Chapter Seven
Because Giorno had no intention of losing this fight, he was ready when Wolf came at him this time. He was able to dodge several blows, but he knew Caruso would want a good show, so on one of the dodges, he spun quickly and jabbed a sharp punch into Wolf's lower back.
The man grunted, spinning around, but Giorno had already skipped away.
Wolf was quicker than Minotaur though and was after him in a second. He threw a heavy punch that Giorno was just barely able to deflect with his left shoulder. His arm numbed from the impact but he ducked close inside Wolf's reach and slammed his shoulder directly up into the man's solar plexus, forcing him back as the air shot from his lungs.
"Little shit," he growled, grabbing Giorno before he could dash away again, and threw him violently to the ground.
Giorno crashed, instinctively rolling away from Wolf's stomping foot as he gathered himself and stood again, always moving, always watching Wolf to see what he would do next.
That was when he saw Caruso step up on one side of the cage. He met Giorno's eye and nodded slightly, gaze piercing into him. Giorno pressed his lips together. He was going to have to think about how to do this.
"Get over here, brat," Wolf taunted suddenly, obviously also having seen the signal. "It's time for you to learn your place."
Giorno met his eyes. "I know my place," he said firmly. "Why don't you come get me?"
That was exactly what he was looking for. Wolf's eyes flashed in anger and he surged forward. Giorno stepped forward to meet him and when Wolf swung, he took a deep breath, letting Wolf's momentum do the work for him as he grabbed the man's arm as he made to swing a punch at Giorno.
Giorno pivoted to the side, sticking his leg out to trip the other fighter, then let go of the man's arm as he flew toward the side of the cage with a surprised cry.
Wolf's head connected with the support bar on the side of the cage with a dull clang as Giorno stepped back, waiting to see if he got up.
A gasp of gleeful surprise washed through the spectators as Wolf collapsed on the ground, seeming to be stunned. Giorno stood, panting, wiping blood out of his eye. As Wolf stayed still, the crowd started cheering, and why not? They had just won their bets.
The door to the cage was opened and guards came in to grab Wolf who was slowly pushing himself up, clutching his head, seeming to be confused by what happened. Giorno went to follow them out but was stopped on the step by Caruso who grabbed his arm and yanked him the rest of the way out.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded dangerously. "I told you to take the damn fall."
"As you can see it was Wolf who took a fall," Giorno said, steady. "There wasn't a lot I could do about that."
"There isn't, is there?" Caruso replied sarcastically. He reached into his coat and Giorno suddenly felt the cold press of hard steel against his side. He didn't have to look down to know there was a gun there. "I warned you that there would be consequences if you disobeyed. I could put you in the box again." Giorno felt dread settle into his stomach, but Caruso was already continuing. "But you lost me a lot of money so I think we'll make this interesting."
He turned to nod to his guards who snagged Abbacchio and herded him over. The goth had obviously already seen everything transpiring, and he met Giorno's eyes pointedly. Giorno glanced away. He didn't need Abbacchio's disapproval right now. He was tired of not making a stand. He could just hope that Caruso wouldn't be so stupid as to take them out where the spectators might see.
"I'm feeling generous tonight so I'll give you another chance to provide entertainment," he said, a cruel glint in his eye. "You'll be going up against each other in the last fight of the night."
Giorno met Abbacchio's eyes, this time with a little relief before Caruso cut in.
"But…I want it to look good, understand?" he informed darkly. "No pulling punches, no fake takedowns, no signals. One of you wins and one of you loses—the fight stops only when one of you can't get up. If I see any hesitation, or one of you trying to take the fall for the other, the guilty party will be shot instantly."
"You'd do that in front of the crowd?" Abbacchio asked.
Caruso shrugged. "I've done it before. These people are degenerate maniacs. They don't give a shit, they just come for blood. Some high-stakes blood sport really gets the money flowing."
"You're a sick bastard," Abbacchio snarled.
