Alright, buckle up everyone, this is the one where it all hits the fan. And on top of that we are also introducing Cioccolata to this AU. Hope you all enjoy.

I'm going to put a Trigger Warning for eating disorders on this one because yes it is vampirism, but I don't want it to be a bad trigger for anyone so just wanted to mention it.

Also a brief warning for Cioccolata flavored medical experimentation.

Humanity and Eternity

A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic

(Vampire Hunter AU) Now in hiding after their betrayal of the Boss, Bucciarati and his team attempt to lay low, but stirrings in the nearby town of grave robbing and missing patients from the nearby asylum have Giorno and Mista going to investigate. Meanwhile, Bucciarati begins fully experiencing the consequences of his fight with the Boss in ways he can no longer deny.

Part One

Bucciarati dragged himself out of bed, slumping on the side of it with his head in his hands, annoyed by the light glowing behind the curtains. It just seemed to be getting harder and harder to get up in the morning. He blamed their somewhat normal schedule for that since being a Hunter had meant it had been years since he had gotten up with the sun consistently.

Still, he was exhausted and achy and…starving.

They had been blessed to find this place just outside of a small town in the Italian countryside. It was quiet and peaceful and folks mostly kept to themselves. Just the kind of place that would be good to hide out in until they could figure out their next move.

It had been two weeks now, and so far they hadn't had any sightings of the Boss's men or really any supernatural beings at all. This part of the country was usually pretty quiet, didn't even have a regular Hunting team.

The only problem was that all of them were going a little stir-crazy in the small cottage, but that was only to be expected, and there wasn't really anything they could do about it since the whole point of being here was attempting to lay low.

Mista and Narancia were cooking breakfast that morning, and Bruno took his place at the table after pouring himself a cup of coffee. Once he was seated, he turned to Abbacchio who was reading the paper.

"Anything of interest?" he asked.

"Nothing apocalyptic," Abbacchio muttered with a sigh as he put the paper down again. "We need to figure out what we're doing, though. Eventually, the Boss is going to track us down."

"I know," Bruno sipped at the coffee, cringing at the overly acidic taste. "I am thinking that maybe heading to Sardinia would be an option."

"Why's that?"

"Well, we know the Boss was there at some point because that's where he met Trish's mother, but I also detected a slight Sardinian accent when he spoke, so it's possible that's where he's originally from."

Abbacchio tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "It would be worth a try. We don't really have any other leads."

"I'm still trying to figure out a reliable way to get a message to Nero," Bruno added. "We could really use some backup on this."

"Bucciarati, we're out of eggs again!" Narancia said as he and Mista came out of the kitchen with breakfast. "So we have a mostly vegetable frittata."

"There's a few other things we need to pick up in town as well. Mista, how about you and I run errands after breakfast?" Bruno suggested.

"Sure," the gunman nodded. "I gotta pick up a few things myself."

Bruno passed over the frittata and took a piece of bread and some fruit. He ate slowly, trying to find his appetite again. Everything just seemed to taste like ash in his mouth.

Giorno appeared, bidding everyone good morning, and Trish followed close behind.

Trish had seemed a little more at peace among the team since they had explained the truth about her father but she was still adjusting to her new dhampir powers. It didn't help that she seemed to have the ability of verbal manipulation so she was actively trying not to accidently use it when she asked anyone a question. They'd had several…interesting calls dealing with that.

"If you're going out, could you please stop by the butcher?" Giorno asked. "Our supply of blood is also getting low."

"Of course," Bruno replied, mouth watering briefly, before he shook himself, taking another long sip of coffee.

A now familiar feeling started in his stomach and he swallowed hard, standing up, abandoning the rest of his breakfast. "Twenty minutes, Mista?"

"Sounds good," the gunman replied.

Bruno excused himself from the table and hurried toward the water closet. Once he was inside and had shut the door he instantly vomited up what he had eaten, kneeling in front of the toilet as his body shook.

"Shit," he breathed, spitting, before he grabbed a wet cloth and pressed it to his face.

The nausea had only been getting worse. The last few days he'd been unable to keep anything he ate down. He knew this was a problem, but he didn't want to address it yet. Maybe…maybe it was just a stomach sickness.

