I forgot to mention in the last chapter that Fredo's stand Rock of Ages is based on a song from the same title from the band Def Lepard.
There is violence in this chapter.
Narancia stood dumbfounded at his friend, who looked equally as horrified.
With an awkward laugh Narancia said, "Fugo, are...are you okay?"
Fugo tried to reply, but the words halted in his throat and instead came out as a series of terrified squeaks.
Narancia tightened his hold on Fugo's elbows. "Fugo, please, this isn't funny."
A flash of red and in a mix of anger and fear Fugo shouted, but each word sounded like a stressed squeaky toy. He yanked his arms from Narancia's hold and gripped at his hair. Fugo forced words from his mouth, but each time the fear proved true as his ears only heard that dreaded shrill sound.
"C-calm down," Narancia tried and reached out to touch the other boy. Fugo held up his arm in defense, nearly slapping Narancia, who backed up in time to avoid the blow.
Fugo's fingers gripped at the blond hairs, his nails pressed against the sensitive skin of his scalp. He tried to push coherent words from his throat only to be haunted by that same squeaking sound. The fingernails pushed further into his skin.
Narancia stood, too afraid to touch Fugo, but even more terrified to watch.
He put a hand on either side of Fugo's face and said, "Panna, please, calm down."
Fugo visibly softened at the mention of the nickname used solely by Narancia. With heavy breathing he looked into the violet eyes of the other boy. Narancia gently took Fugo's wrists and helped lower his hands from his scalp.
"It's going to be okay," Narancia said softly, despite the overwhelming concern in his heart that spoke the opposite. "That stand probably crushed your voice. When we get back Giorno will fix you right up."
Fugo pressed his hand to his throat which was slightly bruised from Rock of Ages' grip. He couldn't recall if he had spoken after the stand had dropped him. Despite his worry for worse, the possibility gave him enough hope to move on.
"You're going to be just fine, I promise," said Narancia.
Narancia reached into Fugo's pants pocket and grabbed the keys. Fugo protested with a squeak, but Narancia shook his head.
"You're not fit to drive right now, so you're riding passenger," Narancia stated.
Fugo pointed at the scrapes that covered Narancia's arms along with the blood stains collected at the neck strap of his top.
"That's just a few scratches, I'll be fine," Narancia dismissed. He took hold of Fugo's hand and led him in the direction of the car.
Narancia threw himself into the driver's seat and turned on the car before Fugo was fully in. With shaking hands it took Fugo three attempts to fasten his seatbelt.
The ride home was quick with Narancia going fifteen miles over the speed limit and running one red light. For the duration of the ride Fugo's heart sped with a dull ache, and not just because of Narancia's reckless driving. Narancia glanced over to see Fugo stroking his throat and hoped that Gold Experience could solve their problem.
As soon as they arrived home Narancia rushed out the car with Fugo following slowly behind. Narancia threw open the door catching Bruno's attention from the adjacent room.
"Narancia, what are you..." Bruno trailed off when he saw the blood on his subordinate's clothes. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, but Fugo...well..."
"Is he hurt?" Bruno questioned.
"Kinda, I'm not really sure," said Narancia.
Bruno stepped away from Narancia to see the younger teen heading towards the door. Even with Fugo's head slightly bowed Bruno could still see the downcast look in his eyes.
Bruno took hold of Fugo and pulled him inside, then checked Fugo over to see no severe injuries.
"Were you hurt? What happened?" Bruno asked.
Fugo opened his mouth, but quickly closed it.
Fugo looked away, wondering if he should just go to Giorno himself before the others found out. Bruno called his name, causing Fugo to glance up for a second, then avert his gaze.
"His voice is damaged," Narancia explained.
Bruno nodded and led the other two to Giorno's office. The older man knocked twice and waited for the young don to give permission to enter. The three made their way inside, Fugo still apprehensive about anyone else hearing his voice.
Narancia sat down on a chair and pulled his legs in. He explained to the others the events of the failed mission and how Fugo was unable to talk.
