For Whom the Bell Tolls

by LadyWallace

Summary:

During an investigation, Abbacchio and Giorno are captured by an underground fighting ring, led by a sadistic Stand user who has ways of keeping his fighters from escaping. Even if Giorno and Abbacchio can learn to work as a team, they may not survive long enough to get out alive.

Notes:

New multi-chap fic! I've had this idea for a long time so I'm excited to finally share it! I am always a fan of reading and writing fight ring stories, so be prepared for some whump. And also Giorno and Abbacchio bonding because I also love that a lot.

This story takes place right after Giorno takes over Passione (everyone lives AU obviously)

Chapter 1

Giorno came down the stairs from his room, checking his backpack to see if he had all the things he would need for the upcoming mission. He stopped in the living room, setting his bag down on the couch so he could go and get his backup gun out of the office. He'd taken to carrying one after a couple close calls during missions when something had either manipulated him to be unable to use his Stand or Gold just wasn't fast enough for more long-range attacks. Bucciarati had presented him with the pistol after he'd nearly gotten himself killed and insisted that he start carrying it on missions.

However, as he approached the office, Giorno could hear voices, namely one, that sounded anything but enthusiastic.

"Why do I have to take the brat? I can check into this on my own," Abbacchio's voice came from around the corner and Giorno paused outside the slightly open door, stomach twisting.

"Abbacchio, he needs the experience and I know he'll be safe with you. He's also a powerful Stand user. Our current target is potentially dangerous and I'm not comfortable with sending any of you in alone without knowing what his ability is."

"I don't need a damn body guard, especially a skinny golden brat."

"That's enough, Leone," Bucciarati said, voice stern. "Giorno's part of the team now, you're going to have to learn to get along. Just look after him like you did with Narancia when he first joined."

"Except as annoying as Narancia can be, he's also good company," Abbacchio snorted. "This kid just sulks around and hardly spares time for communication, even during a fight."

Giorno's stomach twisted further, the words too familiar to ones he'd heard… before. He quickly buried those thoughts. It's not like Abbacchio would have been his first choice either, but Bucciarati had other duties, Fugo preferred to handle office work, and both Mista and Narancia were still recovering from injuries they'd sustained from a particularly grueling mission last week. So Giorno and Abbacchio were just the only ones left.

Bucciarati let out a sharp sigh. "You'll have to get over your differences eventually. Going on missions is a good way to do that."

"Whatever," Abbacchio grunted. "Let's just get this over with."

Giorno didn't want to go into the room, but it sounded like Abbacchio might be leaving, so he kicked himself into gear and tried to enter the office as casually as possible, nodding to Bucciarati and Abbacchio as they looked up. He didn't miss the half-concealed sneer from Abbacchio before he rolled his eyes and looked away. Giorno pretended to ignore it however, and went over to the cabinet where they kept all their weapons, pulling out the box with his pistol.

"I didn't want to forget this this time," he said.

Bucciarati gave a slightly wry smile. "Good. Abbacchio, do you have yours?"

The goth rolled his eyes slightly and reached past Giorno to grab his own gun, checking it over before tucking it into his coat. Giorno did the same.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Good, let's get this over with then," Abbacchio grunted, reaching over to grab the car keys from Bucciarati's desk.

"Please call me if there are any complications," Bucciarati told them. "If you need backup…"

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Giorno said with a small, forced smile. He grabbed his backpack on the way by and then followed Abbacchio out to the car.

"I have the map," Giorno said as he got into the passenger seat.

"I know where we're going," Abbacchio grunted.

Giorno pressed his lips together and stuck his backpack between his feet as Abbacchio started the car. "Have you ever met Damiano Caruso before?"

Abbacchio shot him an annoyed look. "Once in passing. Not enough to get a read on him."

"He's been with Passione since he moved to the city," Giorno commented, thinking of the file Bucciarati had pulled up. "And now it's suspected that he's running some kind of underground gambling racket."

"Without paying his dues, yeah, I know why we're going to talk to him," Abbacchio cut in sharply.

Giorno bit his lip, looking out the window. "I know, it just helps me to talk it out."

Abbacchio let out a huff, but ignored him. Giorno stayed silent for the rest of the ride. Abbacchio didn't even put music on like Mista or Narancia would have, and it wasn't a comfortable, mutual silence like with Fugo.

Giorno knew partnership and camaraderie went both ways; he would also have to learn how to get along with Abbacchio but it just seemed impossible sometimes. He had thought he had gained some respect from him after their defeat of Diavolo. The older man had even thanked him when he had finally woken up after healing from his injuries. But after that, he had just seemed to fall back to his usual toleration of Giorno's presence, sometimes seeming to border on contempt.

If he couldn't even make friends with a man after saving his life, Giorno wasn't sure what he had to do.

They parked outside of the bar that Caruso owned and Giorno started to head inside before Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder.

"Listen," he said, "When we get in there, let me do the talking."

Giorno glanced up at him, pursing his lips. "Bucciarati said I need to start taking control of these situations. Hardly anyone recognizes me as the Don yet."

"Exactly," Abbacchio grunted. "They'll believe you're some fresh-faced newbie—which is exactly what you are—but if you walk in there demanding to see Caruso like you own the entirety of Passione, regardless of the truth, everyone's just going to laugh at you and kick you out on your ass. You might have some smooth-talking abilities, but you haven't been in this world long enough to know how things work. How to handle these bastards. Conning tourists out of their money isn't nearly the same thing and you'd do better to learn that."

Giorno began to feel frustrated. "I'm trying to learn that," he replied, his annoyance barely showing through, but apparently it was enough for Abbacchio to notice because his lip curled.

"Maybe next time then," he said. "Let me take the lead and show you how it's done first."

He pushed past Giorno, making his way into the bar before the teen could protest further. Giorno pressed his lips together, fighting back his annoyance and hurried after the goth.

Giorno knew he hadn't been in Passione long, and he still definitely had a lot to learn about the business itself as well as his position, but he was a quick learner and his hard life had taught him to pick up on things faster than usual.

Somehow, he was going to find a way to prove himself to Abbacchio. Maybe if he could pay attention really well to how Caruso reacted to their being there, he could figure out what he was hiding before the older gangster.

The interior of the bar was dim, and at this time of day, it wasn't very full. Abbacchio strode directly up to the bar, leaning one elbow on it as the bartender gave him a wary look.

"What'll you have?" he asked,

"Damiano Caruso," Abbacchio replied firmly.

The bartender looked him over, eyes traveling to Giorno standing behind him. Giorno narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. The man pursed his lips.

"He's not here."

"You sure about that?" Abbacchio asked calmly. "We've just got a few questions for him."

"Well, he's not here."

"When will he be back?" Giorno asked, as both the bartender and Abbacchio turned to look at him, the latter with a glower. "We were told he'd be here."

"I don't know," the bartender dismissed.

Abbacchio sighed and straightened. "Are you sure he's not in the back? I'm sure he'd hate to think of us coming all this way and wasting our time for nothing."

"You can look if you want," the bartender said with a shrug. "Like I said, he's not here, and I don't know when he'll be back. You can leave a message for him if you wish."

Abbacchio stared the man down for a long moment before he turned and flicked a finger at Giorno. "Come on," he said and started toward the back of the bar, Giorno hurrying after, glancing around once they got to the office which was actually empty.

"I guess he was telling the truth," Giorno commented, eyeing the desk to see if there were any clues.

"Shockingly," Abbacchio said, opening several drawers before he crouched and reached under the desk. With a grunt of satisfaction, he ripped something from under there and pulled out a small ledger book, which he started flipping through. "Huh, just as suspected."

Giorno glanced over Abbacchio's shoulder. "His betting book?"

He could see the numbers of bets taken in, always with huge profit for the house. There were a lot of abbreviations and things that Giorno couldn't quite make sense of, obviously shorthand so only Caruso would know what was really in the books.

"He's making a shit-ton of money that he's not sharing," Abbacchio said, before snapping the book shut and tossing it to Giorno who caught it against his chest. "I'd say that's proof enough. Let's hold onto that until he shows up again."

They left the bar under the glower of the bartender who had likely already alerted Caruso that they were looking for him. Giorno opened the book again and was glancing through the numbers. Something about them seemed odd. The way they were set up was strange.

He hadn't realized he'd stopped until he heard Abbacchio snap, "Are you coming or do you want me to leave your ass here?"

Giorno looked up. "These numbers…they don't look like they're keeping tallies for poker bets—who would do that anyway? They're more like horse-racing numbers. Look…see here? I think these numbers are demarking the odds and the initials are indications of what or who is being bet on."

Abbacchio stormed over and snatched the book from his hands, looking through it more carefully. After a couple seconds he gave a reluctant nod.

"You might actually be onto something. It's definitely not a loan-shark's book."

Giorno felt a small bit of justification surge through him. He'd actually gotten something right. He glanced around to see if there was any more indication of what might be going on, and something caught his eye around the side of the building.

While Abbacchio was still busy looking through the book, Giorno strode over curiously toward the alley behind the bar. A dumpster sat there, and among the trash, Giorno could see multiple papers fluttering around.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Abbacchio demanded, having obviously realized Giorno was missing.

Giorno ignored him again and grabbed the rim of the dumpster, digging his toes into the side to lift himself up so he could reach for something inside.

