface as a laptop.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking through the security cameras. Wait. Oh, shit! You weren’t supposed to know that. Oh well, I placed cameras everywhere in the hideout. Now you know.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“I can’t shit in peace in this place,” Formaggio commented.

“He’s not in the bathroom,” Melone said.

“He probably turned invisible,” the redhead added.

“Formaggio!” Illuso yelled. “There’s probably a reason why.”

“Oh, he’s here then?” Doppio spoke. No wonder why he felt watched. “Um, well, I don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll read something.”

-

After Doppio left, Risotto revealed himself and sat down at the table.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Formaggio explained. “But I don’t think there’s anything suspicious about this guy. He seems harmless.”

“If he’s harmless, the boss wouldn’t have put him in with us. I need to get close to him and see what he can do in a fight.”

-

Day 4

Before Doppio arrived in the hideout, he spotted an olive green frog and knelt to speak to it.

“Hey, what are you doing here, little buddy?”

The frog croaked.

“Are you hungry?”

“What are you doing?” Prosciutto asked.

Doppio got up and turned around to face him. Pesci and Risotto were with him. “Oh, uh, making friends with a frog. I think it’s hungry.”

“Not my concern,” Prosciutto said, walking to the door.

Pesci followed him but then stopped, curious about the frog. “Oh, that’s a tree frog! There are some worms near my house. We can collect some for the little guy. I used to collect them before—ow!”

Prosciutto elbowed him. “By the time we get back, the frog will be gone. Let’s head inside. I want some coffee.”

“What if we caught it?” Doppio said.

Prosciutto looked at the frog, and it began hopping away. “Better catch it then.” His arm reached for the doorknob.

“Beach Boy!” Pesci brought his stand and reeled the frog towards him.

“What the hell!” the blond reacted.

“Sorry, bro,” he replied. “It just looked cute.”

“Would it hurt to have a pet?” Doppio asked.

“Yes, our pay is shit,” the blond argued. “Risotto, tell them!”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a pet,” he answered.

“What?”

“We would need a tank to keep it in. We can go to the pet store and buy a tank and some food for it. We’ll take my car. But first, keep the frog safe while Doppio and I are gone.”

“You’re going alone with the newcomer?” Prosciutto glared at the pink-haired man, intimidating him. “I don’t trust him alone with anyone.”

“Hey, bro, I think he’s a decent guy,” Pesci said. “Besides, I should go too. I know a bit about frogs.”

The blond sighed. “Okay, but I’m sitting next to Risotto. Pesci, you know what to do if the newbie does anything.”

“Hold on,” Pesci said. “I need the others to watch over the frog while we’re gone.”

After Pesci spoke to the others, they all got in Risotto’s black Fiat Punto and drove to the pet shop, buying all they needed for their new pet frog. It was around lunchtime when they returned to the hideout.

“I was wondering when you guys were going to get back,” Ghiaccio greeted them. “I was thinking about having frog legs.”

“Ghiaccio, enough!” Risotto said.

“They’re in the gathering room.”

They made their way there, where the rest of the gang was. The frog was inside a bottle, but Formaggio got it out and put it into its new tank once Risotto set it up.

“What’re you going to name him?” Pesci asked.

“I think I’ll name him Pickles,” Doppio answered. “Oh, and thanks for buying things for Pickles.”

“Doppio, I think Pickles should be in your house,” Risotto said. “This isn’t a place for a pet.”

“I don’t have a house. I live with others,” he sort of lied.

“I’ll take him with me!” Pesci said. “And if you need a place to stay, you can always knock at my door.”

“Pesci!” Prosciutto yelled. “You barely know this guy.”

“Sorry, never mind. I can watch over the frog, though.”

“Prosciutto, knock it off!” Formaggio spoke. He looked annoyed. “He’s not a bad guy. You’re just being a dick.”

The blond sighed exasperatedly, got up, and left the room. This time Pesci did not follow but watched and examined Pickles.

As the rest of La Squadra was doing something to entertain themselves, Doppio sat back in his seat, thinking how wrong he and his boss thought about them. They just need a little pay raise, he thought.

Doppio spent a few hours with them, but it was getting dark, and he nearly dozed off in his seat.

Risotto tapped him on the shoulder, waking him up before he fell into a deep sleep. “Need me to drive you home?”

He stretched in his seat and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

Risotto helped him out of his seat, and they walked out of the hideout, heading to his car.

“You said you lived with others,” Risotto reminded him. “Where is their address?”

Shit. “Ah—did I say that?” He giggled. “Well, um, I may have gotten in a fight with them. So, I got kicked out. I reside in a hotel not far from here.” Then he remembered how close the hotel was to their hideout. “Um, hehe, it’s within walking distance. I just wanted to spend time with you.” Blood rushed to his cheeks, blushing, and he covered his face.

“Doppio…” Risotto moved the man’s arms and placed a hand on his cheek.

“Risotto…” His heart raced. “Turururu!” His head started pounding.

Risotto moved his hand away from him. “You’re acting strange.”

“Uh, my phone. I need to go. Now.”

Doppio dashed away and didn’t stop until he reached the hotel. He reached for the nail clippers in his pocket, thinking it was a cell phone.

“Boss, what the hell!” Doppio yelled.

“Quiet! What do you think you’re doing?” the boss said.

“I-I’m getting close to them, just like you ordered.”

“I need you to get close, not too close!”

“They need money, boss.”

“They seem well off. Risotto managed to buy Pickles a home.”

“Wait, how do you know about that?”

“Do not hide anything from me, Doppio!”

“I understand. Yes, boss. I’ll try not to get close to Risotto.”



The boss hung up, and Doppio felt ready to burst into tears.

-

Day 5

Risotto was the first one there in their hideout. He poured himself a cup of coffee and went to his office, awaiting further orders from the boss. There were no messages, leaving La Squadra with nothing to do again.

With the rare silence in the air, Risotto pondered what had happened between him and Doppio yesterday. They were so close to kissing, but then Doppio acted strange. He should’ve followed him home.

Doppio, Doppio. He was all in his mind. Risotto smiled, remembering how flustered and cute the pink-haired man acted.

“Hey, Risotto, anything new for us?” Prosciutto asked.

“Hmm?” He didn’t notice he had entered his office. “No, but you remember that guy Melone spoke about the day before yesterday?”

“Amedeo Parri, the McDonald’s worker? Are we going to kill him today?”

“Tomorrow. I need to see how we can use Doppio’s stand.” Risotto could tell from Prosciutto’s face that he didn’t like his name mentioned. “There something wrong?”

“Everyone trusts this guy when we don’t know anything about him. I don’t want anyone to die from an infiltrator.”

“I understand.” Risotto should’ve known better than to get close to a strange. “Since you’re here, are the others here as well?”

“Surprisingly, Melone got here before Ghiaccio. The others aren’t here yet.”

-

Doppio woke up later than usual, thanks to yesterday. He lay in his bed, hugging one of the pillows while thinking about Risotto. He didn’t know why, but he grew attracted to him, his voice, his muscles. He squealed, just thinking about him. Then he heard a phone go off, but it was someone else’s. It reminded him about the boss, and he got upset.