Giorno's green eyes fell on Fugo. "Speak," he ordered.
"He can't," Narancia retorted.
Fugo tore his gaze away from Giorno and tried to tell him what happened, including an apology for the failure. His words escaped as three screeching squeaks. Fugo's cheeks lit up a deep crimson and he buried his face in his hands.
Giorno stood and straightened out his jacket. With a finger he instructed Fugo to sit down then summoned Gold Experience. The stand placed his hand against Fugo's throat, but after a few seconds he stepped back. Giorno hummed.
"What's wrong?" Narancia asked.
"There's no damage," Giorno explained.
"But I saw it, that thing was huge and he grabbed Fugo by the neck," Narancia argued and acted out grabbing his own throat.
"There is no physical injury for me to heal," Giorno replied.
Fugo suddenly remembered what the second stand user had said to him before he vanished. He bolted up, startling Giorno and Narancia, then grabbed a pen and a loose sheet of paper from Giorno's desk.
Hurriedly, but still neat, Fugo jotted down the account before Narancia met back up with him, then handed the paper over to his boss. Giorno read the statement and nodded, confessing it made more sense.
"So can you fix him?" Narancia asked.
"There's nothing to fix," said Giorno. He thought for a moment then said, "I could rip out his vocal chords myself and then create a new one, but even then if the stand's ability is still in effect, it may make no difference."
Giorno turned to Fugo and asked, "Are you in any pain?"
Fugo shook his head.
"Then I'm not going to injure you on a maybe," Giorno decided.
Fugo lowered his head.
"What we are going to do is raid their base," Giorno declared. "With any luck we should get there before they move out. We'll take them out, and if the stand user who tampered with Fugo's voice is there, force him to reverse it, or he's dead."
Bruno accepted the commands then left the office to inform the others on the don's decision.
Giorno healed Narancia's wounds, despite protests from the other boy that he didn't need to be fussed over. Giorno explained he needed Narancia to be in tip top shape for a second round against the rogue organization.
Fugo was armed with a spare handgun as the team wasn't keen on him using Purple Haze with them around, a decision Fugo wholeheartedly agreed with. Fugo was not known as a great shot, but if a target stood in front of him, he could get a clean hit.
On the way out Mista muttered just loud enough for Fugo to hear, "I knew I should've gone instead."
Fugo glared at the older boy and opened his mouth to let the gunman know his opinion, but remembered his predicament and gritted his teeth. There was no way he'd let his current condition slip in front of Mista.
The six loaded up in the van that was reserved for transporting the entire time (and occasionally Trish) Abbacchio drove with Bruno riding passenger, Giorno and Mista sat in the second row, and Narancia and Fugo occupied the third.
"Alright, listen up, here are your assignments," Bruno began in a voice that captured everyone's attention. "There are two main entrances to the restaurant, you've all had a chance to look over the blueprints. Narancia will head for the main entrance with Mista as backup. Giorno and myself will cover the back entrance. Fugo and Abbacchio, you are on standby incase anyone tries to flee. Is everyone clear?"
The others in the car confirmed their understanding either verbally or with a nod.
Giorno added, "Before anyone fires, I will offer them a chance to surrender. If they refuse..." Giorno's voice lowered, "Show no mercy."
There was no time for stealth as Abbacchio parked on the street directly in front of the abandoned restaurant. The road was still wrecked from the earlier battle and a good number of civilians loitered around the damage. Bruno emerged from the van and with a stern look and quick order for the citizens to flee they complied, albeit loudly chatting.
Bruno looked over at Fugo and ordered, "Use the gun unless there's no other option."
The voiceless boy nodded then glanced down at the loaded weapon in his pocket. A part of him wished he had taken Mista's invitation for target practice when they were still on friendlier terms. If all went well there would be no need for him to intervene, but rarely ever did fate bless them.
On Bruno's orders the two teams infiltrated the restaurant, yelling for all involved to drop to the ground. Both the members of the drug trade and the buyers jumped. Immediately guns were pulled and bullets rang out.
