Sangue e Neve

by Firestorm258

Giorno Giovanna sits atop the Passione throne. His great project to cleanse the presence of narcotics from Italy is reaching a crescendo, and he sends his two best assassins to kill the last, fleeing kingpin. They discover he's holed up at a lodge in the Alps, poised to cross the border. Without knowing his identity and trapped by a vicious blizzard, they try to finish the job.

Sangue e Neve

By Firestorm258

A sun drenched mansion rested on a hill in the southern Italian countryside, surrounded by beautiful gardens of fresh tomato plants and vines flush with plump grapes. Parked in the roundabout driveway was a shoddy white pickup, completely incongruous with the affluent structure and grounds. None of the passing servants seemed to pay it any mind, and it sat unoccupied.

The mansion contained numerous rooms, from big to small, opulent to sparse. In the back corner was a majestic library that towered all the way up to the height of the mansion. A single spiral staircase led from floor to floor, beset on all sides by tomes, novels, and ledgers, all perfectly organized and kept. At the top of the staircase, a man sat on a velvet stool. He held a red book with golden embroidered text on the cover: Dei Delitti e Delle Pene - Cesare Beccaria.

That text was the same vibrant gold as the gentleman's elaborate curls, which spilled over his head in a controlled manner. This hair topped a face of godlike sculpture, accentuated by unfurrowed brows. The suit he wore was custom, constructed from luscious pink suede and glittering gilded buttons. It exposed his bare, chiseled chest in the shape of a heart.

He closed the book and turned to his two guests. They knelt upon the exquisite red carpet out of respect, sheltering their visages from the master's gaze. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as it was immense.

"Do you know what justice is?"

The kneeling man was quiet, whether out of fear or simply because he had no answer to give. The female responded confidently without raising her head, "Don Giorno, I believe justice is getting back at those who do you wrong."

"Many agree with you, myself included, to some extent. That is not always the case, however. I once knew a great man, and do you know what he did to me the first time we met?"

They shook their heads no.

"You see, he tortured me. It was rather gruesome. Of course, I fought back, and we battled. I would have won and taken his life, but... I saw his humanity, so I let him go. I knew that he cared about people, even if he was a violent gangster. We became great friends for a short time, but he was sadly killed no more than a week later. On the other hand, when I was a child, I knew another great man. He executed a gangster in front of their son for selling drugs on his turf, including to young children, and I believe that was right too." Giorno paused for a moment and returned the book to its place on the shelf. "Forgive me, I've rambled on too long. I don't want to distract you from the mission I've given you. Wild Side and The Chain are powerful stand abilities, and I expect you both to make full use of them. No matter how he appears, remember you are pursuing a cornered animal who will do anything to persevere. He will not hesitate to take your lives, so do not hesitate to take his. Regardless, keep in mind that I am asking you to enact justice, not take revenge. We have reached the crescendo of my great project, so I require excellence."

Silence hung in the air after the boss's monologue, leaving the underlings uncertain whether they were dismissed or if their boss had more to say. After a short while, a cellular phone pinged from Giorno's suit pocket. He produced it and read the message. "You two can go. I have a concert to attend." The pair rose from their kneeling position, bowed, then proceeded solemnly out of the room. The boss wished them luck as they departed, "In bocca al lupo."

The winds howled as they beat viciously upon the bundled travellers. One wore a bright red parka, the other a blue one, but both had large backpacks strapped with hiking and climbing gear. Warm light pouring from the windows of the refuge in front of them illuminated the pair, with only pitch darkness behind.

The man in the blue parka shouted over the wailing, "Fontina, this is the place! When we get inside, head to our room and we can hash out a plan!"

There was no response, the woman simply trudged through the raging blizzard at full speed. The snow was fluffy and fresh, so it wasn't impassible, but it was still above their shins. Finally, after another minute of walking, they reached the heavy door to the Rifugio Il Dosso.

The Rifugio Il Dosso was a rustic lodge on the italian side of the Alps, the largest mountain range in Europe in terms of both height and area. It offered delightful accommodations for travellers, hikers, climbers, and anyone else daring enough to make the long trek by car through the woods to reach its isolated locale. The foot of the Alps would normally be visible from the structure, making it a great place to soak in beautiful views while enjoying some classical polenta during the warmer months, but the darkness that enveloped it during a nighttime blizzard plunged even the near treeline into the void.

When the door swung open, a gale force toppled into the building along with the travellers, causing the door to clatter noisily on its hinges. The young man in the blue parka took the initiative and forced it shut again, while the woman began unzipping her jacket and approaching the front desk.

A jovial, older gentleman stood across from her. "Hello there, did you call ahead and make a reservation?"

She responded as she fixed her fiery, red hair into a ponytail, "Yeah, no, sorry about that. We just really needed to get out of the storm."

"Of course, no problem. It's unusually crowded for a winter night-," the man gestured at the other guests sitting around the tables in the wide-open first floor, "-but we've still got a vacancy."

"Hell, we thought we might have to pay you to sleep on the floor."

The owner chuckled, "No, no, please, we could have found somewhere for you two either way. So, what're your names?"

"I'm Fontina. This is my boyfriend, Cateno."

Cateno had removed his parka, and he waved from where he knelt digging around in his pack. "Gimme just a minute, I need to fish out my wallet."

The man's mop of steely-gray hair fell over his dashing, proportionate face. He was thin and of moderate height and build, but he clearly had the strength of youth running in his veins.

Fontina, on the other hand, towered over Cateno. Even through a thick jacket, her lean yet strapping physique was evident. She had a crooked nose perched on a jagged face, with hard auburn eyes that belied a cold intensity behind a performance of warmth.

"It's gonna be two hundred for the night, which includes tonight's dinner and breakfast in the morning."

Cateno said, "You got it."

At this point, Fontina and Cateno scanned the room and took stock of the layout as well as the other guests. The first floor of the lodge consisted of the entranceway that they stood in, the desk in front of them with a door behind it for staff only, a wide open area that contained two large tables, and a dim fireplace parallel to the bathrooms, which were directly adjacent to the stairs. The entire interior had a warm, baize aesthetic with old italian chachkies lining shelves and patterned, aged wool rugs overtop of hardwood flooring.

At the two tables sat three groups of people. In the farthest corner, closest to the bathrooms, was a couple who seemed to have just arrived. The man had a stern buzzcut coupled with a muscular build, and his female companion was thin with pursed lips and sleek black hair of medium length. The two radiated wealth, clad in designer casual wear and a snobbish gold watch on the male's burgeoning wrist. They were speaking in hushed tones about something, with empty bowls and plates scattered in front of them.

Sat at the same table, across from the couple, was a family of three. The man was somewhat lanky and wore a salmon dress shirt with blue jeans. He had a head of extremely short, but clearly curly, brown hair. His olive complexion was a shade dark, but still that of a native italian, and his wife had similar skin and hair color. She wore a clean pink blouse and white cigarette jeans. Their child was young, around nine or ten, with curly locks of hair falling from his head and a bubbly smile on his face as he chowed down on the creamy, vibrant polenta in his bowl.

On the far side of the table nearest to Cateno and Fontina sat a lone man with distinct aftershave and a bald head. He wore a leather duster overtop a yellow turtleneck, and a pair of thick black gloves were neatly laid adjacent to his bowls of food. The tip of a jet-black tattoo peeked out from his collar. Unbothered by the entrance of the pair, he continued spooning roast chicken stew overtop of yellow polenta.

After looking around, Cateno rose and handed the money he owed. It was exchanged for a room key before being deposited with a ding into an antiquated blue cash register. The older gentleman said with a dimpled smile, "Alright, you're in room 4." He turned and shouted into the back, "Sonia! Two more dinners!" A muffled feminine voice from the back confirmed the request.

Fontina slung her bag further up her shoulders and said, "We're gonna put this stuff away and freshen up before we eat."

"Sounds good. I'll have the table set when you come down. Want anything to drink?"

"Yea, can I get a rum and-" a smack landed on the back of her head.

Cateno scolded her, "No alcohol, dumbass."

"Jesus, fine. Just a Coke Light, then. He'll have the same."

The owner replied with a chuckle as he disappeared into the backroom, "You got it."

The pair navigated past the tables full of other guests. The wealthy man seemed to be eying them, and Fontina picked up on it instantly. She stared back with a sour expression, causing him to swivel his head away awkwardly.

After climbing the ancient, groaning stairs and opening the door to their room, Cateno gave a peak both ways down the short hallway. He swiftly closed and locked the door behind them. The two began removing their jackets and boots, swapping them for pre-packed sneakers and hoodies. Cateno wore a torn hoodie with faded, illegible black lettering on light blue fabric. Fontina's bright scarlet hoodie was new, with a circular logo on the chest reading "Alma Mater Studiorum - A.D. 1088" in the outer ring and "Universita di Bologna" in the inner ring, all surrounding a school crest.

Cateno sat down on the edge of the bed before he spoke, "So, what are we gonna do? That guy in the corner with his girlfriend seemed suspicious as hell. We can't just kill an innocent guy cause he looked at you wrong, though."

"We could. I don't think he's our guy, though."

"What do you mean?"

"He's wearing a Rolex for Christ's sake. Do you think a drug lord on the run would be brain dead enough to do that?"

"Yea, you're probably right." Cateno sighed and rubbed his face. "I mean, this is impossible, right? All we know is that his voice is 'nothing special' and that he's an adult male. There are, like, four guys down there. We also know he has a stand, which means if we get the wrong guy, we're blowing our cover and we're totally fucked. Also, any number of the others could be bodyguards! How-!"

Fontina snapped her fingers in Cateno's face, cutting his spiral short, "Shut up. We're just gonna hang out, talk to everyone, and gather clues. Don Giorno trusted us with this hit. Just think, after this, Italy will be completely rid of drug-dealing pieces of shit. Doesn't that sound good? We can't let this fucker get across the border, or we won't be able to pursue."

Cateno nodded slowly, crafting a small smile. It quickly faded, and he began pulling at his hair. "Oh god, what if it's that fucking dude with the family? Are we gonna have to kill a kid? Listen, the rest of them I don't give a shit, but I am not killing a kid."

"If it is him, and that is his family, then we might have to." Cateno tilted his head to look into Fontina's cold eyes. His were instead wide saucers, pools of anxious thoughts swimming by.

He whispered hoarsely, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it."

Cateno sighed, his face in his hands, "Jesus christ. This job is already a mess."

"Alright, snap out of it. We've gotta go back down there and act like nothing's going on. Don't forget the cover story. Make sure you bring your gun."

"Fine." Cateno stood up and looked around. "Oh shit, it's still in my bag. Where's yours?"

"I've got a holster on the inside of my hoodie, although it's kind of a bitch to pull out. You've just got one of those little .38 Special's, so stick it in your waist or something."

"Yea, yea, whatever. I don't even know why we carry these fuckin' things sometimes."

Having double-checked their concealed carries were indeed just that, Cateno and Fontina creaked back down the wooden steps to the crowded dining room. As they turned the corner and their table came into view, they saw a waitress setting down two bowls of chicken stew and two bowls of polenta next to napkins and utensils. Then, the owner came out with two silvery cans of Coca-Cola Light and set one down with each meal. He turned and said to the pair, "Please, eat up! I made the stew myself, but Sonia here actually made the polenta. She's new, but she's been a surprisingly great fit."

