Warning: Blood and violence in the final scenes of this chapter.
"I mafiusi de la Vicaria"
Part I
Before the expectant gaze of all, the men gathered and formed a circle while the one who seemed to be the leader swore revenge against the offense they had done to him, revenge that would be completed even if he had to wait years to get out of jail.
Giotto cocked his head and took his eyes off the center stage to discreetly turn to see the other people watching the scene. The theater was full, and although you could see the typical ones who, rather than watch the stage, talk with friends or flirt, most people were attentive and seemed delighted. The hero's romantic tale where he finds himself unfairly punished but soon will have his well-received reward stole sighs and exclamations. To Giotto, it reminded him of the plot of the Count of Monte Cristo, a novel he had read together with G (and why deny it, he had liked it).
Speaking of G, he kept wearing that frown that grew more and more every second. He was not enjoying the fictional representation these people were receiving. Moreover, Giotto was sure his friend was mentally cursing for having yielded to Piero's pleas to accompany him to see the opera; especially considering that, instead of being in the regular part, they were in the area of the boxes, a territory known to be frequented by the upper class. (And yes, it was somewhat uncomfortable for both Giotto and G to be there. But who could say no to Piero when he had done so much for them?)
Giotto tried to refocus on what was happening on stage, but the uncomfortable feeling he'd had seconds before grew more potent, and, again, he looked back at the entire audience.
He felt someone was watching them.
"G," he whispered as he leaned slightly. Luckily, his friend was by his side, and he didn't have to move much. "Turn to see the box on the right, the one where the man with the black mustache is. Be discreet; I have a bad feeling."
G pretended to settle into his seat without changing his expression and directed his gaze to the indicated place.
"Do you recognize them?"
"Some of them," G answered, "I can see two policemen, a salesman, and... Isn't that Piero's evil and rich cousin? The kindness in person who didn't even deign to receive us even though we saved his son. Super courteous the man."
"What about the others? Any ideas?"
G watched as closely as he could, then clicked his tongue.
"What's going on?"
"Call me crazy," G answered. "But I am almost sure they are the people who take care of his lands. I have seen them in the city from time to time. Their clothes and the shield they carry on them are easy to recognize."
"Is someone like that duke bringing his employees to the opera?" Giotto said, surprised. "And why are they just watching us?"
"How long has it been?" he asked. There was no doubt, just acceptance.
"Since the show started."
"The play is opposite, you idiots. Not here," G grumbled and turned to see Piero for a few seconds, who was right behind them quite focused on the whole plot of the representation, oblivious to their conversation. "Maybe they recognized we are with a relative of their boss?"
"What image do they have of Signor Piero to looking here for so long?"
G frowned.
"Good point," his eyes returned to the box and began to inspect each one of the people. Even though they were far away, G had eagle eyesight (as Giotto liked to say) and could get more details on these individuals than he could.
A second later, G's body stiffened, and his face went from an angry one to one of surprise.
"Tell me, Giotto. Can you think of any reason why you would be staring without taking your eyes off someone you hate?"
"Imagining that bad things happen to them?" Giotto asked, "Be aware of their movements and then do something? I'm not a very spiteful person, G."
"Movements, bad actions..." he mused. "If they wanted to do something to us, they would have already tried. It's not directed at us; they're just watching us, but why?" G was silent for a few seconds, and then it seemed that a horrible idea came to his mind.
"G?"
"Who stayed with the brat?"
"Lampo?" although they didn't see so much Piero's young son, more than anything because their schedules hardly coincided (usually they were in the mansion when the child was asleep), they both appreciated him for the simple fact of being the family of someone who was also theirs, even if it was emotional, "Piero said he stayed with his governess and the other employees."
"Signor Raffaele?"
"No, at his home."
"And we still can't find new guards since the last threat." G stood up, and without caring to break all the discretion he'd had, he directed a threatening glance towards the other box.
"Giovanni?" Piero sounded confused. "What is it? Are you-"
"We have to go back to the mansion," G urged him. "No, you have to go back. I'll stay here and visit someone," he said and directed his steps towards the exit of the box.
"G?" Giotto called him. "What happens?"
"I just saw the same person who almost killed our administrator yesterday," G roared, "Looking at us with a satisfied smile to see that we don't' move. And we are here, wasting time while there is a child in a large house accompanied only by people who don't know how to fight. That's what happens!"
