Author Note: Second-person narration is from one character to another, as if they are retelling their stories. Changes in narrator are marked. \

This is a chapter in a larger part 5 backstory collection. Each "chapter" is posted separately since they are episodic and sometimes quite long. Heads up, everyone is gay (but I'm pretty sure that's canon in part 5?). If you are looking for more, you can find all seven chapters and a preview of a Giorno-era retelling - work in progress - under my author name.

Devil Inside

(Abbacchio)

What was it Polpo used to call you? His sugar cookie. God. That was it.

I didn't tell you everything. I'm sure you didn't tell me everything, either. We put up with his games – it was better than what we'd had before, both of us.

Until the day you cried. You clung to me and told me you wished you'd never kissed a man in your life, if only Polpo wouldn't look at you that way. The quiet horror in your eyes made me wonder what he wasn't putting on my replay. That was enough.

The roaring in my ears didn't let up until three weeks later, when everything was in place. Eight times reporting to Polpo. Nine for you.

He just looked curious when I touched your cheek and told you to go home.

"What's so private that it's not even meant for your little lovebird, hmm?" he asked me.

"Just a game we're going to play."

"Oh, do you like our games? I didn't get that impression, but I don't mind at all if you've changed your mind. I don't mind at all."

"This game has a prize. We've never played with a prize before."

"Oh, you really planned something for me! My, my. You shouldn't have."

"Maybe I should, maybe I shouldn't. This game has a few rules as well."

"I dare say rules are for those who make them. Wouldn't you agree, cupcake?"

"I would not. And this game has stakes. But you know that already."

"My, oh my. What an elaborate little plan you've concocted. But don't hold back! Tell me, what does my second-best boyfriend have in store for me?"

"Don't be unpleasant. Here is the prize. I know you enjoy my skilled performances with Moody Blues. I will provide Moody Blues' impersonation of any person except myself or Bruno, doing anything you like, whenever you call me here."

"But that's nothing new, my sweet tame lion. I can already ask for you that anytime I like. With none of your limitations."

"But don't you want to know the rules?"

"When I chose the life of an outlaw, sweet Leone, I didn't think it would end in a jail cell. Oh, my, no. I dreamed of piracy under a billowing sail, or bank robbery with a daredevil getaway driver, or perhaps just mugging deep-pocketed young men in a manicured park. All this when I was more of a skiff than a galleon, if you catch my drift. Yet even today, weighed down by my own anchors, I hardly think of myself as a man for rules. No, rules were not made for Polpo, it seems. Thank you all the same."

"That's fine with me. Rules are rules, whether you know them or not. Now, as to the stakes. You've been feeling under the weather lately. Am I wrong?"

"Never felt better, my little lemon drop."

"Oh, a little bird told me you had a twitch in your foot this morning."

"Just a restless memory of walking in the moonlight. Your little bird likes to kiss and tell, I see."

"Maybe so. A little bird told me your wine didn't agree with you last night. Was that a restless memory, too?"

"That's an intriguingly gregarious little bird you've got. As a matter of fact, I did have a lover's quarrel with my chianti before bed last night."

"I know more than one little bird. What if a little bird let me know that you have spots in your vision and a faintness in your head right now? Is that a little bird you'd listen to?"

"I suppose I had better hear about your stakes, Leone Abbacchio. But I warn you, I am getting less fond of you by the minute."

"I have something for you. An elixir. As we men age, things start to twitch and gurgle and drift, don't they? I couldn't leave you to suffer that alone."

"If I take this…"

"Take my advice and take it quickly."

"If I take this and it disagrees with me, I swear on my mother's name, your life won't be worth living. You'll beg me for the sweet mercy of death and I'll… say… no."

"Someone else already gave me one of those. But thanks, it's the thought that counts. Do you feel better?"

"As a matter of fact… I haven't felt so well in years. All those little complaints of age are fading away. I feel positively glowing. What did you give me, you dear, dear bastard?"

"That would be telling."

"And this is the stakes, mm?"

"Daily delivery will cease if the rules are broken. Or if anything should happen to me."

