It's gift exchange season! I wrote this for the gift exchange on my discord server for Fabulouswritingfanboyofdeath (On Ao3) Hope you enjoy some Melone-centric chaotic la Squadra
A Hitman Walks Into a Bar
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
Melone flirted with the wrong woman at the bar he was supposed to be scoping out for a mission. Now missing in action with his team looking for him, he finds himself caught up in more trouble than he anticipated.
"Buy you a drink?"
Melone put on his best seductive smile as the woman looked up at him. She was gorgeous, all long legs and dark hair spilling over her shoulders—piercing green eyes. Melone unashamedly wet his lips as she looked him up and down in turn.
"I never turn down the offer of a free drink," she finally said after a long pause, red-painted lips quirking up in a coy smile.
"Fantastic," Melone purred.
"What the hell are you doing? We're on a mission, remember?"
Melone winced at the crackling fury that blared from the earpiece he was wearing. He glanced over to where Ghiaccio was on the other side of the bar, keeping an eye out for their target or anyone who could possibly be involved with them.
"Just passing the time," Melone muttered under his breath as he turned to hail the bartender before glancing back at the woman with a grin.
"Hell, I wish I could be in there!" Formaggio's voice filtered in. "Next time, I get to watch the hot babes and one of you gets to crawl through the airducts."
"Like hell!" Ghiaccio snapped.
"Play nice, boys," Melone said with a smirk. "Don't hate me just because I have good game. I promise I'm still being…very attentive."
He turned back toward the woman as he said it and a second later the bartender placed their drinks on the counter.
"And what was your name again?" Melone asked her, picking up his glass and taking a sip.
"I didn't say," the woman told him with a sly smile.
"A woman of mystery then?" Melone grinned. "I suppose it's not the important thing, is it? What brings you out here all alone tonight?"
"Not entirely alone," she corrected and Melone smirked before she continued. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Oh, is that so?" he cocked an eyebrow. "Have you found him?"
"Perhaps," she replied and set her drink down, surprising Melone by leaning in close, her lips just brushing his ear. "But tell me this: are you also waiting for someone?"
Melone pulled back, meeting her eyes directly. There was something in them, something deeper than there should have been. "Perhaps," he repeated cheekily and reached for his drink again.
"Guys, I think I'm seeing our target," Ghiaccio spoke through the earpiece.
"Not now," Melone muttered into his drink.
"Melone, get your ass over here!"
Melone sighed and knocked back the drink entirely before turning to the woman. "I'm afraid I have to cut our time together short, but I do hope you find who you're looking for."
It was slightly odd that she didn't put up any protest to his leaving, but Melone did need to pay more attention to the mission. Risotto would have his ass if he screwed something up. Again. They hadn't been having the best track record as a team recently and they didn't need any more screw-ups. They were barely making enough to pay rent as it was, the last thing they needed was for the Boss to outsource jobs that they were supposed to be doing. Hence why they were on a surveillance and info gathering job tonight instead of a hit.
The room suddenly blurred and Melone stopped, confused. He rested a hand against the wall and took a couple deep breaths to steady himself. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have slammed that drink but it wasn't like he was that much of a lightweight.
Breathing didn't help either, if anything he was only getting more unsteady on his feet to the point where the whole bar was spinning.
"Where are you at, Ghiaccio?" Formaggio was asking.
Melone looked around, spotting his comrade across the room, looking incredibly far away. "Hey, guys…I think…" His words were slurring, tongue heavy. Panic started to rise up in Melone's chest as he realized he might have gotten himself into deep shit. "…something's… wrong…"
"I didn't catch that! What did you say, Melo—"
A dark figure loomed up to one side of him and something slammed into the side of Melone's head. Melone spun around and the earpiece was thrown out of his ear on impact, leaving Ghiaccio yelling at nothing.
Melone crashed to the ground, consciousness quickly leaving him. The last thing he saw was a pair of very long legs and designer heels, then everything faded to black.
"What do you mean you lost Melone?"
Risotto stared at his subordinates; Formaggio passing blame and Ghiaccio, red-faced with fury, unapologetically gesticulating.
"I mean he didn't show up when I told everyone I had the target sighted!"
"And what about the target?"
"Gone!" Ghiaccio snapped. "I lost him the second I turned to look for Melone, and now we fucked up the mission and that little shit is probably off banging that chick he was talking up at the bar!"
Risotto frowned. "You really think that's what happened."
"No, not really," Formaggio cut in as Ghiaccio opened his mouth to continue protesting. "Look, something weird was going down at that bar tonight. There were people going through the crowd passing out cards to select patrons. But I checked the entire building and I couldn't find anything to indicate they were managing any shady operations out of the bar itself. I think they just direct people from the bar to wherever they hold their hinky sales or auctions."
