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Entry tags:
- jjba: c: abbacchio,
- jjba: c: buccellati,
- jjba: c: diavolo,
- jjba: c: doppio,
- jjba: c: formaggio,
- jjba: c: fugo,
- jjba: c: ghiaccio,
- jjba: c: giorno,
- jjba: c: illuso,
- jjba: c: melone,
- jjba: c: mista,
- jjba: c: narancia,
- jjba: c: pesci,
- jjba: c: prosciutto,
- jjba: c: risotto,
- jjba: c: trish,
- jjba: vento aureo
The Enemy of My Enemy
Title: The Enemy of My Enemy
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Giorno, Buccellati, Fugo, Abbachio, Mista, Narancia, Trish, Risotto, Ghiaccio, Melone, Prosciutto, Pesci, Formaggio, Illuso, Doppio, Diavolo
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 1,005
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or: the execution squad tries to put aside hard feelings with mixed degrees of success.
Notes: No, I don't know how the execution squad managed to survive up to this point. It's an AU, shhhh. Also, there is really cute Buccellati/Pesci fanart and I'm confused by it.
“There you are.”
The discussion of who, exactly, is defecting from Passione is interrupted by a man with black sclera. His steps are near-silent, and he moves with the purpose of someone who knows better than to waste single twitch of a muscle.
Giorno and the rest instantly put up their guard.
“My name is Risotto Nero, of the execution squad. I’d like to ask you something.” Risotto waits, before Buccellati gives him a small nod to continue. “You were sent here to deliver the boss’s daughter to him. You fulfilled that mission, despite my squad’s best efforts. Why do you still have her with you now?”
“We’re defecting,” says Giorno. “The boss had us bring her to him just so he could kill her himself.”
“Is that so.” Risotto mulls over this a moment. “If I had known you were going to switch sides in the first place, I could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”
“We’re not all switching sides yet…” Fugo mumbles, but is ignored.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I don’t care about whether the girl lives or dies, but the boss is responsible for the deaths of two of my subordinates. If you plan to oppose him,” says Risotto, “then I offer my squad’s cooperation.”
Everyone looks at Buccellati. Buccellati looks at Giorno, who nods.
“I don’t object to it,” says Buccellati, “but are you sure your group will be willing to work with us? We have defeated them a few times.”
“Any hard feelings will be put aside for the sake of the mission. I trust them to focus on what’s important.” Risotto reaches for his transceiver. “Well?”
“We accept.” Buccellati turns back to his group. “Now, I believe some of us hadn’t-”
“Are you serious. Fine, I’ll go with you!” Fugo sighs. “It’s still suicidal, but I’m not going to let your lives depend on the assassination squad’s help and not on mine.”
“If he’s going, and you’re all going, I’m going!” says Narancia. “You can’t leave me behind alone!”
Behind them, Risotto speaks into his transceiver. “There’s been a change of plans.”
“That’s never a good sign.” The voice that comes through is recognizable as the White Album’s user.
“They’ve defected against the boss. We’re working together now.”
There is a pause, then: “Are you fucking serious?!”
“So,” starts Mista, sitting in the back of the jet.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look my direction. I have to work with you but I don’t have to be friends with you,” says Ghiaccio in the seat next to him, staring out the window.
“All right, sheesh.” Mista turns the other way, towards Melone across the aisle.
“Don’t take it personally,” says Melone. “He’s like that with us and we’ve known him for years. It’s a part of his naturally bad-tempered personality.”
“I’m ignoring you,” Ghiaccio says loudly.
“Of course you are.” Melone chuckles. “Personally, I hope we get to know each other well. Do you follow sports? Bike racing maybe?”
“Nah, I haven’t been keeping up with sports lately,” says Mista. “What about movies? My favorite’s Pretty Woman-”
“Oh, I love Pretty Woman! Definitely better than Runaway Bride, I don’t know what happened to their chemistry-”
As Mista and Melone chat animatedly and Ghiaccio grumbles about poor taste, Prosciutto and Pesci have a quiet discussion in the front of the jet, across from Buccellati.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything,” Pesci whispers.