"Oh, lovely, so you're digging through the trash now?" Abbacchio scoffed. "If you fall in, you can walk home."

Giorno snagged one of the flyers and pulled it out triumphantly, hopping back onto the ground. "I think I found out where Caruso is getting all the money," he said.

Abbacchio looked at him incredulously. "How the hell did you figure that out by looking in the trash?"

Giorno waved the flyer at him. "Underground cage fighting."

Abbacchio strode over and snatched the flyer, glancing at it.

"There's even an address and time," Giorno said. "Not exactly subtle."

"Huh," Abbacchio said, raising an eyebrow, actually almost looking impressed. "Well, no one ever accused Caruso of being smart, I suppose." He glanced sideways at Giorno. "You know, brat, you might actually have stumbled onto something here."

Giorno couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips. "Let's go then."

"Hold on," Abbacchio cautioned. "It might not be the best idea to walk in there alone."

Giorno glanced back at him on his way to the car. "We don't even know if he's there. There's no point in calling in the others until we're sure this is even what we're looking for."

Abbacchio narrowed his eyes.

"It might not even be Caruso's racket, after all," Giorno continued. "Regardless, I didn't know about this going on, and I'd like to find out who's running it, Caruso or not."

Abbacchio shook his head, but pulled the car keys from his pocket. "Fine. But we don't take any risks if it looks like things are going to go sideways, okay? The last thing I need is for Bucciarati to give me a damn scolding for getting you hurt or some shit."

"You don't have to worry about me so much, you know," Giorno said a little stiffly. "I can take care of myself. Though I do appreciate your concern, Abbacchio."

He knew the last comment would get under Abbacchio's skin and he was right. The goth sputtered, eyes flashing before he snarled, jabbing a finger at the car. "Just go get in the damn car."

Giorno climbed back into the car while Abbacchio started the engine and they made their way toward the address listed on the flyer.

It took them to a pretty run-down looking warehouse building that was obviously no longer in use. Giorno glanced around at the surroundings. "Well, it is exactly where I would assume an underground fight ring would be."

Abbacchio grunted as they got out of the car and headed toward the place. They found a side entrance, but it was locked. Abbacchio pushed Giorno aside and attempted to kick it in, but the bolt wasn't going to budge. Giorno silently had Gold turn the lock into organic material which fell away, allowing the door to open.

"Showoff," Abbacchio grumbled, shooting Giorno a look before he pushed through.

Giorno wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but inside, the open floor of the warehouse was pretty much empty besides a lot of gathered trash, including more of the flyers.

"Well, the place is a dump," Abbacchio muttered as he kicked aside several empty beer bottles.

As they went further inside, they found the fight ring set up in the center of the large floor. It was actually a lot more put together than Giorno had expected.

"Huh, they actually seem to be pretty serious about this," he mused. "I expected this to be some thrown together back alley event, but they have a permanent ring set up."

Abbacchio inspected the wire caging that was set up around the ring, frowning at a lock on the outside of the door. "Well, from the books it did look like a pretty big operation." He rattled the lock. "I get the feeling there's something fishy going on here though."

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Giorno and Abbacchio spun around, seeing three men standing near another entrance. How had they missed them coming in? Giorno hadn't heard anything.

"Damiano Caruso?" Giorno asked him, though he already recognized the man from the files he'd read.

The man cocked his head to one side. "You must be the new kid. Heard you were looking for me, but didn't expect you to show up here."

"Perhaps you should do better at hiding your operation then," Giorno suggested. "Or did you just think you wouldn't get caught?"

Caruso's lip curled slightly in a sneer. "You're a bold little prick to come in here and accuse me of anything when you've only held your position for a few months."

"It's not that I have a problem with you running a fighting ring as long as everything is on the up-and-up," Giorno told him. "But you're not paying the famiglia. I can't imagine even the former Boss would have been too happy about that, can you?"

He heard Abbacchio growl behind him as Caruso's eyes hardened further. "You think I'm paying my hard-earned money to a little upstart brat like you? I don't give a damn what you think about my operation, you can go home and cry about it to your mama for all I care."

Giorno reached into his coat and pulled out the accounts book. "Sure, I'll go home. And in the meantime, I'll tally up everything you owe Passione and send you the bill."

He turned to head toward the door they had come in, betting on Caruso being so shocked he didn't do anything about it.

He could practically feel Abbacchio seething as the older man stormed after him. Giorno pushed through the door a second before Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Your big plan was to just piss him off?"

"I'm trying to knock him off balance so he is more willing to do what I ask," Giorno said.

"Or shoot you in your stupid head!" Abbacchio snapped, rapping a knuckle against Giorno's skull. "I know I'm not exactly the king of self-preservation, but I don't appreciate kids trying to get me shot either."

"Well, we didn't get shot," Giorno said firmly. "And now we know exactly what's going on. We just have to put the pressure on Caruso until he pays up now."

They had gotten back to the car, only to stop in their tracks. Several large men stood around the vehicle, one with a large knife that he was currently using to puncture the tires.

"Hey!" Abbacchio shouted, reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't."

Giorno glanced behind them, seeing Caruso and his two men striding up. The men that had been wrecking their car, made their way over now to surround them. All of them towered over Giorno, and the scars on their faces and knuckles announced that these were probably some of the fighters.

"My Stand already tagged you," Caruso told them. "You wouldn't be able to get out of the lot."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Abbacchio demanded.

Giorno felt an itch on the back of his shoulder. He reached back, feeling under his clothes, where there was a slightly raised portion of his skin, almost like a brand. He glanced over at Abbacchio, seeing his shoulder twitch as well, though he didn't let go of his gun.

"It means you don't leave until I let you," Caruso said with a small, smug smile. "And I think you can guess what my feelings are on that."

"You bastard," Abbacchio snarled before whipping his gun around.

"Don't!" Giorno tried, but Abbacchio didn't get the chance to fire anyway. One of Caruso's bodyguards barreled toward him, grabbing his arm and wrenching it upward before slamming a fist into Abbacchio's stomach.

Abbacchio folded with a grunt, and the man effectively disarmed him.

Giorno reached for his own weapon, but one of the other men was already grabbing him from behind, wrenching his arms behind his back and yanking his gun out of the back of his waistband.

Abbacchio was in a similar situation now, held between the two bodyguards. Caruso strode over to Giorno and picked up the ledger he had dropped on the ground. "I'll be taking this back now."

"What do you want us to do with them, Boss?" the man holding Giorno asked. "Dump 'em with the car?"

Caruso looked Giorno over, meeting his eyes before a small smirk played over his lips. "No. If the little boss wants money so badly, I think we should give him the chance to earn some himself."

Giorno froze, glancing over at Abbacchio who looked about ready to bite someone's head off.

"Take them inside boys," Caruso said. "Let's introduce them to their new crew."

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Giorno and Abbacchio find out what's really going on and get introduced into their new situation.

Abbacchio fought the urge to struggle. He didn't know what Caruso's Stand power actually was, but if it kept them from going much farther than the building, there wasn't much point in running. As much as he hated it, it was better to comply and have time to figure out a plan, than to rush in and just get himself shot.

He wasn't sure Giorno would agree, but the kid didn't exactly have a choice at the moment either.

Abbacchio was seething. This was all the brat's fault. Why couldn't he have just let Abbacchio take the lead? This wouldn't have happened if Giorno hadn't provoked the bastard.

Once they were back inside the warehouse, they were taken down a flight of stairs toward the basement floor.

This was where everything seemed to be happening. They passed through several different rooms, a kitchen, and a cafeteria area, until they got to a large spot that had a lot of gym equipment in it and several more toughs who Abbacchio presumed were the fighters.

"Gentlemen, come greet the new recruits," Caruso said, waving his hand behind him at Abbacchio and Giorno.

A mountain of a man stood up from where he had been bench-pressing 200lbs easily and sneered. "You've gotta be joking, Boss. This kid is one of your new recruits?"

"He'll make for good entertainment," Caruso smirked. "The customers like to see a bloodbath every once in a while."

Abbacchio yanked against his captors again and this time they actually released him, Giorno too.

"Well, boys? Are you going to give them our traditional greeting?"

The fighters started to form a ring around Abbacchio and Giorno, cracking their knuckles. There were at least eight of them—were they meant to fight all of them at once?

"This is your debut performance," Caruso told his captives. "Your audition, if you will, so show me what you've got."

The fighters pressed in and Abbacchio could see Giorno's Stand aura out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, and…" Caruso said, pulling out a gun and leveling it at Giorno's head. "Stands are not allowed here. If you use one I'll put a bullet between your pretty eyes."

Giorno glowered at him, but retracted his Stand. Abbacchio cursed under his breath.

"Hope you can fight, kid," he muttered.

Giorno pressed his lips into a thin line, but didn't get the chance to answer before they were literally set upon by all the fighters at once.

Abbacchio fell instinctively into a crouch, hands coming up in defense. He deflected the first blow and slammed a fist into one of the men's noses, causing him to stagger back. A well-aimed stomp to another's instep and he had enough time to block another blow before he took one to the shoulder.

He wasn't exactly polished, but he could usually hold his own in a fight. He'd been in countless bar brawls, which had taught him to fight dirty to win, and thanks to sparring sessions with Bucciarati, he'd worked on his stance and footwork more.