It's not and you know it. You know what you need. You know what will fix this.

He shoved his inner voice down and wiped his mouth. He didn't have time to worry about this. There were too many other things to worry about.

He freshened up and met up with Mista as the others were finishing up breakfast.

"I'm ready when you are, Bucciarati," Mista told him.

Bruno nodded and pulled on his overcoat. The early morning light assaulted his eyes the instant he stepped outside and felt uncomfortably hot on his face. He cringed and reached into his coat pocket for the tinted glasses he had taken to carrying around.

"You and Giorno on the same fashion kick?" Mista asked him with some amusement.

Bruno forced a wry laugh. "Too many late nights straining my eyes by candle light. They're a bit sensitive today."

They hitched up the mule to the open cart they'd acquired and headed into town. It was busy as usual, everyone bidding each other good morning, sweeping the walks in front of shops.

"I'm going to head over to the tailor to pick up a couple things I ordered in," Mista told Bruno as they parked their cart and left the mule at the watering trough. "Meet you at the butcher shop?"

Bruno nodded and headed off to pick up the groceries. He started with the bakery and waited while the woman there promised him fresh loaves that would only be a second longer. Bruno thanked her kindly and picked out a few pastries while he was waiting, thinking that the others deserved a treat.

"Good morning, Signora Manzini!" the next customer called as she came in.

"Ah, good morning Signora Carollo," the bakery woman said with a smile. "What can I get for you today?"

Bruno tuned them out as they chatted, until the customer lowered her voice into a hushed tone—the kind reserved for gossip. "Have you heard that there was another…incident last night?"

"I had not, what was it this time?" Signora Manzini asked, leaning over the counter.

"Apparently another grave robbery! Everyone's saying ghouls."

"It really is a shame that it takes so long to get a Hunter out here." The baker clucked her tongue. "There's also talk of disappearances from the madhouse up to the north—but then…I doubt there's a supernatural explanation for that. After all, too many families would pay to have people disappear from places like that."

Signora Corollo gave a disapproving shake of her head. "Quite a shame."

"Ah, signore, I apologize for keeping you," Signora Manzini said suddenly, heading to the back to grab the bread and handing it over to Bruno.

"Not at all, signora, please have a good day," Bruno told her, tipping his hat briefly before taking the bread and pastries out of the shop.

The loaves were indeed fresh and hot out of the oven and normally Bruno would have found such a homely smell irresistible—perhaps even tasted them before heading back. But the yeasty sweetness only caused his stomach to turn sickly, causing him further annoyance.

By the time he picked up the produce and dry goods and headed back to the cart, Mista was there with his own parcels.

"Was able to get my new waistcoat, as well as the things Trish asked for," he said.

Bruno nodded. "Good. Let's swing by the butchers and then we can go home."

"Hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something," Mista said as they started off toward the butcher shop.

Bruno instantly went on defense, waiting for a question he was going to have to deny, but Mista instead continued, "I overheard something interesting while I was on my way to the tailor's shop. Something about—"

"Grave robbing?" Bruno asked.

Mista glanced over at him with a nod. "Yeah. So, I guess it's today's gossip."

"Seems like it."

"So…do you think we should do something about it?" the gunman asked.

Bruno hummed thoughtfully. "We'll discuss it with the others. It wouldn't be ideal to raise attention to ourselves, but it is our duty as Hunters to take care of these problems."

"Sounds good," Mista replied. "Honestly, I could do with blowing some ghoul brains out, but it's your call."

Mista followed him down the street until they stopped in at the butcher's shop.

The instant they stepped in the door, the coppery scent of blood assaulted Bruno's nostrils with a vengeance. He halted, trying his best to hold his breath as he felt saliva gather in his mouth.

"Hey, you good?" Mista asked him and Bruno finally realized he had stopped right in the doorway.

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," he said, something suddenly pricking the inside of his lip and…

He swallowed and pressed his lips shut, heading up to the counter. He ordered some cuts of meat and fresh pig's blood.

"Here you go, signore," the butcher's assistant said as he handed over the order while Bruno passed him several coins.

"Thank you," he said, instantly passing the bucket of blood off to Mista as he made his way outside.