Fontina said as she sat down, "Oh, thank you so much."

Cateno asked, "Can I actually get a cup with some ice, and a straw?"

Sonia said, "Don't worry, those are cold. Of course, if you still want one I can go get it for you."

"Yes, please."

"Okay, I'll be right back with that."

Once the owner and the waitress had disappeared into the backroom again, Cateno whispered into Fontina's ear as quietly as possible, "Watch that waitress." She didn't react and simply dug into her meal, taking bites of polenta and stew together on her spoon. Cateno followed suit after he had said his piece.

The man in the leather duster across from them had nearly finished his food by this point, and he attempted to start a conversation, "So, if those are ice-cold, what's with the ice?"

Cateno looked up from his food. He finished chewing his current mouthful before answering, "It's not really about temperature, it's about the flavor. Soda tastes better in a cup with ice, and it tastes even better if you drink it with a straw."

He chuckled, "Is that so? I don't know, seems easier to just drink it out of the can," he motioned toward his own empty can of root beer.

Cateno chuckled, "No. No way. It tastes like five times better in the cup. I don't know what it is exactly, but it probably regulates the temperature better, and it hits your taste buds in a much more satisfying way, I guess."

"Hm. Seems like a lot of work, you know, personally." After a few moments of silence the man asked, "Say, what are your names?"

"I'm Cateno."

"Fontina."

"Well, mine's Giovanni, in case you wanted to know. What're you doing snug against the Alps in the middle of winter, anyway? I was planning on being alone up here, but boy was I wrong as shit." He chuckled to himself as he leaned back into his chair.

Fontina fielded the question, "We're extreme hikers. This place wasn't our destination, but our shit-ass pickup could barely drive on that dinky dirt road with all the snow, so we figured we'd wait out the blizzard here and then hike after."

"Extreme hiking?"

"Like through deserts, jungles, mountains in the winter. We even do caving sometimes, but that's a whole other skillset, really."

Giovanni joked, "Ah, so masochists?" Fontina giggled and Cateno nodded in agreement before he continued, "I mean, I'm a masochist myself, to some extent. Went cold turkey after nearly four years of using, and I was just in rehab for almost three looong months. Been out for another three more, so I came up here to celebrate all by my lonesome. Little did I know, I wouldn't be so damn lonely."

Cateno said, "Wow, congrats. No small feat. I don't mean to sound insensitive, but what were you on?"

Giovanni answered with a regretful chuckle, "If you could smoke it, snort it, shoot it, or stick it up your ass, I've probably had it in me at one point or another."

Fontina and Cateno both gave understanding, somber nods, brushing past his attempt at humor. She said, "Yea, I had a dad who never made it out the other end of that shit. How'd you manage it?"

"Oh, well, all the dealers kept going missing. I get a hit from a guy one week, then the next they're gone and the new guy is twice as expensive. The people I had to deal with got shadier and shadier, and at some point, I just kinda thought, 'Why am I putting in so much work to kill myself?' So, the next day, I checked into one of those new rehab centers. There was one literally three blocks from my apartment."

Cateno asked, "Oh, where's that? I know that a lot of new facilities opened up because they got funding from that gang boss. What's his name? Giorno something-or-other, I think."

"Yea, yea, I think I heard that somewhere. Well, anyway, I'm from Napoli-"

At that point, the waitress reappeared with a cup of ice and a straw before setting it down in front of Cateno. "Sorry about the wait. Can I get you guys anything else?"

Cateno said, "Hm? Oh, no thanks. I'm good." She turned on her heels and allowed the table to finish their conversation, flicking her long, blond locks. Cateno continued, "So, I don't mean to be rude, but what's with that jacket? You look like you fell out of a Sergio Leone flick."

Giovanni looked down before laughing heartily. "Oh? This old thing was my dad's. He gave it to me a few years before he passed, and I just wear it out of habit. I think it looks cool, but I guess others might disagree."

With some mumbles of agreement, Fontina re-indulged in her polenta and stew while Cateno carefully poured his soda, making sure not to pop the carbonation bubbles by tilting the glass. Giovanni watched him do it with a smile. "You're quite the particular guy, you know that?" As he put the fizzing brown liquid to his lips, Cateno agreed with a nod.

Giovanni said as he wiped his face, "Alright, I don't wanna bother you two any further. Please, ignore me and eat up."

The crinkle of ice and chewing of food were the only sounds that passed over the table for the duration of the meal. During that time, Giovanni pulled out a blue flip phone and opened it with a flick. In the corner of the screen were three empty bars, and in the center blinked "No Service." He dejectedly returned the phone to his pocket.

Once everyone had finished eating, the owner and Sonia appeared from the backroom. In the woman's arms was an antique wooden chest with a gold-gilded latch that clearly saw frequent use. He motioned for her to set it down on his desk near the entrance, then asked her to grab everyone's dirty dishes. The girl complied with a smile and cleared away all the soiled bowls, plates, cups, and utensils. After depositing them in the back, she silently wiped down every table.

While Sonia prepared the tables, the owner opened the chest. "So, since we don't have much to do up here and we can't exactly go outside, I brought out this old thing of board games." He rifled through the contents and pulled out various brightly colored cardboard boxes. "Let's see, we've got Scrabble, Monopoly, Candyland, three decks of cards, Scopa… and that seems to be it. Oh, I've also got this case of gambling chips, but I'm not officially endorsing that, hehe."

The family man raised a hand and said, "Can I get one of those decks and the chips? Oh, and if anyone wants to join our game, you're welcome to."

Giovanni said, "Can I get the Scopa deck?"

The owner obliged and threw that deck to Giovanni before walking over the chip case and deck of cards to the family man. Fontina rose from her seat and said, "Cateno, you can play with Giovanni. I feel like joining their game." He gave her a knowing glance before returning his attention to Giovanni to discuss what game they would be playing.

Fontina dragged her chair over to the table where the two couples and the child sat and put it across from the two men, in between the two other women. After plopping down into her chair, she introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Fontina. What game were you planning on playing?"

The wife joked with a smile, "Had enough of your man?"

Fontina laughed and shook her head no. "Nah, was just interested in what's going on over here. Plus, since we might be here another day or two, I figured I should introduce myself."

Fontina asked what each of their names were, and was told that Vino and Elisabetta were the married couple, and Bruno was their son. The designer-dressed man introduced himself brusquely as Nero, and told her that his girlfriend's name was Mimi.

Vino riffle-shuffled the cards to a professional standard, generating a satisfying whirring as they mixed together. He then dealt three face-down cards to everyone, including his son. The case was then cracked open, which had a surprisingly new felt interior. Inside were six rows of twenty casino chips. Red, blue, green, white, black, and gold. Vino slid four chips to each player. Then, after placing the remaining cards in the center of the table face-down, Vino explained the game.

"Okay, so this game is called Blitz. You start with three cards which only you can see. You have to try and get your hand total to be as close to 31 as possible without going over. Face cards are worth ten, and aces are either eleven or one, depending on if you'll go over 31 or not. During each round you can do three things: take from the deck and put a card in the discard pile face up, replace the top card of the discard pile with a card in your hand, or knock. When you knock, the rest of the table only gets one more round before everyone reveals their hand and the winner is chosen. Also, if at any point you have an exact thirty-one, you lay your cards down and shout Blitz to win. If you knock and someone ties you for the win, they take only your chips and everyone else keeps theirs. Oh yea, I forgot to say, at the beginning of each round you put down a chip. When you can't bet, you're out. Everyone got it?"

Fontina said, "Isn't that kinda unfair? Every win is gonna take too many chips, and the advantage will become insurmountable."

"Hm… yea, you're right. Okay, scrap the chips. Slide them back over here." The table did as Vino said, and he returned them neatly to the case and latched it shut. He then placed the case carefully onto the floor, next to his chair. "I guess we'll just play for the fun of it. How's that sound?" He was met with five nods of agreement.

The cards had already been dealt, so everyone picked up theirs and waited for Vino to start. After a few moments of consideration, he placed down a two of spades, then drew a card. Before his wife got to take her turn, he interrupted, "I forgot to mention, probably because it is pretty rare, that a hand of three twos is equivalent to a blitz and follows the same rules. It's called a deuce."

After that, Elisabetta put down a seven of clubs, then drew a card. Bruno placed down a two of spades, then drew. Fontina placed down a five of diamonds, then drew. Nero placed down an eight of hearts, then drew. Mimi put down a nine of clubs, then drew. The game followed this silent rhythm for two more rotations of the table.

Vino hovered a hand over his cards, before steadily backing his fingers away and balling them into a fist. He knocked loudly on the old wood of the table as the wind picked up in the background, rattling the windows. He was wearing an expert poker face, and simply adjusted the cluttered discard pile into a straight stack before passing the turn to his wife. She sighed and put down a two of diamonds before drawing. Her expression did not look any more hopeful afterward.

Fontina placed down a king of spades. This move made the rest of the table bristle. Mimi and Fontina both noticed that Nero had begun flitting his eyes frantically from his hand to the face card at the top of the discard pile. When Fontina looked at the card she had drawn, she slumped into her chair and threw her cards face down onto the table.

Mimi took her own turn, but, surprisingly, she put down another face card, this time a jack of diamonds. Fontina could practically hear Nero's heartbeat from where she sat. Then, when Mimi drew, she let her cards flutter to the tabletop, fully exposed.

She shouted with a giggle, "Blitz!"

Among a chorus of sighs and cards hitting the table, Vino cursed, "Shit! Oh-" he turned to his son, "-don't repeat that." Without further complaint, he collected everyone's cards, showing his hand of three queens in the process. Nero also revealed his hand dejectedly, which consisted of two aces and a jack. Vino gave the deck another riffle shuffle and doled out three fresh cards to each of the six players.

Before they began the game, the owner approached the table with a pen and pad in hand. He said, "For those of you who I didn't introduce myself to, my name is Massimo, and I'm the owner. So, can I get anyone any drinks while you play? We have espresso, hot chocolate, some simple liquors and spirits, and soft drinks."

Going around the table, Vino ordered a doppio of espresso with a lemon rind, Elisabetta got a caffé mocha, Bruno and Fontina both ordered hot chocolate, Mimi asked for a caffé americano, and Nero got whiskey on the rocks. After the orders were taken, Massimo handed the pad off to Sonia, who had been taking Cateno and Giovanni's orders nearby. She took it into the back and started to prepare the drinks. Massimo addressed them again, this time from the front of the room, "After you all finish your drinks, I'm gonna need one of the men to come help me board up a few windows outside. They aren't made of that modern fiber-whatever stuff, and the wind seems to only be getting worse. We don't want any shattering on us."

Cateno stood up. "I'll help. I didn't order a drink, so we can go do it now if you want."

"Well, even better, then. I'll go get started and you can just come out when you're ready."

Cateno nodded and bid farewell to Giovanni before retreating upstairs to retrieve his parka and snow boots. Massimo likewise disappeared into the back before reappearing shortly with two hammers, a box of nails, and an armful of wooden boards. After setting them down, he slipped on a pair of black boots that were resting by the front door. When he unlatched the door, a violent gale tore into the lodge.

Mimi yelled above the sound, "Aren't you going to wear a jacket, or some gloves?"

Massimo stopped in his tracks, turning in his heels. "Missy, I don't need a jacket, nor do I need any gloves. I've lived at the foot of the Alps my whole life, my skin is thick as hide. This little storm is nothing."