Narancia summoned Aerosmith which immediately led an assault on the opposing team. One of the buyers was seared through the chest with seven of Aerosmith's bullets, killing him instantly. Mista shot off three rounds and Pistols Seven, One, and Two cheered as they dove through the air, each one landed the bullet into its target.
The head of the redistributors ordered for the remaining two to grab the boxes and flee. Bruno appeared out of a zipper and Sticky Fingers punched the man to the ground. The box opened and two full bags of cocaine slipped out. Bruno seethed at the thought of those men selling the overpriced substance to children and young teens mere hours later.
Giorno apparated a set of vines from the broken tiles which encircled their opponents' legs like writhing snakes. Through Sticky Fingers, Bruno let out a series of assaults. Each blow of the fist Bruno imagined the face of an addicted child he had come across, or the dead eyes belonging to one who overdosed. Eventually the cries stopped as the men were knocked unconscious, but Sticky Fingers continued to pummel them until all but one were dead.
"Boss, what do we do?" Matteo asked from where he hid behind the counter.
"We got our money, let's scram," the leader ordered and they bolted for the kitchen.
Mista noticed the movement and ran after the two. He pushed open the swinging door to see the two figures dart around the empty, yet dusty metal shelves.
Mista turned the corner only to be greeted by the barrel of a revolver. One shot and he stumbled backwards. The second shot and he fell to the ground. The man stood over him. The dim lighting and Mista's own blurred vision shielded the man's face, however Mista saw the gun pointed directly for him. The man shot Mista in the neck and Mista's entire body froze.
"Let's go," he said to Matteo and the two bolted out the backdoor.
Having heard the gunshots Giorno rushed in to see the head of his friend in view. He scurried around the corner and knelt down next to his bleeding comrade. The Sex Pistols cried Mista's name as they attempted to dislodge the bullets from his body. Mista tried to speak, but his words were replaced with gargling blood.
"No, leave them," Giorno gently instructed the Pistols.
The six bullets abandoned their task, although still voiced their worry. Number Five wailed as he laid down on his human's blood-soaked shirt.
It was too a common scenario, although this time Mista hadn't injured himself. Mista groaned and writhed while Giorno transfigured the metal bullets into skin cells which attached themselves to the wounds.
Bruno busted in through the kitchen door and stopped short of the two on the floor. Mista weakly pointed to the backdoor and Bruno punched the wall, leaving a dent.
"It must've been added on after the place was built," the capo said.
"They escaped," Mista spoke just above a whisper.
"Abbacchio or Fugo must've apprehended them," Giorno said as he helped Mista to his feet.
Meanwhile, outside Abbacchio and Fugo stood on opposite sides of the building. Fugo held the gun close and listened to the barrage of bullets from inside. Despite Bruno's warning, several civilians stayed close enough in hopes to catch a glimpse of the action, but at least they were far enough away incase he was forced to use Purple Haze.
A part of him wanted that man to show himself so he could shoot out the man's voice for stealing his own.
The doors flew open, which caught Fugo's attention. He along with Abbacchio rushed towards the origin of the noise. The two drug suppliers caught sight of the don's men and made a break, each fleeing in a different direction.
Fugo wanted to run left after the man who had injured him, but Abbacchio chased in his direction. Fugo turned towards the other man and aimed the gun. He fired once and it missed. On the second shot Matteo dodged behind a stop sign. The bullet smacked the metal sign then ricocheted off, barely missing Fugo's arm.
Matteo dashed away with Fugo in full pursuit. The man took a sharp right turn down an alley way. He bumped into a trash can then slid it in the way. Fugo jumped over the metal can. His shoe landed in a small puddle, splashing mud onto the hem of his pant leg. Matteo darted around the corner onto the main street.
Fugo followed after and stopped before he plowed into two women walking by. They gasped at the teen's sudden appearance then hurried on ahead. Fugo looked to the left to find only more happy civilians. He then turned his head to the right to see the figure of his target moving further away.
