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Vento Aureo SBR AU: Golden Blood
Chapter 11: Doctor of Hatre-nomics Part 2
1900, Massachusetts, 27 Miles North of Boston:
It's raining, Pannacotta knows that for sure.
He didn't look down as his feet were quickly sunken into the mud of the swamp he stood on, rain pelting him at speed, and with force that seemed to try and make a hole in his head. Bright white lightning flashes brightly in the cloudy skies above, followed by the low rumbling of thunder, winds blew leaves from the trees around them and the long brown grass that grew al the way up to Pannacotta's thighs sway violently about, going with the flow of the winds.
Dampness seeped through his shoes and soaking his socks, causing them to make loud squishing sounds as he raised his legs to get blood flow to warm his freezing toes, cringing at the feeling of bubbling in between his toes as he did this. Glancing to the right he sees his four elder brothers all shivering violently, the youngest of the four, Tobias (localization for his real name, Tiberius) sneezes violently, and in excess as the coldness finally begins to make him suffer. Posillipo, the next youngest, teeth began to chatter loudly; Hadrian seemed as if he wanted to cry from his suffering, and finally Vesuvius seemed to have steeled himself the most to weather the poor conditions, but his stoicism seemed to falter.
Ahem. A voice said, causing all five boys to snap their heads forward, all eyes upon a tall man wearing a drenched, purple hood with a white cloth obscuring most of his face, save for the two holes to reveal his sunken, pale green eyes.
"From this moment forward, you will respond to any orders I give by saying 'Sì, padre.' Am I understood?" The man said.
"Sì, padre!" All five speak in unison, despite there being a small amount of hesitation from the freezing boys.
"For 395 years, the duty of the Zeppeli family was to be the executioner directly under the King of Naples. But as the boars of Sardinia invaded from the north, the Kingdom of Naples fell, the crown collapsed; our heritage, our birthright, our honor… abolished." The hooded man monologue solemnly. "However, though we are no longer loyal to the crown, it does not mean we are no longer of use. With the support of the American Sheriffs, we are now Bounty Hunters. Our new job in this new world is to exact justice against those who evade it, with righteous fury."
The nine-year-old Pannacotta's breath hitched at the words of the hooded man, his father. The boys were out in the pouring rain to start training to become bounty hunters in a new dynasty of Zeppelis, born out of the fire that engulfed Naples during the twilight hours of their war against Sardinia. Pannacotta's father pulled out a piece of cork, handing it to him and each of his brothers.
"Your first assignment is to spin this piece of cork. We will not go back inside until all of you spin this for a few seconds."
Eager to go back into the comfort and warmth of their home, the boys immediately began their assignment, none of them had ever used Spin before this very moment.
Walking up and down, inspecting his sons, Gregorio sighed as he watched his four elder sons seem to struggle with trying to spin the cork. Spin, though notoriously difficult to master was deceptively easy to achieve. It took Gyro only seven minutes to learn…
…
He's been gone for 9 years now. If he hadn't met the Joestar maybe, just maybe he would still be alive. If he hadn't taken sympathy to that boy, Marco, he would still be alive. If he had listened to my and his mother's words and focused on the tasks he was assigned. rather than get himself involved with other matters…
…
At times Gregorio would find himself staring at the clouds in the skies, wondering if Gyro was truly up there looking down at him; even when the clouds are at their most angry, raging in streaks of light and loud cracks of lightning, sort of like the ones above him now, he feels a gentleness to it that he couldn't put his finger on. Almost as if his eldest son broke through them to keep watch over him. Large raindrops soak through the violet cloth of his old executioner outfit, cold water running down his neck and spine. The want to shiver increases as time goes on. But he will not let this cold get the better of him. He will not shiver, he will not show weakness in front of his sons, he wil-
"Porca puttana, Panna!" One of his sons, Tobias, exclaimed, snapping Gregorio out of his thoughts, whipping his head back.
Pannacotta, the youngest of the brothers at only 9 years old, born from the grief of the death of Gyro, was now spinning the cork in his hand. Pulling out a pocket watch, Gregorio was amazed to know that only 2 minutes had passed since the start of this exercise, and Pannacotta was taking his first steps to carry the family legacy. Gregorio stared in amazement at his youngest son, who looked up at him in joy and wonder with his pale green eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Gregorio saw a nine-year-old Gyro was standing in Pannacotta's place, and only after blinking did Pannacotta return.