Doppio sighed and got out of bed. The boss needed him to do this mission. He changed his clothes and headed for the hideout, skipping breakfast because he wasn’t in the mood. When he got there, Risotto greeted him.

“Doppio, hello,” he said. Doppio wasn’t sure because he was tired, but he almost sounded nervous.

“Oh, hello,” he replied. Did he want to mention what happened yesterday?

“It’s almost lunch. Pesci was worried about you and thought you were mad at him for keeping Pickles.”

“No, I’m not mad. Can I head inside?”

Before Risotto could reply, Ghiaccio burst out of the door. Melone was behind him.

“Are we heading to McDonald’s or what?” the blue-haired assassin asked.

“Ghiaccio?” Doppio said. “McDonald’s? To get food?”

“Yes and no,” Risotto answered. “We’re going to show you who you’re going to kill… and to get food. Your target is Amedeo Parri. We cannot kill him now; he’s at work.”

“Prosciutto told me to remind you to get a Happy Meal with milk for Pesci,” Melone said. “Oh, and I’m coming too. I want something from there. I’m guessing we’re hopping in your car, Risotto? Ghiaccio’s car can’t fit four people.”

“Yeah, we’re—”

“I call the front seat!” Melone yelled.

“I’ll sit behind you,” Doppio said.

“Ghiaccio, don’t kick my seat,” Risotto said.

“I’m not going to kick your seat! Why do people think this!” he yelled.

Everyone got in Risotto’s car. Melone was in the front seat as he said and placed a disc in the CD player, playing sexual music and making everyone uncomfortable. Risotto drove off and went to the nearest McDonald’s. His car was behind two others.

“Alright, everyone,” Risotto said, “look at the menu. Tell me what you want.”

“I’ll have a strawberry smoothie,” Doppio said.

“Yuck, a strawberry smoothie? Their smoothies are fake!” Ghiaccio commented. “Get something real. By the way, I’ll have the Happy Meal. Don’t forget to buy one for Pesci! And the Milk! Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Um, the chicken nuggets? I’ll have six chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce.”

“Ghiaccio, don’t tell people what to get,” Risotto said. “It’s okay. I’ll get you that smoothie.”

“No, it’s fine,” the pink-haired man replied. “I just want the nuggets now.”

“My turn!” Melone said. “I want two Big Macs, ten chicken nuggets, two large fries, and a vanilla shake. Oh, and an apple pie! Don’t forget that.”

“Christ, Melone, what the hell?” Ghiaccio commented. “Do you want to be a fat ass?”

“Ghiaccio!” Risotto yelled, sounding angry.

“What did I do this time?” the blue-haired man bickered.

“What did I say?” The leader tried to remind him.

He sighed.

“Anyways, Ghiaccio, I’m ordering so much because I realized how skinny I am,” Melone answered. “And I do want my ass to get fatter. Before Sorbet and Gelato died, Gelato made fun of my bony ass. That hasn’t changed in two years, and I think I’m getting skinnier.”

“You’re fine the way you are, Melone,” Ghiaccio commented. “You’ve always been.”

Melone giggled nervously. “Wow, thanks.”

Doppio paid attention to their conversation. A long time ago, he wanted to be as strong and buff. He had never worked out before, but oddly he seemed to remember doing sit-ups and pushups in a dark room. He tried to focus on the memory, but doing that caused him to get a headache.

“You alright back there?” Risotto said. “I just ordered.”

“Starving, huh?” Melone commented. “Yeah, sometimes I pass out when I’m not driving. That’s why I prefer getting on my motorcycle.”

“Did I pass out?” Doppio asked.

“Well, your eyes were open,” Ghiaccio answered. “Wait, were your eyes always brown? I could’ve sworn they were green.”

“They were always brown. I remember details about people, hehe,” Melone said.

“Quiet,” Risotto said. “We’re about to approach the target. Doppio, make sure you get a good look at him. Also, don’t eat in the car once Melone hands everyone their food.”

“Wait, why couldn’t you show me a picture of him?” Doppio asked.

“I’m saving space on my camera,” Melone answered.

“We’re approaching,” the white-haired assassin said.

Their car was at the window, and Risotto picked up their order. In those few seconds, Doppio saw his assassination target. Amedeo was a brunette with short hair, gray eyes, and a face decorated with zits. He was likely in his early 20s. Why anyone wanted him dead, Doppio did not know, but he probably got somebody’s order wrong, pissing off the wrong person.

Melone handed everyone’s food except for Risotto since he was driving.

“Did I get a smoothie?” Doppio complained.

“You wanted the nuggets, right?” Risotto said. “I can go back and get you a smoothie.”

“Did I ask for nuggets?”

“Sorry, I made you change your order,” Ghiaccio apologized.

“Oh, you did?” Doppio questioned.

“I said I was sorry. No need to act stupid,” the blue-haired man replied.

“Hmm, I think you’re suffering from short-term memory loss,” Melone said.

“Did you sleep well? Did the sudden hit stress you out?” Risotto inquired.

“Now that you mention it, no. I didn’t sleep well,” Doppio answered. “Though, I am worried about getting caught murdering him.”

“That won’t happen,” he said.

Doppio believed him.

-

Risotto drove them to the hideout, and they went to the kitchen to eat.

“Shit, I forgot to ask for a soda,” Ghiaccio said. “Hey, Melone, could you hand me a cola?”

Doppio realized he needed something to drink. “You wouldn’t happen to have orange juice in there, do you? Ah!” His head hurt.

Melone got up from his seat. “Ghiaccio, I’ll hand you a soda, but Doppio, I think it’s best if you had water.”

“I—ugh, yeah. I’ll have some water.”

Doppio watched as the lilac-haired assassin brought them their drinks. When Melone looked at him, he looked happy then his expression changed to concerned.

“Do you have something going on with your eyes?” he asked.

“Huh, what do you mean?” Doppio replied.

Ghiaccio stopped munching on his burger. “Are you talking about—ouch!” Melone elbowed him. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Doppio wondered if he knew that he was an infiltrator. The longer he pondered, the more he wanted to kill him, erase him from existence. And Ghiaccio, he needed to kill him too. He knows! He knows! He knows! Doppio had another migraine, and he covered his face with his palms.

“Hey, Doppio, do you want this frog keychain?” Pesci asked. “I’ll be like Pickles is always with you.”

“Oh yeah, we get a toy if we buy the Happy Meal,” Ghiaccio said. “Nice, I got a cat keychain.”

Doppio uncovered his face.

“Pesci, I don’t think Doppio is in the mood,” Risotto said.

No, he wasn’t in the mood. He felt light-headed.

-

Day 6

Doppio awoke in the gathering room, lying on the couch. Physically, he was fine. He tried to remember. He was eating chicken nuggets and then nothing. Oh gosh, did something happen? His phone rang, and he reached for the coaster on the coffee table.

“Now’s not a good time,” Doppio whispered.

“I thought I told you to stay away from Risotto,” the boss spoke.

“I can’t!”

“Hmm, looks like I have to kill him.”

Doppio’s head hurt again. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

The boss hung up, causing Doppio to throw the coaster across the room.

Risotto entered the room. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you sleep well yesterday?”