"You should talk to your boy about cheating then," Caruso said. "Now get up there. And remember the rules this time. My men will be ready if they see any hesitation."
Caruso pressed the gun more firmly into Giorno's side as he forced him back up the steps and into the cage, Abbacchio quickly being shoved in after him. The crowd watched with interest as Caruso stepped in after them, addressing the spectators.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bit of a special event tonight. These two need to resolve some issues so they'll both be stepping into the ring again. So it's up to you to decide who you want to put your money on: Manticore, or Golden Boy."
Giorno bristled at the moniker but he steadily met Caruso's gaze as the man turned away from the crowd, hand still on his gun under his jacket. Giorno was aware of the guards circling the ring, their own weapons more visible, held ready. They wouldn't have long to hesitate or come up with any plan, so as soon as Giorno heard Caruso click the lock on the door into place, he surged at Abbacchio.
The other man was slightly surprised, but quickly deflected the blow, wrapping his arm under one of Giorno's and spinning him around until Giorno's back was pressed against his chest, Abbacchio's other arm around his throat.
As Giorno struggled, Abbacchio bent to growl into his ear. "Why the hell didn't you just take the fall? You just got out of trouble."
Giorno stomped on his instep and slammed his free elbow back into Abbacchio's already injured ribs, causing him to grunt.
"I'm tired of playing his games," he said.
Abbacchio snorted and finally released him after Giorno gained another hit. "Well, good going, brat, because that's exactly what we're doing right now. I hope this was part of your plan."
"Maybe," Giorno said and kicked out at Abbacchio. The other man simply grabbed his leg and yanked up, throwing Giorno hard onto his back. The blond rolled and saw Caruso staring at him pointedly. They were really going to have to start throwing punches soon. So he came back up swinging and as Abbacchio grabbed for him again, he delivered a solid blow to the man's jaw.
He had been pretty sure that would enrage Abbacchio at least a little and he was right, because the man followed it up with a kick that struck Giorno in the hip as he pivoted, the impact enough to throw him back against the chain-link.
Abbacchio trapped him there and grabbed the front of Giorno's shirt, heaving him back to the center of the ring where he crashed onto the ground, the wind exploding from his lungs.
Abbacchio followed him down, pinning him.
"I really don't want to have to hurt you, kid," he grunted under his breath.
"You don't have to lie," Giorno gasped. "I know you've wanted to punch me in the face since we got here. And you should. All of this is my fault after all."
Instead of instigating Abbacchio's rage, Giorno was surprised to see guilt wash over his face instead. There was no time to analyze that at the moment though because Giorno was currently counting down the seconds to how long Caruso would allow this to go on before taking action.
So he did the only thing he was positive would make Abbacchio livid.
As the older man seemed to be contemplating their position, Giorno simply brought his knee up hard into Abbacchio's groin.
The man's eyes blew wide and he curled instinctively with a sharp exhale. Giorno grabbed a fistful of the ponytail Abbacchio had tied his hair back in and yanked, effectively tumbling Abbacchio to one side.
Abbacchio made a strangled sound of anger as he lunged after Giorno. "You little…"
Giorno spun around only to be met with a fist directly to the face. He tasted blood in the back of his throat from his nose and another blow quickly followed, skin splitting across his eyebrow and dripping blood into his eye. Giorno finally managed to get his arms up to defend after the third blow, but Abbacchio just switched lower, slamming a punishing fist into Giorno's stomach. Giorno folded, gagging, and Abbacchio caught him in a swift headlock.
Giorno clawed at his arm, knowing what he was doing. Abbacchio was trying to end the fight by simply forcing him into unconsciousness, but he had to win this one. There were multiple reasons why.
Despite the fact that he left bleeding marks in Abbacchio's flesh, the man didn't let go. He slammed a warning fist into Giorno's side.
"Just go down, kid," he muttered. "I don't want to have to put you down, but I will to save us both."
