Chapter Text
“Make him beg for his health that lies in vain.”
All of the subordinates’ eyes are on their boss, trembling to picture whatever his next move is, while the target tries to revolt around the bodyguard’s grip, trying to keep calm whether his hands or hearts said otherwise.
Heart-stopping between life and death situation that is gonna fall for his life.
Gas mask which spreads fog of viruses around the user, accompanied by the thunderous hand which decides whether this poor target should be excruciated by his lightning or not.
Evidence, brought by his Consiglieri, now placed around other ziplocks consisting of original medicine, in front of his medicine pouch that lies on rosewood table. The brunette Consigliere, Fidelio, starts to recite whatever’s happened in the first place.
“You’re pain in the ass,” Fidelio rolls his eyes, “So you tell me that you hoards other medicine and then ‘pranks’ our Don’s medic pouch like it’s nothing!? The audacity…” while Bellomo only nods at Fidelio’s facepalm.
“Reports said that you even slips some of counterfeit stimpacks that is useless even within increased dosage, compared to original stimpacks, in total of 48 fake ones, ” Bellomo continued.
“C’mon, it’s not like the predecessor can even maximize the cure effect for his illness, so why bother about counterfeit that lies between your medic–”
Before the target even finishes his remark, a lightheaded migraine interrupts the poor target’s brain.
What is this fuckery’s sensation? And why is my head going to explode!? My vision… starts blurred…
“Where’s the toilet… My head is killing me, let’s get outta here,” the target tried to shake his head, trying to escape from Don Venezio’s interrogation, while his arms were still gripped by the subordinates. “Please… I need to go to the toilet…”
“Said the one who won’t bother the counterfeit’s placement,” A smile churned at the left corners of Don Venezio’s lips, “so why bother your headaches at first?”, while Bellomo still tried to control this target’s body movement, tagging along with the bodyguards.
“You…” His teeth gritted, while other symptoms rushed into his throat. Uncontrollable coughs start to worsen his condition.
“Okay… okay! I get it! Just please, take back my cough! Infuriati– URGH!”
Every time he tries to protest against Don Venezio’s interrogation, another uncomfortable sensation messes up his body. It’s like the illnesses tried to choke his vocal cord, making him unable to protest more, along with Near Death Experience’s hand movement, gesturing to other limbs.
BLEURGH
His gut tries to escape his mouth, the vomit’s gonna be scattered all over the place, while the Consiglieri are just watching this amusing performance with blank stares.
“Near Death Experience,” the Don glances at his Stand, and then the target’s neck, “Give him an uncomfortable end.”
And the final symptoms are the rashes that start spreading around the target’s neck, making him the last second before his now lifeless body starts to pass out, in the gardens of vomit.
Faint yellow stares behind the gas mask’s goggles haunt this lifeless body with disgust, along with a cold-inducing presence that lies around his Stand. Yellow, the first color that you see when you’re sick, lies in his eyes and scarf.
This, is Near Death Experience’s ability. To make its target starts to beg for quick, painless death instead.
“Traitors who messes up Venezio’s medicine production have no place in Piaga del Cuore.”
“Don, It’s time to observe the situations in Palermo,” his navigator, Lanzo, said behind the door. “I heard Capo Tarcisio from Don Rigatoni’s side already marked his territory for the firearm distribution,” he continued.
“Navigate to me like usual.”
“Pardon me, Don, but are you sure you’re not pressing turbos in your wheelchair just to mess me up?” the subordinate’s voice shaken, remembering last week’s incident.
“No, and why do you assume me like that?”
“It’s just… I truly can’t prepare for sudden speed…”
“All you gotta do is navigate me like usual.”
“Sorry, Don. I will do.”
Sigh
The man unmasks his gas mask, his face becomes paler, along with dark circles that blacken around his eyes from time to time. At least his worse conditions are now transferred into his target, like the rash around the target's neck.
“Bellomo, Fidelio,” the Don turned his back around the blonde and brunette Consigliere who was still holding the lifeless corpse, “You know what you gotta do.”
“Will do, Don. After I clean this mess,” the blonde Consigliere nodded. “Do you need me as a designated driver again, Augus-sama?” while the brunette Consigliere scratches his head, “since you will go along with that navigator… uuh yeah, what is his name…” he continued. “Oh yeah, Lanzo.”
“No need. You will go along with Bellomo instead.”
“With THAT one heck of a blasphemy smell of orange, hanging around Bello’s car!? Oh hell nah… who the hell loves that excruciating smell that counts as trial of murder!?”
“If all you gotta do is complain about my choice of freshener and force yourself as the designated driver in my car, then do not over limit your speed,” Bellomo rolls his eyes at Fidelio’s snark.
