New multi-chap fic! I've had this idea for a long time so I'm excited to finally share it! I am always a fan of reading and writing fight ring stories, so be prepared for some whump. And also Giorno and Abbacchio bonding because I also love that a lot.
This story takes place right after Giorno takes over Passione (everyone lives AU obviously)
For Whom the Bell Tolls
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
During an investigation, Abbacchio and Giorno are captured by an underground fighting ring, led by a sadistic Stand user who has ways of keeping his fighters from escaping. Even if Giorno and Abbacchio can learn to work as a team, they may not survive long enough to get out alive.
Chapter One
Giorno came down the stairs from his room, checking his backpack to see if he had all the things he would need for the upcoming mission. He stopped in the living room, setting his bag down on the couch so he could go and get his backup gun out of the office. He'd taken to carrying one after a couple close calls during missions when something had either manipulated him to be unable to use his Stand or Gold just wasn't fast enough for more long-range attacks. Bucciarati had presented him with the pistol after he'd nearly gotten himself killed and insisted that he start carrying it on missions.
However, as he approached the office, Giorno could hear voices, namely one, that sounded anything but enthusiastic.
"Why do I have to take the brat? I can check into this on my own," Abbacchio's voice came from around the corner and Giorno paused outside the slightly open door, stomach twisting.
"Abbacchio, he needs the experience and I know he'll be safe with you. He's also a powerful Stand user. Our current target is potentially dangerous and I'm not comfortable with sending any of you in alone without knowing what his ability is."
"I don't need a damn body guard, especially a skinny golden brat."
"That's enough, Leone," Bucciarati said, voice stern. "Giorno's part of the team now, you're going to have to learn to get along. Just look after him like you did with Narancia when he first joined."
"Except as annoying as Narancia can be, he's also good company," Abbacchio snorted. "This kid just sulks around and hardly spares time for communication, even during a fight."
Giorno's stomach twisted further, the words too familiar to ones he'd heard… before. He quickly buried those thoughts. It's not like Abbacchio would have been his first choice either, but Bucciarati had other duties, Fugo preferred to handle office work, and both Mista and Narancia were still recovering from injuries they'd sustained from a particularly grueling mission last week. So Giorno and Abbacchio were just the only ones left.
Bucciarati let out a sharp sigh. "You'll have to get over your differences eventually. Going on missions is a good way to do that."
"Whatever," Abbacchio grunted. "Let's just get this over with."
Giorno didn't want to go into the room, but it sounded like Abbacchio might be leaving, so he kicked himself into gear and tried to enter the office as casually as possible, nodding to Bucciarati and Abbacchio as they looked up. He didn't miss the half-concealed sneer from Abbacchio before he rolled his eyes and looked away. Giorno pretended to ignore it however, and went over to the cabinet where they kept all their weapons, pulling out the box with his pistol.
"I didn't want to forget this this time," he said.
Bucciarati gave a slightly wry smile. "Good. Abbacchio, do you have yours?"
The goth rolled his eyes slightly and reached past Giorno to grab his own gun, checking it over before tucking it into his coat. Giorno did the same.
"I'm ready," he said.
"Good, let's get this over with then," Abbacchio grunted, reaching over to grab the car keys from Bucciarati's desk.
"Please call me if there are any complications," Bucciarati told them. "If you need backup…"
"I'm sure we'll be fine," Giorno said with a small, forced smile. He grabbed his backpack on the way by and then followed Abbacchio out to the car.
"I have the map," Giorno said as he got into the passenger seat.
"I know where we're going," Abbacchio grunted.
Giorno pressed his lips together and stuck his backpack between his feet as Abbacchio started the car. "Have you ever met Damiano Caruso before?"
Abbacchio shot him an annoyed look. "Once in passing. Not enough to get a read on him."
"He's been with Passione since he moved to the city," Giorno commented, thinking of the file Bucciarati had pulled up. "And now it's suspected that he's running some kind of underground gambling racket."
"Without paying his dues, yeah, I know why we're going to talk to him," Abbacchio cut in sharply.
Giorno bit his lip, looking out the window. "I know, it just helps me to talk it out."