"I'm not gonna stop you, but don't ask me for help if you come back with blue fingers."

"Hmph. We'll see, missy." The owner waved a dismissive hand in Mimi's direction and adjusted the collar of his wool sweater. After trudging out, he shut the door behind him with immense force, dulling the rabid howling of the wind to a muted whine.

Giovanni waved a hand over to the full table. "Hey, I just lost my opponent. Anyone feel like joining me for some Scopa?"

Mimi and Nero both looked at each other before rising from their seats. Nero said, "Yeah, we'll come play some." He turned to Vino. "Hey man, thanks for the game."

After the couple took their seats, Bruno looked up at Vino and asked, "Dad, can I go play Scopa?"

Vino smiled and patted him on the head. "Sure. Me and your mom are gonna play over here though, okay? Shout if you need anything." Bruno nodded in acknowledgment before running off to join the other game. Vino bent forward and gathered up the abandoned hands to shuffle them back into the deck. He again placed it equidistant from each player. Then, they each picked up their cards and initiated the next round.

As they passed through the turns of putting down a card and picking one up, Vino stopped and motioned to Fontina's hoodie. "So, are you a student? What do you study?"

Fontina looked down at the red Universita di Bologna hoodie before saying, "Oh, I'm in for theoretical physics."

Vino leaned back in his chair, impressed. Elisabetta interjected, "Wow, sounds fancy. I've never been a science person. It always seemed dry to me, and Vino isn't much better." She giggled and tapped him on the shoulder playfully.

Vino leaned in and asked, "So, what made you pick physics?"

Fontina answered, "You know I just like the idea that the universe works out. You can predict where an object will go, how two masses will fly off when they collide, the trajectory of a comet, or where the stars will be in the sky. It makes me think that the universe makes sense..." She laid an ace of diamonds on top of the discard pile and looked up at Vino. "...That everyone gets what they deserve."

He nodded when he saw the card, accepting her challenge. Vino picked up the ace and put down a two of diamonds. Elisabetta tensed up, as if she were trying her best to not react. She picked up the two from the discard pile and put down a seven of hearts.

Without even looking at her hand again, Elisabetta put her cards down neatly and said, "Blitz!"

Fontina and Vino both sighed before returning their cards to the deck and lamenting their loss. Elisabetta said, "Yea, I don't know. Seems too grand for me. I prefer simple pleasures like a nice facial scrub or something." She laughed a little bit, and Fontina exhaled sharply through her nose, humoring the woman.

It was then that Cateno descended the stairs in full winter-wear. He hurried to the door, unlatched it, and rushed out. He had to deal with the rush of wind from outside the same way Massimo did, but the door was shut again before anyone could complain.

There were a few moments of quiet in the lodge after his departure. Fontina listened to the groans of the structure and the low, discordant crackling of the dim hearth. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and simmered spices from the chicken stew mingled with the antique smell of the room. She felt the faint wisps of a chill dance across the back of her neck, but ultimately paid it no mind.

Cateno found himself on an island bordered exclusively by an unimaginable abyss. The stinging cold bit through his jacket and ran into his meat and bones. Even with a parka shielding him, it felt like a million pinpricks were being carried on the wind directly into his face and body. This was not a frost you could abate or escape, it was bitter and more unforgiving than even the pitch darkness in front of him.

He crunched through the nearly knee-height snow, hoping to soon come across the owner and finish this damned job. Cateno chose to go left and, after a few seconds of walking, found the side of the building deserted. Massimo might be in the back, so Cateno trudged on.

Near the front of the lodge, he passed a window that didn't have its shades down. It was the kitchen, and he could see Sonia making drinks; she obviously had no idea he was there. The assassin was distracted for a few seconds watching her pour a doppio of espresso into a fine white porcelain cup.

The waitress had a perfectly proportioned face of clean, pale skin. Her lips were a luscious cherry-red that popped against the silvers, whites, and greys of the kitchen setting. Cateno thought for a fleeting moment that she seemed like she didn't belong, like she was just visiting.

The pain of the cold creeped back in shortly. His cheeks and nose burned profusely, and his bones ached as a result of the subzero temperature, reminding Cateno of his objective. He turned his attention back to traversing the frozen hell in front of him, and moved inch by inch through the snow. He pushed as hard as he could with his shins to get through the snow, leaving deep tracks. Even if the snow was light, it was piled so high that it was extremely tiring to move through.

At long last, Cateno reached the back of the lodge. Situated in the trickles of golden light emanating from the bathroom window was the shadowed form of a person lying in the snow. The owner was scrunched up in the fetal position, and clearly unconscious. Nearby, boards, nails, and hammers were scattered in the snowbank.

The assassin sprung into action and did his best to flip the man over onto his back. He struggled in the powdery snow, trying in vain to get a solid grip on the owner's sweater. Finally, his hands found purchase on the man's sleeve, and he flipped him over. His face was an unsettling shade of greyish-blue, and his eyes were shut firm. His moustache was dusted with snow, and his lips looked parched and cracked.

Cateno clicked his tongue. "Well, shit."

Without hesitation, he grabbed at the man's feet and dragged him by his boots. After about a foot, Cateno found himself struggling to force his way through the thick snow backwards. After two feet, he gave up.

Cateno had an idea, so he scanned his surroundings, making sure no one else was around. Once he was sure, he pointed his right arm toward the unconscious man's torso and said aloud, "The Chain!"

As if by magic, a sentient chain leaped forward out of his hand and wrapped itself around Massimo's waist. Once it was pulled taught, Cateno slung the metal links over his shoulder and walked forward, holding onto the chain with both hands. He dragged Massimo inch by inch the entire length of the house, the chill still nipping at his face through his sweat and adrenaline. The assassin was intent on bringing this man back inside, even if he couldn't save his life.

When Cateno passed by the kitchen window again, he noticed the flicker of vibrant blond in his peripheral vision. The assassin turned his head toward the window, but only glimpsed an empty kitchen. It had shiny, sterile steel everywhere, looking like any professional kitchen he'd ever seen. One odd thing he noticed was that the full tray of drinks, matching exactly those he had heard ordered by the other guests, was resting on the counter in the center of the room. The gangster figured Sonia had gone into the other room for some reason, and he moved on quickly.

He continued the harrowing task of dragging the limp Massimo to the door. He couldn't help but wonder whether the man was already dead, and that all this work would be fruitless. Regardless, investigating his suspicious condition would be paramount. Even if there wasn't any definite proof, this situation smelled fishy, so he more than expected some kind of stand interference.

Through steaming white clouds of breath, Cateno reached the heavy front door at last. He undid the effect of his stand, and the chain dissipated into thin air, as if it had never been there in the first place. He cracked the door open an inch, and it flew open the rest of the way without any effort.

Sonia backed out of the kitchen with a large, circular tray of drinks in one hand. They clinked and clattered as the tray was gingerly rested atop the counter, and she started passing out drinks, unaware that Fontina was discretely observing her every move.

The table where Nero, Mimi, and Giovanni sat was closest, so she brought over the caffé americano for Mimi and, for Giovanni, a mug of hot chocolate. It was topped with a perfect spiral tower of whipped cream and dusted with rich cocoa powder. The waitress returned to the collection of drinks that rested on the main desk and fetched Nero's whiskey on the rocks. As Sonia walked, she tossed her long blond hair to one side, obscuring her face from Fontina's view. When she stooped to deliver the drink to its owner, Fontina's interest was piqued. The waitress leaned in a bit farther than was necessary, practically placing her mouth next to Nero's ear.

Fontina didn't outwardly react and accepted her own beverage, a hot chocolate, with just a curt thanks in response. There was no need to make a scene right now. If she was a bodyguard, doing so would only put her and Cateno in danger, and, if she wasn't, an accusation out in the open would most certainly alert the real thing.

The added sustenance seemed to revive the room, so Fontina tried initiating conversation once again. Her intent was to pry further and further until someone mixed up a story or let loose a slip of the tongue. Vino had been tight-lipped up to this point, doing more questioning than answering. On the other hand, Elisibetta was rather talkative. Even if her suspect wasn't the one taking on the brunt of the discussion, getting his wife talking would hopefully be enough to obtain all the information she might need. Fontina was anxious to learn more. "So, what do you two do for work?"

Elisabetta answered between sips of espresso, "Oh, we jointly own a jewelry store in Milano. You ever been? To Milano, I mean. I lived down south for a while, but Milano is just so nice."

Fontina nodded. "Yea, I went there on a day trip once. Very upscale city, so not really my kind of crowd. What's the name of your shop?"

"Occhio del Lupo. We chose the name together. Sounds pretty, no?"

"Mm. Yea, I like it. Maybe if I'm in town one day I'll stop by."

"Ooo, please do! I'm usually the one manning the shop, so you'll definitely see me."

Fontina looked down at the carefully spiraled cream atop her drink. "You said you're from down south? Where exactly?"

"Oh, we lived in Napoli together for quite a while. What was that honey, like, seven years?"

Vino nodded. Fontina pressed further, "Really? What made you go north?"

"Well, when I got pregnant, we agreed that Napoli wasn't the place we wanted to raise a baby, so we borrowed some money from his father and started our jewelry store."

Fontina nodded, but felt pushing even a teensy bit more might arouse suspicion, if they weren't already. Of course, that assumes that they aren't innocent, but there is a real possibility that isn't the case. Putting on her best detective cap, Fontina analyzed the information she had just collected. Everything checked out well enough, and it was realistic. There was one key piece of information missing, though.

Vino leaned in over his half-empty cup of espresso. "What brought you up here?"

Fontina took a long drink from her tall mug of hot chocolate. After licking the sweet whipped cream and cocoa from her lips, she retorted, "I could ask the same of you. It's brass monkey weather out there. I'm an extreme hiker, so my boyfriend and I came because of the cold. It's another thing entirely to come in spite of it."

"Well, we were hoping-"

The door to the lodge burst open, proceeded closely by the screeching blizzard wind. Cateno frantically dragged a limp body into the lodge, shouting for help.

"I need blankets! This guy's dying!"

Everyone launched from their seats. The scraping of chairs, anxious shuffling of feet, discordant shouts, and howling winds annihilated the casual atmosphere and replaced it with bedlam in a heartbeat. Mimi sprinted over to Cateno and began removing Massimo's jacket while he was still being dragged. She said urgently, "I'm a nurse. What happened?"

"I don't know. I walked around the side of the house and he was just lying in the snow, like he was sleeping. Is- is he dead?"

Mimi put two fingers to Massimo's neck, which felt raw and cold. "No, he has a pulse. It's weak." She traced her fingers along his skin and touched his forehead. "Probably extreme hypothermia, but lying down and passing out is a late-stage symptom. Regardless, lay him next to the fire." The nurse turned to the kitchen door. "SONIA!"

Mimi lifted the old man's legs while Cateno had his shoulders. They laid him closely adjacent to the dying hearth. Without hesitation, she threw more wood from a nearby log receptacle onto the embers and blew on it. While she was doing this, Sonia rushed out of the back and immediately ran to the front door, latching it shut. "What's going on?"

"Sonia, do you have a medkit or any medical supplies here? Also, get me towels soaked in warm water and a meat thermometer." She pointed around the room and delegated further. "Nero, run upstairs and grab blankets, as many as you can carry. Fontina, check the thermostat and turn it up a few degrees. It's kinda chilly in here. Cateno, I need you to keep this fire going. Vino, take your family upstairs and give us some space."

