"Signor Fugo, Caro Fugo, why do you believe betrayal has found you?"

Fugo grimaced at Castagna's words; how much did this man know? He'd thought he'd been subtle enough with his words, but maybe not? If the Boss found out that he had any shred of regrets, his life would be ended before he could even get the chance to "redeem" himself.

Castagna must have taken his silence as an answer because he continued before Fugo had found the right words. "The Boss is a benevolent soul; he shall not fault you for the sins of your former brothers in arms."

"…But I couldn't stop them," Fugo responded quietly.

"'Twas the will of God above that they chose the path of sin; you are but a mere mortal, Signor Fugo, you cannot change the Path that has been laid before you, nor the Path of others. Their penance shall be dealt out swiftly."

So Castagna thought Fugo had meant that he betrayed the Boss- which part of him wished that was the truth, that that was what he thought. But instead, his concern was for Bucciarati and the others. Fugo hated this; if he was feeling guilt, didn't that mean he was guilty of something? Even though he wasn't wrong?

"Signor Fugo, have you heard the verse of Romans 3:23?"

Castagna's constant praise for God was starting to grate on his nerves.

"'For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,'" Fugo recited, remembering the Bible verses his parents drilled into him at a young age.

"Yes, yes, precisely! Those men are sinners, Signor Fugo, sinners that we must deliver unto the arms of God! Salvation can only be returned upon their demise, as they shall pay the ultimate atonement for their crimes."

As Castagna worked himself up, Fugo noticed that the dust around them was once again rising around them. Now that he could see it close up, it didn't quite look or feel like simply dust or dirt. It sent a strange chill down his spine as it rose around them, brushing against his nose in strange tendrils that smelled faintly of lavender and fresh snow.

"You are a good man, Signor Fugo. Quite healthy, are you not?"

Fugo shot him a strange look as he nodded his head. It was true that he rarely got sick but what did that have to do with anything?

"Good health is a sign of the favor of God," Castagna explained, and Fugo held back from telling him that that wasn't how having a strong body worked. "As sickness is quite common among sinners, Violet does not like many people."

"Violet…" Fugo echoed with mounting dread that he disguised easily with a disinterested tone. It couldn't be- the blond leapt up from the stone wall, instantly putting some space between the two of them ready to call Haze to his side if Castagna's explanation was lacking. "We're partners, you asshole!"

"Calm down, Signor Fugo," Castagna commanded as he stood as well, the dust receding around him- no, within him. The Stand dwelled inside him, Fugo realized, not in the ground. "I have not attacked you."

"That isn't what it looks like," Fugo hissed back, hands balling into fists clenched so tightly they drew blood to restrain himself.

"As I have said, Violet Hill enjoys the company of certain people in good health. It greatly dislikes the artificial life that dwells within the ill, you see," Castagna explained patiently, as if his excuses made perfect sense. Fugo had never heard anything about his Stand, had barely heard anything of the man before they were partnered together for this mission. "Forgive me, I was working myself up and unintentionally called them out. I'm sure you know that Stands tend to respond to emotion."

'That's only if the emotions mean the user might be in danger,' Fugo thought, 'Which means he was working himself into bloodlust. I couldn't tell at all.'

"Religion is a frightening thing," Fugo growled coldly as he willed Haze to calm itself in the back of his mind. It didn't want to, its own will fighting him as he called it back, and Fugo had to wonder if maybe he was missing something that his Stand had already noticed. "For it to spur you into such a frenzy."

Castagna's lip curled, and Fugo thought he might attack for a second, before he suddenly turned away. "You are right, Signor Fugo," he answered with a chilling tone to his voice as he stepped over the stone wall and made his way to a nearby tree. "I occasionally allow myself too much joy, and for that, I must be punished."

When he began to slam his head into the tree trunk with what looked like as much force as possible, Fugo quickly looked away. He had suspected self-harm ever since he'd seen the scars on Castagna's forehead, but that it was inflicted with such a violent method… it was sickening.

The sound of the dull thuds echoed through the air of the empty ruins, eventually turning to wet squelches. Fugo waited, focusing on the clouds passing across the sky to avoid looking at Castagna until he finished. His suspicions were confirmed; this man was crazy. It was one thing to be devout, but this was pure insanity. No wonder the Boss had picked him; he'd be able to carry this mission out perfectly. Even if Fugo couldn't.

"Mi dispiace." Castagna's voice cut through his thoughts and Fugo glanced over his shoulder at him. Blood was coursing down from the open wounds on the man's forehead, bits of bark and dirt embedded in his skin, yet he wore a sickeningly gleeful expression. "Therefore I reprehend myself, and do penance in dust and ashes. Forgive me, oh Lord, for I have sinned."

"You… what sin was that?" Fugo couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the best of him. Honestly, he didn't really want to interact with this guy any more than necessary, but he hated not knowing Castagna's motives.

"I feel nothing but the will of God, for I am but a vessel," Castagna replied, and it wasn't really an answer but Fugo thought it would probably have to be good enough.

"You still haven't given me a reason to not kill you," Fugo stated, still debating whether or not he should act. While it was true that Violet Hill had just touched him, he didn't know the Stand's capabilities and couldn't rule out that it wasn't an attack just because Castagna said it wasn't.