“Not really.” Doppio doubted if it was sleeping poorly yesterday. It was something else.

“Your target is on his day off. Now’s the perfect time to assassinate him. But first, you should have something to eat. Do you want me to get you something?”

“I want something sweet.”

“We have cookies.”

“Sure, I’ll have three with some milk, please.”

Risotto left and returned but brought six cookies and some milk. He sat down with Doppio.

“Why’d you bring six?” Doppio asked.

“I wanted some,” he answered, bringing out two straws from his pocket. “You don’t mind sharing that drink, do you?”

The pink-haired man smiled and blushed. “I don’t mind. I didn’t know you liked cookies.”

“It’s rare for me to enjoy sweets,” he explained. “I’ve been busy and shouldn’t be spending my money on small things.”

“I should have a word with—uh, you should tell the boss to give you guys a raise.”

“I have. He doesn’t trust us.”

“I trust you.” Doppio got closer to Risotto. “Can we?”

Risotto smiled and kissed him, causing the other’s face to turn red.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he commented, causing Doppio to giggle. “We should finish our drink. When Illuso found out Sorbet and Gelato were a couple, he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

They finished their cookies and the milk before the others got there. Melone arrived at the hideout before Prosciutto.

“You’re here early,” Risotto commented.

“I think we should kill Amedeo as soon as possible,” Melone said.

“Isn’t it too early to kill someone?” Doppio questioned.

“It’s never too early. Sometimes we stay up past midnight,” Melone answered.

The rest of La Squadra entered the gathering room.

“Morning, everyone!” Formaggio greeted. “Doppio, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

“We’re busy,” Melone interrupted.

“Did you get here before me?” Prosciutto asked, surprised by the fact.

“Quiet, everyone!” Risotto ordered. “Melone is right. We should kill Amedeo. There’s a chance he might be sleeping or maybe just waking up.”

“I’m coming with you,” Melone said. “Illuso, could you come with us? You know, just in case things get out of hand.”

“I don’t think our target is a stand user,” Illuso replied. “But I’ll go.”

Risotto got up from his seat and headed outside with Melone and Illuso. Doppio sighed and followed them into Risotto’s car. He sat in the back seat with Illuso, and Melone sat in the front. He expected the lilac-haired assassin to play music, but he didn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t the time. The drive was short and quiet, and they stopped in front of an old apartment complex.

“Your target is on the second floor, door number 24,” Melone explained. “Just in case, I should take a blood sample from you.”

“What for?” Doppio asked.

“No, Melone,” Risotto said. “I’ll watch over him. He’s going to need help breaking in the door. Illuso, you’re coming with us to clean.”

The three got out of the car and headed to where Amedeo resided.

“Can you see what will happen next?” the white-haired assassin asked.

Doppio used Epitaph. “It’s safe. He won’t notice.”

“Good. Illuso, stay here.”

Risotto knelt, picked the lock, and slowly opened the door, exposing the messy living room. Food and clothes littered the wooden floors. He entered first before Doppio, both careful in their steps. Once they made their way to Amedeo’s bedroom, Doppio used Epitaph again.

“He’s going to grab me,” he warned, stopping Risotto from opening the bedroom door.

“Is he awake?”

“He’s still in bed in the vision. I’m guessing I stepped on something.”

“Can you kill him quietly?”

“What happens in the vision is fated to happen. He’s going to grab my hair, but he’ll die.”

“If you’re ready, then go.”

Doppio went in and snuck up on Amedeo. The floor creaked, waking the brunette up.

“Who the hell are you?” he yelled, grabbing Doppio’s hair and undoing the braid.

Doppio’s stand pierced through Amedeo’s stomach, killing him instantly. Blood splattered on the sheets and walls. He and Risotto quickly left, leaving Illuso to clean up the scene.

“Well done,” Risotto commented. “Once Illuso is finished, maybe he can help braid your hair.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I was thinking about changing my hairstyle.” Doppio then got another headache but smiled it off and tried not to be whiny. “Hey, could I visit your house after we drop the others off at the hideout?”



“How about tomorrow? I have to contact the person who ordered the hit and discuss with Ghiaccio how the money will be split. I’ll be too exhausted by then.”

Guy at the Bar

“I want you out of the house,” Donatella said.

They stood in the kitchen. Doppio stood near the fridge, wanting to get water, and Donatella kept an eye on him. Trish, only a six-year-old, peeped out of the doorway. Doppio looked at her and noticed her eyes started to water.

“Are you guys fighting again?” she questioned.

Donatella glared at him. Look at what you did! She forced a smile and turned to her child. “No, baby, head back to bed.”

“But I want to try the candy daddy brought home!”

“Candy?” Donatella's eyes widened, no longer smiling. She looked at Doppio.

He was confused. “But I didn’t bring candy home!”

Trish brought out her dad’s suitcase and opened it, revealing a bunch of drugs in plastic bags. There were all types of them, but little Trish was interested in the fentanyl.

“This one looks pretty,” she commented.

“Oh my god, sweetie!” Donatella rushed to pick up her child. Trish dropped the suitcase, spilling the drugs on the floor. “Don’t touch that! Don’t ever touch that!”

Trish started crying. “Why?”

Doppio didn’t understand. How did those drugs get in his suitcase? “I don’t know how those got in there!”

“I don’t care about your excuses!” she yelled. “First, you get a job someone on the phone offered you. Next, you get a tattoo. Then when you get home, and I try to ask about your day, you’re quiet as if you’re not there!” She looked at the drugs. “Are you a drug dealer? That would explain the load of cash you bring home.”

Doppio tried to remember everything, but he couldn’t. “No! I swear, I’m not!”

“I don’t believe you. Get out, now!”

“Please, let me just figure out what’s going on!”

“I said now!” She pushed him to the living room and then to the door.

Trish’s crying got louder. “No, I don’t want dad to leave! Mama, don’t!”

“Please, let me stay for tonight!” Doppio pleaded.

“Get out! Now! Get out!” She hit him with her free arm.

Afraid, he opened the door. Donatella shoved him out with a painful kick, knocking him to the ground. The neighbors gathered around to witness the commotion, but none approached the fighting couple. Unsure of what to do, tears started to form in his eyes. When he thought Donatella had nothing to say or do, she opened the door and threw his wallet at him.

“Expect a divorce!” she yelled before slamming the door.

“Bitch!” he snapped.

There was no response except for Trish’s loud crying.

Doppio stood up and wandered the city, thinking why the suitcase the boss gave him had drugs inside. He searched his pockets for a cell phone and didn’t have one. Strange, it always felt like he carried one. Did he even know the boss’ number? Maybe the number was on his arm. He rolled up his sleeves, checked the tattoos, and sighed. He didn’t want a tattoo, so why was he inked?

Doppio sighed. He might as well drink his sorrows away and see how that feels. He’s never had a drop of alcohol, and drinking wouldn’t help him, but he had nothing to lose.

Nearby was a gay bar. Although Doppio married a woman, men did interest him. He doubted he’ll find the perfect match in one night, but it wouldn’t hurt to get to know others.

Inside, people crowded the bar. There were people, young and old. Everyone seemed happy and was talking to people except for one guy. He had a black t-shirt and blue jeans, and his hair was long and white. There was an empty seat next to him.