None verbally acknowledged her commands, they simply acted as she directed. Cateno bent down and took over blowing on the embers and moving the wood around with a poker to reignite the fire. He located some lighter fluid and a box of matches on top of the fireplace, so he put them to work immediately. Nero flew up the rickety staircase with his room key in hand, with Vino herding his wife and child right behind him. Sonia rushed into the back again.

Fontina said, "This thermostat is locked with some four digit code, I can't change it. It's set to.. Eighteen? What the fuck? Massimo must be one cheap bastard." A shiver visibly ran down her spine. "It's starting to feel damn cold in here, actually."

Mimi said, "Ask Sonia what the code is when she gets back. SONIA! I NEED THOSE SUPPLIES!"

The waitress rushed back through the kitchen door. "I can't find a medkit, I'm sorry, but I've got everything else!"

"That's fine, hopefully we won't need it." Sonia laid down a metal bowl filled with clean, white towels soaking in hot water, steam still rising off the surface of the liquid. Then, she handed the cooking thermometer to Mimi directly. The nurse opened Massimo's mouth and stuck the metal tip of the instrument underneath his tongue. "Shit. I don't know how accurate this thing is for something like this, but he's registering thirty-three."

Sonia asked, "Is that bad?"

"That's fucking deadly."

The girl recoiled, her hands pressed over her mouth in shock. She backed off and pulled out a nearby chair to fall into. "Is… is he going to die? What the fucking shit is going on?!"

Mimi responded, "No. He is not." She turned to Cateno. "How cold is it outside? It's basically impossible for him to have suffered this level of hypothermia in that amount of time, even without a parka. Even then, why didn't he just come back inside?"

Cateno rubbed his arms together and shivered. "I don't know. I thought I was gonna die out there, even with my jacket. It felt impossibly cold. Come to think of it, it's getting chilly in here too."

"Okay, well get that fire going so we can warm up. Sonia, do you know the password to the thermostat? If so, go raise the temperature."

Riddled with anxiety, she apologized, "I'm sorry, I- uh- I don't have it. Massimo- he's the only one who knows the password."

It was then that Nero creaked down the stairs, bundles of blankets slung over his shoulders. When he reached the first floor, he set them down on top of a table and Mimi snatched them up without hesitation. She wrapped Massimo up as snug as she could without constricting his breathing, then it came time for her to pat his forehead with the soaked towels. When she made contact with the surface of the water in the bowl, the nurse recoiled slightly from the shock of the heat. Regardless, she braced herself and pulled out a towel to cool it off a bit. The water felt much hotter than it looked, so she ended up dabbing a little less liberally than she had planned.

"Nero, come here and stick your hands under his shirt. Just keep skin-to-skin contact between his chest and your arms. It helps transmit body heat."

He knelt down and compiled. "I don't see why we gotta do all this. Just get the fire going and leave him be, he'll warm up."

Mimi glowered at her boyfriend. He acquiesced without further argument, but still seemed exasperated with the situation.

Despite Cateno having made the fire significantly brighter, Fontina rose from her chair, hugging herself and rubbing her arms together. She noted aloud that it was getting colder, and none disagreed, so she returned to the thermostat and tried at guessing simple codes. It was a square numerical pad containing numbers one through nine. She entered the four corners multiple ways, increasing sequences, decreasing sequences, repeating number sequences. None yielded any results, so she went over to Cateno and grabbed at his sleeve.

Fontina whispered, "Come with me."

They retreated up the stairs together, the sound of a muffled clatter emanating from the kitchen. Once they were inside their room and the door was locked behind them, the pair eyed each other knowingly.

Cateno said, "So, whose stand is it?"

"I bet it's either that waitress, the nurse, or Mister Family Man."

"Oh come on, its not fucking him. No way."

Fontina reclined in a chair across from the bed, "You can't say it isn't possible. Guy gives me a serious 'for my family' feeling."

"'For my family' feeling?"

"Yea, like he sells drugs to support his family or whatever. Easily the most dangerous kind. He isn't just some sewer rat, he's got a wife and kid to protect."

"Okay, well let's assume it isn't him for my own fucking sanity. Can we do that?"

Fontina sighed, "Fine. Well, the stand we're up against right now obviously has something to do with temperature. Just watch yourself and don't break any windows so we don't freeze to death. Also, that bitch is lying about not knowing the password. No reasonable fucking guy would set a thermostat anything below twenty in a blizzard."

"Yea, I agree. We have to corner Sonia and somehow prove it. Hell, we don't even have to catch her doing anything, we just need to check if she has a stand."

"Okay. I'm going back down. You should come with."

Cateno looked around, then replied, "Nah, I'll stay up here for a minute. Need to rest for just a second."

"Watch yourself. Shout if you see or hear anything."

"Aye aye, captain."

"Shut the fuck up. This is serious."

"Yes, I know. Bye."

Fontina said goodbye and closed the door, pausing to look both ways and double check the door to Vino's room remained closed. They hadn't come back down after Mimi shooed them upstairs, so leaving Cateno alone up here made her even more nervous.

Shrugging off her hesitation, she proceeded down the stairs, taking stock of each guest as they came into view. None seemed out of place, so she took a seat at the unoccupied table.

Nero asked the waitress, "Sonia, can I get a glass of water?"

Sonia nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Once she was gone, Mimi turned to Giovanni, who hadn't moved from his seat during the whole ordeal.

She asked, "You have a cellphone, right? Can you call 113?"

Giovanni tossed his phone onto the table like a useless hunk of plastic. "Kaput, no bars. Check with Sonia about a landline, or we're just gonna have to make due alone till the storm blows over."

Mimi bit her thumb. "Shit. Okay, well, thanks anyway."

Sonia reappeared with a tall glass of water, fresh from the tap. She walked it over to Nero, who stopped short of accepting it. He turned to Mimi, "Can I remove my hands now that the fire is going?"

"Um..."

Before she gave an answer, he grabbed it out of Sonia's hands and took a single, ginger sip. Then, he set it down next to himself on the floor. He did not return his hands to Massimo's chest and simply lounged next to the fireplace.

Mimi shrugged off her boyfriend's apathy. "Is there a landline in the back, Sonia? Giovanni's got no bars."

The waitress nodded and said, "Uh- yea, follow me."

Sonia and Mimi went into the backroom together this time, letting the free-swinging door clatter shut behind them. Fontina sat in silence, listening to the breathing of the other two in the room and the crackling of the hearth. Her eyes wandered, taking note of a light switch on the other side of the room.

She thought it was odd that guests could control the lights in the main dining room, rather than have the switch in a staff-only area, but a small, rustic lodge like this one might just have colloquial quirks like that.

The gangster's thoughts were interrupted when three sharp bangs came from the kitchen. She rose to her feet instinctively, and all eyes in the room shot to the kitchen door. After a tense few seconds, Mimi and Sonia exited, both looking downtrodden and exasperated.

Fontina asked, "What was that noise?"

Mimi said, "Sorry, I- um, lost it a bit. I slammed the phone against the wall."

Giovanni chimed in, "Can I assume we're up shit creek without a paddle, then?" The waitress and the nurse both looked at each other, then nodded solemnly. Sensing the despair in the room, Giovanni tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, we've got a fire, running warm water, food, and electricity. Thank our lucky stars we've also got a talented nurse, so Massimo will be fine. Just keep an eye on him."

Mimi nodded and took her seat by the unconscious owner. Not a single word of comfort came from Nero, as he simply watched the situation passively from his spot on the floor.

Sonia stalked over and took a seat next to Fontina. Obviously distressed, she questioned Fontina, "So, um, where's your boyfriend?"

"Oh, he's just resting up in our room."

"Hm."

Sonia leaned back and cracked a small smile, breaking through her mask of anxiety. It wasn't a warm smile, like a human understanding the stress of a fellow human and grinning at the empathetic weight of that experience. Instead, it was cold and lifeless. If Fontina were a dog, the hair on her back would be jutted up like spikes and her haunches would be raised high, ready to fight or flee.

She had confidence that this woman was an enemy stand user. Not through hard evidence, but an overpowering gut feeling. Seeing an opportunity, Fontina leaned in close to the waitress and whispered calmly, "I know." She brought her head back and sat quietly, watching Sonia like a hawk.

The waitress had cracked. The mask had slipped before, but now it shattered at her feet. The woman was cold and sadistic, but silent. Fontina started to sweat. That miniscule part of her that hoped the waitress would be confused or try denying any knowledge of what she had meant was snuffed out, and now she had a brazen enemy sitting two feet from her.

In the corner of her eye, Fontina saw Nero throw a glimpse their way from where he knelt, hands still underneath the blanket. She couldn't identify who he was glancing at, or if it was malicious.

Now, the whisper was in her ear. It was sensual, intense, and the smell of Sonia's spiced perfume and hot breath made the hairs on Fontina's neck stand on end.

"I know, too… but I'm not the only one."

If alarm bells had been ringing in the back of her mind, they now screamed to the forefront, completely drowning out her surroundings. In a mad dash, Fontina turned her back on Sonia and kicked over her chair. Mimi and Giovanni flicked their heads up at the noise, but Sonia was transfixed on the roaring fire in the hearth, smirking all the while.

Fontina sprinted up the stairs with an animalistic quickness. She didn't bother checking the hallway, and the door to her and Cateno's room was torn open so fast it was nearly heaved from its hinges. The assassin gasped and cursed under her breath, but she didn't hesitate to enter.

After the door closed, Cateno threw himself onto the bed. He could hear the soft rattling of the window above his head as it was brutalized by the storm. The wool quilts consumed him while he attempted to shake off the chill that had embedded itself in his bones since he returned from his trip into that white hell.

The assassin fiddled with the gun he had stuffed in the front of his pants but didn't remove it. He knew he would have to go back downstairs soon anyway, so there was no point. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips.

Cateno was not accustomed to intense situations like Fontina. Her history with hunting ex-dealers and manufacturers for Don Giorno extended multiple years longer than his, to the very genesis of the project itself. In fact, his stand ability wasn't accustomed to killing, so he was more of an ankle bracelet to keep her under control.

The Chain was excellent for utility and crowd control, as it was indestructible and could trap multiple people indefinitely. Outside of combat, it made him one of the best trackers in Passione, as he could use objects owned by targets and his chain will divine their location and point in their direction. Him and Fontina had followed his stand's directions to this lodge by way of a small sample of drugs that had been passed down to a local dealer by their target, whose identity was always kept secret from his employees. They were so confident in the fact that their target was at the lodge because it was one of the main drug mule stops for his network.

The actual, primary purpose of his stand over many others is that it pairs so well with Fontina's Wild Side, which tended to wreak havoc. He recalled a story Fontina had told him about her final mission with her previous partner. They needed to hit a manufacturer at his laboratory, which was situated in the basement of a villa in a wealthy northern community. The partner had some kind of stand that created a pattern on the ground, but Cateno didn't remember the details. Regardless, when they busted in, there were more guards than expected. After being scratched by Wild Side, one of them escaped up the stairs and gunned down multiple civilians. While trying to subdue him, her partner got shot dead too.

Creak

The noise made Cateno leap to his feet. It had come directly from underneath the bed, where there were only shadows below the frame. Cateno called out as loud as he could while a storm brewed in his stomach, "FONTINA!"