"Ah, yes, that. Violet enjoys the company of healthy individuals; those people have far less for it to cleanse, you see."

"Cleanse?"

"It removes illness by attacking the non-living things within the body," Castagna explained after a few seconds of obvious internal debate. Fugo was relying on two things for real information: the fact that lying was a sin, and that Castagna's Stand seemed to 'like' him. "It recognizes those foreign bodies and expels them."

"So it's like antibodies," Fugo murmured half to himself.

"You truly are a learned man, Signor Fugo, I'm quite impressed! My Stand is indeed a gift from God, sent to remind me of the sins of my father."

Fugo had heard of Nocciola Martino before; in fact, that had been the very doctor who had delivered him! His parents had paid top dollar to have only the best when he was born, for their own sake of course. Anything less would be unworthy of the powerful Fugo family.

When his parents had heard of the doctor's death, they had criticized his reliance on faith and spirituality. Fugo thought it had been hypocritical of them, as their reliance on money and prestige was the same sort of thing in his eyes. He hadn't known the man had had a son until he heard the last name 'Martino' and had put two and two together.

Fugo disliked how Castagna seemed to be mocking the doctor's accomplishments, so he said, "Your father helped a lot of people."

"Helping is not saving, Signor Fugo." Castagna's fists clenched tightly around the stone he had perched on. Noting that the dust, that he now knew was a Stand, was rising again, Fugo took another step back. "He ripped those piteous fools from the arms of God, proclaiming himself their Saviour while undermining the Path the Lord determined for them! How dare he, what mockery of the faith, what utter gall!"

"Then what does Saving them mean?"

"So full of questions, Signor Fugo. I do believe I mentioned I despise them."

"You did, yes. I, however, despise not knowing things. I despise not understanding because it's idiotic to not understand, and I despise idiots."

"Then we truly are alike, for I despise the poor fools who deny God as well." Fugo had never said that, but he thought that he shouldn't correct Castagna, not when the man might actually answer his question. "To Save a soul, I deliver them back to the Lord from whence they came."

"You kill them."

"I give them the Fate that God has designed for them. My father was a blasphemer, as he was an ignorant man who could not understand that his own Path was predetermined. Surely you, of all people, understand. The sins of the father fall on the son."

"I am not my father," Fugo hissed. "That scum is not my father."

"You too, know the Path of solitude," Castagna nodded, crossing his arms to grin eerily up at Fugo from where he sat, Violet Hill fading away. "What is family in the eyes of God? Nothing, for I have naught. No father, nor mother, I alone, shall stand tall: a singular man without kin."

That wasn't true. It wasn't, and Fugo hated this man for even suggesting that. He had a family. He did- but he didn't anymore, did he? He had watched them sail away out of his life without looking back. He chose to leave them behind- or was he the one left behind, left in the dust of a motive he just couldn't understand?

But the one thing he refused to acknowledge was any similarities between the two of them. Castagna was not like him, not at all. But even though Fugo knew that, was absolutely sure of it, he hated that the idiotic fool still reminded him of himself.

"I'm done talking," he growled, turning away to find a place where he could sit alone. There was something about Castagna he despised, and he knew that he'd lose his temper if he stayed listening to the man any longer.

"Of course, of course, my apologies for keeping you, Signor Fugo. I'm sure you have many important things to ponder." Castagna's face twisted into a grin that was incredibly sickening, with the blood still oozing down his tanned skin, as he added, "May you find your own Peace, Caro Fugo."

"Don't call me that," Fugo snapped, glaring daggers at the man. The grotesque expression grew. "It's disturbing. You and I both know you don't think of me as dear."

"We are all dear in the eyes of God."

"Then maybe he isn't my God."

Castagna seemed to freeze in place, the grin slipping off his face, and Fugo decided he liked that shocked look much better. Confusion was always a perfect look for idiots.

"Were you not my partner," Castagna hissed, his gravelly voice dropping a few octaves, and if looks could kill, Fugo was pretty sure he'd be dead by now. "I would kill you here and now."

"Oh please," Fugo scoffed. "I've seen your Stand. It could never defeat Purple Haze."

"Perhaps not in sheer strength," Castagna agreed. "But you know not what Violet Hill is capable of. For I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord."

Fugo didn't answer, just walked away towards the stone structure that could keep him from looking at the imbecile he'd been unlucky enough to get stuck with any longer. Would this have been his fate if Bucciarati hadn't fought for him to join him instead? Would he have been stuck working alone, a silent killer for the Boss with no friends, no family, no connections at all?

He already knew the answer to that.

But it didn't matter, he told himself as he stepped over the corpse of Fillippo with caution. While the living were free game, he didn't believe in desecrating the dead.

It didn't matter because he'd gotten the information he'd wanted. Violet HIll was a long-distance Stand, that much he could tell, because it followed Castagna's orders perfectly. It didn't have a true mind of its own; the 'enjoyment' that Castagna had mentioned was purely because Castagna himself had been interested in Fugo.

That, and Violet HIll had some sort of way to manipulate things.

"You may be a dumbass, but you're a useful one," Fugo murmured to himself as he rounded the corner, looking out the crumbling window of the open structure to see the sun gleaming high in the sky. "To think you'd give yourself away through quoting Jeremiah 29:11. How ironic."