Giorno's vision was blackening, but he gave up on trying to get Abbacchio to release him, instead simply going limp. Abbacchio instantly loosened his hold and Giorno slammed an elbow backwards into his still healing ribs, then came up, headbutting Abbacchio so that his teeth snapped audibly together as he staggered back.
Giorno didn't stop there, blinking away his discomfort, he took a flying leap at the taller man and brought him down. He only got a couple hits in though before Abbacchio easily bucked him off, dealing him a punishing blow in the meantime.
"Little shit," he hissed. "I said go down!"
Giorno gritted his teeth as they squared up and began to exchange blows. They both got some hits in but Giorno was tiering. He didn't have Abbacchio's strength or stamina and he knew it. He was going to have to end this soon if he planned on winning.
Abbacchio finally landed a blow to the side of his head that sent Giorno tumbling to his knees. Several drops of blood fell onto his hands. Part of the crowd was yelling at him to get up but most of them were backing Abbacchio, yelling for him to finish it.
The older gangster stepped toward him, shaking his head. "One of us has to win, kid," he said regretfully.
Giorno spit a gob of blood out of his mouth, tongue running over a chipped tooth he would have Gold fix later. He looked up to meet Abbacchio's eyes. "I know," he said.
Abbacchio raised a fist with resignation, and Giorno made his move. He darted out to grasp Abbacchio's wrist, pivoting as he kicked the other man's legs out from under him and as Abbacchio fell, Giorno executed a clumsy grapple, trapping Abbacchio in the hold he had taught him.
Abbacchio's eyes flew wide as he realized what had happened. He tugged to try and free himself, but Giorno had readjusted the hold properly now, flexing the arm he held until Abbacchio gasped in pain.
"Don't," he warned, leaning back and squeezing Abbacchio's neck more firmly in the crook of his knee, cutting off his circulation.
Abbacchio tried to grab at Giorno but he kicked his heel into his shoulder, locking his legs and squeezing harder until Abbacchio's eyes finally rolled up into his head and he sank heavily against the ground.
Giorno detangled them and hauled himself up with the help of the chain-link, blinking blood from an eye that was already mostly swollen shut.
He glanced over to Caruso who stood with his arms folded over his chest. The man gave a reluctant nod and Giorno felt relief flood his veins as one of the guards unlocked the cage as the crowd erupted into various levels of shouting.
Abbacchio stirred at Giorno's feet and hauled himself onto his elbows before one of the guards yanked him upright.
Giorno followed them out and stared directly at Caruso.
"Looks like you won your money back," he said as the crowd were loudly protesting as they paid up.
Caruso didn't say anything and Giorno turned his back on him, limping back toward the dormitories.
He really hoped this would buy them a couple days of being ignored.
Abbacchio spat into the sink, watching the red wash down with the water. Overall, the kid hadn't dealt him too much damage—though he could have done without the kick to the balls. He was actually…impressed? It seemed bizarre to him to think that anything Giorno Giovanna did could impress him, but the way he had executed that submission hold was actually quite well done, especially considering the lack of practice and Abbacchio hadn't been expecting it.
That being said…
Abbacchio winced slightly as he dunked his swollen hands under the cool water, knuckles split and bleeding. He'd given the kid a pretty hard beating himself. In the moment he'd been pissed, sure, and in the zone of the fight. Giorno had just been an opponent and a capable one at that, thanks mostly to Abbacchio's training and Giorno's added cunning. But he still had the words Giorno had said playing in his head: "You don't have to lie. I know you've wanted to punch me in the face since we got here. And you should. All of this is my fault after all."
Was it true? Abbacchio couldn't deny that in part it was how he felt. Or how he had felt when they first got here, and he also knew Giorno had just been saying it mostly to goad him into the fight, but it had bothered him for some reason. Made him feel…slightly guilty. And he thought that, maybe he didn't feel that way so much anymore. Who knew it would take the kid literally forcing him into unconsciousness for him to realize that.