No response. No footsteps.

Then, there was another creak. Followed by another. His eyes were affixed to the underbelly of the bed, ready for a horror to breach the darkness.

He wasn't disappointed. A milky white dome peaked out, followed by a body born of shadow. As its monstrous form twisted and contorted its way into shape, it gave the impression of a large, wild feline. Its torso and limbs were grotesquely muscular, and it had paws the size of baseball mitts. The head was the skull of a big cat, with prehistorically large fangs.

Perspiration broke on Cateno's forehead. He screamed, "FONTINA! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

Again, no answer. He was alone versus this beast.

The hinges on its maw opened, and, to the assassin's shock, the beast spoke, "You should never have come here. Hotel California has you cornered, there is no escape." Its voice was warbled and gritty, like the grating of charcoal on sandpaper.

Cateno launched The Chain forward without hesitation, binding the stand in place with a choir of clanks. The phantom bondage pulled taught, leaving no room for so much as a twitch. Hotel California didn't even attempt to dodge, simply taking the attack as a matter of course.

The feline bulged its inky muscles, forcing the indestructible chains apart. Finally, it sunk its teeth into the top links and tore at the entrapment. Once it was done, the chains fell to the ground with a thud. This was a beast that could not be caged.

Containing the creature would clearly be fruitless, so Cateno swiftly moved on to plan B. He pulled out his small revolver and offloaded a round directly into the cat's skull. It didn't even flinch as the bullet collided with its bony cranium, compressing into a useless bit of metal on impact. The destroyed bullet fell to the ground in front of the stand with a depressing plink.

"Well, shit."

Cateno returned the gun to the front of his jeans, then immediately made a break for the side of the room, attempting to maneuver around the feline and toward the bed. If he could break the window, he could leap out and hopefully escape the stand. It would hurt like hell, and he'd be outside without a parka, but it was a risk worth taking.

It was never going to be that easy, however.

Hotel California was fast. Very fast. It intercepted Cateno, nearly catching his arm in its jaws. He swiped the limb away barely in time, but still not quick enough. The edge of its monstrous front tooth left a gash down his forearm. The wound leaked blood, but it wasn't bad enough that it put him in danger of bleeding out.

The gangster shook off the injury and took a step back. He jiggled the door handle, but it wouldn't budge an inch. Cateno had figured as much, but double-checking could mean the difference between life and death. The feline leaped at him, but he caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision and was able to dodge quickly to the left. It crashed into the door with an earth-shattering boom, yet still no one in the lodge seemed to hear the scuffle or come to Cateno's rescue.

Cateno was now in the center of the room, and had a straight shot toward the window. This would be his final gambit to escape the clutches of Hotel California. He called his stand's name, launching it forward toward the window as he took off running. "THE CHAIN!"

It clinked and clanked as it sailed in front of him, more than enough weight to smash the window into a million pieces. As if in slow motion, it collided with the glass pane.

Nothing happened.

The Chain bounced off with a reverberating crack before falling limply onto the soft bed below.

"Fuck."

The beast caught up to the gangster in a heartbeat, tripping him with a bite to the leg. It didn't dig its teeth in far, just enough to drag him backward. Cateno flipped over onto his back and moved to shield his face, while Hotel California only brought its face in closer, widening its vicious jaws. There was no hot breath or dripping saliva. This beast did not enjoy the hunt or salivate over the kill, it existed only to do what its master felt needed to be done.

Fontina rushed over to the fallen Cateno. Blood was just beginning to seep from the massive wound in his neck, but he was very clearly still breathing. He propped himself up before Fontina reached him, and his hand shot to the bleeding tooth mark. She knelt down and put a hand on his back while helping him put pressure on the wound with the other. Skipping any pleasantries, she asked, "What happened?"

Cateno spoke faintly, "Big fucking cat attacked me. I couldn't escape, couldn't break the window." He winced in pain as more blood gushed out from under his hand. "Hotel California was the stand name."

Fontina nodded. "We need to get you downstairs, Mimi might be able to help."

Cateno asked through hitching breaths, "You trust her?"

Fontina said, "Yea. Sonia is a bodyguard, Nero is probably our guy. Mimi doesn't seem to know."

Cateno didn't react to her declaration. The searing hot pain and scent of metal were enough to make his eyelids flutter. Fontina helped him up and guided him out of the room and down the stairs, keeping a hand over his the entire time to help stem the bleeding. Cateno was clearly in bad shape. One side of his hoodie was covered in a shocking amount of blood, and Fontina's had multiple hand prints and streaks.

When they hit the bottom floor and Mimi spotted them, she got up and rushed to their side. She shouted, "What?! What the fuck happened?! Sonia, go grab me some towels!"

Sonia didn't get up.

"SONIA!"

Sonia didn't budge.

"This guy is fucking bleeding out, help me!"

Sonia didn't move a muscle.

"...Sonia?"

Finally, she spoke, "Oh, stop your fucking whining."

A ghostly hand with mysterious black padding on the knuckles collided with Mimi's shoulder. She was sent barreling backward into the wall, and the smell of scorched flesh cut the air, accompanied by screaming. The woman's clothing had been burnt away and her skin was singed, red, and bubbling where she had been struck. As the nurse slumped to the ground, she grabbed at the wound and let out a wail.

Fontina rested Cateno against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. The time for talk had passed. Combat was the only way through. She took stock of everyone in the room.

Giovanni had ducked under the table. Nero stared at his maimed girlfriend with an impassive bewilderment, but didn't move an inch from where he sat by Massimo. Mimi certainly wouldn't be going anywhere in the next few minutes.

Sonia had, at long last, risen from her seat and came face to face with Fontina. Behind her was a silver humanoid with red, green, and blue gems placed in an alternating pattern along its arms, legs, and chest. Its face was robotic, with a large grin of white lights. It looked like a walking disco ball, and the only dark features were the black, sandpaper-esque pads on its knuckles.

Sonia said, "This is as far as you and your little boyfriend go, bitch. You're no match for Sweet Emotion."

Without a lick of pause, Fontina reached under her hoodie. She struggled with the fabric for a moment, so by the time the gun had been pulled and aimed at Sonia, it was too late.

When she pulled the trigger, the crack was deafening.

However, the bullet never connected with its target. In a flash, Sweet Emotion jumped forward and swiped at the projectile, redirecting it into the wooden boards below. Sonia snickered, and Fontina didn't bother firing another shot.

The revolver could only be described as a hand cannon, with a significant barrel and six-round cylinder, yet Fontina tossed it to the ground with abandon. It wasn't impossible to beat a stand user with a gun, but it certainly wasn't plausible to beat Sonia. At last, she revealed her true weapon.

A vile presence took shape behind Fontina. It lived and breathed bloodlust, with grey fur matted by stains of crimson. Its razor teeth snarled from a horrific snout, with bits of gore hanging down next to globs of saliva. The violent claws on its hands could freeze a weak heart with their wickedness. The shredded blue jeans that hung over its lower half gave the impression that this savage lupine form was armor, constructed to protect the nakedness of a mere human.

This was Wild Side.

Sonia's sadistic glee faltered. She had expected torture, but instead she found a battle, and her odds did not look good. The presence of Fontina's stand ability alone was enough to lodge a lump in the woman's throat. Regardless, she readied herself.

Yet, it wasn't Fontina nor Sonia that landed the first blow. A metallic clinking billowed from behind Fontina, rapidly progressing in Sonia's direction. When the chain reached her, she acted fast and attempted to knock it to the side. After being deflected, it wrapped back around like a hungry python, entangling Sweet Emotion. Once it could only twitch in place, Fontina made her move.

Wild Side wound up a large swipe of its terrible claws, which would almost certainly execute the unguarded Sonia in one blow. In response, she allowed Sweet Emotion to dissipate, causing its bondage to fall into a bundle on the ground. While this was happening, Sonia ducked away.

Fontina and Cateno were both confused, as she slinked toward the wall, and their understanding of her abilities meant she wouldn't be able to easily bust through. The former waitress looked back only once, at the fireplace. That was when the shit-eating grin curled across her face.

Fontina took a step forward, ready to kill the woman where she stood with one strike of Wild Side's paw; however, she didn't make it in time. With a click, the lights went out, leaving only the radiance of the hearth to light the room for a fleeting fraction of a second. In that flickering orange light, the popping red of Sonia's smirk stuck out.

Before anyone else could react, the flames went out with a splash. Now in absolute darkness, the sound of a cup clattering to the floor mingled with lightning-fast footsteps. A ringing cry of agony along with the sound of tearing flesh and snapping bones came from behind Fontina, but she kept her guard up, ready to be struck at any moment.

When the lights flicked back on, Sonia was still next to the switch, Nero was still next to the fireplace, and Giovanni was still under the table. A piercing screech coming from Mimi made Fontina's head swivel. When she saw the scene that had unfolded behind her, she gasped.

Cateno was dead. The flame of life had fled from his eyes, surrounded by a face twisted in terror and pain. He had been slashed across the chest. It was deep, so deep that fragments of rib peaked out from the gushing wounds. He sat in a slowly expanding puddle of gore.

"Shit." Fontina's tone was closer to disappointment than shock or grief. As much as she longed for that fire to fill her belly and that heat to consume her thinking, even the revelation of Cateno's death couldn't blast through the steel wall inside her head. On instinct, she had Wild Side take a swipe at Sonia, forcing the waitress to back up and blocking her from flipping the switch again.

There was a pause in the action. Sonia turned to Nero. "What the fuck!? Why didn't you kill her!?"

Nero said, "I'm sorry! You know I can't control it that well! Besides, you gave us away like a dumbass!"

"Well, someone had to light this powder keg, and it might as well have been me!" She rubbed her temples and said under her breath, "When you hire bodyguards, make sure both of them are actually fucking good."

Fontina had heard enough. Wild Side burst forward and attempted to bat Sonia across the face. She backed up, and Sweet Emotion rematerialized quickly to intercept the blow before delivering a quick uppercut. Both Fontina and Wild Side were knocked back significantly, and the now blistering skin on her chin hurt like the blazes of hell. She wanted to put pressure on the injury, scratch at it, and dunk it in ice water all at the same time, but she had no opportunity to do any of that. Her only prerogative was to kill this bitch.

In retaliation, Wild Side advanced with a blood-curdling howl. Sonia was caught off guard by the animosity of it for only a moment, but that moment was all Fontina needed. A swipe came from the right, and Sweet Emotion's gut was caught dead in its path. Nails raked through the stand's metallic, gem-crusted form, causing equivalent gashes to form on Sonia's midsection. Pints of freshly spilled vitality were scattered along the walls and floors, and Sonia could only stand still. The expression written on her face was the farthest imaginable from her previous grin.

Shredded intestine and bile leaked from the massive gashes. Blood gushed forth in biblical proportions, completely soaking everything below her waist. It was enough to make Fontina dizzy. The bodyguard stared downward at her fatal injuries. Her eyes were bewildered and jittery, struggling to comprehend her own fate. She shot one final, pitiful look at Fontina. Then, regardless of if her understanding ever came to fruition, Sonia fell forward with a thud.

There was a moment of silence. Fontina stood over her prey, eyes wide. No thoughts danced in her skull, so she just watched the blood spread and seep through the floorboards.

Giovanni peeked a head out from under the dinner table. "Is it over?"