Abbacchio let out a huff, but ignored him. Giorno stayed silent for the rest of the ride. Abbacchio didn't even put music on like Mista or Narancia would have, and it wasn't a comfortable, mutual silence like with Fugo.
Giorno knew partnership and camaraderie went both ways; he would also have to learn how to get along with Abbacchio but it just seemed impossible sometimes. He had thought he had gained some respect from him after their defeat of Diavolo. The older man had even thanked him when he had finally woken up after healing from his injuries. But after that, he had just seemed to fall back to his usual toleration of Giorno's presence, sometimes seeming to border on contempt.
If he couldn't even make friends with a man after saving his life, Giorno wasn't sure what he had to do.
They parked outside of the bar that Caruso owned and Giorno started to head inside before Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder.
"Listen," he said, "When we get in there, let me do the talking."
Giorno glanced up at him, pursing his lips. "Bucciarati said I need to start taking control of these situations. Hardly anyone recognizes me as the Don yet."
"Exactly," Abbacchio grunted. "They'll believe you're some fresh-faced newbie—which is exactly what you are—but if you walk in there demanding to see Caruso like you own the entirety of Passione, regardless of the truth, everyone's just going to laugh at you and kick you out on your ass. You might have some smooth-talking abilities, but you haven't been in this world long enough to know how things work. How to handle these bastards. Conning tourists out of their money isn't nearly the same thing and you'd do better to learn that."
Giorno began to feel frustrated. "I'm trying to learn that," he replied, his annoyance barely showing through, but apparently it was enough for Abbacchio to notice because his lip curled.
"Maybe next time then," he said. "Let me take the lead and show you how it's done first."
He pushed past Giorno, making his way into the bar before the teen could protest further. Giorno pressed his lips together, fighting back his annoyance and hurried after the goth.
Giorno knew he hadn't been in Passione long, and he still definitely had a lot to learn about the business itself as well as his position, but he was a quick learner and his hard life had taught him to pick up on things faster than usual.
Somehow, he was going to find a way to prove himself to Abbacchio. Maybe if he could pay attention really well to how Caruso reacted to their being there, he could figure out what he was hiding before the older gangster.
The interior of the bar was dim, and at this time of day, it wasn't very full. Abbacchio strode directly up to the bar, leaning one elbow on it as the bartender gave him a wary look.
"What'll you have?" he asked,
"Damiano Caruso," Abbacchio replied firmly.
The bartender looked him over, eyes traveling to Giorno standing behind him. Giorno narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. The man pursed his lips.
"He's not here."
"You sure about that?" Abbacchio asked calmly. "We've just got a few questions for him."
"Well, he's not here."
"When will he be back?" Giorno asked, as both the bartender and Abbacchio turned to look at him, the latter with a glower. "We were told he'd be here."
"I don't know," the bartender dismissed.
Abbacchio sighed and straightened. "Are you sure he's not in the back? I'm sure he'd hate to think of us coming all this way and wasting our time for nothing."
"You can look if you want," the bartender said with a shrug. "Like I said, he's not here, and I don't know when he'll be back. You can leave a message for him if you wish."
Abbacchio stared the man down for a long moment before he turned and flicked a finger at Giorno. "Come on," he said and started toward the back of the bar, Giorno hurrying after, glancing around once they got to the office which was actually empty.
"I guess he was telling the truth," Giorno commented, eyeing the desk to see if there were any clues.
"Shockingly," Abbacchio said, opening several drawers before he crouched and reached under the desk. With a grunt of satisfaction, he ripped something from under there and pulled out a small ledger book, which he started flipping through. "Huh, just as suspected."
Giorno glanced over Abbacchio's shoulder. "His betting book?"
He could see the numbers of bets taken in, always with huge profit for the house. There were a lot of abbreviations and things that Giorno couldn't quite make sense of, obviously shorthand so only Caruso would know what was really in the books.
"He's making a shit-ton of money that he's not sharing," Abbacchio said, before snapping the book shut and tossing it to Giorno who caught it against his chest. "I'd say that's proof enough. Let's hold onto that until he shows up again."