"Let's get back," he said, nearly forcing Mista to run to catch up to him. He was trying to breathe the fresh air as calmly as possible but he could taste his own blood now on the inside of his mouth, gums aching, and it was hard to concentrate on anything else. His heart was pounding in his chest, terrified that Mista might notice something was wrong but the gunman seemed thankfully distracted by a young woman waving at him from the side of the street as she swept outside of a shop.

Bruno shook his head, but once they got back to the cart and set off, he felt slightly better. He wasn't entirely sure why, until he realized that it was because he was only aware of Mista and the mule's heartbeats instead of those of everyone's in the town.

When they got back, Narancia and Abbacchio came to unload stuff and Bruno slipped off to his room. His hands shook as he picked up the small mirror on his vanity and held it up to his face.

Carefully, he pulled his top lip back, wincing at the raw gums.

And, yes, there, just poking out of the skin were two sharp white points.

His breath caught in his throat and he hurriedly moved the mirror to his eyes, terrified, but they were still blue. Not even any red flecks.

He wondered how much longer that would be the case.

It was truly a terrifying thing, this slow turning, the fact that he knew he should tell someone, and yet…he couldn't bring himself to. Because the minute he did, he knew he would have to face the reality himself. The reality that he had been doing his best to deny this whole time.

Because the truth was it was already too late to do anything so what was the point in bringing his slow suffering out in the open for all the others to bear witness to.

Bruno sank onto the side of his bed and reached into his coat, pulling out his rosary. He stared at it in his palm for a long moment before he reached up to tug his other glove off with his teeth.

He was about to touch the crucifix with his bare skin when a knock on the door startled him and he nearly dropped it all together.

"Bucciarati?"

Abbacchio.

Bruno stood, tossing the rosary onto his pillow before tugging his other glove off. "Yes?" he called as he went to open the door, finding Abbacchio standing there.

"Mista said you had something you wanted to talk to us all about," the silver-haired man said, then frowned, looking Bruno up and down.

Bruno ignored him and straightened his shoulders. "Yes, I was just about to get to that. We might have a job, actually."

He made to leave the room, but Abbacchio held out a hand to stop him. "Hey, hold on a minute. Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course I am," Bruno replied in annoyance.

"Because you look like shit," Abbacchio said honestly. "You're pale, your eyes are as sunken as the boat we took from Venice, and you've hardly been eating anything. Are you sick?"

Bruno sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead. "I just haven't been sleeping well. All of this…it's been a lot. I know I'm not the only one who thinks that, but—"

"You're not, but no one else is throwing up after every meal either," Abbacchio said pointedly and Bruno felt a guilty look pass over his face before he could stop it.

"Not every meal," he lied. "I just…possibly it's an ulcer, or some side-effect from my injury. I'm sure I'll be fine soon."

"Or maybe you should see a damn doctor before you make it worse?" Abbacchio snapped. "Do you even realize how bad that sounds? Giorno's not a miracle worker, you know—his blood only does so much."

How true that was. Bruno held up his hands in acquiescence. "If I don't feel better in a few days, I'll go see a doctor—happy?"

Abbacchio's frown only deepened further, but Bruno ignored it and pushed past him to head back downstairs to where all of the others had gathered in the cozy little parlor with tea and the pastries Bruno had bought.

"Everyone," Bruno said, standing to one side to address the room as Abbacchio took a seat next to Narancia. "A potential job came to the attention of Mista and me while we were in town today. Apparently, they are having an issue with grave robbing and potentially patients going missing from a nearby asylum. It's uncertain whether the two cases are indeed related, but both are suspicious enough to warrant looking into."

The others nodded and Bucciarati continued. "Despite our current position I feel it is our duty to see to anything related to our profession while we are staying here. What is everyone else's opinion on the matter?"

"I'm in," Giorno said. "I agree. We would be neglecting our duty as Hunters if we were to ignore a case so close."

"I'm okay with it," Narancia said quickly.

Abbacchio shrugged. "Frankly, I think we could use a run of it."

"Then it's decided." Bruno clapped his hands together. "I think we should start looking through newspapers from the last few weeks and see if there's any reports. It will be a little difficult to find proper records without our usual resources, but I think we should be able to make do with a little in person investigation. The grave-robbing is undoubtedly ghouls, which shouldn't be too difficult to figure out."