A footstep startled him and he turned around to see Giorno limping into the bathroom. He had an arm curled around his ribs and his face was mostly hidden by his hair which he had let out of his braid, but Abbacchio knew how bad it was. After all, he'd been the one to do it.
"Are you okay?"
Abbacchio stared at him in surprise, wondering why the hell Giorno was the one asking when he looked like that.
"I'm fine, what about you?"
Giorno turned to him and Abbacchio cringed as he saw the blood on his face and the left eye swollen shut.
Giorno shrugged, even that action making him cringe. "Nothing too damaging. You made it look good."
Abbacchio pressed his lips together as he reached for a clean cloth and ran it under cool water. "Well, at least you didn't just stand there and let me beat the shit out of you."
"Only thanks to your training," Giorno said, sincerity in his voice as he reached for the cloth.
Abbacchio noticed his hands were shaking and sighed, motioning for Giorno to sit on the counter. When the kid gingerly heaved himself up, Abbacchio started washing his face off. Careful around the tender eye. He'd get some ice for that later.
"I'm sorry," he finally said.
Giorno shook his head, hiding a wince from Abbacchio's ministrations. "You don't have to apologize."
"No, but that doesn't mean I can't," Abbacchio snapped then took a deep breath, making sure Giorno knew he wasn't frustrated with him necessarily. "It's not like I enjoyed it."
Giorno sighed softly. "I was the one who put us both into that position."
"You won though, genuinely, and you did a good job," Abbacchio admitted.
Giorno looked up at him, seeming surprised by his praise. Abbacchio narrowed his eyes and nudged Giorno's head to one side so he could scrub the blood off the side of his head.
"I have a plan," he said quietly.
Abbacchio glanced around but no one was around yet.
"I was hoping this might afford us at least a day of convalescence. We just have to be able to get to an exit."
"We can't leave, kid. Not while Caruso still has his hooks in us."
"No," Giorno said. "I'm not planning on leaving. I'm hoping that something I create with Gold will be able to though. Something that I can use to send a message to the others."
Abbacchio nodded slowly. He wouldn't have thought to risk it when they had first got here, but it had been longer than he expected, so the others might need a little help getting to them. It seemed like something they would just have to risk.
He left Giorno to finish cleaning up and dug out a fresh shirt for the kid that didn't have blood down the front of it. He then went to grab ice and pain pills, both of which would be much needed.
By the time he got back, Giorno had changed and was lying gingerly down on his cot.
"Here," Abbacchio handed him the ice pack and Giorno gratefully placed it over his swollen eye. "Your face looks awful, but how's the rest of you?"
Giorno grunted. "I'm going to be sore for a couple days but nothing is damaged. How's your arm?"
Abbacchio rolled the shoulder Giorno had trapped in the lock. It was a bit stiff but no real harm done. "Fine." He sat down on his cot, swallowing a couple pills. "So, this plan of yours…"
Giorno's lips pressed tight. "I'd rather not discuss it just in case. I know this might be hard, but I have to ask you to trust me."
Abbacchio exhaled slowly. A couple weeks ago, he might have completely refused, but he was beginning to see the Giorno who had been able to take down Diavolo. As much as he sometimes hated the way Giorno went about getting his plans in action, he had to admit that the kid really did have a head for tactics.
"Alright," he said finally as he lay down, grabbing the other ice pack he had brought and using it on his hands. "Tomorrow?"
Giorno gave a brief nod. "Tomorrow."
Tomorrow dawned to the normal bustle. Abbacchio and Giorno went through the motions, still being mostly ignored by the other fighters aside from a brief sneer here and there. It seemed that labeling themselves troublemakers had made it so no one wanted to associate with them, which was fine with Abbacchio. The fewer people getting in their way the better, especially now.
They waited until the other fighters were invested in their typical morning routine in the gym, using their injuries as an excuse not to join.