They left the bar under the glower of the bartender who had likely already alerted Caruso that they were looking for him. Giorno opened the book again and was glancing through the numbers. Something about them seemed odd. The way they were set up was strange.
He hadn't realized he'd stopped until he heard Abbacchio snap, "Are you coming or do you want me to leave your ass here?"
Giorno looked up. "These numbers…they don't look like they're keeping tallies for poker bets—who would do that anyway? They're more like horse-racing numbers. Look…see here? I think these numbers are demarking the odds and the initials are indications of what or who is being bet on."
Abbacchio stormed over and snatched the book from his hands, looking through it more carefully. After a couple seconds he gave a reluctant nod.
"You might actually be onto something. It's definitely not a loan-shark's book."
Giorno felt a small bit of justification surge through him. He'd actually gotten something right. He glanced around to see if there was any more indication of what might be going on, and something caught his eye around the side of the building.
While Abbacchio was still busy looking through the book, Giorno strode over curiously toward the alley behind the bar. A dumpster sat there, and among the trash, Giorno could see multiple papers fluttering around.
"What the hell are you doing now?" Abbacchio demanded, having obviously realized Giorno was missing.
Giorno ignored him again and grabbed the rim of the dumpster, digging his toes into the side to lift himself up so he could reach for something inside.
"Oh, lovely, so you're digging through the trash now?" Abbacchio scoffed. "If you fall in, you can walk home."
Giorno snagged one of the flyers and pulled it out triumphantly, hopping back onto the ground. "I think I found out where Caruso is getting all the money," he said.
Abbacchio looked at him incredulously. "How the hell did you figure that out by looking in the trash?"
Giorno waved the flyer at him. "Underground cage fighting."
Abbacchio strode over and snatched the flyer, glancing at it.
"There's even an address and time," Giorno said. "Not exactly subtle."
"Huh," Abbacchio said, raising an eyebrow, actually almost looking impressed. "Well, no one ever accused Caruso of being smart, I suppose." He glanced sideways at Giorno. "You know, brat, you might actually have stumbled onto something here."
Giorno couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips. "Let's go then."
"Hold on," Abbacchio cautioned. "It might not be the best idea to walk in there alone."
Giorno glanced back at him on his way to the car. "We don't even know if he's there. There's no point in calling in the others until we're sure this is even what we're looking for."
Abbacchio narrowed his eyes.
"It might not even be Caruso's racket, after all," Giorno continued. "Regardless, I didn't know about this going on, and I'd like to find out who's running it, Caruso or not."
Abbacchio shook his head, but pulled the car keys from his pocket. "Fine. But we don't take any risks if it looks like things are going to go sideways, okay? The last thing I need is for Bucciarati to give me a damn scolding for getting you hurt or some shit."
"You don't have to worry about me so much, you know," Giorno said a little stiffly. "I can take care of myself. Though I do appreciate your concern, Abbacchio."
He knew the last comment would get under Abbacchio's skin and he was right. The goth sputtered, eyes flashing before he snarled, jabbing a finger at the car. "Just go get in the damn car."
Giorno climbed back into the car while Abbacchio started the engine and they made their way toward the address listed on the flyer.
It took them to a pretty run-down looking warehouse building that was obviously no longer in use. Giorno glanced around at the surroundings. "Well, it is exactly where I would assume an underground fight ring would be."
Abbacchio grunted as they got out of the car and headed toward the place. They found a side entrance, but it was locked. Abbacchio pushed Giorno aside and attempted to kick it in, but the bolt wasn't going to budge. Giorno silently had Gold turn the lock into organic material which fell away, allowing the door to open.
"Showoff," Abbacchio grumbled, shooting Giorno a look before he pushed through.
Giorno wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but inside, the open floor of the warehouse was pretty much empty besides a lot of gathered trash, including more of the flyers.
"Well, the place is a dump," Abbacchio muttered as he kicked aside several empty beer bottles.
As they went further inside, they found the fight ring set up in the center of the large floor. It was actually a lot more put together than Giorno had expected.
"Huh, they actually seem to be pretty serious about this," he mused. "I expected this to be some thrown together back alley event, but they have a permanent ring set up."