“It’s going to nag at you forever until you say something. Just get it over with,” Prosciutto murmurs back. “The worst he can do is laugh at you.”
Pesci’s eyes go wide. “I, I don’t want him to laugh at me.”
“Then you’ll learn to get over it. Go on.” Prosciutto nudges Pesci in the shoulder. “Just say it.”
Pesci swallows the lump in his throat and turns towards Buccellati, raising his voice to normal volume. “Um. Hey.”
“Hello,” says Buccellati, looking up. “Pesci, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Um, I was just going to say… It was incredible the stuff you did back there, on the train. I mean, not just with Sticky Fingers, but the whole thing, it’s way more than I could do. I would’ve said so but I was really pissed off and trying to kill you, so…” Pesci trails off into silence, staring down at the floor.
“You shouldn’t discount yourself. After you were able to focus, you almost did kill me,” Buccellati replies. “If you had that level of confidence in your own abilities normally, you’d be incredibly dangerous.”
Pesci’s head snaps up. “Really?”
“Really.” Buccellati watches Pesci turn bright red and hide his face in his hands, and looks to Prosciutto. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. He’s like that.” Prosciutto pats Pesci on the shoulder.
Towards the middle of the jet, Formaggio and Narancia keep glaring at each other when they think the other’s not looking.
“Is yours always this… well. Mature?” asks Fugo, one row up.
“He is.” Illuso raises an eyebrow. “Yours?”
Snort. “This is typical Narancia.”
Formaggio and Narancia turn their glares on the other two for a second. Fugo rolls his eyes; Illuso reaches for the snacks.
Giorno is in the copilot’s seat, watching Risotto fly the plane.
“I’m curious,” Risotto says. “Your group’s taken many vehicles while mine was tracking you down. Who was driving?”
“I was.” Giorno folds his hands in his lap. “Thank you for offering to be pilot instead.”
“Aren’t you the youngest? Do you have a license at all?” asks Risotto.
“Yes and no, respectively. Why they put me in charge of driving...” Giorno considers this for a moment, before admitting, “It’s a mystery.”
Trish has a row with Abbacchio, for personal comfort around people previously trying to kidnap her reasons.
“Boss?” says Doppio into his phone as he watches Cioccolata and Secco get laid to waste. “Can I share my personal opinion?”
“Go ahead,” the boss says.
“I think we’re kind of screwed.”
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Giorno, Buccellati, Fugo, Abbachio, Mista, Narancia, Trish, Risotto, Ghiaccio, Melone, Prosciutto, Pesci, Formaggio, Illuso, Doppio, Diavolo
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 1,005
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or: the execution squad tries to put aside hard feelings with mixed degrees of success.
Notes: No, I don't know how the execution squad managed to survive up to this point. It's an AU, shhhh. Also, there is really cute Buccellati/Pesci fanart and I'm confused by it.
“There you are.”
The discussion of who, exactly, is defecting from Passione is interrupted by a man with black sclera. His steps are near-silent, and he moves with the purpose of someone who knows better than to waste single twitch of a muscle.
Giorno and the rest instantly put up their guard.
“My name is Risotto Nero, of the execution squad. I’d like to ask you something.” Risotto waits, before Buccellati gives him a small nod to continue. “You were sent here to deliver the boss’s daughter to him. You fulfilled that mission, despite my squad’s best efforts. Why do you still have her with you now?”
“We’re defecting,” says Giorno. “The boss had us bring her to him just so he could kill her himself.”
“Is that so.” Risotto mulls over this a moment. “If I had known you were going to switch sides in the first place, I could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”
“We’re not all switching sides yet…” Fugo mumbles, but is ignored.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I don’t care about whether the girl lives or dies, but the boss is responsible for the deaths of two of my subordinates. If you plan to oppose him,” says Risotto, “then I offer my squad’s cooperation.”
Everyone looks at Buccellati. Buccellati looks at Giorno, who nods.
“I don’t object to it,” says Buccellati, “but are you sure your group will be willing to work with us? We have defeated them a few times.”
“Any hard feelings will be put aside for the sake of the mission. I trust them to focus on what’s important.” Risotto reaches for his transceiver. “Well?”