Doppio walked up to him, but he didn’t notice him yet. He wanted to speak but was too shy to say anything. “Uh, um,” he said.

The stranger must’ve heard him because he turned around. “Yeah?”

Doppio’s eyes focused on the floor. He had to be blushing hard right now. “I—um—”

“You can sit down with me,” the stranger said. “You seem like you’re a year younger than me. Is this your first time here?”

Curious about what the stranger looked like, he sat and faced him. His eyes were unique, enamoring Doppio. He had never seen anyone with black sclerae and red irises, and his lips were black.

“Y-yeah.”

“Did you recently turn 18?” the stranger asked.

“I’m not 18,” he answered. “I’m 24.”

“Oh,” the stranger said, sounding surprised despite looking stoic. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Risotto Nero, and you are?”

“Vinegar Doppio. Just call me Doppio.”

“Alright, Doppio, since you’re 24, and this is your first time here, what are you doing here? To get a drink, right? Or are you looking for something more?”

“Well, I got into a fight with someone, so I came to drink here.”

“Oh, what was the fight about?”

“Well, it’s complicated. Let me think.” He tried to remember how those drugs got into his suitcase. “Ugh, my head!” He placed a palm to his head.

“Hey, bartender, a glass of water for my friend here?” Risotto shouted. The bartender placed a glass of water near Doppio. “Drink up.”

He took a sip. “Thanks.”

Risotto smiled. “No problem. Maybe you should stay away from alcohol if you have a headache.”

“You’re right.” Doppio gulped his water. “Just wondering, does alcohol make you…seem as if you’re not there?”

“Zoning out? I don’t know. I don’t drink alcohol that much. I only drink it occasionally, but I never get wasted. Anyways, I’ve been here for a while. I need to go. Hopefully, we’ll meet again.”

Risotto got out of his seat and quickly walked out of the bar. Before Doppio could chase after him, he had another headache.

-

Doppio awoke in a fancy hotel room. Before he could question how he got here, his phone started ringing.

“Turururu!”

He picked up a box of tissues.

“Boss, is that you? We need to talk,” he said.

“I’m aware that you’re currently homeless,” his boss replied. “But I’ve already taken care of that. You’ll be sleeping in the best hotel rooms money can buy. Take care, my adorable Doppio.”

The boss hung up, and he received a headache.

“I should find that bar again,” he said before leaving the room.

It was dark out, and the streets were wet, but Doppio found the bar. Risotto sat at the bar in a different spot. He noticed him, smiled, and waved. Next to him was a couple making out. One was blond, and the other had black hair. Risotto tapped the shoulder of the black-haired guy, and they moved, giving Doppio a seat. Once he sat down, they looked at him.

“Who’s your friend?” the blond asked Risotto.

“This is Vinegar Doppio. He prefers it if you call him Doppio. Doppio, this is Sorbet and Gelato. The one sitting next to you is Sorbet.”

“Ah, hello!” Doppio said shyly.

“Oh, he’s cute,” Gelato commented. “I can see why you like him.”

“You’ve been talking about me?”

“Yeah,” the Risotto answered, “you’re interesting. By the way, I’ve been searching for you for three days. Where have you been?”

Three days? Doppio thought. “I’ve been working.”

“What’s your job?” Gelato asked.

“Uh, waste management consultant,” he lied.

“Really?” Sorbet questioned.

“You don’t look like the type,” Gelato commented.

“Come on, you guys,” Risotto said. “Don’t judge people by their appearance. I don’t know much about your job, Doppio, but I’m a tattoo artist. No, I didn’t want to be one, but people said I look unprofessional for a ‘respectable’ job.”

“I’ve been telling you to cut your hair shorter,” Sorbet responded. “And don’t use black lipstick.”

“Doppio, do you have any tattoos?” Risotto asked, ignoring Sorbet. The black-haired man frowned slightly.

“I do, but I don’t remember when I got it.” Doppio rolled up his sleeves.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting tattoos,” Sorbet commented.

“That reminds me. Risotto, can you tattoo Sorbet’s name on my chest?” Gelato asked.

“Sure, but you got to pay. I don’t tattoo for free,” he answered.

“Damn it, Sorbet?”

The black-haired man sighed. “Fine. I might as well get a tattoo myself. Anyways, we should go. It’s getting late.”

Sorbet and Gelato left.

“Forgive Gelato. He gossips a lot,” Risotto said. “I noticed you looked surprised when I told you I’ve been looking for you. Did anything happen?”

“No,” Doppio lied. “What about you? What did you do that night?”

Risotto was oddly quiet. “Wondering what I should do with my life.”

“Yeah, I wonder that too.”

“Do you have your life planned out?”

“I never did.”

“Truly? Did you ever want to be something when you were little? I wanted to be a soccer player.”

“What stopped you?”

“My cousin died.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“Well, what about you?”

“When I met my ex-wife—we aren’t divorced yet—I wanted to be a sailor. That changed when—when something happened.” Doppio tried to concentrate on the memory, but then he felt light-headed and fainted.

-

Doppio awoke in somebody’s bedroom. It was dark, but he could still see. Dark clothing lay on the floor, band posters were all over the wall, and the room smelled of cigarettes.

“Hello?” Doppio nervously uttered.

Nobody answered.

Curious about where he was, Doppio got out of bed and started wandering. He was in an apartment with two bathrooms, the bedroom he was just in, another bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room. The other bedroom was beyond a mess and smelled funny, and somebody left dirty dishes on the filthy kitchen counter, but at least there weren’t any roaches yet.

He could leave, but he felt like he shouldn’t. Waiting, Doppio sat on the blanket-covered couch and watched TV. Nothing entertaining was on. However, a VHS and some movies were below the TV, but he shouldn’t touch them, afraid to upset the owners if they returned. He tried to relax, but someone unlocked the door, causing him to jump a little.

Risotto opened the door and looked at him. “Doppio, you’re awake! What happened last night? Oh, and I just came back from work. How long have you been up?” He sat down on the couch with him. “Also, sorry about the mess. I live with my roommate, Formaggio. He’s very messy.”

“I think I’m suffering from memory loss. Every time I try to remember, I get a headache. Did I do anything?”

“No, you just passed out. Does this happen frequently?”

“That passing out part? No, I don’t think so. The memory loss? Yes.”

“Does your ex-wife know about your memory loss?”

“No, and I don’t want to explain it to her. She won’t listen to me anyways.”

“Why not?”

Doppio sighed. “You won’t be mad if I told you a lie, right?”

“I won’t be mad, but I’m guessing you lied about your job. Yeah, I figured that.”

“This is going to sound strange, but I don’t know what my job is. My boss calls me to the docks, something happens, and then I don’t know. The day I met you at the bar was when my daughter found drugs in my suitcase. I swear! I don’t know how that got there, but my wife kicked me out!”

“Wait, wait. How old are you again?”

“24. You’re not concerned about the drugs?”

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to have a kid. And no, not really, but your boss sounds shady.”

“It’s strange. I don’t remember having sex with my wife, and I don’t know who my boss is. Should he ever call, I will tell him I quit.”