As if in response, another burst of motion came from the corner of Fontina's vision. She acted fast, tripping Nero as he gunned for the lightswitch. He went down like a felled tree, sending up dust on impact. Fontina pressed a foot into the back of his calf, digging her heel in hard. Nero screamed, which made her think of a bulldog bleating like a chihuahua. If the situation weren't so grim already, she might have laughed.

Fontina said, "Who's your boss?"

Nero didn't hesitate to spill the beans, "The dude upstairs! Shit, just get off my fucking leg! Please, I already told you!"

Fontina shook her head. Cateno's nightmare had been reality the whole time.

Nero continued to wail, "BITCH! GET OFF ME!"

She only looked down at his warped expression. The man was nearly in tears, but Fontina had no desire to let him go. Wild Side reared up a furry foot, ready to kick in his skull.

Before she could react, Nero slipped a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. Fontina attempted to throw her leg back, but it was too late. He plunged the silvery edge into her right calf. The assassin winced and fell backward onto her ass, gripping the blade that was stuck in her leg. While she was distracted, Nero attempted to scramble toward the lightswitch.

Bang

He howled and flopped back onto the ground, writhing in agony. Viscous crimson spread around his abdomen, staining his expensive white casualwear.

Fontina whipped her head around. Mimi was trembling, Fontina's revolver looking oversized in her clean hands. She spat, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He could only respond, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?! YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU SHOT ME!? WHY?!"

"WHY?! You stabbed her!"

Fontina shuffled off toward the tables, hoping not to get caught in the the couple screamed, she ripped off a strip of thick cloth from her hoodie, unstuck the knife from her leg, and bandaged the wound.

Nero pressed both hands on his wound and attempted to regain control of the situation. "Come on, babe. Do you think I wanted this? It's this bitch's fault! She started all this!" He nodded toward Fontina. "We all would've gone home safe by tomorrow if it wasn't for her!"

"What about Massimo?! He's dying, maybe already dead, because of your psycho partner! Do you think I'd forgive you for working with someone like that?! And now, you wanna kill more people?"

"I have to! She's gonna fucking kill us! Did you not see what she did to the waitress!?"

She caressed the burn on her shoulder with her free hand, "I wouldn't exactly call that bitch innocent!"

Nero looked up at his girlfriend pleadingly as he attempted to inch toward the lightswitch on his back. He nudged forward like a snail, slowly and leaving a streak of red as he crawled. The entire time, he whispered promises of what would happen if she didn't pull the trigger. These futures sounded all too sweet, with both of them walking out of this lodge alive and returning to their modern villa. She could take a steamy bath, and he could get his wounds treated while resting in their fine silk sheets. His smile was weak and ephemeral, as if it took all his remaining effort to uphold.

Mimi's face was beet red and streaked with salty tears. Through the opaque visage of grief and intensity, she couldn't make out the smile he put so much effort into crafting. She knew in her soul his sweet nothings were merely hot air, yet she desperately wished they were true. He had brought her up to this mountain to die, involving her in his life of crime and murder. Even if she didn't shoot him now, he would certainly bleed out. There was no recourse. She was unclean. The best she could hope to do was stop the killing here and now.

Finally, Nero had crawled close enough. He reached a gore stained hand over Sonia's corpse toward the switch.

"Stop!" Mimi shouted.

His finger continued encroaching on its destination.

"Please!"

He didn't stop.

"Please!"

Her plea went unanswered. Mimi winced as she slowly pulled the trigger, averting her eyes. Nero recoiled and attempted to shield his face with his hands.

He screamed, "Wait-!"

Crack

The back of his skull bloomed like a red lotus, splattering brain matter everywhere. Nero's limp corpse and the revolver hit the ground at the same time.

Seeing the reality of her own deeds, Mimi covered her mouth in shock. She was quaking and weeping while the full weight of what she just did crashed down upon her with gravitic force. It was too much. She turned on her heels and flailed wildly out of Fontina's view, sobbing loudly as she went. The kitchen door swung shut behind her, and Mimi was gone.

That same silence from before resurfaced, but it hung undisturbed. Neither Fontina nor Giovanni moved a muscle for more than a minute.

"Well... that was interesting, I guess. You seem to know what the fuck is going on, so is it over?" Giovanni asked, rising to a standing position while dusting off his coat.

Fontina also rose, leaning all her weight onto her uninjured leg. "No."

"Well, shit. Hey, isn't she awfully quiet in there? She was wailing like a banshee before."

"Yea." Fontina barely acknowledged his comment before walking over to the kitchen door. She pressed it open, and it put up little resistance. Doors like these were designed to swing in a manner that did not impede waitstaff coming through with plates and trays.

The assassin poked her head in, making sure to hold the door. If Vino's stand ability worked like she thought, letting it close would be a death sentence. On the other side of the island, she saw a mangled arm and a trickle of blood running along the cold, tiled floor. She did not investigate, but she didn't need to.

The woman said, turning around, "Giovanni, stay by me!"

He responded, "Trust me, I'm not going anywhere. Is she… um, alright?"

"She's dead."

Fontina couldn't see his face, but she imagined his mouth was agape. He eked out a simple, "Oh."

Once Fontina had returned to the dining room, she found Giovanni had taken a seat at the nearest table. He asked, "How'd she bite the big one? Did she find a kitchen knife and-" he brought a finger across his throat "-you know, off herself?"

The gangster shook her head in the negative. At this, Giovanni's confusion finally boiled over. "Well, then what the fuck happened?! What the fuck is going on?!"

Fontina decided it was in her best interest to grant him an explanation, so she did.

Stand users were extremely uncommon, and those who existed were pressured to keep their abilities secret. Thus, the idea of stands wasn't well known to the larger populace, and news outlets explained away occurrences involving stand abilities as 'freak accidents' or simply 'unexplained incidents.' There were whispers of their existence on online forums and the streets, but scientists and media labeled these people conspiracy theorists or just plain crazy.

Once Fontina had caught him up on why she and Cateno had come here in the first place, who Nero and Sonia were, who Vino was, and the gist of the stand abilities that had been and still are at play, Giovanni didn't seem too shocked. The man just nodded along. He had been buying from the Passione gang for a significant portion of his lifespan, and had been caught up in more than a few deadly scuffles, so none of it sounded completely farfetched to his ear.

After she finished explaining, Fontina looked Giovanni up and down. The gangster furrowed her brow, carefully considering him. Then, she went over to Cateno's body, lifted up his blood-soaked hoodie, and pulled a grimy handgun out from the waist of his jeans. Normally, the gun would have the sheen of polished steel, but it was red and smudged, covered in the man's innards.

She went over to the nearest table and grabbed a handful of napkins. Once the gun had been wiped down to a satisfactory extent, she tossed it to Giovanni. Needless to say, napkins were an inefficient cleaning method when something was caked with vital juices, but it was sufficient enough that he could handle the weapon without it slipping.

When it landed in his lap, he recoiled. "Woah, woah, woah. Pump the damn breaks. I never said I'm killing anyone. I just wanna get the fuck outta here."

"Listen, that guy up there is a kingpin. He ran the trade in Napoli when you were an addict. Don't you wanna get back at the piece of shit that ruined your life? Besides, after all this, I can't just let him go."

"You ever heard of the sunk cost fallacy? Let's just say there's a reason it's called a fallacy. Plus, I bet you'll do a great job ruining his life all by your lonesome."

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Help me or give the gun back. And if you point that shit at me-" Fontina motioned a hand toward Sonia's eviscerated, face-down corpse.

He finally picked up the gun and examined it. "Hey, I need this for personal protection."

She walked over to Nero's body and found the handcannon that had clattered to the ground nearby. "Either way, come with me. If his stand catches you alone, you're dead meat, gun or no gun."

"Fine, but I'm not gonna shoot this guy, even if you ask nicely."

The scene in room one of the Rifugio il Dosso was pure chaos. After the first gunshot sounded, Vino and Elisabetta immediately started packing their things in a fury. They didn't stop to answer a single question Bruno bleated out. It was obvious the child was confused, and the intensity in his parents' eyes was nearly enough to bring him to tears. The couple didn't have time to manage the emotions of their kid, especially when the second gunshot rattled the structure, followed by the last deafening pop a short time later.

Vino pulled a snub nosed revolver from one suitcase and held it. He examined it deeply, clearly unsure of what to do. Light from the bulb above glinted off its aluminum finish, and Vino saw a mangled image of his own reflection on the weapon's short barrel. He pushed through his indecision and ejected the cylinder. After giving it a spin and making sure the gun was fully loaded, he flicked off the safety and stashed it under the bed. There was no secret made of the weapon, and he was sure both of his family members were watching when he stashed it. If things went south for them, even Bruno might be the one who needs to fire it.

While he was double checking the latch on the door, his insides felt heavy and blood rushed to his head. An image of Nero's girlfriend flashed into his mind. She was crouched in the kitchen, weeping and doused with blood. This slightly dizzying sensation was his stand activating. It needed to drain some energy from his body in order to function, but it wasn't a significant cost. Just as throwing a ball or going for a short jog took some effort, so did his using his stand powers.

Hotel California, however, was in the remote classification of stand. He couldn't control its movements or speech without extremely deep concentration, and it usually only flashed an image of its prey before engaging in a kill routine. If Vino didn't want that target to be killed, he could deactivate the stand. The most important detail about his stand was that it would appear when the target was completely entrapped in an enclosed space. That space could be any reasonable size, as long as they were the only person within it, and Vino was somewhere nearby. Doors, windows, and other exits became completely impassable from within, including by sound waves, and the only way to realistically save a target would be to open an exit from outside the space.

Vino had considered the visceral horror of his stand's abilities, being an invisible, indestructible, and fatal threat to any normal person, but it was necessary to enact on this poor woman. There was no way of knowing if she was a threat to him, and, based on her state, he could assume Nero was dead. Without a flutter of guilt in his heart, the gangster allowed Mimi to be mauled.

Once the family had finished packing, Vino stopped his frantic wife and sat her down on the bed next to Bruno. Both of them looked about ready to burst into tears. He touched each of their shoulders, trying his hardest to assuage their anxious minds.

"No matter what happens tonight, I love both of you."

Elisabetta rubbed his hand. "We will survive this, honey. We've been through worse. These gangster pieces of shit will not be the end of the Boreto family."

Bruno asked, "Are people coming to hurt us?"

Elisabetta pulled her child in and hugged him tight. "Yes, baby. Your mommy and daddy will protect you, so don't you worry. Just do what we say for now, okay?"

Bruno nodded as the snot and tears started to flow. He hugged his mom tight and begged for her not to leave, imprinting a damp spot on her shoulder. Elisabetta rubbed his back, muttering words of comfort. Vino joined in and gave them both the widest hug he could stretch his arms to accommodate. Trying to hold his own tears at bay, the gangster bit his lip.

This show of familial love was interrupted when a muscled, furry paw crashed through their door with an ear-splitting crash. Of course, Bruno and Elisbetta would have seen nothing but the wind kicking it down, but Vino knew what was coming. He instinctively threw his body between the attacker and his loved ones, arms outstretched.

Fontina barked only one word, "Downstairs!"

Neither adult protested. Elisabetta hesitated for only a moment, leaning a hand toward the underside of the bed, but ultimately let it go. Vino followed without complaint.