Going up against this many trained fighters at once though, he was out of his league. His short window of advantage quickly disappeared and soon he was taking more blows than he was returning. A particularly brutal, meaty fist to the side of the head, had him staggering to the side, cheek numb and seeing stars.

As much trouble as he was having though, Giorno seemed to be having an even worse time of it. Abbacchio caught several flashes of him out of the corner of his eye. Giorno's stance was crap, and though he was quick, he had little to no weight behind his punches, leaving them pretty much useless against opponents who were, at the least, twice his weight.

He went down pretty quickly and Abbacchio could only watch him receive two brutally punishing kicks to the stomach before he had to step in, slamming his knee up into one of his opponents' groins to give himself time to get over to the kid and stand over him while Giorno stupidly tried to get up.

"Come on, brat, do I have to do everything?" Abbacchio grunted, grabbing the back of Giorno's coat and hauling him to his feet.

Caruso stepped forward. "That's enough, boys. I've seen what I need to."

The fighters instantly stepped back, leaving Abbacchio and Giorno standing there as Caruso strode toward them.

Abbacchio gritted his teeth against the pain singing in his body, glancing briefly sideways at Giorno. Kid looked awful, swaying on his feet, clothes ripped. He slowly reached up to wipe blood from under his nose on the back of his hand.

Caruso snorted. "As I suspected, you like to talk big, but you're just what you look like. An upstart brat who thinks he's too good for everyone else."

Giorno glowered at him but it was half-hearted. He looked pretty pitiful.

"You, on the other hand, have some potential," Caruso told Abbacchio. "I can tell you're mean, I like that. We don't have rules once you get into the ring unless I specifically tell you to do something. The audience likes a man who doesn't pull punches."

Abbacchio spat a gob of blood on the floor. "Yeah, I can tell. You've got nothing but a bunch of glorified bruisers here."

One of the fighters sneered, stepping forward with his fists clenched, but Caruso held up a hand to keep him back.

"Think you'll fit right in then, Abbacchio," Caruso said with a knowing smirk.

Abbacchio glowered, slightly unnerved that Caruso had known who he was the whole time, but he shook it off.

Caruso nodded to one of the fighters who stepped forward, rubbing his knuckles. "This is my head fighter, Drago. When I'm not here, you'll take orders from him."

The man nodded to Caruso who clapped him on the shoulder. "Show them to the dormitories so they can get cleaned up."

Drago grunted, jerking his head to one side to indicate Abbacchio and Giorno follow him. They did so warily, discovering that off the gym there was another large room with cheap looking beds set up in rows.

"Showers are over there," Drago grunted, pointing. "There's some clothes in that closet that don't belong to anyone in particular so just pick something that fits. There's bandages and medical supplies in there as well. We don't have a medic so you'll have to deal with any injuries yourself."

He stopped at the back corner and pointed to a couple bunks. "You'll sleep here."

"Great," Abbacchio grunted as he looked as the stained sheets.

"As for rules," Drago said darkly. "Like Caruso said, I'm in charge of the fighters, you do what I tell you. Meals are three times a day—you miss it you don't eat. You fight when you're told to fight and otherwise you can do what you want as long as you stay out of other people's business. That mark on your shoulder means you physically can't leave this place so don't even try it, you wouldn't like to find out what happens. Oh, and, you're Stand users, right?"

"What's that to you?" Abbacchio grunted.

Drago snorted. "Nothing. It doesn't mean anything here. Unless you try to use them, then you'll be severely punished. Understand?"

Abbacchio just glowered at him, pissed off at this whole situation. Drago glared back, and finally snorted.

"Go clean up. Oh, and kid," he reached out and grabbed Giorno's disheveled braid, giving it a rough yank. "You might want to lose the pretty hair."

Giorno pulled away. "Thank you, but I think I'll keep it."

"Your funeral," Drago grunted and left the dormitory, leaving them alone for the time being.

Abbacchio sighed and went over to the cupboard where Drago had said the first aid stuff was. He pulled it open, finding stacks of clothes and a large first aid kit. He rummaged through the clothes, wrinkling his nose before he pulled out a tank top and a pair of black pants that would fit.

"Here," he tossed the first aid kit toward Giorno who caught it a bit clumsily. "I'll try to find something clean to fit you."

Giorno slumped down on the cot, opening the kit and rummaging through it.

"How long do you think it will take the others to figure out what happened to us?" Giorno asked.

Abbacchio huffed. "Hopefully not long." He glowered at the pile of clothes, not sure if he would even be able to find anything to fit the skinny kid among the offerings.

He finally pulled out some pants that would probably fit and grabbed the smallest shirt, turning back to Giorno who was attempting to rub blood from his face but was mostly just smearing it everywhere. Abbacchio sighed, tossing the clothes onto the cot next to him and heading into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wetting it before he came back out.

"Here, your face is a mess," he grunted.

Giorno sheepishly accepted the damp towel, having an easier time of getting the blood off with it.

"You know the point of fighting is to not block everything with your face, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware," Giorno replied stiffly, rubbing some blood from his chest that had dripped from his nose.

Abbacchio grabbed a wet towel for himself too, yanking his coat off before checking over his bruises. He hurt, but there was nothing too bad. The inside of his mouth was cut up but he hadn't lost any teeth. He spit into the sink before reaching behind him and feeling the strange brand on his shoulder. There weren't any mirrors in the shower room though, so he huffed an annoyed breath and went back out to Giorno, after putting on his clean clothes.

The kid looked a little better with most of the blood cleaned off at least, though he would have some pretty impressive bruises. Abbacchio pointed at his shoulder. "Can I see it?"

Giorno's eyes shot up quickly, shoulders stiffening before Abbacchio rolled his eyes, clarifying, "The brand. I can't see mine."

"Oh, yes," Giorno murmured and carefully unzipped his coat, pulling it down over one shoulder, barely revealing the brand.

Abbacchio huffed and reached out to grab his collar, pulling it further down. "Come on, kid, you're gonna have to get past being shy here…" he trailed off as he felt Giorno freeze completely, and realized that he had revealed more than just the brand—where the hell had the kid gotten those scars on his back?

He quickly swallowed down his surprise. It wasn't any of his business anyway. Instead, he poked the brand, seeing that it was slightly raised flesh in a circle with a TATR inscribed inside.

"Huh, must be his Stand name," Abbacchio mused.

Giorno swallowed hard before he turned around, using that as an excuse to pull away and slip his coat back on. "Can I see yours?"

Abbacchio huffed, pulling his hair out of the way so Giorno could see the mark on his shoulder.

"I wonder how far the range is," Giorno mused.

"I'm guessing however far Caruso wants. He apparently doesn't have to be here for it to be affective so it might be some kind of automatic ranged Stand with a set location. I don't think it's a good idea to try and run out the door to find out what happens though."

Giorno nodded in agreement and picked up the clean clothes, looking at them balefully. He sighed and finally started to pull his coat off, pointedly keeping his back turned away from Abbacchio. Abbacchio pressed his lips together and turned away to dig through the first aid stuff, leaving Giorno a little privacy. The thought of those scars and the likelihood of there only being more was still rattling around in his head though. The ones he had seen didn't look fresh. They looked like they far predated his joining Passione so they obviously weren't something he'd gotten in a fight.

Which only left one conclusion and one that Abbacchio didn't want to think about.

He pulled out some band-aids for the kid's face and turned back around as Giorno was trying to keep the sweatpants around his hips.

"God, kid, can you be scrawnier?" Abbacchio snipped.

Giorno's cheeks reddened slightly. Abbacchio sighed, feeling a little bad. After all, he'd been pretty scrawny at that age too. He rummaged through the first aid bag again and pulled out needle and thread. "Here."

Giorno took it gratefully and started to take in the seams on the pants. The shirt was also too loose but it at least looked like it would stay on.

When Giorno was done sewing his pants, Abbacchio pulled out the bandaids. "Here," he muttered, taping a couple to the still oozing cuts on Giorno's face. He sat there passively, looking even more pitiful with the bandaids covering his cheek and forehead.

"Look, I know you think it's my fault this happened," Giorno finally said, all in one breath. "But, we had to investigate."

Abbacchio huffed in annoyance. Yeah, maybe he did blame the kid, but at the same time, he wasn't so petty as to think that this wouldn't have happened even if Giorno hadn't taunted Caruso. "Look, kid, could you have handled this whole situation better? Hell yes. But this ended up being way bigger than we expected. No one's really to blame here." He had to force the last words out, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. Maybe the sight of the kid getting the shit beat out of him had softened him just a little bit.

Giorno looked up, surprise on his face before it turned to a somewhat depressed expression.

"Next time though," Abbacchio added quickly, "If I tell you to let me handle something, let me handle it. I know you want to be the big bad Mafia boss, but you have to have a little diplomacy when dealing with bastards like Caruso. Take this as a lesson."

Giorno nodded silently, looking away, hands pressed between his knees as his shoulders hunched. Abbacchio cursed inwardly. Did the kid have to look this pitiful?

There was nothing to do here; all the fighters were still in the gym and Abbacchio definitely didn't want to go associate with them, so he started looking around the basement portion of the building.