After a moment of silent contemplation, Gregorio decided to speak. "Everyone may return inside…" The boys, though shocked as the exercise had only begun, and because their father's expectations have yet to be met. However, they all went back into the direction of their house without question. "Except you, Pannacotta, I must speak with you…"
Pannacotta lets out a little whine, but compiles nonetheless, watching as all of his brothers trudge through the swampy terrain back into the house. As they disappeared into the night, he turned up to look at his father, maskless, showing off every single wrinkle on his face. Wrinkles he accumulated from the past ten years, from Gyro's death to the collapse of the Kingdom of Naples, to moving to The United States. His figure was now well worn, sunken as he was rapidly approaching his sixties.
"You show off impressive capabilities, and clear signs of natural talent." The old Italian man complimented, although with a stern look on his face. "This is much more remarkable, especially for a child your age. The only other one to learn how to use Spin at this age was Gyro, and any day now, you will surpass him."
Pannacotta felt a twinge of sadness at the mention of the brother he never met, but his Spin didn't falter, without anyone knowing it spun faster.
"I will teach and train you as I did Gyro, but, due to the danger of our newfound duty, you shall be trained extra in the art of survival and combatants. It will be hard, but in order for you to survive, I must break your spirits to reconstruct it, better, stronger. Am I understood, Pannacotta?"
Pannacotta looked into the eyes of his father. Pale green meets pale green. He wanted to make his father, and Gyro proud, he truly did, but even a gullible nine-year-old can recognize that what he is getting into may not be for the faint of heart. However, Pannacotta fell back on wanting to make the two people he looked up to proud. So, without any further thought, Pannacotta simply smiled at his father. "Si, padre!"
However, Pannacotta truly did not know what he was getting into with his father, and Gregorio did not know about the monster he was unwittingly creating from his teaching. The anger begins to build. A ticking time bomb of biblical proportions.
ARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARU!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The two stands cry out as they barraged each other with punches, sending shockwaves to damage the property around them. [Spin Doctor] leaned backwards from a punch sent by the pinheaded stand, [133], the latter's fist impacting a streetlamp, shattering the base, and causing it to topple over. Both Spilla and Fugo step backwards so as to not be crushed. As the dust settled, it was only Fugo and Spilla staring at each other now, huffing from fatigue from their stands fighting.
Spilla smirked. "You know kid. It's… a shame I have to kill. You're really skilled. You could really be an effective assassin."
"What do you think I have been trained for?" Fugo growled, causing Spilla's eyes to widen.
A small movement behind Fugo's right leg caught Spilla's eye. [Spin Doctor]'s arm handed Fugo a small, purple ball with grooves. Silently the ball began to spin in Fugo's hand, without any part of it scraping his hand, and then, he let the ball go, and suddenly it was careening towards the Tuscan assassin in shocking speed, still spinning in midair. Sensing Danger Signals, she did not want to find out what will happen if it hit her body, so she jumped backwards, watching as the ball shatter as it landed where she once stood, sending up a plum of dust that was multicolored, a nauseous looking gas with green, purple, and yellow as its color.
"The hell was that?"
"I missed…" The dirty blonde-haired boy deadpanned.
Spilla growled, whipping out two knives and throwing it at Fugo, who only ran towards her with no second thought. She chucks them at full strength, but their rotations cause them to hit Fugo by their handles, bouncing off of him without so much as a drop of blood. Damn, he is too close. Spilla was quick to pull two, small, curved blades from her pocket, karambits. She got into a fighting position, both blades held upside down.
Fugo clenched his left hand into a fist and raised his right arm out, hand straightened up as he squats just a bit. Odd fighting stance. This will surely be an interesting fight.
Spilla was the first one to launch themselves into a fight, quickly slashing at Fugo's most sensitive: jugular, thigh, wrists, eyes, testicles; only for the boy to block each of these masterfully. Merda! Can't find an opening… Fine. I'll make my own opening.
Resummoning [133], she swung her blades upward the bottom of Fugo's jaw, only for him to block it, only for the pinheaded stand punch downwards on the top of his head. Naturally Fugo jumped backwards to prevent being hit, however [133] punched the ground so hard, it kicked up concrete and dirt, some getting into Fugo's eyes, blinding him for that moment. That moment was all Spilla needed.
"Scacco matto!" It was checkmate for Spilla as, though [133] still had its first in the ground, its head was pointed directly at Fugo, as many small, thumbtack sized pins had finally grown out of the stand's head.
