35: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud
"Heh, didn't expect to see you here," Mista forced out as he backed a few steps away from Purple Haze. Fugo's violet eyes were cold and it almost hurt to even look at his former friend. Still, he couldn't hold back. Anything less than his best would be disrespectful and idiotic.
"I'll give you one chance, Mista." Fugo's words were as icy as his gaze and the resolve was clear in his tone. "Out of respect for our past. If you stand down, I'll make it quick."
"Stand down? Ha!" That earned a real laugh. How stupid did Fugo think Mista was? "You know I can't do that."
"Then you know I have no choice."
"No choice, huh?" Even though provoking the blond probably wasn't the best idea, Mista couldn't help it. "You sure it ain't just that you're a coward?"
Fugo's eyes flashed and his composed expression fell as a furious scowl shifted onto his features. Leaving the shadows of the stone wall, Fugo yelled, "Haze!"
The blond's Stand roared in fury, its own mirrored by its user as it charged towards Mista, who barely had time to dart out of the way to avoid an elbow to the face. All six capsules were perfectly intact on its fists, and Mista knew that he'd have to be careful of them, despite the sunny weather overhead. Maybe he could use it to his advantage…
The Stand was hissing and growling and even though he'd known how dangerous it was, Mista had never really realized how dangerous. He'd never been the one who its fists were aimed at.
'I knew that fucking thing was scary,' he thought frantically as he leapt towards the side again, firing his gun and sending Numbers One and Two riding the first bullet, the second one firing off into the distance as a blatant miss. 'I need some distance, Haze's range isn't as large as mine.'
When Purple Haze raised its arms to deflect the bullet, the two pistols kicked it hard directly into one of the capsules on its hand. Fugo looked shocked for a split second as it cracked and the deadly virus spilled forth from it, forcing the blond back and allowing Mista a few precious seconds before the virus died to put some more distance between them both.
"Mista!" The gunsman nodded and sent Three and Five with his next three bullets, all aimed right at Fugo's head. Purple Haze was called back in front of his user and blocked them all with ease, but the change in trajectory made them hit the rocks above his head and sent a shower of debris and dust falling down around the Stand and its user.
Mista heard Fugo curse and Haze's angry roar at being dirtied. Hopefully that would distract it long enough for him to form some kind of plan as he quickly reloaded his gun. He still had Bucciarati to worry about, still couldn't see through that damn Stand smoke, had to figure out some way to beat Fugo and get to the capo and-
"Haze!" The cry was the only warning he got before a pair of fists shot out of what seemed like nowhere towards him.
Mista was able to avoid the first one but the second one clipped his left arm, sending him careening to the side as pain exploded in his forearm. A quick look at Haze made it clear that none of the capsules had broken, thank God, he'd just been hit by the side of the fist, but it was still too close for comfort. Especially since it felt like his arm might be fractured.
"Stop dodging!" Fugo yelled furiously, and Mista couldn't help but retort, "Then stop fucking punching me!"
This fucking sucked, Fugo was such a hard target to hit with just a damn gun, especially with Haze out, and now Mista was wishing that maybe he'd taken Bucciarati up on those offers of getting him some other weapons.
Darting towards the cover of the trees and ignoring the pain in his arm, he called Pistols back to him as Purple Haze chased him down. Back pressed against one of the trees, Mista fired three times at the Stand. When it deflected all the bullets, he smirked. Perfect.
"Pass, pass, pass!" Five, Six, and Seven cried excitedly as they kicked the speeding bullets between each other and into the tree branch directly above Mista's head. It embedded itself deep in the wood, completely severing the thick wooden branch and sending it crashing down on Purple Haze.
Mista heard a gasp of pain from Fugo and knew that it had to have at least done some damage. There was still a twinge of guilt at hurting his former friend, but there'd be time for regrets after this was done.
