16 SETTEMBRE 2000, 02:51

MILANO, ITALIA

EN ROUTE TO VIA ALESSANDRO SCARLATTI

Domenico was fully aware that he had run a couple of red lights, but he didn't care. Shit was going down, and, based on what Leone had said over the phone, and from the way he'd sounded, it was bad. Really bad.

He hadn't even bothered with brushing his hair or changing into somewhat decent clothes; in fact, the neuroscientist had only put on socks and a pair of sneakers in addition to the pyjamas he was already wearing (a black T-Shirt that had Bender saying, "Bite my shiny metal ass" in English on it; and a pair of plaid flannel sweatpants with pockets), and grabbed emergency supplies and his car keys before rushing out the door. Domenico knew exactly what flunitrazepam was (thanks to his neuropsychopharmacology classes), and it was not something to be trifled with.

Leone's friend is going to have a hell of a rude awakening after the drug wears off.

How long had he been driving? Five minutes? Ten? It wasn't like he was keeping track, not when he had to keep an eye on the road.

The sedan's GPS beeped. "In 500 metres, turn right onto Via Alessandro Scarlatti."

Domenico exhaled. "Finally."

His sedan, a blue 1988 Fiat Uno (Type 146) that he dubbed "Painted Desert," was kind of old, but it could be fast when the situation called for it.

"Turn right onto Via Alessandro Scarlatti."

Domenico obeyed the GPS, turning onto the street. He drove slowly, turning on the high beams.

"Okay, Leone," the neuroscientist muttered. "Where the hell are you parked?"

Via Alessandro Scarlatti turned out to be a pretty long street, which didn't really help matters.

He could be anywhere, for crying out-

A grisly sight illuminated by the sedan's high beams caused him to slam the brakes.

Domenico's eyes widened in horror as he saw a whole bunch of severed body parts on the road in front of him, including what looked suspiciously like somebody's penis.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he screamed.

Screw traffic laws. I've already broken a few of those in the past several minutes. What difference is one more going to make?

Domenico put Painted Desert in park, in the middle of the street, turning on the flashers as he shut down the rest of the vehicle. He exited the car, holding his electric torch, keys, and emergency kit in his hands, making certain to turn the car alarm on before surveying the carnage. He pocketed the keys, turning on the torch.

All of the body parts laying around looked to have been cut clean through with inhuman precision. Some were bloody; others, not so much. Even somebody's head looked to have been cut clean in half, after it was decapitated. Domenico amended that statement to two somebodies after seeing a second cleaved head.

"Jesus," he breathed, horrified, performing the Sign of the Cross. He looked around. "Leone?"

No response. Domenico waved his electric torch around, finding a familiar black SUV several metres in front of him. Its front windshield was shattered, and a few severed body parts were strewn around on the hood of the van. He moved the beam further, finding a young man with long, white hair sitting against the driver's side of the vehicle, slumped forwards as he held a dark-haired woman in his arms.

Oh, fuck.

"Leone!" Domenico hollered, sprinting towards them. He came to a halt in front of the two, eyes wide.

At first glance, it might seem as though they were sleeping peacefully. But Domenico noticed that the woman was sporting a few bruises, and blood covered the area of the vehicle where Leone was leaning against. The neurobiologist checked Leone's pulse, relaxing afterwards.

"He's alive." He checked the woman's pulse as well, exhaling. "They both are. But, man." Domenico gulped. "I don't even want to know what happened at this point." He summoned Cerebral Man, who whistled at the carnage. "Somebody must've had an appetite for destruction."

"No kidding," Domenico retorted. Just my luck that I have a Stand who is as much of a smart-ass as my favourite Futurama character. "Do you know what happened to Leone?"

Cerebral Man walked next to Leone, gently leaning him forwards. "He got shot from behind," the Stand responded. "I'm seeing three bullet holes. But there don't look to be any exit wounds."

"Lucky bastard," Domenico said darkly. "Work your magic."

"All right," Cerebral Man said. "But, I'm just warning you in advance, he's gonna be in a lot of pain if he wakes up in the middle of this."

"Would you rather he bled out?" Domenico snapped.