[133] released all of its pins, however, despite being blinded, Fugo summoned [Spin Doctor] to try and deflect all of the tiny pins. ARUARUARUARUARUARU! Despite the plague doctor stand's best efforts, multiple pins still impact Fugo, hitting him like bullets, and launching him backwards as he yelled out in pain. The distance between Fugo and Spilla was finally wide enough for the red eyed assassin to effectively throw knives, throwing a total of 6, 3 in each hand at the green-eyed boy.
However, another one of those purple balls that [Spin Doctor] produced suddenly blasted through the knives, causing them to be redirected in multiple directions, but never losing their momentum, hitting the ground, cars, and nearly missing people as it pierced through walls and shattered windows. Spilla gasped as she somersaulted backwards to avoid it again. What the fuck?
Fugo patted the areas where he was hit by the small pins. That hurt… But it didn't break the skin, however, my right, 10th false rib is definitely broken… Looking at his knuckles, he realized that they were purple and bleeding, nothing broken, but he did underestimate the pins' strength against [Spin Doctor].
"WHAT DO YOU KEEP THROWING AT ME?" Spilla screamed at Fugo who's expression betrayed nothing.
"Are you unfamiliar with Steel Balls? The ones I throw at you are those produced by [Spin Doctor], one time use, and shatter on impact. I can only produce six, and it takes a day to recharge all of them."
Spilla shows off her sickeningly sweet smile after Fugo is done speaking. Haha! Now I have the secrets of your stand, kid. Once he's out of those Steel Balls, he can only fight close range, which gives me an advantage.
Spilla threw more knives at Fugo, who used [Spin Doctor] to punch them all in midair again, however, felt something slash across his shins. The Tuscan assassin had used the throwing knives to serve as a distraction, as she slid under him and used her karambit knives to cut through Fugo's legs, causing him to bleed profusely.
He screamed out in pain and fell to the concrete with Spilla jumping on top of him with a knife dangerously close to his throat. Putting up a hand he felt like he was being burned by a red-hot poker iron as the blade passed through the palm of his hand, coming out the other side.
"Phew, you have given me a lot of trouble, but now I have you where I want you. Once I am done with you, I'll go after Patrizia." Spilla smiled at the blonde-haired boy, who struggled and writhed under her body weight, as the knife got closer and closer to his Adam's apple.
"Fuck… You!"
"You can die now, I just want you to keep your eyes open until then, I just love it when I see the light fade from their eyes."
In one last act of defiance, Fugo shut his eyes, to not give Spilla the satisfaction.
"I must break your spirits to reconstruct it, better, stronger. Am I understood Pannacotta?" "Si Padred!" "Hm… You will make Gyro very proud."
Fugo snapped his eyes open of the fury of a man who seen God and left unimpressed, catching Spilla by surprise, and with a monstrous roar, [Spin Doctor] appeared, reeling its fist, and slamming it as hard as it could into Spilla's jaw, slamming her backwards dozens of feet. She fell backward, raising her legs over her head to stand up. But as she raised her head to see the distance between her and Fugo, a purple steel ball barely missed her scalp by a hair.
A window shattered behind her, and the scream of a couple people could be heard, and she believed that she heard the frightened yelp of a child with it. She turned around to see what type of damage the steel ball can cause-
There's no one there…
The room behind the shattered window looked like a small dining room, the table in the center was completely smashed, wooden splinters everywhere, however there was no blood, no bodies, no one in there to make those screams, and all doors were closed. Merda, am I losing my mind? I could have sworn I hea- AH!
Fugo was now in front of Spilla, with the knife in her abdomen. The same trick she used to catch Fugo off guard, he reciprocated. Warm, red blood stained Spilla's white dress, Fugo's face was crossed into a fierce scowl, trying to slide the embedded knife across her abdomen in an attempt to disembowel the black-haired assassin, but a punch from [133] prevented him from going any farther.
Now, Fugo and Spilla are now on the ground, groaning from their injuries. Spilla pulled the knife from her abdomen, sucking her teeth as she inspected the wound, hands immediately turning crimson due to its contact with her own blood. It's deep, if he pulled off what he wanted to pull off, my intestine would be on the ground…
"Why the hell… huff, huff… are you so persistent of Madonna?" Fugo asked, rubbing the side of his face that got punched by the pin headed stand. "I knew you didn't want to tell ABBA… But... The blood rushing into my head has me curious."
"Really? After I tried to kill you… multiple times, and you... tried gutting me like a fish… You find time for small talk?"