"Oh, I'm sure it's just a matter of sourcing. But of course, I appreciate your initiative to introduce me to this fine little potion. Your efforts won't go unrewarded."

"In that case, do you want to hear the rules?"

"If you still think we're playing a game, you filthy whore–"

"Now look. You've just broken one of those rules."

I took the second phial from my pocket and smashed it on the floor. Ruby liquid dribbled over the scintillating shards of glass.

"What do you mean by this? I'm certain another dose can be acquired by tomorrow."

"No, I'm afraid not. There's no more available until the day after."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere. Trust me. I am very familiar with the source."

"Oh, my. Isn't this fun? Tell me, then, what are these rules that you would risk your skinny neck for?"

"It's nothing much. There's three of them. First, you won't insult myself or Bruno. Second, you won't touch myself or Bruno, or allow us to touch you – Moody Blues excepted."

"Oh… are we ready to be exclusive, sugarplum? This just gets better and better."

"Yes, if you want to think of it that way. And third, you won't let any harm come to myself or to Bruno. If I were unexpectedly called away to attend to Bruno's injuries, for example, or God forbid, to arrange a funeral for either of us, I can't imagine the next time I would be able to deliver your elixir."

"What an interesting game. But I never needed this 'elixir' before. I can't really see how it's necessary to my continued happiness now. I don't think you're in a very good position to negotiate rules with your capo, schnitzel."

"Well, let's sleep on it and see what you think. Of course, you already saw what happened to tomorrow's drink, so you can expect me the day after that."

"Wait. As to the prize…"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what I have missed the most during my incarceration? Truly missed, more than the moon or the song of nightingales? It's the opera! The lights, the finery, the flimsy plots and heartrending music. Oh, my, the opera… I heard, possibly from one of your little birds, that the divine Cecilia Menotti is in town this week. Do you think you could possibly capture one of her scintillating performances and bring it here to enlighten my little world?"

"You're familiar with Moody Blues' sound quality? I would hate to disappoint you."

"That's fine, cupcake, that's fine. Her poise, her grace, the muse's own light in her eyes as she frames a note with her perfectly moist lips… I think you can capture all of that, correct?"

"Of course. I'm glad we understand each other."

"We do. Oh, I can see that we do…"

When I came to visit two days later, Polpo was rolling on the floor, frothing at the mouth, moaning that his bones were melting. When he saw my face, he swore at me and called me things I can't bear to repeat to you. So I crushed the next phial under my foot and left.

The next day, he was curled up in a tiny ball, crooning my name like a lost lover's. Which of course I am, but never his. He begged me for his dose, and I made sure he got it.

For the next two weeks, I made sure a glass phial of ruby red liquid arrived on his breakfast tray every morning.

Then you had that nasty accident. I'm sorry – yes, that was basically my fault. You're right, Polpo's fault, of course, but it only happened because he was testing my RESOLVE. So every day that I visited you in the hospital, for a week and a day, no phial for our friend Polpo. I heard from my little birds that he had feelers out all over Italy, all over Europe, asking about a potent red liquid, to no avail. Because, of course, his drug was never in the phial at all. No, it's best if you don't know, but I will say that I never could have done it without Fugo and his connections and some help from the prison staff.

I thought maybe Polpo would have me tortured to find out what I was giving him. But then, I've done my time, and Polpo was never inventive like my ex. I worried, too, that he might send his stand to stalk me from the shadows. Not that it would have seen anything; I'd taken myself out of the equation entirely. But I shouldn't have worried. Polpo didn't take either of those routes. I guess he was afraid he might never find his "elixir" again without my willing assistance. Or possibly he brought it up to the council and Pericolo intervened for us again.

Will you ever tell me why Pericolo supported you? What did he owe you for? No?

Well. We had no more trouble with Polpo after that.

Polpo had plenty of interesting requests for Moody Blues, many of them unpleasant to deliver. But waking up to the light in your eyes – hearing the pride in your voice as we started our team – nothing he asked of me could overshadow or undermine what I had won for you.