Cerebral Man put his arms up in a defensive gesture. "All right, all right, I'm on it." He put a hand on Leone's back. "Here we go."

Domenico nodded, watching his Stand warily as he worked to remove the first of the bullets.

Leone's eyes shot wide open. His breath hitched.

Oh, hell. "Leone, hey, it's me," Domenico reassured him. "Andrà tutto bene. Really."

Leone grimaced. "No...not me."

Domenico sighed. So this is how it's gonna be, huh? He was about to respond, but Cerebral Man had already decided to take on that job for him. "In case you haven't noticed, idiot, you got shot," the Stand retorted. "So, please, shut the fuck up and let me heal you."

Domenico frowned. "What he's trying to say is that you're the one who's in more immediate danger at the moment," he clarified.

Leone snorted. "No offence, but your Stand's bedside manner sucks ass."

"I'm aware," the neuroscientist said, annoyed.

"All right," Cerebral Man said. "Prepare for the pain!"

Domenico gave his Stand a fulminating look. "You know, you were much gentler with Fugo."

"Yeah, but Leone looks like he can take it."

Domenico groaned. "God help me."

Cerebral Man resumed his work on the first bullet. Leone hissed in pain, craning his neck back to glare at the Stand. "Me pare 'o frate de cazz', lota!"

Domenico couldn't understand a lot of Neapolitan, but he could tell that whatever it was Leone had said was clearly far from pleasant.

"Relax," Cerebral Man said. "The sooner we get these three out of you, the better."

"Ngh," Leone groaned, switching back to standard Italian. "Shut up and get on with it."

The process took about another couple of minutes, Leone cussing out Domenico's Stand in Neapolitan as the healing took place.

"All right, I'm done," Cerebral Man announced, shifting so that he was facing Leone. Three bloody bullets lay in his right palm. "Bullets are out, and the tissue regenerated. It's almost like those injuries never even happened."

Leone gave him a fulminating look, even as the Stand placed the bullets in a plastic bag and handed the bag to Domenico.

Domenico sighed, accepting it and using hand sanitiser afterwards before rummaging through the emergency kit for a sealed water bottle and some crackers. "You need to get your energy back if you have any hope of driving home later," the neuroscientist said, handing the goth the supplies he had been reaching for. "And, before you ask, no, it's not poisoned."

Leone accepted the meagre rations, digging into the crackers and water.

That's got Leone taken care of. Now it's time to check his friend over.

"How much trouble is she in?" Domenico asked.

Cerebral Man closed his eyes, gently touching the woman's forehead. The Stand opened them several seconds later, turning back to face them as he let go. "Well, she'll be out for several hours, but she'll be okay. She didn't consume a lot, so she'll be able to sleep it off, no problem."

Leone exhaled, relieved.

Domenico nodded. "Thanks, Cerebral Man. Go take a look around, see if we're truly in the clear. Let us know if anything changes."

"Believe me, I will," Domenico's Stand responded. He stood, walking to the edge of his seven-metre range to begin his watch.

Leone gave the neuroscientist a quizzical look. "I take it you know what that poison is, then."

"Oh, yes." Domenico gave him a hard look. "Are you familiar with roofies, Leone?"

Leone's eyes went wide. "That's what this shit is?!"

"Unfortunately. The notorious date rape drug itself." Domenico glanced at the person in Leone's arms before facing the goth again. "Girlfriend?"

Leone smiled mirthlessly. "We'll go with that."

Those two definitely seem to be living a more shadowy lifestyle than Helena and I are.

The herpetologist had contacted him a few days earlier, just to say hello, and, not to get into many details, had mentioned one word of import: "Passione."

Not that Domenico had a problem with it; he was on good terms with Viviana's older brother, Diego, who happened to be a member of that organisation.

"What's her name?" the neuroscientist asked, willing himself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Aida," the goth responded.

"Aida? As in the Verdi opera?" Domenico asked thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Leone confirmed.

"That's pretty cool."

"Definitely." The goth glanced up at him. "I see you're a man of culture as well."