It was actually quite extensive. In addition to the gym and dormitories, there was a mess room and kitchen as well as a couple other separate bedrooms that Abbacchio assumed were Drago's and maybe other privileged fighters.

He was just about to poke through some back rooms when he heard a bell ring and figured it was probably best to get back to the dormitory so he didn't get caught snooping. He hadn't been told not to, but figured it probably wouldn't be well received. He'd save that for another day.

Giorno was looking around when he got back to the dormitory, looking almost grateful when Abbacchio reappeared, still sitting on his bunk where Abbacchio had left him as the other fighters changed clothes and cleaned up.

"That's the dinner bell," one grunted to Abbacchio.

Giorno followed him as they went with the others toward the mess hall. Everyone formed a line, one of the fighters straight up shoving Giorno out of the way, knocking the kid back several steps.

"You wait your turn, whelp," he snarled. "You've barely earned the right to eat."

Giorno pressed his lips together, but waited behind the man, grabbing his tray when they got up to the line.

By the time they reached the man dishing out food, one of the other fighters pushed in front of Giorno again, knocking him back against Abbacchio. The goth grunted as Giorno stepped on his foot.

"I'll have seconds tonight," the fighter grinned at the cook as the man dished out another hefty helping onto his plate.

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. He thought he was done with the grade school bullshit.

Giorno finally extended his plate, getting a baleful look from the cook who slopped the food onto the tray instead of the plate on top of it. Giorno glanced down at it, opening his mouth as if to say something.

"What's wrong, you got your food didn't you, princess?" the cook snapped.

Giorno closed his mouth, jaw tight. "Yes, thank you."

"Get out of here then."

Giorno hurriedly headed toward one of the unoccupied tables and Abbacchio accepted his portion of the disgusting slop, eyes turned away from the kid for two seconds, when he heard a crash.

"Watch it!" one of the men growled.

Abbaccio glanced over with a sigh to see Giorno's tray of food on the ground, the fighters laughing at him as their companion made his way back for seconds.

Abbacchio rolled his eyes as Giorno bent to clean up the food with a napkin and silently turned back for more. The cook was already picking up the pot though.

"There ain't any left," he snapped.

Giorno bit his lip and hurriedly went to dispose of his tray before taking a seat at the unoccupied table.

Abbacchio made his way toward him, slumping down before pushing his tray across the table to Giorno. The boy looked up in surprise.

"Take it," he grunted. "It's not like I want to eat this crap."

Giorno just stared at it before he glanced back up at Abbacchio. "You're sure?"

Abbacchio snorted. "You need it more than I do."

Giorno carefully picked up the fork, watching Abbacchio as if he would go back on his offer any second, but when he made no move, Giorno finally took a bite of the food (stew?) and made a slightly displeased face.

"You're not missing anything," he told Abbacchio.

Abbacchio fought back a smirk at that one. "I'm sure I'm not." He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. "Look, you can't let them push you around. You need to stand up for yourself."

Giorno shrugged. "What good will it do? Without Gold, I actually can't hold my own against them, and they don't care that I'm the Don. It's easier just to not make trouble."

Abbaccio stared at him incredulously. "That sure as hell isn't the attitude you had when you were taunting Caruso earlier."

Giorno looked down, trailing the fork through the slop. "I still had the upper hand then—I thought. But I do know when it's better to stay quiet."

Abbacchio was unwillingly reminded of the scars he'd seen on Giorno's back and felt a little sick. He cursed inwardly and leaned across the table.

"Look, kid—"

"Gentlemen!"

Both Abbacchio and Giorno's heads snapped up to see Caruso standing in the doorway to the mess hall.

"There's going to be a fight tonight so get yourselves ready!" He walked over to Giorno and Abbacchio's table as well. "That means you too. We're gonna see what you can really do tonight."

Abbacchio caught the smirk in the man's voice and sighed heavily.

He was not looking forward to this.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Giorno finds out just how unmatched he is in the ring.

Notes:

Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading so far; I hope you continue to enjoy!
Have some Giorno whump for your Friday.

Giorno was somewhat surprised to find a sizable crowd already gathered around the fighting cage when they came out to the main floor of the warehouse. Cheers and whistles sounded out as the fighters appeared and most of them played into it, pumping fists in the air and winking to any women spotted in the crowd.

Giorno and Abbacchio hovered at the back of the group, though Giorno could still feel eyes landing on him even as he tried to be inconspicuous. Abbacchio was muttering under his breath. Giorno could still feel the bruises from earlier. It wasn't like he could have done much with them with Gold anyway, but the fact that he was apparently not allowed to use his Stand here rubbed him the wrong way. Especially since he really just wasn't that good of a hand-to-hand fighter.

Caruso ran up the steps to the entrance of the fighting ring and held his hand up toward the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, before we get tonight's bets in, let me introduce you to our new recruits."

Giorno and Abbacchio were shoved to the front by the other fighters for the scrutiny of the crowd.

"First off we have this bruiser." Caruso pointed to Abbacchio. "He looks tough, but is he tougher than our two-time champion Centaur, who he'll be going up against tonight?" He then turned toward Giorno. "And we have this golden boy here. I know he's on the shrimpy side, but looks can be deceiving! Will you bet on him to win or to be absolutely demolished by Wolf?"

Giorno glanced over his shoulder at the mentioned fighter who gave a growl, flexing for the crowd. He was at least twice the size of Giorno, which was not filling him with confidence. Nor was the crowd's jeering.

Caruso opened his arms. "And you know the rest of the lineup for tonight, so place your bets and we'll get the night rolling!"

Shouting started as the crowd made bets with the men who ran around with the betting charts. Caruso leapt off the stairs and came over to spear Abbacchio with a finger.

"You're up first. I want you to put on a good performance."

Abbacchio folded his arms over his chest as the man he would be fighting came over.

"Any instructions, Boss?" the other fighter asked Caruso.

"Not tonight. Just put on a good show. If he wins, it will boost bets for the next fight."

Giorno listened with interest. So sometimes Caruso fixed the fights. He wasn't surprised, but he wondered how much he could make off of the bets if he told the popular pick to take a fall. There was a pretty substantial crowd who seemed to have clear favorites.

Caruso headed over to a box and tossed both the men a set of hand wraps. Giorno slid in next to Abbacchio.

"It might be a good idea to try to win," he said quietly. "It could earn some favors—"

"You don't have to tell me what to do, brat," Abbacchio snapped.

Giorno pursed his lips and stepped away.

"Get up there," Caruso told Abbacchio and the other fighter.

The two men stared at each other before heading over to the cage, slipping their shirts off and binding wraps around their hands. As soon as they were inside, Caruso locked the door.

Abbacchio turned around, lip curled, but apparently the fight was starting instantly, because the other fighter rushed him.

Abbacchio barely got his arm up to block the blow, stepping back as several more fell, but then he regained his balance and returned with a combination of punishing blows to his opponent's midsection.

The crowd was wild, though Giorno couldn't tell who they were cheering for.

Abbacchio landed several more blows, effectively putting his opponent on defense, which seemed to make him angry, because the next blow Abbacchio struck, he caught his wrist and used Abbacchio's momentum to swing him into the chain-link cage.

Abbacchio bounced off of it with a grunt, receiving a kick to the stomach before he could regain his footing. Instead of getting back up, he waited for his opponent to kick him again before grabbing his ankle and wrenching his leg to one side.

The other fighter cried out, crashing to the ground where Abbacchio was on him in a second, pressing a knee firmly into his chest as he slammed his fist into the other fighter's face over and over until the man went limp, looking like he'd passed out.

Abbacchio staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his lip as the crowd simultaneously cheered and booed depending on who they had bet on.

Caruso opened the cage, letting Abbacchio out and a couple of the other fighters went in to drag the unconscious man out.

"We have a new winner!" Caruso said. "I see there's a few lucky bets that were made. Looks like your chance paid off."

Abbacchio ignored the crowd as he unwrapped his hands, flexing his fingers with a cringe. He snorted at Giorno as he passed him again. "Happy now?"

Giorno didn't reply. He was watching the next fighters get ready and take the stage. One of the men who was taking the bets came over to Caruso, showing him the numbers. When the fighters were ready, Caruso whispered in one of their ears before they got up into the ring and Giorno watched with interest as halfway through the fight, Caruso made a small motion with his hand and one of the fighters started to receive blows, before ultimately going down to the fury of the crowd. Apparently, he had been a favorite.

That must be how he did it, Giorno decided. If the majority of people bet on one fighter, then Caruso would tell him to take a fall. It probably didn't even look like there was foul play going on to the audience. The fighters had seemed pretty good at hiding the staging. Giorno wondered what Caruso would do if they didn't, or, if they refused.

He was so deep in thought he startled when someone's hand landed on his shoulder.

"We're up next, kid," said the fighter called Wolf, an eager gleam in his eye that Giorno didn't like. "Better get ready."

He dropped some wraps into Giorno's hands and he caught them, starting to bind them on. He wasn't entirely sure how to do it and they ended up lumpy and either too loose or too tight in places. He glanced up briefly, seeing Abbacchio watching him, but refused to trouble the man further by asking for help. He was sure it would be fine.

"Ladies and gents!" Caruso called to the crowd. "Instead of our usual bet, let's make it interesting. We all know Wolf is going to demolish the kid—lets bet on how long it takes instead!"