"I will repeat it to you once more, Elena," Ignazio spoke. "Flavio maybe just got bored and went for a walk. Or he asked the coachman to drive him home to be with his mother. He is still too young to enjoy all this. I do not understand why his insistence on coming in the first place."
Elena resisted the urge to sigh and decided to leave the subject, for now, her father did not seem to care that her little brother had been missing for a long time; continuing to speak would only annoy him.
If she was honest, sometimes she felt nothing she was doing was worth it.
Besides, even if she didn't like to admit it, what he said made sense. It wasn't that her brother was very interested in opera; instead, he wanted to go out into town to meet certain people. Maybe...
"They are moving," she heard one of the men next to her say, "Let the other who are outside know it."
Elena arched an eyebrow, and with curiosity, she turned to see where several of her father's men were looking (if she was honest, she did not understand why they were accompanying them). It was a box opposite them, to the left; there were not many people, and at that moment, she could only see a blond boy saying something to a man and then disappearing, leaving the place. Despite the low light, she could see the man was worried and...
Wasn't that Uncle Piero?
Elena stood up and walked as quietly as she could towards the exit. With her father watching the play and the others whispering among themselves, no one noticed her action.
Giotto ran down the hall, feeling the surrounding luxurious atmosphere and those dazzling red carpets make him dizzy. He didn't remember everything feeling so long and big when they walked in just an hour ago.
G had stormed out of the box, and before following him, Giotto had to stay for a few minutes trying to reassure Piero, telling him not to worry about them, they knew how to defend themselves. He'd better wait a bit so as not to attract attention and then get back home as fast as he could, and when he is sure everything was fine, maybe go to the cops.
Just maybe. Giotto was beginning to doubt how effective that was, considering the people G had seen.
The music and the opera's singing resounded up to there, and Giotto understood it was something quite convenient if those people wanted to make a move. Nothing that happened outside the theater would be heard in it, and since most of the employees were still inside attending to the high-class guests, there would be no witnesses to worry about either.
He hoped G hadn't decided to face those guys in the dead zone that was now the entire compound.
Finding no one in that first part, Giotto turned to the right, moving closer to the main reception room, to those vast stairs at the building entrance. There, to his surprise, someone called him.
And it should be noted, someone who, due to the clothes she wore, was, without a doubt, from the aristocracy.
What a night.
"Excuse me!" the girl screamed. Her hair, a lighter blonde than his, seemed to glow under the lights of the place. Her breathing was ragged as if she had run to catch up with him. "I, I saw you were with uncle- with the Signor Piero," she corrected herself. "I'm looking for my brother, who wanted to meet him, isn't he with you by chance?"
Giotto opened his eyes with a particular fear running through him. Was someone of that level lost?
"I'm sorry, miss," Giotto shook his head. "No one has come with us during the time we have been," he replied. "I beg you to return to your place. The situation is not-"
The sound of a gunshot interrupted him, followed by something like breaking glass and several footsteps and exclamations. Giotto instantly turned to the front while the girl took a few cautious steps back; her face reflected insecurity.
"What is it-"
"Go back where you came from. It's dangerous here!"
Giotto ran away until he reached the end and saw the main entrance's narrow and numerous stairs. And there, on one of the steps, was G, trying to free himself from the grip of two men who had him grabbed by the arms to immobilize him, pieces of glass at his feet, and nearby, an unconscious body lying on a table in where glasses and bottles were smashed.
He took a step forward, and, sensing another presence nearby, Giotto moved just in time to dodge another man who was coming towards intending to grab him. Seizing the moment of confusion, he grabbed his attacker by the arm, and using his body as a base, threw him forward.
Just so that the man collided with one of those who was holding G, making him release G, and falling to the ground along with his partner.
Maybe Giotto wasn't the best in battle, but after three years of bruising all over his body after practicing with G, he could tell he had at least learned to defend himself well.
The other man loosened his grip, and G wasted no time in moving and punching him hard in the stomach, leaving his captor gasping for a few seconds that made him free and leaned in reflex action; at which point G recoiled a bit and kicked him, again in the abdomen, with even more force, knocking him unconscious.
Despite the years, G had not lost his touch but rather had perfected it. The number of times he had to fight someone who tried to assault them, hit them, and so on had increased since he was a child, and in each fight, he polished his technique.