"I'm more into opere buffe, such as Il Barbiere di Siviglia, but Verdi wrote some pretty good ones, even if he was a bit of a dick," the neuroscientist responded. "Moving on. I have a few questions," he said, changing the subject. "But first?" He gestured to the area of the street where the phallus-like object was. "Is that a penis? A severed penis?! I'm sorry; that's just really been bothering me for the past several minutes."

Leone turned to look in the direction where Domenico was talking about. "Yeah, that is," he said slowly, expression darkening.

Cazzo. Now, here comes the hard part. "If you don't mind, I need Cerebral Man to check her over for signs of sexual assault. Given what your girlfriend was exposed to, I don't want her waking up to any more nasty surprises than she has to."

"But, is everything okay?" Leone questioned.

"Theoretically, yes," Domenico admitted. "But there's good news, and then there's bad news."

"Hoo boy."

"Mm," Domenico agreed. "The good news is, she's not going to remember this. The bad news is, she's not going to remember this." He gave Leone a stern look. "You're going to be the one who has to tell her."

Leone grimaced. "That's not going to end well."

"It's better than not saying anything to her at all," Domenico said sternly.

Leone sighed. "Fair."

Domenico craned his neck over. "Hey, Cerebral Man! Can you come back over here for a sec?"

"Coming," the Stand responded, running over to them. "What's up?"

Domenico blinked. "Can you check for signs of sexual assault? She got roofied, so it's a very real possibility."

The Stand nodded. "I can do that." His lip curled. "That was a dirty move, what those stronzi pulled."

"Just get on with it," Leone snapped, impatient.

Cerebral Man's eyes narrowed, but he did as both Stand users asked.

"I'm not finding any physical signs of a sexual assault having taken place," Cerebral Man informed them several seconds later.

Leone frowned, gently moving Aida off of him. "I want to double check, just to be certain." He stood, opening the driver's side door, removing the corpse of a blonde woman who looked to be in her 30s. Domenico saw a bullet wound in her head. Leone placed her in front of the van before returning to the driver's side a moment later.

Domenico raised an eyebrow. "What did you mean by that? How the fuck are you going to double check, especially since my Stand already said he couldn't find anything?" he asked, bewildered. "It's not like you can just watch the event unfold before your eyes and see what it is that was actually going on."

Leone smirked. "Bitch, please." He looked around, likely to make sure they were absolutely alone, before focusing on the inside of the vehicle. "Moody Blues!"

A humanoid Stand appeared, responding with a retro-style dial tone. The Stand was masculine, around Leone's height, and was slim, blue-violet with white markings on the chest and hands, and had what looked to resemble white, 5-ish-cm go-go boots that ran the entire length of his legs. He was faceless, save for speaker-like eyes and a digital clock that ran across the forehead.

So this is Leone's Stand, Domenico thought, amazed.

"Nice," the neuroscientist managed.

Leone nodded, but he seemed preoccupied with other matters at the moment. Moody Blues suddenly changed form, morphing into Aida. Numbers appeared on the Stand's forehead clock.

"Play," Leone ordered.

Something clicked, the sound not dissimilar to that of a tape starting to be played on a cassette player. Moody Blues jumped into an opening in the shotgun seat, and something happened.

But what the hell was going on in the first place?

A gun fired. Domenico could hear the sound of somebody's corpse collapsing backwards across the driver's seat. Probably that woman we saw with the bullet to the head, Domenico thought.

"She's in the shotgun seat!" a man hollered.

"Time to leave," a woman's contralto-esque voice muttered. A feminine figure popped out of the shotgun seat, revealing herself to be Aida. Or, rather, the Moody Blues version of her.

Aida fired off another shot, but an invisible somebody grabbed her wrists and overpowered her, effectively forcing the woman to drop her weapon. At least, that's what it seemed like, since the gun was invisible to Domenico.

"Hey, beautiful," a second man said silkily. "I'm afraid your boyfriend is, shall we say...indisposed at the moment, so you'll have to play with us for a bit."

Aida's lip curled into a snarl. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Still putting up a fight, are we?" the first man asked. "Well, in a couple of minutes that won't be the case."