Mista raised a hand. "I'd be up for going out tonight to look into it while the new grave robbery is still fresh."

"I'd be happy to go with you," Giorno said, "I could do with stretching my legs."

"That's settled then," Bruno said. "You two will investigate the graveyard tonight and Abbacchio and I will look into the asylum first thing in the morning. If we find out that there is some connection between the two or that there is more to this than simple grave robbery, then we will figure out where to go from there."

Everyone nodded and Bruno finally felt some sense of normalcy return to their group. Perhaps a job was just what they needed to get back on track.

If only to delay him having to think of his other issues more close to home for just a little longer.

Giorno and Mista geared up for their investigative outing just after the sun had set.

"Feels good, huh?" Mista asked as he checked his guns and slid them into his holsters. "Just going out on a cut and dried hunt again?"

Giorno nodded. "Yes. I suppose I've missed the simplicity. Figuring out a problem and solving it one way or another." He smiled wryly as he sheathed his sword. "If only it were as simple to take out the Boss."

Mista sighed, tugging his overcoat on. "You're telling me. But we'll crack him too eventually. Right now, let's just go take out some ghouls, huh?"

Giorno flashed a brief grin and followed Mista back out to the kitchen where Bucciarati, Abbacchio and Trish had set up to look through the newspapers.

"We're heading out," Mista called.

"Good. Be careful," Bucciarati replied.

The night was cool and the moonlight felt good on Giorno's face as he looked around at the quiet countryside. They'd chosen to walk that night so as not to attract attention and also so Bucciarati and Abbacchio would be able to use the carriage in the morning. Though it was a little ways to the graveyard, it wasn't necessarily an unpleasant walk.

"Man, it feels good to get out again," Mista said with a contented sigh. "There's something about the country air—used to go visit my uncle as a kid who had a villa not too far from here actually. It was always a great time for all of us." He grinned. "What about you? You ever been out in the country?"

"I mostly lived in the city all my life," Giorno said. "But I'll admit that there is a certain charm to the countryside."

They walked in silence for a little while until Mista turned to him. "Hey, Giorno…have you noticed something weird about Bucciarati lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," the gunman mused, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Just…something off, you know?"

"I don't think he's been sleeping well," Giorno said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but I've seen him overworked and sleep-deprived before. This is…I don't know. Something about him is just off."

Giorno was silent, but to be honest he'd also noticed something off about Bucciarati. Something he hadn't been able to put his finger on, but something that had been there since Venice. It was like sometimes he could sense something else inside of him. Something in his blood. But Giorno had been forced to use a lot of his own blood on Bucciarati to heal him and it was possible that this was some sort of side effect from that causing a lingering scent. He'd never used that much blood to heal anyone before and had no baseline for it.

"I'm sure he'll be better off once we can figure out a solid plan to go after the Boss," Giorno tried to reassure the gunman. "He's under a lot of pressure right now."

"I guess you're right," Mista replied, then looked ahead. "Looks like we're almost there."

It was an old graveyard set just outside of the town. Mostly made up of typical gravestones, but some of them were more extravagant and there was even a sizable mausoleum in the center of the cemetery. Mista pulled out a box of matches, and lit the lanterns they had brought.

"Some of these graves look pretty expensive for what I would expect around here," Mista commented.

"There's a few old family vineyards further to the north," Giorno said. "I'm assuming most of them are buried here."

"Well, let's check it out and see whose graves have been robbed then," Mista said.

They wove their way through the gravestones, checking for any freshly turned earth.

Mista finally called Giorno over, standing by one grave, holding his lantern up for better light.

"This one has been covered over again, but it's been freshly turned—and the date on the stone is from a few weeks ago, so it's not a new burial."

Giorno crouched to run his fingers through the dirt thoughtfully. "This was probably one of the ones hit last night."

Mista looked around and pointed. "That looks like another one."

The second grave seemed to follow the same modus operandi. And there were others that looked like they had been dug up semi-recently, the grass only barely growing over them again.