"That's why people are afraid of you, G," Giotto commented. G snorted.
The other two remaining men stood but did not move. They seemed to be analyzing them. Giotto and G tensed, expecting an attack at any moment.
"The gun that was heard?"
"It flew off somewhere when the one on the table crashed."
"The others are not armed?"
"Incredibly no, it seems they were not prepared for a fight."
"Just tell me it wasn't you who started this."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," G cleared his throat. "I was going down to leave; they blocked my path and tried to direct me elsewhere. I got angry and hit them. Does that count as I started?"
"That doesn't reassure me."
Before anyone could make a move, a female scream echoed through the place, causing both teens to look back.
Giotto recognized the girl he had spoken to just a few minutes ago. She was being grabbed by someone else; the grip's strength was visible due to the girl's pained face and how she was unable to move.
"I'll tell my father about this!" she exclaimed. "I'll tell him you are threatening people and-"
"Your father knows what we do, and he cares little as long as he is getting his share," the stranger replied calmly. "And he would give you to the first one who comes to ask your hand, especially if he doesn't ask for a high dowry. So, you better not speak more, my lady," the girl trembled at the words, the man turned forward, and Giotto felt a chill. That guy was more dangerous than the others; he could feel it. "Newbies, what part of not attracting attention did you not understand? Do something stupid like that again, and you'll go back to your miserable street thief lives. You are lucky nothing is being heard because there is precisely a battle scene playing out."
"Am I to assume you are the boss?" G asked with a crabby expression. The man smirked.
"You think too highly of me, Giovanni," he replied, "I am simply someone with a higher rank than these fools."
G frowned, and Giotto couldn't help but do the same. If they knew G's real name, then it was terrible news.
Although that fellow radiated a heavier and colder aura than the others, he didn't seem to have a weapon at hand, so, theoretically, it shouldn't be that difficult to make him release his hostage and then run, right?
G seemed to think the same, as Giotto noticed how his eyes moved slightly, checking all the space and calculating the best way to end this situation quickly.
"You seem to be more aware than the others," said Giotto, capturing the attention. "Then you must understand she has nothing to do with this, let her go," he tried to speak, partly a vague hope that it would work, partly to buy some time, but the stranger only shook his head.
"Being a witness is already-"
The man interrupted his words and widened his eyes at the rapid movement that unfolded before him. Wasting no time and taking advantage of the seconds of distraction that Giotto had obtained, G lunged forward to knock him down.
And maybe he would have if it wasn't for something unexpected.
The man placed his free arm in front of him, and, after smiling, a torrent of blue flames came out from his hand and fully enveloped G's body, who tried to move, but his body did not respond as expected:
It was too slow, and he felt like his energy was draining.
"What..."
"First time with a flame of this type? What bad luck."
G fell unconscious to the ground. The girl let out a little cry that ranged from surprise to fear.
Giotto ran towards his friend, and although he felt that something in his head that warned him of an attack, he wasn't fast enough: in what seemed like just a few seconds, the man took a few steps forward and returned to invoke the flames, which covered his body as they had done with G.
A strange lethargy seized him. He felt like everything was starting to blur, to get too still, too...
Calm. Even his breathing was slowing down.
At that moment, he was able to see a curious ring glowing on his attacker's hand. And the memories of the past came back.
The last thing he thought before losing consciousness was that things were not getting better but were getting worse.
People who didn't know her well used to say she was someone wise, who radiated an aura of having all the answers (if anything like that can be felt), but she didn't think the same. She was not wise. If she was, she could correctly interpret all her visions and anticipate what was to come, without the need for deviations from the plan or tricks.
The fact that what was happening took her by surprise was proof that she wasn't wise. She was simply someone with unique gifts and luck. Which, by the way, didn't help much to predict the situation.
Sepira rose from her seat while on stage the dramatic battle continued to be reenacted. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Ignazio, who looked bored but kept looking. He hadn't even realized that part of his men was gone.
She sighed. No wonder the duke was so dear to those people if they could do what they wanted without him noticing!
Sepira bit her lip as she walked through the rows of seated people, apologizing for obstructing their view for a few seconds. She had rejected Ignazio's offer to sit with them in the particular area that was the box and had decided to go down to the standard seats to learn more about the people, their reactions, and behavior. Now, she thought perhaps having accepted the man's offer would not have been such a bad idea. That way, she would have been able to notice all the movement and what was happening sooner, to notice that the person she was looking for had vanished and that he was undoubtedly involved in a troublesome matter. In her visions, she always saw him in problems. Why should he be any different at that moment just because he was a few years younger?