Risotto rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That would make sense. Easier to cover your tracks that way. But I still don't understand how you lost Melone?"
"I'm telling you, boss—he was there one minute, and then he said something I didn't quite catch and after that we couldn't get a hold of him again! Even his earpiece was all feedback so I can only assume he lost it."
"Did you hear what he said, Formaggio?" Risotto asked.
"I wasn't really able to either, he was kind of quiet," the dark-haired man said. "But it did sound like he said something along the lines of 'something's wrong.' Like he'd just seen something. That's why I'm worried."
Risotto was too. Melone was a clever operative. He had his own ways of handling missions, but he always did good work. Dropping out in the middle of a team mission just wasn't like him.
Despite the annoyance and blame passing Risotto could tell that Ghiaccio and Formaggio were also worried about their missing team member.
"You think that Melone could have ended up stumbling onto something he shouldn't have and our targets decided to silence him," Risotto mused.
The two other hitmen nodded grimly.
Risotto pressed his lips together. "Well, we're just going to have to look into it then. I'll be damned before I let them take one of my team and get away with it."
Melone woke, gasping from a sudden shock to his system. It took him a moment to realize he'd had icy water dumped over him, but the cold puddle soaking into his clothes was possibly even more unpleasant than the hard floor he was lying on.
"He awake? Good."
Melone looked up to see a vaguely familiar woman standing to one side of the room with her arms crossed under her ample bosom. Memories filtered in of the mission at the bar and…okay, yes, he had taken his eyes off his drink for a minute and that had obviously been a mistake.
The room looked like some kind of office, with a desk in one corner and some shelving on one side. It was pretty empty—aside from the table full of liquor and glasses that the woman was standing next to, pouring herself a drink. Melone figured this was probably somewhere in the building where their targets were running their racket.
"Melone, isn't it?" she asked, barely giving him time to process where he was before his muddled brain was forced to concentrate on her. "I know your team has been looking into my operation. How much does the Boss know?"
Melone spit some of the water out and tried to sit up. It was difficult with his hands tied behind him and his head still swimming. But he still mustered a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know, love?"
A heavy boot from one of the two goons that stood off to the side slammed into his lower back and Melone grunted, feeling a bruise forming immediately.
"Get him up," the woman said.
Meaty hands grabbed Melone by the hair and yanked him upright, hauling him over to a chair and throwing him unceremoniously into it.
"Sit tight, pretty boy," the bruiser leered at him in a way Melone didn't like at all. "Don't try anything stupid or we'll see how good you look in red."
"Is that supposed to be a bad pick-up line?" Melone quipped before the man backhanded him hard across the face. His mask had gone askew from the impact, slipping down over his bad eye.
The woman strode over and grabbed a hunk of Melone's hair, wrenching his face up.
"This is how it's going to go," she said firmly. "You tell me what I want to know and maybe I'll let you survive the night."
Melone forced a strangled chuckle. "Darling, I don't do pillow talk with people who drug me. Find someone else to be your snitch."
She gave him a tight smile, pulling harder on his hair. "Don't pretend you have that much loyalty to the Boss. I've heard rumors of how much your team hates him."
Melone smirked. "All water cooler talk, love. Don't believe everything you hear."
"Alright, then tell me something I can believe," she said with a mocking sweet smile, leaning in. "Perhaps a little something about the Boss's drug trade routes."
Melone snorted. "Lady, I'm a hitman. I go where I'm told and do what I'm told when I get there. I don't know anything about the organizations inner working and certainly not about the trade aspect. My trade is in blood only."
"Then I suppose the thought of spilling blood doesn't bother you all that much," the woman mused, flicking a look back at the wall of meat currently standing behind Melone.
Melone heard the shink of a switchblade and felt the cold kiss of metal pressing against his throat, scraping over his skin. He tried not to shiver but with his still drug-fuzzy head and the fact that his jacket had been taken from him, leaving him in only a wet crop top and jeans, it was hard to keep himself still as the cold blade slipped over his skin.
"Cut my throat and you'll never get an answer out of me," Melone said.
"Quite right," the woman agreed and nodded to her guard who pulled the blade away briefly before it bit into Melone's upper arm.
He gritted his teeth against the sudden contrast of the warm blood dripping down his freezing skin.
The blade moved up to his face, slicing through his mask to press into the skin next to his bad eye. The man loomed over him as he growled. "Be grateful I'm willing to start with the bad one."
Melone grimaced as the woman leaned in close to him again, her fingers going around his throat, squeezing threateningly. "Come now, Melone, you were so talkative back at the bar, where's all that brashness now, hm?"