“Fiiiine,” Fidelio snarled, “Can’t even compete with unpredictable chaos in roadway if I can’t gassed out your car,” while Don Augus’s silhouette's now blending within his subordinates, “No wonder Augus-sama refuses to be ‘passenger princess’ in your car. You know, it’s bad when even the Don ‘refuses’!”
“Whether his choices between my car or his car is none of your concern,” Bellomo stares back. “Hurry up, we have approximately 3 minutes before Don-sama completely vanishes in our eyes.” That sentence made Fidelio zipped his bodybag around the corpse with panic. Another day, another inevitable fate unto enduring a chemical orange smell that spikes Fidelio’s nose, once again…
On the other side, Don Augus is trying to transfer his body onto the sofa beside the driver's seat, while his other subordinates fold his wheelchair. Lanzo then gives him and the others some signal as the car starts revving up.
Palermo… that name definitely rings a bell, but no matter how deep Augus digs in, he can’t even remember exact memories between past Palermo broughts him. All he needs is the only way to seal the deal between him and Don Rigatoni’s scheme again.
While Lanzo turns left, as opposed to the usual ‘turn right’ since the usual route had construction sites repairing the damaged streets, Augus stared at his left hand’s joints, the urge to massage his joints starts stronger. Near Death Experience, popping up behind his back, notices that.
“You okay, Master?”
“I’m fine.”
Near Death Experience then glances again to Lanzo, preparing if he can press his master’s heart when Lanzo starts drifting again. Meanwhile Augus zones out again, as a result of his arthritis flaring up and his right hand tries to massage his left hand’s joints in autopilot. The results of his medical appointment gets delayed again…
On the 5 meters behind navigator’s car, there’s Bellomo and Fidelio trying to match the other car’s speed.
“Wait… where is the direction that car’s going?” Bellomo’s eyes narrowed. Fidelio then notices the atmosphere around shifted on the enemies side as they tried to manifest their Stand.
“Is that Boss and Signore Lanzo!?” Fidelio’s eyes widening when he sees Near Death Experience’s aura surrounding that car, and then glancing to the opponent’s side of the car. “Crap! That car from the right side’s gotta be crushing Boss! Ouroboros! Slow down the opponent’s car movement!”
Bellomo, in response, calls Marionette. “Vestire! Serrano! Follow Don Augus quickly and tell Lanzo that he needs to drift!”
Lanzo, awares of Vestire and Serrano, warns Augus and NDE. “NDE! Press Don’s heart!” and start to brake drift, leaving them with unstable movement.
Over there, the opponent’s driver started to madly slamming his steering wheel, as Ouroboros slows down his car’s movement.
“Why this isn’t moving!?” as the driver aggressively steps his brakes, but nothing happens, not aware that his car is affected by Ouroboros’ magnetism and slowing time. His forehead even furrows when he looks back at Lanzo’s car that is turning into the left side of the street, “I’ve lost track of them!”
Fidelio on the other hand, realized that their range between Ouroboros is exceeding 10 meters, and hopes the red sign turns green so another car is able to crash the opponent’s car, while Ouroboros is leaving its place.
As they arrive at the location, the subordinates look around to make sure their boss isn't receiving any threats as soon as his footsteps are getting out of the car. Another subordinate picks up Don Augus’ wheelchair and unfolds it, while the other one lines up as a human shield.
“It’s safe, Boss.”
Augus left out a relief, and then glances at Lanzo who is still holding his car’s doorknob, “Let’s go, Lanzo.”
Just one step getting out of the car and the team is already surrounded by construction workers marking the land for another firearm factory expansion. One Capo from Don Augus’s side is fighting for bypass, while Lanzo is still looking around, hoping he found another accessible route, as he pushes Don Augus’s wheelchair.
“I’ve never seen this person before,” Augus catches some sight of a blue-haired person, “is he another Capo besides Tarcisio?”
“I believe so,” while Lanzo gazes at an orange-haired silhouette that is supposed to be Capo Tarcisio.
Meanwhile Near Death Experience on the back, notices Serrano’s absence. “Vestire, you know when Bellomo and Fidelio are coming?”
“Serrano said they’ll come in 10 minutes later, if there’s no obstacles,” Vestire looks at Serrano’s signal from his wrist monitor.
While Don Augus, Lanzo and other subordinates surveilling Capo Tarcisio and his Soldati’s movement, they heard another crunch of gravel behind them that didn't sound like a worker's boot—it was heavier, slower, like each step was being pressed down by the weight of intent. Not rushed. Not hesitant.
Enough to make Augus’s team turn their head back.
“It’s been a while, Augustino.”
—---------- To be continued ---------------