“Hold on. About your ex-wife, if this woman did anything to you—”

“No, no! Don’t! I’m done with her, anyways.” Doppio placed his head on Risotto’s shoulder. “I feel like it’s better this way.”

Risotto noticed his hands were closer to Doppio’s. He held his hand.

“Have you ever been with anyone?” Doppio asked.

“No, not really. I’ve kissed a couple of guys, but the kisses never meant anything. Do you remember the first time you kissed your wife?”

“I don’t remember the first kiss, but I remember kissing her.” And I don’t feel anything from her.

Risotto leaned in, going in for a kiss. Doppio closed his eyes and let him kiss him. It was a short but sweet kiss.

“Can I have another?” he asked.

Risotto smiled and obliged. The kiss was longer, and they held each other tightly.

Doppio withdrew. His heart raced, and he felt warm. He never had this feeling when he was with Donatella. “This feeling…I’ve never felt this before.”

Risotto grabbed the blanket and wrapped themselves around it. “And how does it feel?”

He snuggled against him. “This feels great. I feel whole. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Risotto kissed his forehead and then his lips again. “Hey, do you want to watch a movie? I bet you were bored waiting for me. A foreigner told me to watch Never Cry Wolf. I thought it would be a boring documentary, but I liked it.

“Yeah! Anything to spend more time with you.”

Risotto got up from the couch and inserted the VHS tape. He sat down again, cuddling with his new boyfriend. “Hmm, that reminds me. I forgot to ask what your favorite animal was.”

“I like frogs.”

“And I like snakes.”

The movie came on.

Catching Up

Risotto sat at the gym bench, drinking water after a long day of hard work. A drug dealer in town has been selling drugs, and druggies have been violent, causing people to sign up for a self-defense class.

One student caught his attention. Her name was Trish Una, and strangely, she reminded him of a dropout he knew from when he was in college. Wanting to learn more about her, Risotto approached her after training one day.

“It’s for my dad,” Trish answered.

“Shouldn’t your dad come here then?” Risotto asked her.

She sighed. “I tried telling him about this place, but he always tells me he’s too busy.”

“What’s his job?”

“I don’t know. It must be a physically exhausting job because when I see him on the streets, he’s covered in bruises and cuts. I asked my mom why he doesn’t live with us and other questions, but she doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“Your dad doesn’t live with you?”

“No, they aren’t married. I don’t know what goes on in my parents’ minds. Anyways, I should go. Thanks for the talk.”

Risotto tried thinking about what Trish’s dad’s job was. Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous. Perhaps he was a cop or served in the military, but Trish’s mom would’ve treated him with respect and gotten married.

A scream broke his thoughts. Wanting to help, Risotto looked out the window and spotted the dropout from college, Vinegar Doppio. What was he doing here? Someone shoved him into the puddle from yesterday’s rain. Another guy was there, too, with a bottle in his hand and a pocketknife in the other.

Risotto rushed out.

“Get away from him!” he yelled.

The two men were scrawny, just like Doppio but looked worse. They were pale and deathlike. Druggies.

“This guy isn’t worth our time,” one of them said.

They escaped, leaving the two alone. Risotto gave Doppio a hand. The pink-haired man blushed as he grabbed his hand.

“Wow,” Doppio commented, admiring Risotto’s muscles, “you’re strong!”

“Do you not recognize me?” he asked.

Doppio examined his facial features and tried to remember. His eyes widened. “Oh, no way! You’re Risotto Nero. I remember when you used to have long hair and wore black makeup every day! You were less muscular too.”

“Strangely, you’re exactly the same as I remember.” Then he looked at the various marks on him. He thought of how Trish described her dad, but it couldn’t be him. Risotto never got Doppio’s age, but he must be around his age. “You look like you’ve been to war.”

“My boss is sending me to dangerous locations,” he said with a frown. “I have to meet with all kinds of shady people. Anyways, I should head home. My pants are wet.”

“Let me escort you home. Those guys might show up.”

“Thanks.”

Escorting him, Risotto tried to get closer to him and ask how life has been treating him after all these years.

“So,” Risotto started, “what did you do after dropping out?”

“After finding out I had a daughter, I had to get money somewhere.”

“You have a daughter? How old? Three?”

“You’re way off.” Doppio giggled. “She’s 15.”

“Wait, what?” So, this was Trish’s dad.

“I was surprised too. Apparently, I slept with someone named Donatella Una and knocked her up. I don’t remember how or when, but five years after Trish was born, she suddenly contacted me and asked for child support. That’s why I dropped out. I had to make money somehow.”

“How old are you?”

“Why does it shock people so much? I’m 33. You?”

“28.”

The two were approaching the apartment complex, the one where Risotto resides.

“That’s odd,” Risotto commented. “Did you know we live near each other?” His neighbor next door is a buffed, pink-haired man with green dots in his hair and tattoos on his arms. He was tall too. As for his face, Risotto couldn’t describe it because he’d come late at dark and always covered his face. “What’s your apartment number?”

“403,” Doppio answered.

“That’s strange,” he replied. “We’re neighbors. The guy living next to me has been living there for a couple of years. If you live with him, how come we never met? Who is that guy? Is he your brother?”

“What? We’ve been living next to each other? I—oh, my head hurts.” Doppio put a hand near his forehead.

“Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Doppio almost fainted, but he grabbed onto Risotto.

“No, no,” the smaller one said. “I just need to change clothes and lie down.”

They went upstairs. Doppio searched through his pockets and found his keys.

“Thank you for everything,” he said as he unlocked his door.

“Wait, do you want to hang out?” Risotto asked, wanting to get to know him after all these years.

“Sure, let me change first.”

Risotto stepped inside his home and sat on the expensive-looking couch. Everything seemed neat and in order, and most of his furniture was pink. He thought it was cute, just like Doppio.

Doppio came back with some new clothes. He wore a white t-shirt, exposing his tattoos that were the same as the buff stranger's, and some pink shorts.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” he asked.

“Are you sure you don’t have a long-lost brother?” Risotto ignored his question.

Doppio giggled. “You’re so silly! I have way too much going on in my life. That’s the last thing I need.” He sat down next to him. “Why do you ask?”

Risotto described the stranger that has been entering Doppio’s apartment.

“What?” His face looked serious. “Why? If I had a brother, why would—” He got frustrated and began searching the apartment for anything stolen. “Everything seems in place. That doesn’t make sense. Why would a stranger try and come here? I barely have anything. It has to be a stalker. Risotto, you’ll protect me, right?”

“Of course, just calm down and relax. If he swings by, I’ll handle him.”

Doppio plopped himself back on the couch. “God, my life feels out of control. I wish I had spoken to you back then. You seem nice.”

“Yeah. You seem like you could use a friend.”

Doppio lay down on the couch, head on Risotto’s lap. “...are you single?”

Risotto looked at his flushed face. “I am.”

Doppio sat up and hugged him tightly. Risotto heard him sniffle. Was he crying? He hugged him back in response.

“C-can we be together? Like a couple?” Doppio asked.

“Yeah.”

“When we were younger, I was too scared to approach you. The other students say a lot of things about you, but I always thought you were attractive.”

“It’s alright. We’re together, finally. I also wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hang out with me.”