When she reached the door leading out of the theater, a sturdy hand grabbed her shoulder to stop her, and Sepira turned with a stoic expression.
"Excuse me, ma'am. The show is not over yet, and I'm sure the duke will be worried if he suddenly doesn't see you. Don't want to stay to finish it?"
One of those men. And one who gave her an excuse that almost made her laugh: Ignazio had not even realized that his children were not by his side. He would not realize the lack of her presence.
"I just want to go out and get some air. So many gunshots sound effects have me dizzy."
"It is a pity! But wouldn't you rather go upstairs with the duke to relax? I assure you, in those places, the sound is not so shocking."
He just wanted to keep her, and that bothered her. Even so, she did not show her emotions.
"I'm afraid not," she replied, placing her hand on top of the man's, still resting on her shoulder. "And please don't touch me."
Seconds later, the man opened his mouth, but no words came out. Sepira left the room, being unnoticed by the others.
Everyone in the audience noticed a curious detail no one had seen when they entered the room before the play, which was revealed when it ended. A curious statue was found at the exit door of the theater! It seemed so real, but they did not understand the cause of the look of surprise and the extended hand, as if it were holding someone.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, only that when he woke up again, thanks to the fact he felt some small blows on his cheek, the smell of rot perceived in his surroundings almost made him faint. He would have, but the tapping on his cheek grew more potent and more constant, and he had no choice but to remain conscious.
"Please open your eyes," asked a childish voice, "Please."
Giotto did. Although it cost him work at first.
In front of him was a boy with blue eyes and blond hair much lighter than his. Seeing that he reacted, the boy's expression went from one worried to one relieved, and a small smile played on his lips.
"W-what is... Where are we? And why..." he tried to move in vain, something scratchy and strong kept his arms back, and his wrists glued "...why am I tied? Who-"
"Sorry," the boy cried, his hands were shaking, "I-I don't know what happens. Father's men shouldn't do this, this s-shouldn't be.." he couldn't continue. "S-sorry!"
"Hey," Giotto smiled, trying to reassure him. He recognized in the boy's face that horrifying panic and fear of the unknown, as well as the helplessness. And nobody, nobody should feel that. "Everything will be fine. Forgive me for making you talk, but I'm afraid my last memory doesn't match the situation we're in," a man, a blue flame, and... "Where is-"
"Oh, your friend is here too. A few meters from you," the boy pointed to his side, and there Giotto could see G's silhouette, who was unconscious, but other than that, he looked good, and the important thing: he was alive. He hadn't noticed his friend was nearby due to the shock. Close to him, Giotto recognized, also unconscious, the opera girl who had the misfortune of being involved in the problem. He could even see someone else! Another young man, unknown to Giotto, in the same circumstances as them: trapped, tied up, and locked up in that dark place. "My sister is fine too. They have no injuries."
"Sister? So, you are the one she was looking for."
"It was not my intention to worry her," said the boy. "I-I just wanted to go with you, since I saw you, I tried to go there. But I got lost. The corridors are too many and too intricate. I-I didn't want to..."
"No one is accusing you," Giotto clarified and cocked his head. "Were you looking for us?"
The boy looked embarrassed for a few seconds.
"My name is Flavio," he introduced himself. "Neither you nor your friend has to remember me, but I remember you. You saved me years ago, during a fire. You are unmistakable; I recognized you since I saw you with Uncle Piero at the opera. I-I wouldn't have sneaked, but dad..."
Giotto stared at him for a few moments, and an image, crystal clear, came to his mind.
He looked bigger, but he could detect in his features the little boy that he and G had found crying out for help next to a wrecked carriage. The one who had passed out.
It wasn't the ideal situation, not in that dark and death-filled environment, but even with it, Giotto couldn't help but feel happy.
"You have grown," he commented, and Flavio smiled at him. "I would have liked to see you again in a more... cheerful place."
"This place... belongs to dad. It's near our house. It's supposed to be where certain valuables are kept, no..."
No hostages. It was clear without needing to say it.
"Could you tell me how we got here while waking up the others? I'll try to get out of these ropes."