Fugo internally cursed and pocketed the gun, knowing full well he couldn't fire it in a crowd of people, likely his enemy's plan.
Fugo took off down the street, bumping into various people who shouted obscenities and threats at his back. Fugo felt the heat rising inside him, which would serve him well when he finally caught his target.
Matteo looked over his shoulder to see the boy in green moving closer. He turned back around and collided into an old woman with hands full of shopping bags. He hissed at the throbbing pain in his ankle, but the sight of the enraged teen moving closer forced him to his feet. He wobbled a few steps, then pushed the pain away to run.
The distance closed between the two of them and Fugo pushed the man into the corner of a store wall. He grabbed him by the back of his collar and pushed him into the adjacent alley. Matteo hollered when his face was smashed up against the brick wall on the side of the building.
Fugo spun Matteo around and then pushed him into the wall again. Matteo coughed, which was cut off when Fugo's forearm pressed against Matteo's throat. The drug trafficker was pinned against the wall, flailing from lack of breath.
Fugo pulled the semi-automatic from his pocket and set the barrel against Matteo's forehead. Fugo felt Matteo swallow against his arm.
"L-let me go, I was-I was just following orders," Matteo pleaded.
Fugo smacked Matteo across the face with the gun. The older man yelled at the explosion of pain, and his mouth hung open, while a bruise formed under his left eye.
Fugo moved close enough to Matteo smell the stench of his rotten teeth. The teenager opened his mouth to begin the interrogation, but he only managed an angry squeak.
Fugo blanched at the sound of his own voice, while Matteo stared in shock. The shock wore off and Matteo's mouth twitched and gradually curved into a smirk. The man chuckled.
"Looks like Paride got you after all," Matteo laughed.
The laughter reminiscent of a clucking hen grated Fugo's nerves. He felt the ignited fire inside him expand.
Fugo kneed Matteo in the groin, silencing that horrible noise. His face still red, Fugo punched Matteo in the stomach, the cheek, the nose, and the stomach once more. Matteo's head lulled and a stream of blood leaked from his bottom gum.
Fugo tried to curse the man, but only produced a harsh squeak. Despite the pain Matteo managed a taunting smile. Fugo quickly erased it with three sharp blows to the man's lips. Fugo released his hold on Matteo, who fell barely conscious to the ground.
The anger absolved from his body Fugo realized just how far he had traveled from their original location. The rest of the gang probably wondered where he ran off to, and he dreaded the possible accusations from Mista.
Purple eyes landed on the slumped figure on the ground. Fugo's fingers brushed against the gun in his pocket; it would be easy to eliminate him now, but wondered if perhaps he could be used for information.
There were three bullets left in the revolver. Fugo looked around to see a pay phone on the other side of the street. He aimed the gun at the still target and fired a bullet into each of Matteo's calves. The man screamed in agony and scrunched himself up, grasping at the new, bleeding wounds.
The people cleared the street with screams and frantic running. Bruno would definitely scold him for making too much of scene in addition to sloppy work.
Fugo hurried across the street, thankful he had Bucciarati's number memorized. He picked up the phone and reached into his pocket for the necessary money. Just as he was about to insert the coin he remembered he wouldn't be able to verbally communicate over the phone.
Fugo threw the phone against the machine and kicked it twice, earning him a few concerned looks from passersby. The boy glowered, which caused them to look away and move on with their business.
On his way back to where he left Matteo, Fugo heard his name. He looked up to see Abbacchio and Bruno headed towards him. Fugo pointed to where he left the other man and beckoned the two to follow.
Bruno squatted down next to Matteo and pushed the man's two stray bangs away from his face. The dull brown eyes barely open blinked and made contact with Bruno's bright blue ones.
"He's still alive," Bruno commented.
"Good, maybe I can make him talk," Abbacchio said as he cracked his knuckles.
"You shot him twice," Bruno noticed. He glanced over to see few people out on the street. "And exactly how many witnessed this?"
Fugo shrugged.