That was when Giorno frowned. "This is a bit odd, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at all of these," Giorno said, motioning to the graves they had inspected. "All of these are in the pauper's lot. None of these people would likely have been buried with any valuables—most of them just have simple wooden crosses as markers. Unless the ghouls were simply looking for food, then what point would they have to digging up these graves?"

Mista looked thoughtful. "A good question. What do you say we do a little digging ourselves and take a look?"

Giorno nodded. And they went in search of shovels in a shed on one side of the cemetery. They went back to the grave that seemed to have been most recently dug up and started digging.

Once they got to the coffin, Mista cringed back. "Uh…no offense but I'm not desecrating a grave. Even if it is for the greater good."

Giorno shrugged and lowered himself down into the hole, reaching down to open the coffin.

Only to find…

"Wait? Is it empty?" Mista asked, crouching down with his lantern held overhead.

"Looks like it," Giorno murmured, sitting back on his heels. "How very odd."

"Think the ghouls brought it back to their lair for later?"

"Why rebury an empty coffin?" Giorno asked.

"That could have been the crypt keeper trying to lessen the blow to the family," Mista suggested. "No one said specifically that the graves had been left open. It's not really like ghouls to clean up their tracks."

"No, it isn't," Giorno murmured as he straightened up and Mista gave him a hand out of the hole. "But this also isn't simply grave robbing—this is body snatching. I think we need to do some more investigating."

They went on a complete round of the cemetery, marking a couple other newly dug graves, before they ended up at the mausoleum in the center. It was definitely old, with the name of a family mostly weathered away above the door. Two angel statues sat on either corner, like silent sentinels.

"Hey, Giorno," Mista called and Giorno headed around the side of the structure.

"What is it?"

Mista was kneeling in the grass next to the base of one of the statues, holding his lantern out. "Look at this."

Giorno crouched next to him and was surprised to see a small opening behind one of the statues as if a stone had been pulled away from the inside.

"What is that? Does it lead inside?"

"I don't know," Mista replied, "But I was thinking…it's big enough for a person to fit though, don't you think?"

Giorno nodded, an uneasy feeling welling up inside of him. "And you're saying if it's open…"

"Then whoever is responsible for this might be out there somewhere," Mista finished, glancing over at him. "What do you think?"

"We came here to investigate," Giorno said. "I say we take a look."

Mista nodded and shoved his lantern through the hole ahead of him, taking a deep breath, "Alright, see you on the other side."

After Mista disappeared, Giorno crouched and pushed his lantern in as well before getting on hands and knees and making his way through the small opening toward the glow of their lanterns.

As he came out, he climbed to his feet beside Mista who was looking around.

"I mean…it looks like a normal mausoleum," he said, holding his lantern over the stone crypts resting around the space.

But Giorno had detected something the minute they got inside and reached out to stop Mista from going further.

"Hold on, there's something else here. It doesn't smell like ghoul."

"What does it smell like then?"

"It smells like vam—"

Something clattered across the floor from the darkness and the room suddenly started to fill with smoke.

"The hell?" Mista demanded before he started coughing, doubling over and dropping his lantern with a crash.

Giorno tried to cover his mouth and nose, but it was too late. Whatever it was was fast acting, and cloyingly sweet. Chloroform he thought briefly before he was also choking, going to his knees as his legs stopped being able to support him.

He collapsed completely next to Mista as the gunman gasped, fingers attempting to reach for one of his pistols.

The last thing Giorno saw before he lost consciousness was a pair of worn boots walking his way.

Giorno came to slowly with a pounding headache. It took him a few moments to become aware of his surroundings, but he was lying on something cold and hard—likely a stone floor, and he could detect the sound of three other heartbeats nearby as well as the sound of various items clattering around. Not to mention the distinct smell of vampire.

A groan next to him sounded and Giorno forced his eyes open to see Mista lying next to him.

"Mista," he murmured, reaching out to shake the other hunter weakly.

"G-Giorno?" the gunman groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

Giorno was about to push himself upright when a flash lit up the room followed by the smell of phosphorus.

"Looks like they're waking up, did you get the shot?"

"Yes, Master," a reedy voice replied.

Giorno blinked, pushing himself onto an elbow to glance toward the voice.