“We accept.” Buccellati turns back to his group. “Now, I believe some of us hadn’t-”
“Are you serious. Fine, I’ll go with you!” Fugo sighs. “It’s still suicidal, but I’m not going to let your lives depend on the assassination squad’s help and not on mine.”
“If he’s going, and you’re all going, I’m going!” says Narancia. “You can’t leave me behind alone!”
Behind them, Risotto speaks into his transceiver. “There’s been a change of plans.”
“That’s never a good sign.” The voice that comes through is recognizable as the White Album’s user.
“They’ve defected against the boss. We’re working together now.”
There is a pause, then: “Are you fucking serious?!”
“So,” starts Mista, sitting in the back of the jet.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look my direction. I have to work with you but I don’t have to be friends with you,” says Ghiaccio in the seat next to him, staring out the window.
“All right, sheesh.” Mista turns the other way, towards Melone across the aisle.
“Don’t take it personally,” says Melone. “He’s like that with us and we’ve known him for years. It’s a part of his naturally bad-tempered personality.”
“I’m ignoring you,” Ghiaccio says loudly.
“Of course you are.” Melone chuckles. “Personally, I hope we get to know each other well. Do you follow sports? Bike racing maybe?”
“Nah, I haven’t been keeping up with sports lately,” says Mista. “What about movies? My favorite’s Pretty Woman-”
“Oh, I love Pretty Woman! Definitely better than Runaway Bride, I don’t know what happened to their chemistry-”
As Mista and Melone chat animatedly and Ghiaccio grumbles about poor taste, Prosciutto and Pesci have a quiet discussion in the front of the jet, across from Buccellati.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything,” Pesci whispers.
“It’s going to nag at you forever until you say something. Just get it over with,” Prosciutto murmurs back. “The worst he can do is laugh at you.”
Pesci’s eyes go wide. “I, I don’t want him to laugh at me.”
“Then you’ll learn to get over it. Go on.” Prosciutto nudges Pesci in the shoulder. “Just say it.”
Pesci swallows the lump in his throat and turns towards Buccellati, raising his voice to normal volume. “Um. Hey.”
“Hello,” says Buccellati, looking up. “Pesci, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Um, I was just going to say… It was incredible the stuff you did back there, on the train. I mean, not just with Sticky Fingers, but the whole thing, it’s way more than I could do. I would’ve said so but I was really pissed off and trying to kill you, so…” Pesci trails off into silence, staring down at the floor.
“You shouldn’t discount yourself. After you were able to focus, you almost did kill me,” Buccellati replies. “If you had that level of confidence in your own abilities normally, you’d be incredibly dangerous.”
Pesci’s head snaps up. “Really?”
“Really.” Buccellati watches Pesci turn bright red and hide his face in his hands, and looks to Prosciutto. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. He’s like that.” Prosciutto pats Pesci on the shoulder.
Towards the middle of the jet, Formaggio and Narancia keep glaring at each other when they think the other’s not looking.
“Is yours always this… well. Mature?” asks Fugo, one row up.
“He is.” Illuso raises an eyebrow. “Yours?”
Snort. “This is typical Narancia.”
Formaggio and Narancia turn their glares on the other two for a second. Fugo rolls his eyes; Illuso reaches for the snacks.
Giorno is in the copilot’s seat, watching Risotto fly the plane.
“I’m curious,” Risotto says. “Your group’s taken many vehicles while mine was tracking you down. Who was driving?”
“I was.” Giorno folds his hands in his lap. “Thank you for offering to be pilot instead.”
“Aren’t you the youngest? Do you have a license at all?” asks Risotto.
“Yes and no, respectively. Why they put me in charge of driving...” Giorno considers this for a moment, before admitting, “It’s a mystery.”
Trish has a row with Abbacchio, for personal comfort around people previously trying to kidnap her reasons.
“Boss?” says Doppio into his phone as he watches Cioccolata and Secco get laid to waste. “Can I share my personal opinion?”
“Go ahead,” the boss says.
“I think we’re kind of screwed.”