Doppio withdrew from the hug, looking at Risotto with his teary eyes. Their faces got closer, and they closed their eyes, lips locking together. The taller one held onto him tightly. He could hear the smaller one’s heart pounding.

“Take me to the bedroom,” Doppio demanded, legs wrapped around his body.

Risotto got up and walked to his room. Once there, he lay the smaller one on the bed.

“Take off your shirt! It’s sweaty. Have you been working out all day?”

Risotto did as Doppio demanded. He threw it somewhere on the ground. As Doppio brought out some condoms and lube from the nightstand, Risotto noticed the black lipstick on his nightstand. “What’s that?”

Doppio looked at the lipstick. “Oh, I don’t remember when I got this. It kind of reminds me of you.”

Risotto grabbed the lipstick and noticed Doppio must have used it a lot. “You used it often?”

“Hmm? No, I don’t.”

He wasn’t sure why he was lying, but that didn’t matter. He applied the lipstick and helped Doppio take off his shirt. Risotto was on top of him and began kissing him. Then he left trails of kisses on his neck and then his nipples, kissing and gently biting each of them.

“Riz,” he moaned.

Risotto went lower, reaching his shorts. He was about to pull them off.

“Stop!” Doppio placed a hand on his head.

Risotto stopped. “Is everything alright?” He noticed the other’s eyes turned green for a few seconds and then back to brown. No, that was probably his eyes playing tricks on him.

“My head is hurting again. Damn it! Why?”

“I’ll get you some water.” Risotto got off the bed, hurried to the kitchen, got a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and returned, placing the bottle on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Doppio said. “So, are you going to stay here?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you here.” He patted the empty spot on the bed. “Sleep with me.”

Risotto slightly chuckled. “You’re so bossy.”

“Ah! Sorry, headache. I love you.”

He lay down next to him, getting into the covers and cuddling him. “I love you too.”

Neon Blue and Purple - Chapter 2: Dan Adcock

The boss flew near the nuclear reactor with his Specter. Landing on the helipad sounded like a bad idea, but he had no choice. He landed on the helipad, brought out his pistols, and headed inside, taking the elevator. While it went down, he wondered how the woman managed to take over the reactor. Lucas and his buddies were on guard unless she defeated them.

The boss arrived at the room where the other Saints chilled and relaxed. Strangely enough, when he entered, the Saints were there, unbothered. Lucas was there, too, looking at his laptop. The boss couldn’t catch a glimpse of his screen.

“Boss.” He waved and smiled at him, quickly closing his laptop.

“Hello, Lucas,” he replied. “I thought something was here. Oh, where did the strippers go?”

“Uh, they went out for pizza.”

“Strippers eat pizza?”

“I mean, yeah. Who doesn’t? Oh, and there’s some money in your bedroom.”

“Oh, alright. That’s strange. I called someone, and a lady picked up, telling me she took the reactors.”

“Maybe she’s planning to attack. Don’t worry, boss. We got this.”

“Right. I’ll head to the bedroom.”

The boss went upstairs and went to the bedroom. Somebody tied Matt Miller in his bed with duct tape covering his mouth. His eyeliner was runny.

“What the shit?” the boss commented, untying Matt and removing the tape.

“It was Kirsten!” he explained. “She’s the new boss now. She overthrew me.”

“And why didn’t she flat-out kill you?”

-

A few hours earlier.

“Then find the Saints’ boss,” Matt Miller ordered.

“No,” defied Kirsten. “I think I’ll handle this.”

“And how will you do this?”

“Simple. With you out of the picture!”

Kirsten got out of her seat, grabbed Matt’s jacket—pulling him out of his seat— and placed his hands behind his back.

“Lucas, Pr0tip, into the basement, now!” she yelled.

The two of them came down.

“What the hell?” Pr0tip commented, looking at Matt. “Kirsten, what do you think he’s doing?”

“Overthrowing him. The Saints are our enemy, and he wants to screw their boss!”

“I already knew that,” he replied.

Kirsten sighed. “I’m going to kill this traitor.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Pr0tip responded. “That’s a little extreme.”

“We’re a gang here!” she replied. “We have to be ruthless.”

“How about we use him to draw out the Saints’ boss?” Lucas added. “That way, we don’t have to kill Matt.”

“Brilliant idea, but what then? Where will we draw him?”

“The nuclear reactor. I have some guys willing to betray the Saints.”

“Excellent, and he wouldn’t know he’s walking into a trap.”

“Hey, Lucas,” Pr0tip said, “do you think you can get that STAG prototype he stole? It looks cool. I want it.”

“You’re talking about the Specter,” Lucas replied. “I’ve seen him flying around town with it.”

“Alright,” Kirsten said, “once Lucas steals the Specter, I’ll make sure he won’t call for backup.”

-

“So that’s what happened?” The boss wanted to confirm.

“Yeah,” Matt answered. “So far, their plan worked well. Hurry, let’s get to your Specter!”

He tried to run to the door, but the boss planted his arm on his shoulder.

“Wait, the gang downstairs wants to kill us. If you get in my way, you’ll get killed. Stay here.”

“Shit, I forgot. Let me know when you’ve taken care of them.”

“Alright, and Matt.”

“Hmm?”

The boss grabbed Matt’s jacket, mashing their lips together. He forced his tongue inside his mouth. Matt panicked for a second but realized he should savor this moment. The boss withdrew from the kiss, making a string of saliva, and took off his trenchcoat, kissing and shoving him to the bed. The boss bit his neck, enough to draw blood and cause Matt to elicit a moan. Horny and full of lust, he tried to take off Matt’s jacket, but Matt stopped him.

“As much as I would love to keep this going,” said Matt, “my gang outside wants to kill you.”

“Fuck. Stay in here. It’ll be over in a jiffy.”

Matt stayed in the room. He jumped when he heard gunshots go off. When it stopped, he worried and hid behind the bed.

The door opened.

“Alright, Matt,” the boss said, “you can come out of hiding now. Everything’s taken care of.”

They walked out of the room, and Matt saw the carnage. Bodies with bullet holes and puddles of blood littered the crib. He looked away in disgust.

“You truly are impossible to kill,” Matt commented. “No wonder why our plans always fail. Well, at least Lucas and Kirsten are taken care of.”

“Hmm,” the boss said, looking at the bodies. “I don’t think I killed Lucas. As for Kirsten, I don’t know what she looks like.”

“What?” Matt glared at him. “You didn’t take care of Lucas? He probably has your Specter by now! And Kirsten looks like the other specialist you’ve seen!”

“Oh shit, my Specter.”

The boss grabbed Matt by the hand and rushed to the elevator. He tried to call it, but it felt like it was taking forever.

“I think they disabled the elevators,” Matt said.

“Fuck, we’re taking the stairs!”

Matt looked out the window, looking at Lucas and Kirsten on the Specter. Lucas was driving, and Kirsten was the passenger.

“Hey, you might want to take a look outside.”

They stepped away from the elevator and got closer to the window.

A wicked grin was on Kirsten’s face. “Hey, Matt! Hey, Winston! We knew they couldn’t handle you, so we planted a bomb. By the time you reach a few floors down, the bomb will go off! I suggest you spend your last moments making love. Goodbye!”