"Oh, I agree," the second responded, and one of the invisible hands gripping Aida's wrist released itself. She leaned her head away, a disgusted expression on her face.

Aida glared at something. "STICKY FINGERS!"

Domenico heard a shout, followed by a zipping sound. The first man let out an agonising scream, releasing his grip on the ravenette. "You cut my dick off! And my balls!"

"That was the idea," Aida retorted. It was then Domenico realised that Aida was also a Stand user, and Sticky Fingers' ability must've had something to do with zippers.

Castration by Stand. That's just nasty.

And that definitely explains the penis I saw in the street earlier.

More zipping was heard. Aida let out a defiant cry of rage, and her Stand continued whatever was going on with those zippers.

Likely, it wasn't anything pleasant.

Not if the dozen or so severed body parts laying in the middle of the street were anything to go by.

The first man cursed. An invisible force pushed Aida against the door. "You'll pay for that, stronza!"

"I disagree," the ravenette snarled. Domenico couldn't understand what was happening, as he could only see Moody Blues in Aida's form, but her Stand was probably on the offensive.

"ARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARIARI!" Sticky Fingers roared, unzipping...something. Either way, that seemed to confirm Domenico's suspicions. Aida leaned back against the door, panting.

"Arrivederci, motherfuckers," Aida growled, saluting...something. Domenico couldn't tell what.

Moody Blues reverted back to his normal form, exiting the vehicle to return to Leone's side. He vanished entirely a few seconds later.

What the fuck just happened?

Domenico blinked. "I am so confused right now."

Leone turned back around to face him. "Moody Blues has the ability to objectively replay past events," he explained. "He takes on every single detail of the person or thing he personifies, even one's exact biological signs, as it was at the time that the event took place."

Domenico nodded slowly, processing this. "Seems pretty nifty."

"Yeah, except people apparently want me dead because of it," Leone retorted. "This is the third time this week that they've sent assassins after me. And it's only going to get worse from here." The goth straightened, moving some hair out of his face. "I'm just glad that these bastards weren't Stand users this time around."

Domenico shook his head exasperatedly. "You know, for a couple of mafiosi, one might expect that you two would have the common sense to at least turn your goddamn car alarm on."

Leone's eyes narrowed. "I never told you what I do for a living," he said slowly.

"You didn't need to," Domenico responded.

Leone scoffed. "Got any better excuses?"

Domenico sighed. Well, there is one. "Helena called me up a few days ago to see how I was doing," he admitted. "She mentioned a ginger kid wearing a suit full of swiss cheese holes in the middle of the conversation and how she ended up attacking him and four other Passione soldati he was with over a misunderstanding on the same night that you ended up at my doorstep. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together after I realised that it was Fugo whom she was referring to, and what happened here only cemented that assertion."

Leone relaxed. "Well, you'd be correct."

Domenico swallowed. "I don't have anything against it, if that's what you're worried about," he said cautiously. "I'm a little bit familiar with what Passione does, since one of my former grad school classmates has a brother in the local Passione squad."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"Yeah, loads of times," Domenico responded. "He's the only guy who I let service my car." He gestured to Painted Desert, which was still parked in the middle of the road.

"I see." Leone sighed. "Since we're busy dumping this sort of info on each other, I guess it might as well be my turn. Fugo and I found out about Cape York."

Domenico stiffened, eyes going wide. Suddenly, he was 22 again, back in his cabin in Greenland in November 1995, waking up in terror one night to the sight of his roommates being eaten alive by that horrific virus-

Snap. Out. Of. It.

Domenico came back to reality seconds later, finding a grimace on Leone's face. "Sorry. I understand if you don't want to get into it. The BBC article was nauseating enough to read as it is."

Domenico swallowed. "Who else knows about it?"

"Just me and Fugo. It was...horrifying, to say the least. We have no intentions of telling the rest of the squad what we'd found."

That's a relief. I'd rather not have to tell people about it any more than I have to. "I really appreciate that," Domenico said.

"Can I get back to guard duty now?" Cerebral Man asked, voice uneasy. "No offence, but I don't really feel comfortable with talking about Cape York at the moment."

"Yeah, go," Domenico responded.