Abbacchio inspected the wire caging that was set up around the ring, frowning at a lock on the outside of the door. "Well, from the books it did look like a pretty big operation." He rattled the lock. "I get the feeling there's something fishy going on here though."
"Can I help you gentlemen?"
Giorno and Abbacchio spun around, seeing three men standing near another entrance. How had they missed them coming in? Giorno hadn't heard anything.
"Damiano Caruso?" Giorno asked him, though he already recognized the man from the files he'd read.
The man cocked his head to one side. "You must be the new kid. Heard you were looking for me, but didn't expect you to show up here."
"Perhaps you should do better at hiding your operation then," Giorno suggested. "Or did you just think you wouldn't get caught?"
Caruso's lip curled slightly in a sneer. "You're a bold little prick to come in here and accuse me of anything when you've only held your position for a few months."
"It's not that I have a problem with you running a fighting ring as long as everything is on the up-and-up," Giorno told him. "But you're not paying the famiglia. I can't imagine even the former Boss would have been too happy about that, can you?"
He heard Abbacchio growl behind him as Caruso's eyes hardened further. "You think I'm paying my hard-earned money to a little upstart brat like you? I don't give a damn what you think about my operation, you can go home and cry about it to your mama for all I care."
Giorno reached into his coat and pulled out the accounts book. "Sure, I'll go home. And in the meantime, I'll tally up everything you owe Passione and send you the bill."
He turned to head toward the door they had come in, betting on Caruso being so shocked he didn't do anything about it.
He could practically feel Abbacchio seething as the older man stormed after him. Giorno pushed through the door a second before Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Your big plan was to just piss him off?"
"I'm trying to knock him off balance so he is more willing to do what I ask," Giorno said.
"Or shoot you in your stupid head!" Abbacchio snapped, rapping a knuckle against Giorno's skull. "I know I'm not exactly the king of self-preservation, but I don't appreciate kids trying to get me shot either."
"Well, we didn't get shot," Giorno said firmly. "And now we know exactly what's going on. We just have to put the pressure on Caruso until he pays up now."
They had gotten back to the car, only to stop in their tracks. Several large men stood around the vehicle, one with a large knife that he was currently using to puncture the tires.
"Hey!" Abbacchio shouted, reaching for his gun.
"I wouldn't."
Giorno glanced behind them, seeing Caruso and his two men striding up. The men that had been wrecking their car, made their way over now to surround them. All of them towered over Giorno, and the scars on their faces and knuckles announced that these were probably some of the fighters.
"My Stand already tagged you," Caruso told them. "You wouldn't be able to get out of the lot."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Abbacchio demanded.
Giorno felt an itch on the back of his shoulder. He reached back, feeling under his clothes, where there was a slightly raised portion of his skin, almost like a brand. He glanced over at Abbacchio, seeing his shoulder twitch as well, though he didn't let go of his gun.
"It means you don't leave until I let you," Caruso said with a small, smug smile. "And I think you can guess what my feelings are on that."
"You bastard," Abbacchio snarled before whipping his gun around.
"Don't!" Giorno tried, but Abbacchio didn't get the chance to fire anyway. One of Caruso's bodyguards barreled toward him, grabbing his arm and wrenching it upward before slamming a fist into Abbacchio's stomach.
Abbacchio folded with a grunt, and the man effectively disarmed him.
Giorno reached for his own weapon, but one of the other men was already grabbing him from behind, wrenching his arms behind his back and yanking his gun out of the back of his waistband.
Abbacchio was in a similar situation now, held between the two bodyguards. Caruso strode over to Giorno and picked up the ledger he had dropped on the ground. "I'll be taking this back now."
"What do you want us to do with them, Boss?" the man holding Giorno asked. "Dump 'em with the car?"
Caruso looked Giorno over, meeting his eyes before a small smirk played over his lips. "No. If the little boss wants money so badly, I think we should give him the chance to earn some himself."
Giorno froze, glancing over at Abbacchio who looked about ready to bite someone's head off.
"Take them inside boys," Caruso said. "Let's introduce them to their new crew."