With a sigh Bruno stood up. "How many times do I have to tell you guys to be more inconspicuous?"
Bruno pulled out his cell phone and directed Giorno to pull the van around on the other side of the street due to it being much less populated. Two minutes later the vehicle came to a stop. Abbacchio grabbed Matteo, earning cries of pain. Abbacchio clasped his hand around Matteo's mouth, muffling the sounds.
Mista was already out of the van and had the trunk opened up. Abbacchio tossed Matteo into the small space then wiped the blood off his hands with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. Mista slammed the trunk closed.
"The other one got away, but I'm sure with the right amount of persuasion that one will give us what we want to know," said Abbacchio.
"Good, I owe him for those bullet holes," Mista said.
"Did he say anything to you?" Abbacchio asked Fugo.
The mentioned shook his head. He then remembered Matteo had let his leader's name slip. Fugo opened his mouth, but shut it before that horrible noise escaped his lips.
"Well?" Abbacchio asked.
Fugo checked his pockets. He had a pen, but nothing to write on, and judging by how his day had fared so far, the pen was probably out of ink.
"Did he say anything or not?" Mista pressed.
Fugo surveyed the area for a stray piece of paper, cardboard, or anything of the like.
"Fugo, what did he say?" Abbacchio yelled.
"I'm afraid he can't answer you right now," Bruno said and put a hand on Abbacchio's shoulder.
"Then what good are you? That was literally your one job," Mista snapped.
"Mista," Bruno warned.
Fugo stepped forward and grabbed Mista's wrist. He prepared to lash out at the older teen, but the tirade escaped as three heated squeaks.
Fugo let go of Mista and stepped back, his eyes wide, and filled with an overwhelming urge to vomit.
Mista stared for a moment. "What the hell was that?" he finally asked.
Fugo stood quiet, his cheeks flushed, and the nauseous feeling increased.
Mista's lips curved upwards. He put a hand over his mouth and his shoulders shook. Fugo heard that grating sound. It took all his strength to raise his head to see Mista turned to the side, covering his mouth. Mista took a glimpse at Fugo and could no longer hold it in. He let out loud, uncontrollable laughs.
"What was that?" Mista asked between laughs. He pointed at Fugo and said, "You sound...you sound...you sound like a dog toy."
Fugo screeched, making that same sound that caused Mista to laugh harder.
Abbacchio turned away to hide his own chuckling, but Fugo caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
Narancia saw Mista bent over, guffawing, and rolled down his window.
"What is so funny?" the boy asked from inside the car.
Mista looked back at Narancia and pointed to Fugo. "Get a load of Fugo's voice."
"Yeah, I know, I was there when it happened," Narancia said leaning out the open window.
"And you didn't tell me?" Mista cried.
Fugo gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. His blood boiled and its only remedy was to expel his tormentor's blood from his body.
"Alright, Mista, that's enough," Bruno said with a chuckle of his own.
Abbacchio coughed into his hand. "Bucciarati is right, we have business to conduct," Abbacchio said and gestured to the trunk.
"Let's go," Bruno said. He, Mista, and Abbacchio piled into the car. Bruno looked over to see Fugo still stood on the street. "Fugo, are you coming?" he asked from the passenger seat.
The boy in question stood silent for a moment. He looked up to see five sets of eyes on him, which boiled his blood higher. Mista still wore that smirk that Fugo wanted to punch off his smug face.
"Get in the car," Abbacchio ordered from where he sat next to Mista.
Fugo's gaze fell on Narancia who offered him a sad smile. Fugo took a deep breath and opened the van door. On his way to his seat he stomped on Mista's foot.
Mista jumped up and shouted, "You son of a-"
"Settle down!" Bruno barked from the front seat.
They both looked to see Bruno's thumb on the seatbelt release button. Mista sat down and crossed his arms. Fugo threw himself into the seat next to Narancia. The muffled yells and pounding on the trunk broke the silence.
Bruno turned to Giorno and said, "Please take us home."