The boy followed the instructions: as he endeavored to wake up the others who were there in the gentlest way he could (but still earning a curse from G that scared him, a reprimand from his sister, who now Giotto could recognize as Elena, and a few whimpers from that unknown young man who was locked there with them) told him what he asked:
Short story. Flavio had followed the noises, and whether it was bad or good luck, he had observed the moment of the attack and how they fell unconscious. The man who had captured them had put them into a carriage, which ended up arriving there.
"It's stupid," G complained. "Didn't anyone realize they were dragging three... Four," he corrected himself. The other young man was also counting, although instead of speaking or being attentive to what was happening, he was trembling in his place "...unconscious people? What about the guards who should be at the opera? What about the people on the street, damn it?"
"They pretended they were carrying you because you were very drunk," Flavio replied. "People did not care. And the guards... they left them. They didn't even make sure what they were saying was true."
Giotto preferred to think it was accidental negligence and not because they were somehow in cahoots with those people. G snorted.
"You still don't explain how you are here or why those guys didn't do anything to you."
"Are you doubting my brother?" Elena interrupted.
"If I do, is there a problem? We are in a territory that is part of your family because we were kidnapped by men that work for your father. You make me suspicious too, by the way."
"How do you-"
"G," Giotto spoke. "First, you have to let Flavio finish," he said. Elena smiled and was about to say something, but Giotto continued, "That goes for you too, Elena. Don't argue."
Now the one who smiled was G, while Elena's cheeks turned different shades of red.
"I recognized some people. I see them usually when they are patrolling the house," Flavio sounded disappointed. "I didn't know what to do. The only thing that occurred to me was going with the coachman and telling him to follow the carriage where they were because we were playing chase. The coachman just grumbled and warned me that he had to go back for Father, but he accepted. When he saw where we were going, he let me close and told me I should better ask the men to take me home when the game was over. There aren't many people outside, I don't know where the others have gone, but at least they aren't at the entrance, so I was able to sneak in without being noticed," he explained. An instant later, his face changed to a scared and nervous one. "Should I have told the police? I should have warned them instead of doing this, right? Oh, what have I done? I did everything wrong. I did-"
"You did well," Giotto reassured him, although he sounded sad himself, "I'm afraid it would not have served much to warn."
"Not when some policemen are part of them," G confirmed. Then, he turned to see Flavio, who got even more nervous. "I admit it; you used your head. Nice work. Who would say that saving you years ago would help us today? "
Flavio looked at him in surprise and then smiled enthusiastically.
"Do you remember me?"
"No, no. Wait," Elena said, "So they really are...? Argh."
"Oh, look. The little princess sulked. "
"Don't call me-"
Giotto sighed. His wrists ached from trying to get out of the ropes without success; even Flavio had not been able to undo the knot they had; whoever had tied them knew well how to do it; and now, too, his head ached just thinking about the trouble they were in.
"Do you think that the fact you are the children of their... boss," Giotto was not sure what to call it, "...can help to free you?"
G and he could manage somehow. It was not the first time they were in trouble; what worried him were the others.
Flavio was silent. Elena lost her energy and looked away.
"You heard the man," she commented sadly. "I'm not someone important to my father."
"Maybe not them," the unknown young man, who until that moment had been silent, spoke, drawing everyone's attention. "But another person, a person who has important information for them... You see..." he smiled nervously, "I'm here because I heard something I shouldn't have. I was looking for a friend and ended up finding weird talk about rings, bullets, and... flames? I didn't understand much what they were talking about, only that they needed information, and that's why they were going to go against a landowner and a bastard son of a former boss who-"
"I'm not a bastard son!" G exclaimed angrily. It wasn't complicated to guess which landowner and which son of a former boss they were talking about. "And fuck it! What do all these guys have who are so obsessed with my father?!"
"Has your family dealt with them?!" Elena exclaimed, "Then go and speak so that they release us!"
"And the daughter of the one who pays them says so!" G roared, "No, I'm not part of them. Neither does my father, at least not from this specific group. We are not talking about individual bandits. We are talking about organized groups."
"H-hey, I was not commenting on it so you could fight," the young man tried to calm the situation. "What if we continue discussing this when we are all free? None have been able to get away from-"
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the place. Unconsciously, everyone crouched down, and Elena, along with the young man, screamed. Giotto turned, the front door was slightly ajar, and despite the darkness of the night, he could recognize a figure with an angry face holding a pistol at them.