The first thing he noticed was that he and Mista were in a cage. Their coats and weapons had all been confiscated, and Giorno had a bandage on his arm. Outside the bars of the cage, a camera stood on a tripod, behind it a slim man with wild eyes peering from under a skullcap, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. He watched Giorno and Mista with an unnerving look.

"Very good, Secco—keep that up and I'll reward you very well tonight. A special treat, hmm?"

Another man—this one, a vampire, Giorno realized from his scent, appeared from behind a stained curtain. He was in his shirtsleeves, a darkly mottled butcher's apron covering him to the knee. Giorno had no idea what they had fallen into but he did not like the look of it.

"What the hell is this?" Mista demanded, pushing himself upright as well, reaching up to clutch his head. "Who are you?"

The vampire chuckled darkly, walking over to the camera and patting the other man on the head. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to introduce myself. I'm Cioccolata, and this is Secco—my thrall."

Giorno's eyes turned to the thin man again who was currently pressing his head up into the vampire's hand as if he were a dog. He'd only seen a couple thralls in his life and they were always extremely dangerous. The pure devotion they held to their vampire masters was something that transcended the fact that they were only human.

"And you two, I presume, are Hunters considering your weapons and your poking around where you don't belong."

"Oh, so you weren't the ones desecrating graves, then?" Mista asked sarcastically.

The vampire, Cioccolata, smirked. "Not that it's any of your business, but, yes, that was my doing. I'm a doctor, you see, but people are scared of progress when it comes to the medical field. Afraid of the unsavory acts one has to commit to see that progress to its completion. I lost my practice and therefore I, unfortunately, had to go underground—literally. This, down here, is my little sanctuary where I can perform all the experiments I wish. Live subjects are a bit hard to come by, however, so I was rather thrilled to have you two fall into my lap. Especially you, little half-blood."

His eyes landed on Giorno and the dhampir felt his skin crawl. Cioccolata held up his arm, showing a mostly healed scar. "I had a suspicion, so I tested your blood while you were unconscious. Healing abilities are quite special, and utterly invaluable to me." He grinned gleefully, clasping his hands together. "You really are a true blessing, my boy! With you in my possession, I can reuse subjects over and over again."

Horror welled up in Giorno as he realized what the vampire meant. "No…you can't be implying that you're—"

"Oh, I am," Cioccolata said, coming closer to the cage and pulling a key from his pocket. "Your companion is going to be my first living test subject in a long time, and with your blood, he should stay that way for a while yet."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Mista demanded, eyes wide with growing horror as the door was opened and the vampire stepped inside.

"Secco, take the Hunter and get him ready for me; I'll handle the dhampir."

"Yes, Master!" the thrall said eagerly.

"And when you're done, set the camera up. We'll be taking lots of pictures for posterity today."

Secco nodded and hauled Mista up.

"Geddoff me," the Hunter snarled, but was still weak from the effects of the chloroform, putting up little resistance.

Giorno was little better as the vampire advanced on him, cornering Giorno before grabbing him in a tight grip and hauling him to his feet, leaning close to his ear. "A reminder that it will be your blood keeping me from killing your friend. I wouldn't want that either, so let's cooperate, shall we?"

Giorno glowered at him, but allowed himself to be pulled from the cage and marched into the adjoining chamber where Mista was being shoved down onto a metal table and strapped firmly into place. The gunman swore, struggling, but Secco slapped him across the face.

"Shut up! You should be grateful my master has need for you," the thrall snarled.

Giorno was shoved into a chair and strapped into restraints there as well, holding his arms and legs firmly.

Cioccolata brought over a strange contraption that looked like some kind of pump and tubing attached to glass vials.

"This is a much more efficient way to take your blood," the vampire explained as he rolled up one of Giorno's sleeves and picked up a needle attached to the tubing.

Giorno watched in horror, wincing as the needle pierced the skin in the crook of his arm and Cioccolata turned toward the machine, flicking a switch.

It whirred to life and Giorno's eyes widened as he watched his blood leave his body, going up the tube and filling up the glass vials attached to the machine.

The more blood that was taken, the more woozy he felt, eyes fluttering, swaying slightly. He moaned.