Giorno clenched his fists, knowing that if he could use Gold, he would be able to take this man down within thirty seconds—use these wraps to make vines strong enough to tie him to the chain-link, while Gold delivered punishing blows.

Wolf chuckled, smirking at Giorno. "How long do you think you'll last? I'll be generous and bet thirty seconds."

Giorno narrowed his eyes, not replying. He turned toward the cage entrance when he felt the man grab his braid, tugging him to a stop.

"Hey, shirt off, kid. We want to show the crowd those bruises."

Giorno froze, but couldn't see a way out of it this time. If he made a fuss, it would just garner more attention, which he definitely didn't want. Abbacchio had been right earlier anyway, he couldn't afford to be 'shy' here, even though that wasn't exactly his problem.

He swiftly tugged the tank top off before he could hesitate again. His scars felt tight, itching as if everyone was staring at them. His cheeks burned.

No one actually commented though and Caruso ushered them into the ring.

The crowd jeered and Giorno barely got his hands up before Wolf brought a punishing right hook to the side of his head. Giorno raised his arms barely enough to soften the blow, and it still made light burst across his eyes as he staggered to the side.

Before he could even think to retaliate, Wolf slammed a fist into his jaw, spinning Giorno around to crash into the cage.

"Get him! Get the little whelp!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Wolf grabbed a handful of Giorno's hair as he tried to get away, and smashed his face against the chain link, directly facing the crowd who looked like they wanted to tear him apart. A gob of spit hit his shoulder and Giorno felt fury blossom in his chest, making him struggle to get free.

Wolf yanked him back, hand still clenched in his hair, making Giorno's scalp burn. Wolf brought his knee up into Giorno's stomach, then slammed his face down against the same knee as he doubled over.

Giorno collapsed on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose as he fought the urge to vomit from the punishment his gut had taken right after that disgusting dinner.

Wolf kicked him in the jaw and he crashed to the ground, face aching, as Wolf let out a mocking howl to the obvious enjoyment of the crowd.

Giorno pushed himself up shakily on his elbows, breathing through his mouth since his nose was full of blood.

"Stay down, kid," Wolf muttered to him. "You're done."

But Giorno refused to go out like this. He stood up, fists clenched. "I believe thirty seconds have passed," he told the other fighter. "Looks like you lost your bet."

Wolf's eyes flashed in genuine anger then, all sadistic playfulness gone.

"You little shit," he snarled and slammed his fist into Giorno's face, making him stagger to the side. Giorno got his hands up, tried to return a blow, but Wolf's arms were much longer and he simply grabbed Giorno by the throat, slammed a fist into his stomach several times until Giorno gagged, his knees giving out, then he felt a sudden weightlessness as he was simply thrown through the air.

There was a painful impact as he bounced off the chain-link and slammed into the slightly padded floor.

The crowd cheered as Wolf howled again. This time, Giorno didn't try to get up, he wasn't sure he could.