Taking advantage of Haze's momentary incapacitation, Mista shot towards Fugo, gun outstretched and fired. The blond recovered just enough to notice him coming. He jumped to the side, the bullet grazing across his right shoulder instead of burying itself deep in his heart like Mista had planned. Mista took this brief chance to reload as Fugo's shriek of pain echoed through the trees. As blood oozed from the wound, the blond looked even more incensed.
Purple Haze emerged from the cloud of dirt that had risen up from the collapsing branch and went straight for Mista, a strangled cry of rage at its user being injured ripping from its throat.
Mista leapt backwards, avoiding the punches with ease, but a kick caught him off guard directly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he shot backwards into another tree. His ribcage felt like it had just been fucking bulldozed as he struggled frantically to his feet, shooting two more bullets to keep Haze at bay long enough to move away.
He'd only made it a few feet when he was stopped in his tracks by Fugo, who had appeared in front of his still-spinning vision to aim a fist directly at his face.
It connected and sent Mista stumbling back, blood spattering down across his face from the wound in Fugo's shoulder and now dripping down his lips from his own nose. He barely managed to stay on his feet, recognizing this as Fugo close to the brink of being consumed by his own rage, foregoing his normally levelheaded calculation. This was good, he could use this to his advantage.
As Mista stepped back to steady himself, he planted his feet in the ground and punched back with lightning fast reflexes. Purple Haze might've been stronger than Pistols in terms of power, but Mista was confident he could beat Fugo in a fistfight, and Haze couldn't get close enough to attack him without risking its user too.
He punched the blond directly in his right shoulder, going straight for his weak point with ruthless brutality, following it with a right hook to Fugo's left eye. The blond wasn't going to go down that easy though, using the momentum of being pushed backwards to violently grab Mista's outstretched arm and throw him over his shoulder.
Right before he could hit the ground, Mista wrapped his free arm around Fugo's neck and yanked the smaller boy down with him, both of them ending up winded on the ground.
Mista recovered first, being more used to this type of fighting than Fugo was, and somersaulted away from the blond, rolling to his feet and breaking into a sprint back towards the ruins. He could hear Fugo yelling behind him and the echo of Haze's shrieks growing closer.
After putting some distance between them, he spun to fire another bullet along with Number One, intending to pull the same trick with the capsule that he did earlier.
It seemed Fugo caught on though because he yelled, "No you don't!" and Mista watched in shock as Haze reached down and broke another of its capsules completely voluntarily.
Shit. Haze was still in the shadows on the trees; the virus would still be full force by the time One reached the opposing Stand. One's panicked cries reached his ears as Mista cursed under his breath, firing three more bullets two with Two and Three, and the fourth disappearing into the woods. The two Pistols kicked their respective bullets into One's, knocking it far off to the side and keeping the virus from reaching the Pistol by just a few centimeters.
"I won't fall for that again, Mista!" Fugo growled as he approached him, fists clenched at his side and rage practically radiating off his body.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Mista shot back, resuming his sprint. Time for Plan B- if he could even call it that. He wasn't a strategist like Fugo was.
He spared a single glance towards the far end of the ruins. The white cloud was gone and he could make out Bucciarati and Castagna in the middle of their own fight. Bucciarati's movements seemed jerky and off and it looked like his left arm was laying unzipped on the ground a ways off, but that was all Mista had time to take in before he had to roll out of the way of another well-aimed kick by Purple Haze.
"You should worry about yourself," Fugo snarled over the din of Haze's main cries. "Bucciarati will be next."
"You're insane, Fugo!" Mista couldn't help but shoot back as he hit the stone wall, rounding to glare at the blond boy around ten meters away from him. He had a few seconds to say what he needed to say before he was within range of Haze again. "The fuck is the point of loyalty to some asshole you've never even met?!"
"It isn't about loyalty," Fugo growled back, his approach slowing a fraction of a second. "It's about honor. It's about holding yourself accountable. It's about not breaking your covenant."
"It isn't the Boss you swore too," Mista said firmly. This was his last chance to try to get thought to Fugo, and he'd hate himself forever if he didn't at least try. "It was the family."