"I just want to know… Also, there is only one way this will end… Last man standing."
"I owe somebody my life… okay? And he needed help…" Spilla thought back to when she was stabbed in the stomach all those years. No one wanted to help her due to her Tuscany heritage, but a certain black-eyed, white-haired boy from The Bronx only saw someone who needed help. So, he did. She owes him her body and soul. "Okay break time is over."
Spilla got up quickly and threw her throwing knife at Fugo, who scooted back and watched in astonishment as the blade stuck itself into the ground, mere inches away from his crotch. Grabbing the throwing knife and returning it to its sender, only for Spilla to duck out of the way.
Fugo planted his hands on the ground, pulling his knees in and kicking out to stand up, blood squirting out of the symmetrical wounds on his shins. He immediately went for the kick to Spilla's solar plexus, only for her to grab his leg, digging her sharp nails into the slash across his leg, making him scream out in pain. She then used her strength to pick him up by his leg and threw him through the window that was shattered by his steel ball previously.
Spilla was quick to try and pursue the boy she had just thrown, only for her to be cut up by spinning glass shards and barely dodging another steel ball sent to her direction. Hundreds of microscopic cuts radiate agony all over her arms. Then, from the dust, Fugo jumped out, tackling Spilla to the ground. Both stood back up, summoning their stands to go back to trading blows, so that their users could think of a plan.
Fugo noticed how her blood red eyes hovered to look at something behind him for just the briefest of moments, before her eyes snapped back to him. She identifies something, but Fugo can not take his eyes off his opponent, however, he will not know what Spilla is thinking without seeing what she was looking at. So, Fugo tried to speed up his punching speed with [Spin Doctor] to give himself some breathing room to turn around for only a moment-
FUCK! She got closer to me!
It was a mistake. [133] is beginning to gain ground as [Spin Doctor] begins to falter, backing Fugo up as he tries to get distance between the two stands. To add insult to injury, he didn't even get to see what she was looking at. It only took a few moments for Fugo to find himself in an alley, one step equated to 75 punches dealt by both stands, in concert. Then, he felt his back hit the wall. A dead end.
"I got you where I want you? Didn't you see? [133] grew back all of its pins to full size!" Fugo, in between the chaos of the punches, realized that she was telling the truth. All of the orange pins that grew around the head of [133]'s gimp-like mask were all as long as they were when Spilla first revealed her stand. Backed to a corner, nowhere to go. A pincer attack will surely kill him as [Spin Doctor] was not fast enough to punch all of them, and not only was the alley so claustrophobic that he cannot conduct evasive maneuvers like before, and his injured legs prevented him from jumping upwards (if the longest pin missiles didn't try to attack from above.) All in all, Fugo was in an undesirable position. This was her masterplan!
"This was my master plan." A punch to the chest cracked more ribs and smashed his back towards the wall, giving Spilla enough space and time to conduct her final assault. "[133]: PIN MISSILE, STRIKE!"
The pins on the pinheaded stand's head all launch out simultaneously, a direct barrage gunning towards Fugo going at Mach-Jesus speeds. Fugo realizes the peril he is in but doesn't concede defeat despite odds of survival being that of a hog in a slaughterhouse. Grabbing a purple steel ball he spun it between his wounded hands, blood spinning with it.
"GRAH!" Fugo screamed a war cry as his Purple Spin ball launched from his hands, into the middle of the barrage. "[SPIN DOCTOR]!"
The energy from the rotation manipulated the air around the pin missiles, causing a vortex of air that redirected all of them to different directions. The walls of the alley explode as long and shorter pin missiles slam into them, Spilla and Fugo, both in their broken bodies, try desperately to dodge them, annihilation is mutually guaranteed if they were to get hit. A piece of falling rebar slammed down on Fugo's shoulder, taking a chunk of flesh off of his shoulder, leaking large amounts of blood onto his green sweater. "GEAH!"
A large amount of dust was kicked up as a result of part of the wall falling, obscuring Spilla's vision. She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Far too close, nearly mutilated by her own stand. However, her relief was short lived as she looked in front of her, to where the cloud of dust was the thickest. She stepped closer and she saw that the dust was still in a vortex, spiraling into a sphere of pure air. In the center, a spinning purple steel ball, seemingly glowing gold under the effects of Spin, acted as a nucleus.