Then, the surroundings were no longer as lonely as when Flavio entered.
It was a very, very bad sign.
"First, you interrupt what we had to do at the opera, and now you believe with the nerve to speak aloud while being captive. What an ego you have."
He was one of the rookies who had been scolded. And it seemed his mood hadn't improved.
"What do we have here? The little son is there too," he approached. Flavio was petrified of fear. "You are worth a little more. Maybe I could- Ah, you bitch!"
Realizing the danger her brother was in, Elena kicked the older man with one of her heels directly on the joint of his foot, causing him to fall to his knees for a few seconds. She could be tied and unable to get up, but at least she could move her legs.
"Flavio, get out of here!" she screamed.
The boy hesitated at first but soon moved and ran towards the exit. Taking advantage of those few moments, G and Giotto tried to stand up, discovering that doing it with their hands behind their back was much more complicated than it seemed. They both cursed under their breath, and seconds later, Elena screamed.
Flavio stopped when he was near the door, and there was a latent concern in his eyes.
"Now that I have your attention, let's talk, okay?" the man had Elena by the hair, pulling and dragging her. Also, he had the gun pointed at her, in clear threat, "Either of you moves, and I'll shoot."
"She is the daughter of a duke. Do you think you will come out intact after shooting her?" G scoffed, "Not even with the relative protection that you have thanks to your little group, will you be able to get rid of it."
The man smiled and looked at G with satisfaction.
"And who said I would do something to her? Don't blame me for your actions, Giovanni. After the unfortunate incident that happened to Piero, you went to seek revenge against the Giardianne and killed their children by misinterpreting things. That's what they'll say; why are you saying that against me?"
"Fuck off!" G was furious and even tried to get back on his feet, but the man brought the gun closer to Elena, who bit her lip to avoid yelling, "That's playing dirty!"
"This is how we play, have you forgotten?"
"Big words for a mediocre newbie, don't you think?"
Even though his anger was real, G was also trying to buy time to see if any ideas came to his mind to get out of it, and Giotto knew it. But nothing was coming, his head was empty, and it was panic that was beginning to take hold of him.
The man had mentioned Piero, which meant his initial suspicions were correct, and some attack on him and his family was planned. Plus, the situation...
Giotto shook his head. No, no. He had to calm down. He had to think; there had to be something-
"If I want to shoot her, I'll shoot her!" the man roared, and with a smile on his face, he pointed towards Elena and shot.
"Sister!" Flavio yelled. The boy ran towards his sister at the exact moment when he saw that the older one's hand move, and reflexively, he got between the shot and her.
All in less than a second.
Flavio opened his eyes, took a few steps back until he came upon the door he had left behind, and fell to the ground. His face was filled with pain, and tears began to flow from his eyes. Beneath him, a small pool of blood began to form. Elena screamed, cried, and tried to get out of the grasp of the man, who, although the scene had impressed him because he was new in that world, did not let go of her. Angrily, he yanked her hard enough to push her back and lift her off the ground to force her to stand.
"Damn it, that was for you, stupid woman!"
Giotto and G even tried to crawl to try to move, but it was all too slow and meaningless. In those moments, they were a nuisance, ballast, mere spectators unable to do anything.
"If you want me to kill him, I'll do it then!" he exclaimed.
What was it that made him act like this? The wrath? The ambition?
The fear?
The man pointed at Flavio, who couldn't move due to pain. Elena begged in vain as the trigger was pulled.
And just when it seemed inevitable, and nothing it'd happened would make a difference, someone showed up.
The woman was shot in the arm, from which blood began to drain. However, her expression showed neither pain nor fear. She had arrived just in time to be able to get in the middle of the attack and the poor boy, who looked at her for a few moments as if she were an illusion.
"S-Signora Sepira?"
"Shh, little one," the woman smiled at him, placed her hand on the boy's body, near where the wound was, giving him some comfort and security. "Everything will be fine."
Her eyes darted across the room, and when they fell on Giotto, he felt a chill, a kind of lightning bolt went through him.
She was much, much more than she appeared.
The man released Elena for the surprise, who fell to her knees and crawled as fast as she could to her brother. Her watery eyes observed Flavio's small trembling body for a few moments; then, she turned to see the woman with some surprise. Sepira smiled at her, and Elena seemed to sigh in relief.