Maybe he had really misjudged how easy it would be to get through this.

~~~~~~~

Abbacchio watched with a straight face as Wolf pretty much beat Giorno into the ground. Did he enjoy seeing the kid get destroyed? No, not really. But he was pretty sure Giorno had opened his mouth again and he was stupid enough to get back up so Abbacchio also kind of felt like he deserved it.

The fact of the matter remained though: Giorno Giovanna could not fight.

It wasn't just the fact that Wolf was stronger than him, anyone could fight out of weight class with the proper training. Even Narancia would have put up a better fight—though his opinion on hand-to-hand was usually go in with the knife first, which, in its own way was probably why his success rate was so high. No, Giorno's stance was crap, and he held his hands up like he was getting ready for fisticuffs, not a full-on brawl.

So, of course, Wolf wiped the floor with him. Abbacchio would have been surprised if he hadn't.

Still, he felt a pang of worry when Giorno didn't get up after Wolf left the cage. No one made a move to go retrieve him, so with a sigh, Abbacchio stepped up and walked into the cage to pull Giorno to his feet, leaving some smears of blood behind.

"Come on, get up," Abbacchio urged.

Giorno bit back a pained sound, curling around his stomach as he fought to move his legs. Abbacchio had to mostly carry him out of the cage as the crowd jeered, hefting one of the kid's arms around his shoulders.

"You can take him back to the dorm, you're both done," Drago commented.

Abbacchio nodded and dragged Giorno down to the basement floor. He did most of the work on the way down the stairs, but finally dumped Giorno onto one of the cots, which the kid sank into gratefully.

"Sorry, I'm…I'm fine," Giorno murmured as Abbacchio went to search out the first aid kit. "You don't have to help."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes, ignoring the kid as he grabbed the bag and headed back over, dropping it beside Giorno, before heading for the bathroom, pulling his bloody wraps off.

"Hold on a second," he said as he went to wash his hands, cringing at his bruised and split knuckles, the water in the sink tinted red.

When he got back, Giorno was trying to unwrap his hands, but blood kept dripping from his nose, which he wiped on the cloth.

Abbacchio huffed a sigh. "Looks like your hidden talent is getting the shit beat out of you," he commented wryly. "You know you're supposed to fight back, right?"

Giorno glanced up briefly, before he ducked his head, shoulders tightening. "Yeah, well, that doesn't always turn out for the best."

Abbacchio suddenly felt a pit form in his stomach as he caught another glance at the scars on Giorno's back. Dammit. He sat on the cot next to him and grabbed his wrist, quickly pulling off the wraps he was struggling with. "Well, in a fight it does. If you use these instead of pissing off your opponent even more by being a smartass."

Giorno looked away, pressing the back of his other hand under his nose. "I'm not very good at this. It's pointless anyway; just a staged fight."

"So you're just going to let yourself get pounded into the ground?" Abbacchio demanded with a snort. "That's not exactly sustainable, and we have no idea how long we're going to be stuck here. If you need the motivation, treat it like a real fight because those bastards are going to hurt you just as much as if it were one. I've seen you fight for real, and you're not exactly terrible," he admitted grudgingly.

"But I have Gold Experience then," Giorno said. "And I know exactly how to utilize him."

Abbacchio huffed a sigh, figuring he probably wasn't going to get through to this stubborn-ass kid. He reached for some gauze instead, wrapping some around his knuckles first before handing a square to Giorno. "Here, stick this up your nose to stop the bleeding. Is it broken?"

"No," Giorno replied sullenly as he rolled pieces of the gauze and stuck them into his nose. Abbacchio poured some peroxide onto another square and started to clean off the rest of his face. Giorno winced, but didn't say anything. His face was probably going to be a massive bruise tomorrow.

His stomach already was and had to hurt from the way Giorno curled one arm around his middle.

"How bad is this? You break any ribs?" Abbacchio asked, motioning to his middle.

Giorno shook his head. "It's fine."

"Yeah, and I've heard that one too many times from Bruno before he starts hacking up blood. Let me look at it anyway, you are the kid who thinks it's a tactical move to cut his own arms off."

Giorno pursed his lips but unwrapped his arm from around his middle. Abbacchio forced him to straighten so he could see and cringed at the colorful bruises blossoming across the kid's skin.

"Shit, he really did a number on you," he muttered as he reached out, carefully probing his ribs and abdomen to make sure there was no internal bleeding. Giorno bit his lip and looked away, a small huff of pain escaping when Abbacchio grazed over a particularly tender spot.

"Well, I don't think anything's damaged," Abbacchio concluded. "But please tell me if something feels wrong or you end up pissing blood or something."

Giorno's shoulders hunched again but he gave a vague nod. That was probably all Abbacchio was going to get.

"Let me get you some water so you can take some pain pills," he said and went around to the kitchen, hunting for water bottles, and found some ice while he was doing so. He bagged some up and grabbed a couple towels before heading back into the dorm.

Giorno was curled on his side looking miserable, breathing through his mouth. Abbacchio handed him the water and pills and Giorno took them silently.

"Here," Abbacchio grabbed the arm wrapped around his middle and pressed one of the ice packs against Giorno's stomach. He jumped at the cold, but after a second pressed it closer with a sigh, closing his eyes. "Keep that on there for a little while. Here's one for your face too."

Giorno took the second makeshift ice pack and pressed it to the worst spot on his jaw.

"Thank you," he murmured almost as an afterthought as Abbacchio turned away, planning on getting a shower before the rest of the fighters came back.

"Whatever," he shrugged and went to find some fresh clothes.

By the time he got back from the shower, most of the other fighters had returned, tending minor injuries. Abbacchio took a bit of cruel joy in seeing his opponent for the night laid out in his cot, breath whistling through his swollen nose. Of course, the reality was that all of these men were likely captives like they were, but not all of them had the brand from Caruso's Stand either, telling Abbacchio that maybe at least some of them wanted to be there.

He supposed it could be worse. At least he was allowed to beat the crap out of people on occasion; work out some frustration from his current situation.

"Hey," Drago stopped him before he could get back to his cot. Abbacchio glanced up at the bigger man warily.

"What?" he asked.

"You won tonight, so you get a ring name now," Drago told him. "Boss said you're gonna be called Manticore."

Abbacchio snorted. "Sure, whatever." It wasn't like he cared. He really hoped they would be out of here in the next couple days.

He glanced at Giorno as he made his way over to his own cot. The kid looked like he was asleep, still curled around the ice packs. A shiver went through his body. Abbacchio bit his lip then huffed, bending to pick up the blanket at the foot of the cot, draping it over Giorno.

He then crashed on his cot, nursing his own aches from the night as he tried to rest.

Chapter 4

Summary:

Abbacchio decides he should give Giorno some much needed training in the hopes that he might be able to get through a fight.

Notes:

More reluctant Giorno and Abbacchio bonding. (Maybe a little less reluctant this time)

Abbacchio woke up later in the night, biting back a groan as he rolled over to find a position that didn't hurt. These thin cots did nothing for his back. He glanced over briefly to see if the kid was still asleep.

And saw that Giorno wasn't there.

Abbacchio furrowed his brow slightly, but figured the kid was probably just in the bathroom. He closed his eyes again, not sleeping but trying to. Time passed and he glanced back over, but Giorno still hadn't returned to his bed.

A voice—suspiciously sounding like Bucciarati's—in his head was telling him he needed to find the kid. There were too many people who wished him harm here, and he was obviously not very good at defending himself. Of course if he was pushed, Abbacchio hoped he would use his Stand, but then Caruso had implied punishment if that happened, and Abbacchio wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea of finding out what that meant.

Groaning inwardly, Abbacchio pushed himself up, glancing around to make sure the other fighters were all asleep, before he got out, first heading toward the bathroom. When he didn't find Giorno there or in the showers, he frowned, then thought that maybe, if he was hungry he had gone to the kitchen. Abbacchio was actually rather peckish himself since he had passed on dinner.

He made his way over there, but was stopped by a sound coming from the gym. Curious, he glanced through the entrance to the other room, seeing a figure standing in front of one of the punching bags. Soft pats sounded out as fists struck the bag in uncoordinated punches. So that's where the kid had gotten off to.

Abbacchio reached for a light switch, and flipped it on.

"What are you doing?"

Giorno froze and spun around, looking almost guilty. "I…couldn't sleep. So, I thought I should train a little," he admitted.

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest. "Is that what you call this?"

Giorno looked a little lost. "Yes…?" he said almost questioningly.

Abbacchio reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Kid, you can't just punch a bag and expect to get better. Especially when you're doing it all wrong anyway."

Giorno's shoulders slumped and Abbacchio suddenly realized what he had to do here. He sighed in resignation as he stepped over.

"Let me teach you some stuff, okay?" he said.

Giorno's eyes widened. "You want to teach me to fight?"

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "No, because I enjoy watching you get the shit beat out of you all the time," he snipped. "Yes, I'm going to teach you to fight."

There was something almost grateful in his eyes. "Oh. Okay. Thank you, Abbacchio."

"Don't thank me until you actually learn something," Abbacchio told him and went to grab a pair of wraps so he wouldn't ruin his hands further. He looked to see Giorno's and sighed. "Okay, first, let me show you how to wrap your hands. Get those off."

Giorno pulled the loose wraps off sheepishly. Abbacchio took one up and showed him the end. "Look, these have loops on them that go around your thumb to anchor it. Then you put it around your palms and knuckles then down to your wrists. You want it snug there to brace your wrists, especially skinny ones like yours."

Giorno flexed the hand Abbacchio had wrapped for him. "That does feel better." He did the other one himself, a little slow, but it did look better than his previous attempts. He watched as Abbacchio wrapped his own on, as if committing it to memory.

"Okay," Abbacchio said when he was done. "Show me a fighting stance."

Giorno bent his knees slightly and curled his fists in toward his chest. Abbacchio wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or take a picture to laugh at later. He instead settled for sighing heavily. "Okay…yeah, that's…all right." Abbacchio stepped over to Giorno and took hold on his shoulder, pressing his knuckles into his lower back to force the kid to straighten slightly.

"First of all, don't lean forward like that because you're just going to unbalance yourself. You want to keep your weight on the balls of your feet for easy movement but you anchor that by keeping your shoulders in line with your hips." Abbacchio maneuvered Giorno so that he was in the right stance and then stepped back, eyeing him critically. "Throw a punch now and tell me that doesn't feel better."

Giorno struck out with one fist and actually looked surprised. "It does, actually."

"Good, because we have a hell of a lot more to work on," Abbacchio said and squared up to Giorno, causing the boy to shift back slightly. Abbacchio huffed. "I'm not gonna hit you, kid. I'll warn you before I throw a punch, okay? I want you to hit me. Hard as you can. I want to see what we're dealing with."

Giorno pressed his lips together, pulled back, and swung. The impact hit Abbacchio in the shoulder, shifting him back slightly. It was…a lot less powerful than anything he had endured earlier that night, but it wasn't exactly as bad as he had expected either.

"Okay, so you do actually have a little power behind you," he muttered grudgingly. "But your technique is shit."

Giorno's shoulders slumped and Abbacchio cursed inwardly, rolling his eyes. "Look, it's nothing to be ashamed of; obviously no one taught you anything before. That's why I'm doing it now."

"It's not going to matter anyway," Giorno said. "I'm still too small to fight any of them."

"That isn't true," Abbacchio scoffed. "Anyone can fight outside their weight class with the proper training. Did you know that Bucciarati was an even smaller kid than you when he joined Passione? He still worked as a bruiser."

"He was allowed to use his Stand though," Giorno sighed.

Abbacchio shook his head. "No, he didn't have Sticky Fingers at first. He just adapted. Fact is, kid, life isn't a place for rules, and if you know you can win, you take the win, even if you have to fight dirty to get there. Lucky for you, Caruso doesn't seem to care about typical ring rules, so I'm not just going to teach you how to fight, I'm going to teach you how to win a fight because that's going to be a lot more useful in the long run."

Giorno's eyes were wide—at least the one that wasn't half swollen shut with bruising—and he nodded.

"All right," Abbacchio pointed to the punching bag. "First you've got to learn how to throw a punch." He demonstrated, falling into a fighting stance. "Don't just…flail around hoping you hit something. Keep your elbows in and swing from the shoulder—you'll have more power behind your fist then. In the ring, don't be afraid to use your feet either, the others don't seem to have a problem with it."

Giorno pressed one hand subconsciously to his stomach and nodded.

"Get into your stance," Abbacchio said. "Now try just small punches at first to get the feel of it."

Giorno did as he was told, throwing several punches, getting more confident as he went, until he was actually moving the bag a little each time.

"Not terrible," Abbacchio had to admit. "Give it a little more gusto."

Giorno pulled back and Abbacchio instantly stopped him.

"No, look..." he grabbed his elbow and pulled it down. "Keep your arm in line with your shoulder, move your upper body from the waist, but keep your feet planted, don't lean into a punch; you'll lose your balance."

Giorno pressed his lips together and took a small practice swing before he really hauled back and slammed his fist into the bag.

The thud was accompanied by the bag swinging on its chain.

"Okay, that wasn't too bad," Abbacchio told him. "Now do it several more times."

He watched, adjusting here and there, as Giorno got more comfortable throwing punches. He hated to admit it, but the kid actually wasn't terrible, and he was, thankfully, quite a quick learner.

"I still don't see how this is really going to help me, these probably aren't going to do anything to any of the other men," Giorno said as they took a break for water.

"No, you're not going to out-punch any of them," Abbacchio admitted. "Which is why you're not going to try to. You'll do better making sure every strike you get counts. Look, being small is actually to your advantage. Especially because you're also quick. You've seen how Bucciarati fights, he learned precision to make up for the fact that a lot of his enemies could out punch him. Punching isn't how you win a fight." He shrugged grudgingly. "I'll admit you have a mind for tactics, even if I don't always understand your reasoning. As long as you don't use your go-to of ripping a limb off, I'm sure you'll pick up on everything pretty quickly."

Giorno nodded slowly. "Yes, I can see that."

"Part of that is going to be picking out your opponent's weaknesses. Watch them, see if there's an injury you can exploit, or places they fail to cover properly. Of course, there's always certain places you can aim," Abbacchio added. "You can stomp on someone's instep, knees are always a weak point—of course the groin, don't be afraid to aim there. Instead of going for the stomach, aim higher, for the solar plexus if you can. It hurts to get punched in the stomach but it's not always debilitating; hit someone in the solar plexus, maybe with an elbow, and it will punch the air from their lungs. Throat obviously, but also the ears is a good place to strike and something people rarely think to cover." He tapped a finger into Giorno's lower back. "Kidneys are also a good place to strike if you can get behind them."

Giorno nodded, looking like he was putting all of this to memory and he probably was. That kid always seemed to fluctuate between being completely aloof and intensely focused.

"What I want you to remember specifically though, kid," Abbacchio added. "Is that you don't have to stand there and get hit, got it? You're quick, and you can dodge. Doing that will allow you to see how your opponent chooses to attack and when you get an opening, that's when you go in and deliver a blow that counts."

"I understand," Giorno said.

"Okay then," Abbacchio said and stood up, motioning Giorno over to the mat. "Let's spar so I can teach you some more moves you might find useful."

Over the next couple hours, Abbacchio helped Giorno get better at keeping his balance and thus making it easier for him to move around, dodging and learning how to strike more quickly.

It was kind of weird, but while he was teaching him, Abbacchio forgot about how annoying the kid usually was. Maybe it was because Giorno was actually listening to him and not being a smartass for once, but Abbacchio found he didn't actually mind being in the kid's company at the moment. He was actually incredibly attentive and a quick learner, for which Abbacchio was grateful, otherwise he might just have left the kid to fend for himself.

Giorno's hands were bruised by the time they finally stopped, but he looked less down-trodden than he had when Abbacchio had found him there.

"I don't know if I'll be able to actually win a fight, but I do feel more confident now about going back into the ring," Giorno told him and then met his eyes sincerely. "Thank you, Abbacchio."

Abbacchio grunted, folding his arms over his chest. "Maybe you'll at least last more than thirty seconds. We'll keep practicing though."

Giorno nodded and both of them turned warily as the door to the gym opened.

Drago strode in, catching sight of them. "Since you two are already up, you can make yourselves useful and get breakfast ready. You'll find all the stuff you need in the kitchen."

"Breakfast?" Abbacchio growled. "You—"