They flew off.

“Shit!” panicked Matt. “What do we do?”

“We get out,” the boss answered calmly. “You have a parachute, right?”

“Oh boy…”

-

Lucas landed the Specter in the back of Pr0tip’s backyard.

“Oh, that was wild!” Kirsten commented as she got off the flying bike. She then rang the doorbell. “Pr0tip! Get over here! See if you know any military guys or anyone who used to work at STAG!”

Pr0tip rushed out of the house. “What? Why me?”

“You play those Call of Duty games. You must know at least someone who knows how to make copies of this.”

Pr0tip looked at the bike. “Make copies? Dude, this is going to cost so much money.”

“Well, get to hacking, everyone! Let me see if I can reunite the gang.”

Kirsten texted any former Deckers gang members. There was just enough of them to retake old territory. She went back into Pr0tip’s basement and began hacking, making sure to get enough money to buy off the stores the Saints owned. After getting enough money, Kirsten skated around town, buying the stores. She was surprised by how easy it was. They should’ve done this sooner.

-

The boss jumped off the building with a screaming Matt in his arms and activated his parachute as the bomb went off. Once they both safely landed, the boss tried to call for any vehicle, but nobody picked up. The boss sighed and grabbed Matt’s hand, taking him to a parked Emu nearby. There weren’t any other cars except for that one.

“Where are you taking me?” Matt asked.

“To the headquarters,” he answered.

“You sure it’ll be safe?”

“Don’t worry. The gang is off, killing Killbane.”

“That’s a relief.”

As they drove away from the nuclear reactor, the boss noticed gang members of the Deckers walking the streets. One of them noticed them and started shooting.

“Well, shit,” the boss drove off.

“Fuck!” Matt cried out. He got shot in the shoulder. “I’m going to die.”

“It’s just a bullet to the shoulder! You’ll live!”

Bullets continued to pierce through the Emu.

“Ugh! The pain. I can’t stand it. Winston, drive faster.”

“Alright, but my name isn’t Winston.”

“No shit, I already knew that.”

“It’s, um, Dan.”

“Dan?”

“Dan Alec Adcock.”

Matt giggled a little.

“Shut up,” Dan responded. “I should’ve just not told you my last name.”

Unpacking, Overwatch 2, and Elden Ring Stream 11/8/22

 

 

Neon Blue and Purple

The computer lights illuminated Matt Miller’s greasy face. Darkness surrounded his room, and the Deckers’ leader scrolled through the internet. Ever since the Saints took over his territory and their leader nearly killed Matt, causing him to leave Steelport for a while, their numbers had decreased. Luckily, he still had Pr0tip, Kirsten, Lucas, and Micheal.

“Killbane is back,” Kirsten warned, still looking at her computer. “His airplane just landed.”

“Fuck,” Matt commented. Killbane had been blowing his phone up, asking the leader to hack into the Saints’ bank account. He had ignored it, but the last message threatened to kill him. “Lucas, do you think the Saints know of this?”

“Yeah,” Lucas, the one sitting on the floor with a laptop on his lap, answered, “but I think Kinzie knew about it before Killbane landed. And speaking about Kinzie, I think she knows I’m a traitor.”

Matt closed the Nyte Blayde fanfiction he was reading and sighed. “Damn it, Lucas! You had one job! Do they know about our hideout?”

“No,” Kirsten answered for him. “None of the other members have gone near the house.” The house they were in was Pr0tip’s. “But if they found out Lucas was a mole—”

“Boom! Headshot, motherfucker!” They heard Pr0tip yell upstairs. He was playing Call of Duty again. “What’s wrong, you little baby? Are you going to fucking report me for cheating? Little bitch! I hope you fucking do. I’ll hack into your bank account.”

Matt sighed. “I hate gamers. Anyway, let’s see what’s going on. I’m hacking into the traffic cameras. Let’s see, let’s see.”

Killbane probably hasn’t left the airport yet, but before Matt could confirm that, Kinzie hacked into his computer.

“Matty,” Kinzie taunted. “This isn’t your fight. Why are you so concerned? Do you think if you helped, the boss would give your nuclear reactor back? Matty, Matty, Matty, you should know better. Go make a video game or whatever you kids do.”

“What the flying fuck? I got hacked?” Pr0tip yelled. “God, only a fucking noob would hack. Cheating piece of shit!”

“It’s what he deserves,” Kirsten said. She then faced her leader. “Matt, what are we going to do?”

“I-I’m going to call him,” Matt answered.

“Him? Wait, are you talking about the Saints’ leader? The one who calls himself Winston Churchill in official documents? What for?”

Matt Miller knew his name was fake, but he didn’t have time to search for his real one. He dialed his number and waited, but he didn’t pick up.

“Wow, very smart, Matt,” Kirsten commented. “Like he would help us. Look where we are! We’re in Pr0tip’s basement! Why did we come back to Steelport?”

In a different world, Matt probably would’ve never come back to Steelport, but the Saints’ boss made him come back. There was something about the boss that allured Matt.

“I-I don’t know,” Matt replied. Tears raced down his cheeks, leaving a black trail due to the eyeliner he wore. “I don’t know what to do. H-he didn’t pick up the phone.”

She got closer to him, patting him on the head. “There, there. We’ll think of something. But Matt, there were plenty of chances to kill the leader. Why didn’t you do it? There have been rumors.”

Matt had a crush on him. One of the members caught him staring at a photo of him for too long. That anime hairstyle, those red contacts, the gothic outfit, and him being British were everything Matt admired about him.

“Matt,” she spoke, trying to grab his attention. He seemed lost in thought. “Matt, what are we going to do about Killbane?”

He heard her and wiped his runny makeup with his leather jacket. He turned his swirly chair to face Lucas. “Lucas, I need you to leave. If Kinzie finds out you’re the mole, we can’t risk you knowing any plans.”

Lucas pouted, closed his laptop, got up, and left.

“Right. Where were we?” Matt said, turning to face Kirsten. “How are we going to get rid of him?”

“I was hoping you would have an idea,” she said. “We could steal a helicopter from the Saints. We’ll take one, fly out—”

“We can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

Matt tried to think of something. “They own all of Steelport.”

Kirsten raised an eyebrow. She was suspicious of him. “We can hack their systems.”

“They have Kinzie.”

She scowled. “Then we kill her!”

“What about their boss?”

“Then we kill him!”

“How?”

She rolled her eyes. “Guns, explosives, anything!”

“No!”

She sighed. She ignored the rumors, claiming that they were false when others asked her to ask if they were true. Now she felt like a fool and put on a wide grin. “Why not?”

Matt was silent. He couldn’t think of anything, but Kirsten just sat there, waiting with a sinister grin on her face. “They own all of Steelport.”

She laughed maniacally. After she calmed down, she had that grin again with that piercing stare. “Then what?”

“Then find the Saints’ boss.”

“No, I think I’ll handle this.”

-

Shaundi was in the penthouse, supposedly watching Nyte Blade with Josh. She was on her laptop after Kinzie told them about Killbane returning to Steelport.

“Hey,” Josh said. She had her headphones on. “Hey, hey, Shaundi. Can you hear me?”