Bruno was planted firmly on the bed, looking positively petrified. Fontina considered uprooting the child and forcing him out with his parents, but she came quickly to the conclusion that it wasn't worth the trouble and shut the door behind him. The lock was broken, so it ended up cracked open a sliver.

Fontina led the couple downstairs at gunpoint, with Giovanni taking up the rear. She didn't trust him for much, but shooting her in the back was out of the question.

As Elisabetta passed by Cateno's corpse at the bottom of the stairs, her leg brushed against his limp arm. She audibly gagged and rushed forward with a jolt, averting her eyes from the other bodies littering the ground. Fontina pointed her gun at the woman and said flatly, "Cool it." She tipped the end of the barrel toward the table on the far side of the room. "Sit."

Vino put his hands high above his head before prompting his wife to do the same. They both sat down as commanded, in total silence. The gangster was cool as a cucumber, or at least that was how he looked. Elisabetta was much less so, but kept it together enough not to get shot down.

"Lay your hands flat on that table, molasses-like."

They followed her directions without question. Vino focused only on Fontina, but Elisabetta's eyes flitted between her and Giovanni. The recovering addict was on the other side of the far table, gun raised toward the couple, plainly keeping his distance. Trepidation oozed from every twitch of his hands and face.

Fontina came around to the other side of the table and felt around their waistlines, underneath their shirts. Wild Side breathed down their necks, even if Elisabetta couldn't see it. Any sudden moves would get both of them killed, so they sat still as statues.

Once the assassin was satisfied that they were both unarmed, she took her seat across from them. It was the same spot Vino had sat in during their game of Blitz.

At this distance, Wild Side could tear the couple limb from limb at the drop of a hat. Keeping the gun trained on Elisabetta, however, sent the message that she needed to keep a cool head and that she was in immediate danger, even if the real threat was lurking right next to her, invisible.

A tense few seconds of immobile silence blanketed the room.

Vino was the first to break it. "So, why aren't we dead yet?"

Fontina fidgeted with the gun in her hand. "Do you want to die?"

"No, I just figured that was why you came here. Woulda been more efficient to gun us down upstairs."

Her voice was still as a moonlit pond. "I'm not here to kill you, Vino. I'm here to ruin you. It's what I do."

The gangster nodded and leaned back in his chair. Elisabetta flicked her gaze toward her husband, confused. "What do you mean? What did we ever do to you? We're just vacationing in-!"

Vino gingerly reached out a hand and rubbed her shoulder. He shook his head. The charade was long past up, there was no point in parroting an obviously fake narrative. Fontina said, "Hands on the table." As she demanded, his hand returned to its former place.

Fontina paused for a moment. "My father was a great man. He wasn't perfect. He used to hit me when I was a lot younger, and he was a bit of a sexist, but he was… well, he was great. He was a craftsman, he loved his late wife, and he always did his best to provide for me and my two brothers when he could. One time, he brought me to his shop because I had off from school. He used this… tool, I don't know the name of it, to scrape away at a piece of lumber. He scraped and scraped and scraped with practiced strokes, never a centimeter off where he needed to be. As I sat there with a little juice box, I remember thinking 'Wow, my dad is an artist. He must be the most talented carpenter in the world.' Another thing that I remember is that he didn't always come home. There were sporadic nights here and there where he'd just not be there. He'd show up the next morning and apologize and give us each a couple bucks for breakfast, but none of us thought much of it. It happened again and again for years, and it only became more and more common. Eventually, it just became part of the routine. I would come home from school, and he just wouldn't be there, and at some point I stopped noticing. Now, one night, after a while of all that, I checked on him in his room because I heard this… rattling sound. It was the bedframe, and he was on the bed, convulsing and spitting up. Of course, I'm only nine, so I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I run over and shake him and call for my brothers, but they were staying at a friend's house or something. It doesn't matter. By the time my stupid kid brain gathered the wits to call an ambulance, he was already dead. I remember when the paramedics arrived, a cop came in with them. He took one look at the bed and saw the needles that my dad had been shooting up with. Without saying anything, he turns to me and just gives me this... sour look. To this day, I still don't know if he pitied me or thought my father was a deadbeat or what."

Vino burst out laughing. Everyone else was frozen in shock as he hemmed and hawed, bordering on cackling. The terse and formal Vino that Fontina had witnessed up till now was all an act. This was the man behind the performance. His demeanor bordered on aloof, but instead came off as sardonic despite the deepness with which he felt the present danger.

Vino wiped away a tear. "Woo, that was a good one. So you're justifying the massive pile of bodies you've built up in your wake with a little sob story about your dear old pa? Excuse me if I call horseshit."

Fontina brought back the hammer with a click, pointing it directly at Vino's chest. "I never- Well, actually, yea, it is justified. My dad certainly isn't the only person who I've seen overdose. Someone needs to wipe you greedy fuckers out, and far be it from me to let my skills go to waste."

Sensing that things were going to explode, Giovanni interjected, "Fontina, how old are you?"

She glanced over at him, unsure where the question would lead. "Twenty-three, why?"

"Vino, when did you start selling in Napoli?"

"That was… nine years ago, now."

"See? He didn't do shit to your dad. So, why don't you just let him go so we can all get the fuck outta here alive?"

Giovanni's attempt at persuasion failed, and Fontina shot him a glare that could kill. "Shut up, Giovanni. This is just what I do. I never said he did anything to my dad, did I?"

"Um… no, I guess not."

She returned her attention to the couple. "I usually wouldn't do this, but I'm feeling merciful tonight out of respect for the dead. I won't hurt your boy. You two, on the other hand…" She leaned back, readying her trigger finger. Wild Side took its place right behind Vino, tickling the back of his neck with rot-stained breath.

Giovanni readjusted his grip on the revolver and muttered to himself, "I'm gonna fucking regret this." He turned the weapon on Fontina. "FONTINA! Drop it!"

The assassin turned her head slowly. When her eyes met his, a sweat broke out on his forehead and his spine turned to jelly. If he hadn't steeled himself beforehand, his legs may have given out at that moment. He found himself staring into the pale eyes of death, cold and vengeful. There wasn't any strong emotion behind them, solely the intent to kill.

Fontina's voice deepened and crunched from her throat like gravel. "You motherfucker."

"Come on Fontina, just calm down. They can go back upstairs, and we can just stay down here, and no one'll get shot. No one needs to kill anybody here, alright?"

Fontina shot a look toward Elisabetta and Vino, then back to Giovanni, clicking her tongue in exasperation. He was out of her stand ability's range. After more silent moments of vengeful contemplation, she finally made up her mind.

Leaving Wild Side trained on Vino, Fontina whipped around her revolver.

Crack

The sound echoed through the small space, followed by a gun clattering to the wood floor below. That gun belonged to Fontina, and the fresh hole in her hand was beginning to seep blood.

Her breathing was heavy as she stared at her injury, then up at Giovanni, eyes blank. His own breaths were short and rapid, but he held the smoking gun firm.

She warily reached for the sky, letting blood trail down her arm and soak her sweater sleeve. Unbeknownst to Giovanni, Wild Side was moving away from Vino. It kept going till it got just behind Fontina, where it knelt and picked up a large silvery object that had been resting next to her chair.

Vino tried to yell out and warn Giovanni, but it was too late. The case of casino chips flew through the air at lightning speed, striking the man in the face. It smashed into his nose and popped open, scattering a rainfall of chips all over the room. He let off another gunshot, but it never found a target.

Fontina pounced forward and tackled the former addict to the ground, her stand taking up the rear. They wrestled and grappled, with Giovanni trying desperately to bring the end of the barrel to her face and pull the trigger. She was magnitudes stronger than him, and, even with her injuries, was able to brutally twist his arm while keeping her full weight on his chest. After a pitifully brief struggle, he dropped the revolver, and she kicked it across the room where it collided with the wall, next to Cateno's body.

Wild Side came around to the front of the combatants and grabbed Vino's head. It tore him out from under Fontina and held him up with only one wicked paw, holding his skull like a metal claw would hold a stuffed animal in a crane game. It snarled and exhaled stinking, hot breath into his face.

Feeling the pressure of its fingers and pinprick of its claws in his flesh, Giovanni started to beg. "Hey, Fontina, I was just joking. I'll help you out. We can just forget about this, okay? I made a mistake, I'm sorry. You can trust me, I swear! I didn't mean it! Just-"

Wild Side snarled a grin and increased the pressure on his head, plunging its claws deeper. Thin wires of blood ran down his neck as the black razors dug in.

Giovanni flailed and cried, "PLEASE, FONTINA! I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO-"

Fontina rose to her feet and looked him in the eyes. Those red beads had no mercy to give. Her lupine monstrosity wound up a muscled arm before driving it straight into Giovanni's chest. The blow had so much power behind it that it pierced all the way through, spraying gore everywhere. Giovanni's eyes went dim, and his limbs were taken by gravity.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his corpse splatted to the ground. Wild Side took a lick of its viscera-soaked hand before flicking off the rest in a crimson crescent.

Vino shot up like a bullet, taking hold of Elisabetta's arm. The woman was in shock after witnessing Giovanni's gruesome fate, unable to tear her gaze from the man's crumpled form.

Fontina took notice of their escape attempt and scrambled to grab the fallen pistol.

The couple gunned for the bathroom just behind them. Fontina reached the revolver just as Elisabetta rose from her seat. She took aim, and fired. The shot tore through the wife's leg, and she clattered to the ground behind Vino, letting out an ear-splitting wail. He stopped in his tracks and stooped to help his wife, but Fontina was on the move.

"Trust me," he whispered, then bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and latching it shut.

Elisabetta was groaning and gripping her leg when Fontina reached her, begging under her breath for Vino to come back. The gangster looked pitifully upon the woman before slumping down onto her ass and letting Wild Side do the difficult work.

The beast appeared from behind and grabbed Elisbetta, lifting her from the floor. It held her in a firm bear hug as she shouted, squirmed, thrashed, and kicked, all to no avail.

Fontina tore off more strips of cloth from her stained sweater, taking the opportunity to bandage her wounded hand. That red hoodie was speckled with drips, trickles, and streaks of blood, most of which did not belong to its wearer, staining it an even deeper scarlet. Fontina made sure to keep an eye on the locked bathroom door, waiting for Giovanni to make his move.

She expected him to try and bargain for Elisabetta's life somehow. If Fontina killed her, his stand would activate and kill her. If she let her go, and Elisabetta made it to the kitchen or behind the same bathroom door, Vino's stand would activate. If Wild Side busted down the door before letting Elisabetta go or killing her, there was most likely a window in the room he and possibly his wife could escape out of, or even some closet or stall to close themselves in. All of this danger hinged on his stand being a threat when it did activate, but the fact that Cateno couldn't contain it for even a minute or escape was good evidence that such a scenario was the worst case for Fontina. This also appeared to hinge on the structure remaining a closed-off space.

From inside the bathroom, there were wooden clanking noises and the scuffles of hurried feet. Vino was preparing his and his wife's daring escape, from what Fontina could tell. She was shocked he hadn't already started naming his demands to end the hostage situation.

While Elisabetta spat insults and cursed the gangster with every fiber of her being, Fontina picked up a casino chip off the ground. She rotated it in her fingers, studying it. It was black with white highlights trailing along the edges in a repeating pattern. In the center was the engraved logo of a crown. Another detail she noted was its surprising heft for such a small object.