Whether that did anything or not, Mista didn't have the chance to see because he had to duck down to narrowly avoid getting pummelled by Haze's fists. In the rain of stones that he dodged out of the way of to get further into the ruins, he didn't see the way Fugo seemed to falter in his steps for just a split second.
There was a structure he remembered seeing earlier, a wall that bent at the left side and ended in a deadend, probably the remains of a hall or something. A plan quickly formed in his head as he shot his final two bullets at Haze, forcing it to dodge as he broke into a sprint. That was his best bet and he raced towards it.
"Mista, be careful!" he heard Five cry in his ear and swallowed thickly as he nodded. This was risky; one wrong move and he'd be fucked. Still, this was the only thing he could think of.
He rounded the corner of the wall and pressed himself flat against the stone, holding his breath as he waited, reloading the pistol with perfectly silent precision. Footsteps bounced off the rock walls as they neared where he stood firm, gun held out and ready to fire.
"You've backed yourself into a corner." Fugo's disdainful words appeared first before the blond's face showed itself around the wall. "You've nowhere to run. Any last words?"
"Yeah," Mista answered. "Duck. Now, Pistols!"
All six bullets unloaded themselves from his cartridge as all the Pistols rode them towards the blond. Fugo scoffed as Haze appeared in front of him, its arms raised up to protect its user.
The Pistols exchanged gleeful cries as they waited until the last second and then kicked five of the bullets out of the way of Haze's arms to each other, creating a ricocheted ringing of the five bullets as they gathered more and more speed until they were just blurs in the air.
Fugo only had a moment of confusion before Sex Pistols sent each of the bullets on their true path with one final kick, directly into the same weak spot of the stone wall that Mista had noticed earlier. There was a loud crashing sound as the stones exploded in on themselves, raining down with vicious accuracy on top of the blond boy.
Fugo's cry of shock was drowned out by the loud crashing noises of the stones as a massive dust cloud was kicked up around them. Mista barely had time to scale the shorter portion of the deadend to avoid some of the rocks reaching him, the explosion so strong that it sent some careening towards him.
Mista hovered just outside of Fugo's range, in case the blond somehow avoided the rocks, but as the dust began to settle, he saw that his plan had worked. Fugo was half pinned beneath the rubble, covered in what would be dark bruises and long bloody scrapes but still conscious, his violet eyes glaring holes into Mista as blood trickled down his forehead.
And then they softened and a small smirk crossed the blond's face as he said, "I never would have thought you would outsmart me, Mista. Perhaps I was wrong about your stupidity after all."
"I always said you were," Mista replied, bending down to rest his arms atop his knees, setting his chin in his hand as he stared at his old friend. "'Course, I never woulda thought we'd be in this kinda situation anyways, so."
Fugo laughed at that, a sharp bark that sounded more like a sob than anything else. "I suppose you're right. Well then, go ahead."
"With what?" he asked, even though he knew.
"Don't play the fool." Fugo's tone grew cold again, laced with a strange bitterness that sounded out of place for someone as sure of himself as Fugo always seemed to be. "Kill me, Mista. Better you than him."
Somehow, Mista didn't think the 'him' was referring to Bucciarati. He straightened, stepping forwards as he loaded his pistol with a single bullet. Spinning the cartridge, Mista held it out and levelled it at Fugo's head. The blond stared down the barrel of the gun, not looking away at all.
"Fugo. We'd always take you back."
Something flashed through Fugo's eyes but Mista couldn't tell what. He swallowed as his finger came to a rest on the trigger, ready to pull it back. He needed to do this. For Bucciarati. For Giorno. For-
Narancia.
A shot rang out through the collapsed rubble and Mista lowered the smoking gun, looking away.
There was dead silence and then- "You're a fool, Mista."
That was all the gunsman heard before something exploded in the back of his head and he pitched forwards as a purple-and-white foot appeared in front of his fading vision.
His last conscious thought was how he'd unintentionally stepped back into Haze's range.
'Shit.'