"Hey!" Mista shouted. "You're gonna kill him if you take too much blood! Stop it!"

Cioccolata ignored him and waited until all the vials were full before he switched the machine off, leaving Giorno swaying in the chair, feeling sick to his stomach.

"He'll be fine. I would worry more about yourself, Hunter."

Cioccolata headed over to the other side of the room where a plethora of other supplies were kept. He selected several tools onto a tray and set that on a cart which he rolled over to Mista.

Giorno hauled his head up, watching in horror as Cioccolata reached down to rip Mista's shirt open, exposing his chest.

"Bit forward, aren't you?" the gunman muttered.

Cioccolata smirked and picked up something that looked like a gag from the tray. "Oh, we'll be very well acquainted before too long, Hunter. Especially when I have my fingers in your innards.—Can't really get more intimate than that, do you agree?" He shoved the gag into Mista's mouth, muffling any further protests.

"Now…where to start?" Cioccolata murmured excitedly as if staring at a table of confections. He plucked a scalpel from his tray and traced his eyes over Mista's exposed torso. "Ready the camera, Secco—we'll be doing a lot of work today."

"Stop," Giorno slurred, but could only watch helplessly as Cioccolata lowered the blade toward Mista's flesh, and the sound of his muffled screams filled the room.

Bruno was awake long after everyone else had gone to sleep, sitting up and trying to keep himself occupied by researching the current case, casting several hateful glances toward his bed. Sleep eluded him in the worst way, an encroaching, irrepressible hunger gnawing at his stomach, keeping him up. It wasn't that he didn't have work to do, it's just that he wasn't finding anything useful by looking in the papers. Anything about the asylum had been presumably covered up. The only mentions of it he could find were a couple obituaries that named it as the former residence of some unfortunate souls. They would have to wait until tomorrow to find any useful information—if anyone was willing to talk.

Bruno heaved a sigh and lowered his head into his hands. Maybe some chamomile tea would help him sleep.

He got up and headed down to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboard until he found the tea, and poured some water into the kettle, lighting the stove.

While he waited, his eyes landed on the icebox sitting in one corner of the kitchen. God, he could smell it even in there.

Bruno's mouth watered and he abandoned the tea tin to approach the icebox, crouching to lift the lid.

The portions of blood Giorno had made up earlier sat in the ice to stay fresh. Bruno's hand shook on the door of the icebox, and his stomach growled sickly, needy.

He reached out slowly with his other hand to a small drip left on the rim of one of the cups. Shakily, he caught it on his finger and brought it closer and closer to his mouth, the smell intoxicating. Just one taste, he was sure that even just one taste would make a difference…

The teapot whistling made him jump. Reality set in and he staggered to his feet, slamming the icebox closed again and hurriedly turning to wash the blood from his finger, breathing heavily as he took the kettle from the stove.

He could not lose himself. He could not afford to lose himself now.

He made himself the tea and quickly returned to his room, sick to his stomach.

A couple sips of the tea only told him that it too would turn him stomach and he let out a breathless sob of frustration, hands clenching into fists.

He finally decided to give up for the night and crawled into bed, lowering himself down tiredly.

Only for something to burn the back of his neck.

Bruno shot upright, spinning to look at the rosary he had left on his bed earlier. His eyes widened with horror, breath coming quickly. He reached out to touch the crucifix, only to pull away, the tip of his finger red.

Covering his hand with his sleeve, Bruno brushed the rosary off the bed with a heavy thunk and lay down, shaking, heart pounding so loud it was deafening.

He lay there in horror, until he tasted blood in his mouth. Had he bitten himself?

He sat up, prodding his mouth with his tongue, only for a tooth to break free.

He gave a strangled cry, spitting it hurriedly into his hand and got up to go look in the mirror on his vanity again, peeling his lip back. The dim candlelight revealed a hole where his canine should have been, which now had a half-grown fang forcing its way through his gum.

He checked the other side and found that tooth loose as well, practically falling out to make way for the changes his body was currently going through.

Despair filled Bruno in ways he couldn't even comprehend. He could no longer afford to lie to himself. Reality was setting in and denial was no longer a possibility.

Soon, he would have no choice but to face what he was becoming.