"Better make it quick; no one takes kindly to having their breakfast late," Drago told them before he headed toward the weights to begin his own workout.

Abbacchio shared a look with Giorno and sighed, ripping the wraps off of his hands. "All right," he muttered, turning to head to the kitchen with Giorno at his heels.

The place was just as dirty as expected and Abbacchio wrinkled his nose at the filth, even more glad he hadn't eaten the food the night before, even though he was practically starving now as a result.

He spotted the coffee maker and made a beeline for that, measuring out grounds and starting a pot.

Giorno stood off to one side, looking lost. Abbacchio huffed and turned to him. "Start looking around to see what they have."

Giorno nodded and began going through the walk-in and the cupboards.

"I don't really know what we're looking for," Giorno admitted as Abbacchio went to join him. "Aside from helping Bucciarati and Mista a couple times, I'm not really a very good cook."

Abbacchio reached over his head and grabbed a couple dozen eggs from a shelf in the walk-in. "Eggs and bacon it is, then."

Abbacchio drank his cup of coffee as he started frying batches of bacon, letting Giorno crack the eggs into a big bowl and whisk them up. When he was done with the bacon, Abbacchio poured the eggs into the greasy pan and stirred them around.

"The bacon grease makes them taste better. And then you have fewer pans to wash," he told Giorno.

When everything was done and set in pans ready for serving, Abbacchio threw some toast into the toaster and grabbed two plates, dishing out hearty portions onto them. He threw the toast on and handed one to Giorno.

"Cooking does come with its perks. Eat up, kid."

Giorno eagerly sat at the counter and practically inhaled the food. It certainly wasn't the best thing Abbacchio had ever tasted, but at least he had made it himself and it was hot and identifiable.

By the time they were done, the caffeine had set in and Abbacchio at least felt a little better about facing the day as he and Giorno carried the food out to the cafeteria and dished it up to the other fighters. There were a couple generic complaints probably just because they were new, but besides that it seemed to go well enough.

After that, Abbacchio spent the rest of the day training with Giorno until they were both sore and exhausted, neither of them having slept the night before. He wondered what Bruno and the others thought had happened to them. Surely they would follow the lead to Caruso's club at least and maybe, hopefully find the underground fight ring like Abbacchio and Giorno had. Of course, Caruso had probably worked a little harder to cover his tracks after they had showed up and if his Stand worked as a perimeter to trap anyone who came inside, then it would be pointless if any rescue party ended up just as stuck as they were.

If Abbacchio was positive Moody Blues would have been able to pass the barrier Caruso's Stand created, he would have rewound him back to the morning before so he could make it back to the house and lead the others here. But a quick peek while he was in the bathroom showed Abbacchio that the mark had also showed up on Moody, so it looked like that option was out as well.

It looked like they would have no other choice but to wait for rescue then. And in the meantime, Abbacchio would work out his frustration by punching as many people as he was allowed to.

At dinner Giorno stared contemplatively into his food and Abbacchio had a bad feeling he was plotting something. He put his fork down and leaned across the table.

"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

"We're not the only ones with a mark, I'm sure you've noticed," Giorno replied. "I was wondering if maybe we could find allies here."

Abbacchio snorted. "I doubt it. We can't risk them snitching to Caruso."

Giorno nodded. "Yes, but I'm not saying we outright ask them to rebel or anything. Just talk to them. Find out why they stay here."

"Then do what you want. Just don't get your ass kicked."

Giorno shook his head. "They won't talk to me. Every time I've tried they ignore me or physically shove me out of the way." He looked irked, and Abbacchio realized he wasn't used to this, but again, these weren't tourists who were easy targets for scams.

"So, what do you want from me?" Abbacchio grunted.

Giorno met his gaze. "You've already gained their respect. They'd be far more inclined to talk to you than me."

"I don't know. None of them seem too thrilled with me either."

"They at least won't jeer in your face. It might help us find important information, Abbacchio. After all, what better way to investigate than to be in the thick of it."

Abbacchio sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. "Fine. I'll admit you have a point. I'll see what I can do."

A small smile lifted one side of Giorno's mouth. "Thank you, Abbacchio."

Abbacchio ignored him and finished the rest of his unappetizing meal. They hadn't been called on to make dinner so there was no telling what it really was.

It seemed that, thankfully, there would not be another fight that night, so the fighters were left to their own devices. Most of that seemed to be watching sports on the old television set up in the cafeteria, but some of the men returned to the dormitory to read books and magazines.

There was a bookshelf set to one side with a meager selection of paperbacks, but one of the men Abbacchio had had an eye on was over there pursuing the shelves so he sighed with resignation and headed over.

"The least they could do is give us a better selection," Abbacchio grunted as he pulled one book off the shelf and set it back, wrinkling his nose.

The other man glanced over at him, somewhat warily, but said, "They do change them out every once in a while."

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow. He knew the man's ring name was Cobra, but hadn't heard anyone call him anything else. He was a good fighter from what Abbacchio had seen. His build just a bit more wiry than Abbacchio and a few inches taller, quick to the strike—probably where he had gotten the moniker.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, hoping that might open more conversation.

The man's face was unreadable as he turned back to the shelf, running a finger over the spines of the books. "About six months—little longer."

"You're not here willingly either, are you?" Abbacchio asked without looking at the other man.

Cobra froze slightly, but licked his lips and brought his hand back down to his side. "Not exactly, but…it's money. Money my wife and kids need. And I don't mind fighting. It's not the worst situation I could have gotten into."

Abbacchio pursed his lips but, the man had a point. There were a lot of worse things.

"How much money do you make per fight?"

"Enough," the man said. "You will too, once you start getting bets on you. Caruso likes to wait a few fights to make sure you're worth it, but from what I've seen you probably will be."

"I don't need the money unless I can buy my way out of here with it," Abbacchio snorted.

Cobra glanced over at him with a wry smile. "Good luck. Caruso keeps his fighters until they get used up. You may be able to convince him otherwise, but I doubt it."

Abbacchio caught Giorno entering the dorm out of the corner of his eye. The blond slowed as he passed, and Abbacchio glanced at him. They shared a look and Giorno continued on toward the showers.

"What's the deal with the kid anyway?" Cobra asked.

"What do you mean?" Abbacchio replied.

Cobra shrugged. "Just that he doesn't look like your younger brother or anything, but that's kind of how you treat him."

Abbacchio was surprised to think him and Giorno could ever be mistaken for family but that was the least of his problems at the moment. "No he's…my coworker. He's just a kid."

"No, he's Caruso's newest punching bag," Cobra said flatly. "He likes to throw one into the mix every once in a while. They don't last long and it's usually not pretty, so I hope you're not too sentimental."

Abbacchio felt a sudden surge of anger and dare he say protectiveness flash through his chest. Cobra watched and turned away with a knowing look, finally selecting a book off the shelf. "Just remember that no one else is going to look after him here. Not Drago, or anyone else."

He went to his cot and laid down to read. Abbacchio also snatched a book and went to sit on his own cot.

He hadn't really found out anything he hadn't already known. The only thing that had been confirmed was that they probably weren't going to be finding help among the other fighters. If they were getting paid, then they were probably at least content enough to stay even if they hadn't originally chosen their current position for themselves. Really, what had he been expecting? Even if they didn't want to be here they were just as stuck as Abbacchio and Giorno.

Giorno came back to his bunk from the showers, wringing his hair out as he glanced at Abbacchio expectantly. Abbacchio shook his head.

He wasn't going to tell the kid that he was the newest toy added to the group. After all, Abbacchio knew when push came to shove that Giorno could take care of himself.

He hoped, anyway.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Giorno finally gets a hand up in the ring, but it might not have the effects he was hoping for.

Notes:

Giorno gets to show off his new skills in the ring!
But everything also hits the fan in this chapter.

Warning: tw for claustrophobia at the end of the chapter.

Both Giorno and Abbacchio got to sleep that night, and though refreshed wasn't exactly the term Giorno would use, they were at least rested.

After being called upon to make breakfast again, Abbacchio urged Giorno back to training.

Giorno had been surprised to say the least that the older gangster had taken up the task so readily, but he supposed he had looked rather pathetic. And maybe it was too embarrassing for Abbacchio to associate with someone who would just get their face kicked in. Of course, Giorno had been positive he had seen just the slightest amount of concern on Abbacchio's face too, which led him to believe there was more to it than just Abbacchio's typical answer of 'Bucciarati would kill him if anything happened to Giorno'.

Whatever his reasons, Giorno was grateful and he was learning a lot under Abbacchio's tutelage even though their constant sparring sessions put a lot of strain on his underused muscles and the bruises he'd already received. He had never been a stranger to pain, but this, he decided he didn't mind as much. It was the kind of pain that felt good, like he was accomplishing something.

However, he still wasn't entirely ready when Caruso came in and announced that there would be another fight that night.

Wolf chuckled as he passed Giorno, buffeting him to one side with his shoulder. "We'll see if I can take you down in less than thirty seconds this time."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes and joined Giorno at the back of the line. "Don't let him psych you out. Just put what I've been teaching you to use and remember that the most important thing is you don't have to stand there and take a punch."

Giorno nodded, wetting his lips, pressing his tongue across the scab on his lower one. The dull ache worked to get his head into the game and he was determined to do exactly what Abbacchio had instructed him.

The fights started with Drago against one of the other men, and then Abbacchio was chosen to go up against Wolf that night. Giorno watched tensely as Wolf gave the goth a run for his money, getting a couple painful looking hits in, but Abbacchio managed to stay on top of the fight, ending with pinning Wolf to the ground with a firm grip on his wrist and a foot planted in the center of his back.

Caruso jerked his head toward Giorno. "You're up next. Make it a good show, huh, kid?" He glanced over at another man. "Minotaur, you're up."

Giorno's heart wavered in his confidence as he saw how large the man was, even broader than Wolf, but Abbacchio glanced over at him as he descended from the cage, wiping blood from his face with his discarded shirt. He placed a hand on Giorno's shoulder while he was wrapping his hands and leaned in close.

"Listen, I know he looks scary, but he's not gonna be nearly as fast as you. Use that to your advantage."

Giorno nodded, fastening the wraps snugly around his wrists and headed up into the cage to Caruso's urging, listening to the lock clicking behind him.

The crowd was already jeering, and Giorno squared his shoulders, trying not to let it bother him.

His opponent was cracking his knuckles, sizing Giorno up with a smirk. "So how long do you think you'll last tonight, squirt?" he asked. "Wolf and I had a bet. He said twenty seconds this time. Unless you think all those little slap fights you've been doing in the gym have actually done anything to help."

Giorno didn't reply, simply clenched his hands and fell into a fighting stance, making sure his weight was dispersed evenly on the balls of his feet for ease of movement.

Minotaur snorted. "Fine. I promise I'll try not to ruin that pretty face of yours too badly."

He swung a huge fist toward Giorno's head and Giorno swiftly ducked it, taking a small step back. His opponent followed him and swung again but Giorno leaned back, continuing his retreat, still light on his feet. Minotaur seemed to be getting annoyed and he lunged forward.

Giorno, now in the corner of the cage, waited for him to lift his arm to swing and then swiftly darted under it, returning to the middle of the ring.

The crowd started booing, yelling at Minotaur to smash Giorno into the ground. He seemed to share the sentiment because he lunged again with a frustrated growl.

Giorno easily sidestepped.

This continued for several more rounds, the crowd's fury climbing along with Minotaur's before Giorno found himself against the side of the cage, waiting for the other fighter to make his move.

"Hey!" One of Caruso's guards stepped up to the cage. "Get in there and fight, you little bastard!"

He lifted a cattle prod and shoved it against the back of Giorno's leg, sending a numbing shock through him. He cried out as his leg buckled. Minotaur seemed to take this as the opportunity he was obviously looking for, surging forward, likely in an attempt to trap Giorno against the side of the cage.

Giorno waited and then slid to the ground right between the man's legs, flipping onto his back and kicking upward, slamming his heel directly into the man's groin.

Minotaur staggered forward with a strangled sound and Giorno slid quickly away, getting a glance toward Abbacchio standing behind the cage with the other fighters, a slight smirk on his lips.

The approval gave Giorno a burst of energy and he scrambled to his feet, leg still tingling slightly from the electric shock, but he slammed his elbow into the man's lower back before he could turn around, kicking out at the back of his knee as well.

Minotaur's leg buckled, but he used the fall to reach around behind him, grabbing Giorno's ankle and completely flipping him head over heels. Giorno landed on his back hard, head slamming into the slightly springy floor, and the other man was on him in an instant.

"You little shit," he snarled, huge hand wrapping around Giorno's throat, voice still slightly strangled. "I'll make you pay for that!"

There was no way Giorno would be able to shift the other man's weight off of him and, spurred on by minotaur cutting off his breath, he brought his free fist up and delivered another punishing blow to the man's crotch that was completely open in his current position.

The crowd gasped again as Minotaur's grip on Giorno's throat faltered, leaving the boy to squirm away as the man tilted onto his side.

Giorno clutched his throat, gasping for breath as Caruso stepped up to the cage door.

"Tie! Both of you out of there."

He didn't look happy, and as Giorno scrambled quickly out the door, Caruso caught his shoulder, fingers digging firmly into a bruise there.

"You think you're being cute? Next time you go in there, I want to see a real fight, not you hopping around like some little rabbit."

Giorno met his eyes. "You said there were no rules unless you told us otherwise. I'm just using my own style of fighting."

Caruso's hand cracked across Giorno's face, a ring on his pinky splitting his cheek. He leaned in close until Giorno could smell his foul breath.

"I would advise you not to get smart with me. You're not the don here. Remember that."

He shoved Giorno roughly away and motioned to the next duo.

Giorno rubbed his throat with a wince again before he started to unwrap his hands.

"I'll admit, kid, you didn't do too bad."

Giorno looked up to see Abbacchio coming up to him, handing Giorno his shirt before folding his arms over his chest. Giorno took the shirt gratefully and slipped it on.

"I was lucky at the end. If Caruso hadn't called it, I doubt it would have ended so well," Giorno murmured, though secretly, he was warmed by Abbacchio's praise, perhaps more so because he knew how rare it was.

"Let's go get cleaned up," the goth said, urging Giorno back toward the dorms.

Giorno showered, grateful for the heat on his sore body, and had Gold probe for injuries and damage in his neck where no one could see him use his Stand. He could breathe okay and though swallowing was a little painful, Giorno had had a lot worse.

Abbacchio was already done with his shower by the time he got out, kicked back on his cot with the same book he had been reading the night before.

Giorno sat on the edge of his cot, braiding his hair back into its normal style.

"Abbacchio?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hm."

"Tomorrow, could you show me that move you did at the end of the fight?"

Abbacchio lowered the book and glanced over at him. "You're barely mastering basic punching and defense."

Giorno pressed his lips together in determination. "It's all about using your opponent's bodyweight against them, right? I've seen Bucciarati do similar moves. On top of that, putting someone in a stress position would keep them from moving or risk injury, correct? If I could learn something like that, then I might be able to actually win a fight."

Abbacchio stared at him for a long moment before he sighed. "Fine. I'll teach you some holds. If you already understand the mechanics it shouldn't be too hard for you."

Giorno couldn't help the small smile. "Thank you, Abbacchio."

"Whatever," Abbacchio muttered. "Get some sleep."

Giorno was indeed exhausted and he laid down, pulling the slightly scratchy blanket over him. It almost reminded him too much of being back…there. The thin mattress, the blanket that didn't keep out the cold. The aches in his body.

He shook himself. He didn't want to think about that. He had the ability to defend himself now. A promise of something better.

If they could just figure out how to get out of here.

As Giorno was nodding off, he saw Abbacchio staring toward the door to the dormitory where Caruso was talking to one of the other fighters. Giorno couldn't quite tell who it was from there but thought it might be Wolf. He could tell Abbacchio was suspicious, but figured it was probably nothing. After all, how much worse could their situation get?