Melone looked up at her, sight still slightly blurry. "Upon further inspection, I think you're a little old for me," he said. "You're not hiding those wrinkles as well as you think, darling. You're probably, what? Fifteen years my elder?—and that's being generous—"
She gripped his throat and shoved her mouth against his. Melone tried to pull away, but there wasn't a lot of space to move. It was then he realized what he had been missing the whole time and that was that he couldn't feel Baby Face. His Stand must have currently been suppressed by the drug in his system which wasn't good. Baby Face may not be a combat Stand and would take longer to activate than he had time for but it was still a distraction he could use.
A distraction that he desperately needed as he felt the panic start to rise in his chest as this woman just kept snogging him.
She finally pulled away, nearly taking his lower lip with her and looked down at him with some disdain as she wiped saliva off her lip.
"Let me remind you that I have the upper hand here," she told him. "I'll give you one more chance to give me a single piece of decent information before I let my man here work you over. I have somewhere to be in half an hour and I would appreciate you not delaying me."
Melone simply shook his head, glowering up at her.
She snarled back at him, lip curling. "You said it yourself, you're just a hitman. You work solely for the purpose of getting money. What loyalty do you truly have to the Boss? You're practically a mercenary. Work for me, and I can assure you I'll double your normal rate."
"Your mistake is thinking my loyalty is to the Boss himself," Melone snapped.
"So it's to your team, then?" the woman mused. "Risotto Nero? Are you so sure he wouldn't want in on my deal?"
Melone stared up at her darkly. "I know what your operation does. You don't just sell drugs under the Boss's nose, you pedal flesh too. My team might be hitmen but even we don't stoop that far."
The woman snorted. "You're just as soft as the others. Which means you'll likely break easier."
She snapped her fingers and her guards came forward. The man behind Melone yanked his head back and shoved a dirty handkerchief into his mouth. The other man walked over with a bucket and a towel. Melone's eyes widened as he shoved the damp towel over Melone's face and then proceeded to pour the water over it.
Melone flailed, trying to struggle away as he choked on the water that was forcing its way into his mouth, pooling around the cloth stuffed in there, keeping his mouth open.
Another bucket was dumped over him and he choked, hacking against the water that was forcing its way down his nose and into his lungs. He couldn't breathe and was starting to black out as another bucket was poured over him.
Just as he was certain he was going to die by drowning on land, Melone felt the chair he was sitting in kicked onto its side, sending him crashing to the floor. The wet towel slid off his face and he coughed, water burning his nose as it was forced back out of his lungs.
He lay there limply, shuddering and feeling wretchedly weak in that moment. He hated feeling like that, refused to feel like that. He tried to push himself onto his elbows, tried to cough and shove the dirty cloth out of his mouth with his tongue, but he was shoved back onto the ground by a heavy boot pressing between his shoulder blades.
"Told you to stay down, didn't I, pretty boy?" the gruff voice said with the hint of a smirk. Sadistic bastard.
Melone heard the sound of a lighter flicking, following by the scent of cigarette smoke as the man lit up a menthol while leaning tauntingly over Melone.
"Well, boss?" he asked.
"He had his chance. He'll be more useful to us if we add him to tonight's lineup. We need to clean this mess up as quickly as possible. And he's pretty enough, someone might have a taste for him."
Melone felt dread fill him at her words. He tried to struggle up again, but was promptly kicked back down.
"Speaking of, I need to be going. Our guests will be arriving soon. Franco, take him to the other goods."
She left with one of the guards as the man with the cigarette leaned over and hauled Melone up onto his feet.
Melone's legs wobbled, still coughing up water as the man clamped a meaty hand around his arm, digging into the cut he'd made there earlier.
"Come on, then. And don't be any trouble, or else…"
Melone instantly stomped on his instep and wrenched himself free of the man's grasp as the meathead swore and staggered after Melone.
Melone finally spit the gag out and took a grateful breath, rushing for the door before he was tackled and yanked backwards with the man's iron arm across his throat.
"You little shit," the man snarled.
Melone struggled, trying to bite him but the man just growled in his ear and hauled him back with an iron-clad grip, pulling Melone completely off his feet. He took the cigarette from between his lips and ground it out against Melone's collarbone. The hitman let out a strangled yelp.
"Keep struggling if you like, pretty boy, but it's not going to change the inevitable." The guard said with a leer.
Melone growled and tried to kick at him again before the man simply slammed him face first into the wall, pressing against him to keep him still. Melone cringed in disgust.
"That better be a knife in your pocket."
The guard swore and slammed Melone's face against the wall.
Melone saw stars, could smell the iron scent of blood in the back of his nose. But he was right where he wanted to be, hands surreptitiously fumbling around in the man's coat pocket, searching.
"Come on then, be a good boy and come along quietly so I don't have to damage the goods more than they already have been."
Melone's half numb hands finally found what he was looking for and he frantically flicked at the lighter in the man's pocket.