"What the hell are you doing-"
"This is stupid," Sepira declared. "How is it that, shooting a boy, threatening and hurting a girl, and holding innocent hostages, will make you understand how the flames work?"
Flames.
Giotto and G tensed. Flames, flames, and rings. Since they met, these two things seemed to follow them like a kind of ghost, present but inexplicable, and always, always dangerous, always like a kind of evil.
G understood that people believed he knew about it; his father seemed to understand at least a little. But he didn't know anything; he didn't even know how he could use them three years ago! He just knew he didn't want to do it again because they were the same as his, the same as Ambizio had, and that made him shiver. Although he had even used strange powers related to them, Giotto did not understand how to use them again. He had tried; even now, he was trying! (because that state gave him a strength he needed, that served him to fight) but it was all in vain, nothing was useful, nothing-
"Not even with a ring you could use them," Sepira commented dryly, even with a hint of disdain. "The ring can work to potential the natural powers, not to work miracles. Ridiculous."
Giotto could sense she was angry, even if her face didn't entirely reveal it.
"How do you know about that? Who you are-"
"I will not introduce myself to someone like you," the woman frowned, "Your companions were very clear when I asked their reasons. Most are jealous of the few ones who can use the flames, and I guess that includes you."
"Ha, what nonsense," the man muttered. "The rings are the key, without a doubt. What else would it be?"
Sepira cocked her head.
"Resolution," she answered. "A tool is useless if you do not intend to use it. Without will, no amount of artifacts will make you powerful."
Resolution.
Will.
Giotto blinked.
How had it been those times?
"I will save you with my dying will!"
"I can't let them die; I can't. I have to do something!"
Could that be?
He stopped listening to the conversation, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
He knew what his will was. And the resolution?
"Get out, or I'll kill you too."
"I do not receive orders from fools," Sepira stated calmly, "You are the one who should shut up and leave."
"I don't take orders from women."
The man pointed the gun at her. Sepira narrowed her eyes, and her stoic expression changed to one of annoyance.
"Are you threatening me?"
"I already told you, go away and pretend you didn't see anything. Because you're a woman, I'm willing to be gentle."
"Should I be flattered?" she asked wryly, "Because you are a man; I am willing to accept your idiocy and not return the threat."
"Shut up the damn time!"
The man tensed the muscles in his hand, signaling that he would shoot, and Sepira was about to make a move. However, in what seemed to the attacker like milliseconds, the woman only opened her eyes and smiled with evident satisfaction. He fired, angry to the gut.
The sound rumbled through the room, a sound like a small explosion that made his hands burn. Instead of the bullet coming out and hitting its intended target, it got stuck inside the gun, causing it to break.
The man stepped back and dropped the weapon. The gun did not fall, as it was held by the person who had stopped the shot by melting the barrel's metal with his hands; hands surrounded by flames, flames of an intense orange color, a hue that only rivaled that of the eyes.
"I'm afraid the talk time is over," when he spoke, his voice sounded different. So much so that even he was surprised, and he ended up giving a little laugh. It sounded stronger, somehow, that was a good thing, right? "G, too-"
"I help the stranger who did nothing but cry, I understand."
The man turned back, and terror combined with nasty surprise brought him down.
G smiled wryly at him as the ropes that bound him fell to the ground in pieces. And they might call him crazy, but he was sure he saw a red flash when-
"You shouldn't be distracted." he dropped the pistol and took a few steps toward him.
The man had lost all his courage and seemed more like someone lost. How was it that a couple of kids were using that power?
"Now you are the one who is in trouble," Giotto sentenced. The flames on his body -in his hands, on his head, maybe inside himself too - blazed brightly, and his eyes, lighter than usual, betrayed cold fury.
He wasn't someone without compassion, but he was angry. And angry, he wasn't used to being very friendly.
As always, writing action scenes is the hardest thing that ever happened to me; but I think it turned out well.
Did you realize what state Giotto is in? Fufu.
And, regarding the flames, to quote one of my friends, I will only say: "I only know sky flame can melt, freeze and petrify things." When Tsuna saved Lambo during their battle in the Varia arc, he could do so thanks to the heat of its flames that decomposed the entire ring armed by the Cervello. So, the flames of the dying will (at least, certain elements) have specific real fire properties that do not sound so far-fetched.