Suddenly, another steel ball slammed into the spinning steel ball, both spinning towards her in a pincer movement, similar to how she attacked Fugo with a pin missile strike in the beginning of their exchange. She stepped backwards to dodge the first one, but stepped directly into the second steel ball's trajectory. Smashing into her face and shattering. However, she felt as if she was hit by plastic, rather than steel as it is named. She sniffed the air and smelt the slightest bit of lavender. The nauseous air that her senses told her to stay far away from before was surrounding her, but she felt nothing. She scowls at the direction of Fugo, equipping the last throwing knife from her bandolier.
"Is that really all your [Spin Doctor] can do? Pitiful…" Knowing that Fugo has completely depleted his supply of steel balls, she knew she would be met with little to no resistance. For all she knows, this fight is over. If only she knew how correct she was.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you what those steel balls actually do, Spilla…" Fugo said from within the cloud just as Spilla raised her throwing knife.
Klank!
Spilla looked at the ground behind her as she felt the knife slip out of her hand, lying unceremoniously on the ground. As she looked at her hand that she held the knife in, she noticed it wasn't there anymore. Her entire hand crumbled away into dust. Actually, her entire body was crumbling to dust.
Wha…
"[Spin Doctor]'s steel balls release a deadly, disintegrating neurotoxin that kills anything that is alive. It is completely painless, so you can go to hell peacefully." Fugo emerged from the ash cloud. "Unfortunately for you. I ain't care too much for mercy."
"WAIT, NO!"
ARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARU! [Spin Doctor] reeled in its fist for one last, massive haymaker. UBASHAAAAAAA!
And with that final punch, Spilla's entire body crumbled away, floating away in the wind.
Spilla's [133] Status: Disintegrated by Pannacotta Fugo's [Spin Doctor], DECEASED!
ABBA sighed as they dematerialized [Ring-Ring], turning back to Trish.
"Good news kid, Caligula is alive…" Trish felt so much relief rushed over the purple haired heiress that she nearly collapsed on the floor, before ABBA put up a hand to cut her silent celebration short. "Bad news: he doesn't sound like he's in good shape."
"Then- then we need to find him!"
"Trying to figure which direction he went is almost impossible even if he left a short trail of blood, which he did, it stops by a trash can down the street." ABBA deadpanned. "Even with [Ring-Ring]'s help, it will take us all day."
Trish only scoffed, crossing her arms, and looking in every direction other than ABBA. However, a figure walking in the distance caught her eye, as it trudged closer to her. "ABBA!"
The (now barefoot) lavender haired gangster drew their gun and pointed it at the direction of the figure, fearing another attack. However, they stopped just short of putting their finger on the trigger and gasped loudly. "Panna…"
Fugo was not looking too hot, in ABBA's and Trish's opinion. Profuse bleeding from the shins, right shoulder, and hands, dirty, with a layer of dust all over him, bruising all over his neck and face, and finally, heavy breathing, wincing every time he takes too sharp of a breath.
"What happened?" Trish asked the green-eyed boy in mortification.
"I won…" Fugo responded cryptically.
"You used It, didn't you? Bucciarati and I told you to keep it on a short leash." ABBA still somehow found a way to scold Fugo despite the boy's condition.
"It is named [Spin Doctor], ABBA…" Fugo seethed. "And if I kept it on a short leash, I wouldn't have hanged her from it… Besides… I used all of my steel balls for the day, so it is no longer a massive threat to… literally everyone."
"Did anyone die unnecessarily?"
"Not that I know of… However, if I had to choose your safety and the safety of those around me? I would have chosen you regardless…" Fugo swallowed thickly as he ignored his doubling vision.
ABBA's eyes widened slightly at Fugo's words, their scowls softly, and the faintest ghost of a smile appeared on their face before speaking. "Okay let's just go home… C'mon kid…"
As the trio trudged back home victoriously, they did not notice the man that was staring down on them with a camera. The man, veiled in the cloak of the Covenant of Eboracum Novum, checked the film reel that he had just finished using to record. After looking at the retreating form of Trish, ABBA and Fugo, he walked towards the stairs.
"Fugo…" ABBA spoke as they, Trish, and the aforementioned Fugo stared at the couch at the ceiling. "Why did you tie Narancia to the couch?"
Narancia was wrapped in a bedsheet and bound to the couch by a rope, and gagged by his own orange bandana, looking as if he were teetering on the edge of crying.
"To prevent him from following me… Also, wanted me to help him with math again." Fugo said casually, earning a blank stare from Trish and ABBA. "What?"
End of Episode 11