He cringed as the man pulled him roughly away from the wall again and willed the lighter to catch. Please, please…
"The hell?"
The man suddenly pulled away and Melone felt a surge of relief, dashing aside instantly.
The man's pocket and one side of his jacket was currently on fire. He stared at it in disbelief, slapping at the flame in an attempt to put it out.
"You little shit!" he said.
"I'm far more trouble then I'm worth, I promise you. Other bastards like you have found that out the hard way," Melone told him as he dropped to the ground and nimbly slipped his bound hands under his legs and in front of him again.
He couldn't let the fire go out though and he'd spotted the bar in the corner of the room, reaching for a bottle of liquor.
The man's eyes widened as he picked it up.
"No!"
Melone slung the bottle and it shattered against the wall, pouring over the man and causing the flame to ignite wildly.
The man screamed and he shoved through the door, tearing off down the hall as more shouting sounded out.
Melone hurriedly tensed and yanked his elbows backwards in a sharp movement, the action snapping the zip ties that held him.
He then looked around for the best way to get out of there.
The smoke was already filling the building, and Melone coughed, yanking his shirt up to cover his mouth as he staggered down one hallway after another. More than just the guard was on fire now and Melone was perfectly happy with that result—as long as he was able to get out of here.
He continued running until he finally found a door that looked like it led to the outside.
He slammed through it and staggered out into the night, taking a gasping breath of fresh air.
He nearly collapsed against the wall of the building, coughing, exhausted and oxygen deprived.
"Melone!"
Melone looked up and relief flooded him as he saw Risotto jogging toward him.
"Hey, boss," Melone croaked.
"What the hell happened? How did the fire start?"
Melone tried to push off the wall to head toward his boss, but his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. Shock, relief, aborted panic, he could take his pick. The fact was, his legs did not want to cooperate and he was shaking so hard his teeth were nearly chattering.
He was shocked back into reality as a large hand gripped his chin in a firm yet gentle grasp and Melone found himself looking up at Risotto, dark eyes filled with concern, a small furrow between his brows.
"Are you okay?"
Melone swallowed hard, forced his dry mouth to speak, and finally got out, "I've had worse, boss."
Risotto's thumb briefly slid over a bruise on Melone's cheek before he took his hand away. "Come on then. It looks like our job here is done anyway."
"You're right, we probably should be going," Melone said in agreement. "Not only are there a lot of angry drug dealers burning to death in there, but their drugs as well. Probably shouldn't be inhaling too much smoke."
Risotto winced and nodded in agreement.
Risotto led Melone back to where he had parked the car. It had been completely by chance that they'd found the clue that had led them to the underground auction house but he was glad it had paid off.
He was admittedly worried that Melone was still shaking. He didn't know what had happened in there, but knowing what he did about this operation, Risotto was willing to bet that if he did, he would have burned the place down anyway.
Once they got back to the car, Risotto reached into the trunk and pulled out an old Iron Maiden sweatshirt, handing it over to Melone. "Here. You're soaking wet."
Melone gratefully took the worn garment and pulled it over his head. The sleeves were far too long but he didn't bother pushing them up, simply huddled comfortably into the oversized sweatshirt.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Risotto closed the trunk and eyed Melone again, searching him for damage. Metallica could detect the injuries, but his Stand couldn't see the mental scars.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.
Melone frowned, looking a bit confused, and maybe it was a little odd for Risotto to ask that more than once, but, dammit if he hadn't been worried by the fact that one of his younger team members had gone missing under the nose of two of their other men.
"I'll be okay, boss, just sore and tired—need to sleep off this drug. Maybe a cup of coffee would be nice?"
Risotto narrowed his eyes. "You're positive?"
Melone nodded more firmly. "Promise, boss. I'll be good as soon as I can sleep."
"Alright," Risotto turned around to head for the driver's seat when Melone spoke up again.
"Um…boss?"
"Hm?"
"Could I ask you a favor?"
Risotto cocked an eyebrow at him.
Melone looked down, more self-conscious than Risotto thought he had ever seen him. "I just thought that…maybe a hug would be nice."
Risotto blinked, completely caught off guard. Melone looked up then, biting his lip.
"I mean you don't have to, I shouldn't have asked—"
Risotto huffed and stepped forward, enveloping the younger man in a firm embrace.
Melone exhaled and slumped against his chest tiredly, arms winding around Risotto's waist.
It was a long moment before Risotto pulled back and looked at Melone again seeing that he looked a little more steady on his feet, a contented look on his bruised face.
"Better?" he grunted.
"Yes. Thank you, boss."
"Good. Let's get you home then."
Melone nodded and got into the car as Risotto started it, driving back home slowly as Melone curled up against the door, fast sleep in minutes. Risotto finally let out the breath he'd been holding all night and allowed himself to rest easy knowing that his team was reunited once again.