She rolled her eyes while removing her headset and looked at him. “What, Josh? What do you want?”

“Kinzie sent you a text messaged. She said not to worry about Matt Miller.”

On Shaundi’s laptop, she had two windows open: the airport security footage and Killbane’s calls. She was listening to those earlier. “Wait, does Kinzie know about Matt Miller?”

“I don’t know.” Josh shrugged. “Probably. She knows everything.”

“What about the boss? Does he know about Matt?”

A phone on the table vibrated. It was the boss’ phone, and an unknown caller had called him.

“Well,” Josh said, “that answers that question. Should we answer it?”

“The boss won’t like that. Plus, it’s probably Matt.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I hacked into Killbane’s calls. He threatened to kill Matt.”

“That’s the nerdy hacker dude, right? I thought he was gone.”

“I thought so too. But why would he call the boss?”

Then they heard the elevator and heavy footsteps walking toward them. It was the boss, and he brought Kinzie.

“Alright, everyone, gather around,” he said, placing a bag full of weapons on the couch, separating Shaundi from Josh.

Zimos, Pierce, Viola, Oleg, Shaundi, Josh, and the other gang members stopped what they were doing and focused on him.

“Killbane is back. We’re going to give a nice warm welcome with our guns.”

“Shit, if only Angel were here,” Pierce commented.

“Fuck Angel,” the boss said. “He cared more about revenge than saving Burt, Shaundi, and Viola.”

“Don’t forget about Johnny’s funeral,” Shaundi reminded. “Let’s make him pay.”

“Shaundi,” the boss said, “you’re staying here.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Seriously? Are you worried I’m going to get kidnapped again? Is that it? Fuck you! I can handle myself!” She took a rifle from the bag.

“Shaundi!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t.”

“By the way, you got a phone call.”

Shaundi left.

“Boss, want me to go after her, check to see if she’ll be alright?” Pierce asked.

“Yeah. Take the whole gang with you if you want.”

The boss looked at his phone. He missed a couple of messages from someone. Once he answered it, he heard Matt’s pathetic cries and sniffles. He also could’ve sworn he heard Matt say I love you. The boss tried to call him back, but there was no response. He called again, but someone else picked up.

“Hello, Winston,” a woman spoke. “Matt’s currently unavailable. Don’t worry. He’s alive, but not for long, though. Meet me at the nuclear reactor.”

“How did you retake the reactor?” he asked.

“You haven’t completely wiped all of us out yet.”

She hung up.

He ran to the helipad and rode his Specter, one of the STAG prototypes he stole when he pretended to be Cyrus Temple.

Taking Photos in the Presidium

 

Eden Prime

 

Lonely Day - Chapter 12: Lonely Day

Giorno and Fugo were at the sight where the Hero of Kvatch closed the Great Gate, near the roads where the path split. The siege crawler remained, collecting snow that landed on the ground.

“Why did we stop here?” Fugo asked. “We should hurry before a guard spots me.”

“We might have to get rid of our horses,” Giorno explained.

“What? Why?”

“We have to go through a cave. I heard that the Hero of Kvatch found a cave that leads to Skyrim. Wait here. I’ll sell them and buy some food, climbing gear, and warm clothing.”

Fugo got off his horse, but before Giorno could take Raven, he gave her one last pat. The Breton went to Bruma with the horses. Watching Trish’s horse fade into the distance hurt him.

Giorno came back a few minutes later with the items. He wore blue gloves to match his robes and gave the red ones to Fugo.

“I bought some clothes that should keep us warm, but let us find the Serpent’s Trail first. If we head to Dragonclaw Rock and go west, we should expect to find the Sentinel. North of that is the cave.”

They went up the road, finding Dragonclaw Rock, going west then north. Before they went in, Giorno faced Fugo.

“I don’t know if the ogres are still there, but we should be careful,” the blond warned. “I heard the hero fought some of them.”

They got inside the cave. It was slightly warmer but still cold. Fugo changed his clothes to match Skyrim’s temperature, which they assumed was extremely cold. There were a bunch of layers of clothing he had to wear, but he liked the dark russet color of his long coat. He also had on fur boots.

The two went down the tunnels, finding frozen corpses the hero left behind. However, there were some rodents skittering around, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. After searching the tunnels, they found a door. Giornopushed the door open, but there was a blizzard outside.

“At least the door opened, but—”

“There’s a blizzard?” Fugo interrupted. “How long will it last?”

“I’m unsure. I have a couple of firewood in my bags.”

“Part of me wants to wait, but the battlemages are tracking us down. Is there somewhere we could wait and rest?”

“There’s a fort nearby. We just have to follow the road.”

They followed the road. Along the way, they saw frozen ogre corpses. Giorno assumed the hero slew them, and they couldn’t decompose because of the chill.

The blonds got to the fort, went inside, and stayed near the entrance. The blue fire kept them warm. There, they unpacked their things and decided to rest. The two were tired and decided to cuddle in their bed rolls.

“It feels lonely,” Fugo commented.

Giorno squeezed him tightly. He refrained from talking about Trish. Thinking about her also made him lonely. “At least we have each other.”

“I’m sorry for everything.”

-

It was morning, and Giorno and Fugo barely got enough sleep. Once they got out of the fort, the blizzard was still there.

“Damn it!” Fugo shouted. “We can’t wait here. The battlemages are probably getting closer.”

“I don’t know if we should start climbing the mountain,” Giorno said. “Do you have your pickaxe and lantern?”

“I do. Let’s not waste any time.”

Before they could scale the mountain, Giorno looked closely at the road, spotting someone in heavy armor. The snow made visibility difficult, but a battlemage lay on the road. He tried to guess the cause of death but couldn’t see.

“They already found us,” the Breton warned.

“What?” Fugo looked at the body. “Who did this?”

“Don’t know. We should hurry. More might come.”

They climbed the mountains. It took them hours, but they probably passed the border. Climbing down wasn’t easy either. Once they got down, the two made camp. The blizzard died down a little too, but it was still snowing. They were cold and huddled near the fire.

“I’m so tired,” Giorno said.

“Even that was too much for me,” Fugo added.

It got dark, and the couple rested. However, Fugo kept his eyes out. A stranger approached them, causing Fugo to shake Giorno awake.

“Who are you?” the Imperial demanded.

“Vanilla Ice,” he answered. He stepped closer to their fire, revealing his face. He looked different from what they remembered. Vanilla originally was a brunette, but his hair turned white, and his eyes were orange and glowed. The vampire looked at Fugo. “I was not expecting him.”

“I wasn’t expecting you either!” Fugo furrowed his brow and showed his teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“You didn’t kill me. I was still alive but gravely injured. Come, Giorno, we mustn’t keep Lord Dio waiting.”

“I’m not leaving without Fugo,” he said.

Vanilla sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine, he can come.”

“Where are we going?”

“Normally, I would reveal this to you, but I don’t trust your friend.”

“Hmph! Whatever. I’ll eventually find out where we’ll end up,” Fugo replied.

 

Overwatch 2 and Gotham Knights Stream 10/27/22

 

Overwatch 2 and Gotham Knights Stream 10/26/22