Cerebral Man returned to his post. Domenico and Leone proceeded to patch the tyres. "So," Domenico asked. "I don't mean to pry, but are you and Aida...?" He paused. "You know what? Never mind. It's probably none of my business."

Leone's face turned red for a second. "Maybe. But, it's strange."

Domenico raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Leone shrugged. "It just feels like there's butterflies in my stomach sometimes. Not to mention this weird sort of gravity whenever I'm around her."

Domenico blinked. "Well..."

Leone chuckled mirthlessly. "It's complex. It's not like you'd understand."

"Try me."

Leone shook his head. "You really wouldn't understand."

Domenico snorted. "Dude, I'm twenty-seven. I've had my fair share of relationships back when I was your age." He pulled a face. "Shit, that actually makes me sound like I'm old."

Leone let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You kind of are."

"Shut up, you brat," Domenico chided, playfully swatting him away. "How old even are you two, anyway?"

"I'm twenty. Aida's nineteen."

"And I'm probably older than dirt to you," Domenico deadpanned.

"There's no 'probably' about it." Leone paused, turning towards the neuroscientist. "Alrighty then, old man. What wisdom do you have to bestow upon me?"

Oh, brother. "For starters, you don't have to put labels on whatever it is you two are if you don't want to," Domenico responded. "Just out of curiosity, are you two actually dating?"

"Does living together count?" Leone asked awkwardly.

"That's called 'cohabiting', Leone. But it depends on how close you two are emotionally."

Leone's expression became darker for a moment. "Very," he said softly, melancholy in his voice. "But, like I said, you wouldn't understand. Aida and I met when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. She...she helped me through a dark time. In a way, she still is. Helping me through that dark time, I mean. But it's not like we can really pursue anything outside of a professional relationship, at least not normally. It wouldn't be safe for either of us, or the rest of our squad, for that matter. That's how it usually goes in the mafia, most of the time. It depends on the mission. Here, Aida and I are actively pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and yet…" He faltered, cursing under his breath. "Why the fuck am I telling you any of this?"

Domenico shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it's because I'm older than you. Maybe it's because you need to vent and you trust me not to use this information to blackmail you. Or maybe it's both. Who knows? But I can see where you're getting at. Whatever this mission is that Passione has got you doing, the way you're going about it is causing the line between a professional relationship and a casual relationship to become blurred. Am I right?"

"Basically." Leone started pumping air into the tyre. "What's the max PSI on that thing?"

"Fifty-one PSI," Domenico responded, checking it briefly. "But I would do a bit less-say, around 47, 48-ish. That way it doesn't blow out on you while you're driving."

"Got it."

Domenico stretched. "By the way, Helena was thinking about having the eight of us hang out together sometime. You know, like normal people. I'm down for it. It took a bit to convince Margherita, but she's okay with it."

Leone raised an eyebrow. "What was she thinking?"

"There's this waterside restaurant in the Navigli District," Domenico responded. "Trattoria Mario. It's pretty popular. Not too expensive, and the food is excellent. Apparently dinner's the only time that really works for her, since she and Margherita have the night shift most days."

Leone nodded, considering this. "I'll have to clear it with Aida, since she's my squad leader," he said after a moment. "Knowing her, though, I don't think she'll have that much of a problem with it."

"Great!" Domenico blinked. "Do you have Helena's number?"

"Aida does."

"Okay, good."

The two continued with the repairs. Leone glanced at Domenico several minutes later, while pumping air into the final tyre. "Whatever happened to that bastard, anyway? The one who was responsible for what happened?"

Domenico blinked. "He was found guilty by all countries who had tried him and was executed here in Italy." He shrugged. "Apparently some mob boss did the honours. Nobody knows which gang he belonged to, but maybe that's just as well."

Leone nodded. "Agreed. That's not the sort of thing you want to be looking into, trust me. The consequences can be...lethal."

"Noted," Domenico responded, adding that to the "how to avoid pissing off a gangster" list.

"I'm sorry to interrupt."

Both men turned around, seeing Cerebral Man behind them, a frown present on the Stand's face. "We've got company. Not the good kind."