A muffled shout came from the other side of the door, and Fontina rose to her feet with arthritic sluggishness. Even if she hated to admit it, the events of the night had taken a great toll on her.

"Let her go, and we can talk. You've figured out my stand ability, yes? Kill her, and you're fucked," Vino said

"Yea, I've got the gist. So, why don't you just come on out? I'll let her go."

She imagined him swiveling his head behind the door, "Nope. I'm more than content to sit here for a good while. Are you? If we sit here long enough, you'll pass out at some point."

A small headrush made her momentarily dizzy. Turns out, getting stabbed and shot in quick succession can take a toll, and Fontina would start feeling those consequences in short order. She had bandaged herself up, so she had an hour, maybe two, but she would pass out before too long. Fontina lied, "I have all the time in the world, Vino."

There was an awkward silence, hanging still and stale. Elisabetta had ceased her cursing and sunk into the beast's fuzzy clutches without complaint. She discovered quickly that this was not a creature whose grip she could resist. Even if she couldn't see it, she felt the raw muscle under matted fur rubbing up against her, accompanied by the stench of damp, growling breaths that tickled her neck.

The blizzard winds beat against the windows of the lodge, rattling the glass in its frame with gusto. That sound gave Fontina a bright idea. So bright, it seemed nigh idiotic that she hadn't thought of it before.

Without another moment of pause, she used her good hand to gather up as many chips as she could close her fingers around. Then, she launched them at the nearest window like a shotgun blast. She put all of her effort into the throw, and it easily shattered the pane. Shards of crystalline glass sprayed across the floor, forced inward by the pressure of the outside storm. Any quiet in the structure evaporated, replaced with a chorus of screeching winds barging in through the newly opened orifice like the screaming souls of the damned pouring out of hell.

There was a shuffling on the other side of the door. "What the fuck was that? Fontina! What the fuck did you do? If you hurt her, I swear on all the good graces of God that I will fucking murder you!"

Elisabetta screeched, "She broke the fucking window! This bitch is crazy, does she want to freeze to death?"

An uncomfortable quiet came over the man on the other side of the door. There was nothing to say. He gathered himself before shouting, "Fine, I'll come out... Just don't kill her!"

The door unlatched with a click, and then creaked open. It peeled away to reveal Vino, his eyes sunken and hollow and his hands raised way above his head. There was no hope or recourse in those eyes.

Wild Side growled and swung Elisabetta around like a dancer. As it let go of the woman, it nicked her forearm with a scratch from one of its wicked claws. It was a minute, harmless prick that just barely pierced the skin. The victim yelped mildly, but otherwise relished her freedom and fell into her husband's arms. The tears began to flow as they cloistered together, soaking each other's shoulders. Vino glanced up at Fontina, who watched their embrace, the ghost of a smile haunting her face and her eyes reading like the word checkmate.

Vino switched places with his wife, shielding her with the full breadth of his back. That was when the sobbing ceased all together. The gangster backed away only one step, still holding his wife in both arms. Getting a better look at her face, her sullen, glassy eyes full of tears seemed to be morphing into an expression twisted in gross hate and rage. Her quivering lip evolved into a snarl, and her teeth seemed to look sharper by comparison.

Those beautiful hazel eyes that so enchanted him as a younger man grew a spark of hopeless violence in their underbelly. Her own grip on his arms constricted tighter, locking him in place. Vino tried to back away, but it was too late. She launched her face forward with a terrible growl and bit down on his neck.

Blood sprayed onto both of their faces like a garden sprinkler. She tore away a chunk of flesh like a predator devouring helpless prey while he screamed for her to stop and begged her to return to her senses. Vino used every fiber of his being to push his wife away, and she stumbled back with scraps of flesh still stuck between her oddly razor-sharp teeth.

His wife had become violence incarnate, mimicking the posture and frozen gaze of Wild Side. Vino gripped at his neck, but the blood wasn't stopping.

The wild animal formerly known as Elisabetta rushed forward, flailing its arms and baring its fangs. It still had the same clear olive complexion and soft hands, now dampened with crimson. It ripped and tore at the front of Vino's salmon dress shirt as he tried to hold her at bay without injuring her, gripping at her swiping arms.

The two grappled for nearly thirty seconds, with the gangster begging and screaming a shrill cry for his wife to come back to him, to regain her senses, to see that it was her beloved who she was killing, to love him again. All the while, chunks and strips of flesh were being scattered across the old wood flooring below as she scratched and bit like a starved wolf in the dead of winter.

With a final tear running down his cheek, Vino reared up a kick. He gave his wife's horribly disfigured expression one last painful look before letting loose, landing a hit square in the chest. The crazed woman stumbled backward, falling onto her back in the bathroom with a thud.

Vino rushed forward and shut the door as fast as he could muster, his injuries be damned. When he slipped to the ground with his back against the door, a massive smear of blood followed him. The bleeding was prodigious, and his head was already beginning to swim.

He felt the energy sap from his body, and Hotel California activated. One last image of the monster that was once his cherished Elisabetta crashed into his skull. Her bloodthirsty eyes were sopping wet with tears, which mingled with the blood dribbling down her chin. After savoring that image of her eyes for just a fragile moment, he let his stand ability do its work. Thus, Elisabetta died in the bathroom of the Rifugio il Dosso.

Weeping drowned by the sounds of flowing wind was the only sensation to be discovered in that lodge, except the biting cold that creeped in with the gale.

After more than a minute, Vino wiped at his tears and stumbled to his feet, grabbing up a nearby chair to act as a crutch. His breath creaked from his lungs in exasperated wheezes while blood leaked down his torso, along his legs, and off his boots onto the floor, leaving a trail behind him as he shuffled forward unsteadily. After a great deal of excruciating effort, he plopped down into a seat at the table.

Fontina eyed him as she came around the other side, phasing out her stand ability.

Vino watched her all the same. "Don't look at me like that, bitch. Do you think I'm gonna spring up and get you?" He coughed bloody spittle onto the table. "I just wanna sit here… and die in fucking peace. Will you give me that, at least? Or are you here to ruin me that thoroughly?"

The assassin silently pulled up a seat across from the dying man. His skin was growing visibly clammy, and the perspiration on his forehead formed a thick, grimy layer. It was obvious he was holding onto his mental clarity- and his life- by a hair.

Vino wheezed, "So, are you really a student? Or was that a crock of shit?"

Fontina looked up. "Yea. I go to the Universita di Bologna. When I'm not working for Don Giorno, of course."

"Hmm. Good. You're a bitch, but I don't feel like dying angry, so I'm just gonna hope you move on from all this dirty shit and become… I don't know, a scientist or something. Whatever physicists do."

Fontina's fist quaked. "What?" The wall cracked.

The kingpin wiped his brow. "You know, like I hope you find a way to move on. Become better. Passione doesn't sell drugs, but it's still a tar pit. I guess I'm feeling wistful, so I'm holding out hope you'll swim to the surface, even if you're all the way at the bottom."

She slammed a palm onto the table and stood up. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Stop shouting, it's making me dizzy. I don't know… are you really gonna get mad at the delusions of a man whose pissin' blood out of a million holes?"

The wall collapsed, letting fury wash in like a wave. "You should fucking hate me! I fucking ruined you! I came here to do that exact thing, and I did it." She pointed a lone, vindictive finger in his face, "-and you fucking deserved it."

Vino coughed and looked around, surveying the blood-soaked, blasted landscape that was once a humble ski lodge. "I've done bad shit to get here. A lot of bad shit. So did Elisabetta. If your job was to ruin our lives as penance, consider them sufficiently ruined. I don't think I deserved it, and neither did she, but it's done. No crying over spilled milk, I guess… But, just promise me you'll keep your promise."

"Promise? What fucking promise?"

"About Bruno. You aren't gonna lay a finger on him, right? You promised."

Fontina mulled it over. She scratched her chin, tracing the room with her eyes. When they landed on Cateno's eviscerated body, she made up her mind. In spite of her indignation toward this drug dealing piece of shit, Fontina solemnly acquiesced. "Yea. I'll keep my promise."

Vino leaned back in his chair, nestling his head in his shoulder. His eyes fluttered, nearly closing. "Ah. Thank you, Fontina. Then, I'm… feeling a little tired, so… goodnight…"

Finally, his eyes shut.

Fontina listened to his wheezing breaths mingle with the screeching winds from the tempest outside, gradually slowing. After a few minutes, the rise and fall of Vino's chest stilled, and he passed away in relative peace.

The bile of rage began to pile up in her gut as the gangster sat, and she had to choke it back. A long-lost sensation of pure anger, reborn in her grief. She did not grieve for Cateno, or Mimi, or Elisabetta, and especially not for Vino. She grieved the fact that a man in his position could die with such a contented look on his face. It defied all logic. It didn't make any sense. How could that be? It was against human nature. She grieved her ability to understand how he felt in those final moments.

A burst of violent anger consumed her arms and chest, and the gangster sprung up. Wild Side sprung with her, and together they brought down the table in front of them with a splitting crack, slamming her fists into the wood with all the hatred in the world propelling them like jet fuel.

Fontina puffed and panted, and Wild Side evaporated. Her expression returned to normal, completely impassive. This didn't matter. None of this mattered. She needed to be neutral, a stone-cold killer. That's who she was, and all she'd ever be. That's what she told herself, at least. It didn't matter if the drug dealers she murdered died with a smile or shitting their pants, all that mattered was that the job was done. Again, that's what she told herself.

The gangster rose to her feet and navigated through the carnage and death that littered every inch of the refuge. After climbing the stairs and using her room key to enter her and Cateno's room, she grabbed her bright red parka and weighty canvas bag. That camping and climbing gear served the sole purpose of being a cover story. It gave credibility to an otherwise mediocre lie, which was torn to shreds in short order.

When Fontina descended the stairs, she had a thought. Was Massimo still alive? Even if he was, she would probably leave him here. There was no way she could carry him. Regardless, when she saw his discolored, wrinkled skin, she had the instinctual response to check his pulse.

Massimo was wrapped as snug as a bug in a rug, so Fontina couldn't tell if he was breathing at a glance. She placed two fingers against his neck and found no pulse.

An awkward, alien sadness seeped in, and the gangster nearly found herself choking up. She couldn't help but feel slightly depressed; however, as soon as the feeling appeared, it was gone. The assassin shrugged it off and continued on her way.

As she approached the exit to the lodge, she suited up. There was no chance she'd be spending the night in a lodge littered with so many bodies. The thought of it alone made her nose scrunch up. She imagined them all raising from the dead and swarming her, dragging her down to hell with them like in a cheap horror film. She dispelled the thought quickly. That was nonsense.

After zipping up her jacket and slinging the bag over her shoulder, she reached for the handle to the door. Yet, she paused.

From behind, there was a sequence of tiny creaks, barely audible against the sounds of the storm emanating from the shattered window. Then, the pitter patter of light footsteps approached from behind, but Fontina didn't turn around. If she turned around, she would probably do something she couldn't bring herself to do. On any other day, she would have done it, but she didn't feel like it tonight.

A metallic click rang right behind her, inches from her head, accompanied by the sniffling of a weepy child. Still, she didn't do it. Perhaps it's because she wanted a bit of the peace that drug-dealing piece of shit had.

The northern winds ripped and howled and tore past the remote Rifugio il Dosso like rabid, starving wolves of ice and snow, drowning a lone gunshot in a cacophony.