Once they got out of the gym however, Giorno met up with Abbacchio as they made their way through the kitchen and around to the cafeteria to get up to the first floor.
"Where?" Abbacchio asked.
Giorno pressed his lips together. "The main entrance might be our only option. If I can get the door open enough then I can let out the carrier pigeon I'm going to have Gold make."
Giorno had a small paperback book under his arm, which must be what he had in mind for the pigeon.
"Basically, I just need you to keep an eye out for guards and distract them if need be. Hopefully just doing this won't trip Caruso's Stand."
Abbacchio grunted in agreement. They still had no idea what the Stand's limits really were. Hopefully they would at least be able to open the door as long as they had no intention of leaving.
There were no guards visible once they got up to the main floor and Abbacchio and Giorno hurried toward the main entrance. He stopped a little way's back, watching as Giorno approached the door. It was locked, but it was easy enough for him to turn the latch into vines and pull it free.
Abbacchio listened carefully, keeping an eye out before he turned back to Giorno who had turned toward him.
"Good?" he asked.
Abbacchio glanced around again. "Clear."
Giorno nodded and summoned Gold Experience. He handed his Stand the book and the paperback morphed into a pigeon. Giorno let his Stand hold it as he pulled a small rolled note from his pocket and quickly attached it to the bird's leg.
"And you're sure that thing will get to the others?" Abbacchio asked.
"The creatures Gold Experience makes have a will of their own, but they are also, in a way, part of me," Giorno said. "I can imbue a sense of purpose into them."
Abbacchio was willing to accept that explanation for what it was and continued to keep watch.
"Ready," Giorno announced as he reached for the door.
The instant he began to pull it open, Abbacchio watched as Giorno's body suddenly went rigid, and he let out a choked sound.
"Giorno!" Abbacchio called, stepping forward.
Giorno held up his hand, shaking his head as he carefully took the pigeon from his Stand who was flickering. "I—I got it," he said before he opened the door further then collapsed onto the floor with a cry, curling up in some kind of obvious agony.
"Hey!" Abbacchio rushed forward, but the instant he got close to the door, he could feel a wave of agony crash over him as well, starting at the brand on his shoulder and shooting through his body like a strike of lightning. He was forced to his knees, reaching for Giorno or the door, he wasn't sure which. He could barely move.
He tried summoning Moody Blues to close the door for him, but his Stand wouldn't appear. The longer he sat there the worst the pain got. He could see Giorno choking up blood, and with the last of his energy, he grabbed the back of the kid's shirt and collapsed backwards, hauling both of them further away from the exit, and kicking the door shut again.
The pain slowly subsided as they both lay there, weak and panting, unable to even think of moving as footsteps rushed toward them.
"Stay there, don't move!"
Abbacchio glanced up to see the guards surrounding them, several leveling guns at them as two kicked them onto their stomachs and cuffed their hands behind their backs.
"You were warned not to try to escape," one said.
"What do we do with them?" another asked.
"We call the Boss, see what he wants us to do." He eyed up Abbacchio and Giorno. "Frankly, I don't see much of a point in keeping these two around anymore. They're more trouble than they're worth."
Abbacchio's lip curled. "Same to you when we get out of here."
The guard smirked, hauling him to his feet painfully. "Sadly, that doesn't look like it's gonna happen, does it?"
They were both hauled into a small office and tossed into one corner while one of the men went to presumably call Caruso.
Abbacchio glanced over at Giorno, afraid of the answer he might get when he quietly asked, "Well?"
Giorno provided a small smile and nodded. "It's done."
Abbacchio sank back against the wall with some modicum of relief. At least this venture hadn't entirely been in vain.
Now they just had to hope the pigeon would get to the others before Caruso had them killed.
The door opened and the guard who had been on the phone came in.
"Well?" the other men asked. "Is it an execution?"
"No. Caruso says he has something special planned…for tonight," he said, glancing at the captives with a cruel smirk. "It's a lot more interesting than an execution."