~~~~~~~

The next day, Abbacchio made good on his promise and took Giorno to the mats in the gym area while the room was mostly empty in the afternoon. There was no point in tipping the others off about his tactics.

"Okay, as you're aware, this move revolves around using your opponent's weight against them, so it will be something you can actually do. Come at me."

Giorno advanced and Abbacchio mercilessly grabbed him by the arm, throwing him over his hip as he pivoted and smashed Giorno into the mat with his foot as he put the slightest amount of pressure on his arm, not enough to do any damage but enough so he could feel how debilitating it was.

"You feel that?" Abbacchio asked.

Giorno grunted into the mat, staying completely still as if afraid the slightest movement would dislocate his arm. He was right.

"Good." Abbacchio released him and Giorno scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his arm slightly. "In that position you only need to apply a little pressure to do some pretty severe damage. Let me show you another one." He flopped onto his back on the mat and motioned Giorno forward. "Come try to pin me."

Giorno did, arms outstretched. Abbacchio grabbed one and wrapped one leg around Giorno's neck, the other under the trapped arm, applying pressure until Giorno gasped, fingers on his free hand digging into the mat.

Abbacchio neatly released him and helped him back to his feet. "That hold is also good if you get thrown down again and can't get back up before they're on you. You could have done this last night if you were able to get your legs up, trapping the arm he had around your throat."

"But Caruso always pits me against fighters that are three times my weight," Giorno protested.

"True, and it might be difficult once you're already stuck, but that's why you need to learn to think about the fight three moves ahead, while you're falling. You did good last night, going for his crotch while he had you down. He wasn't expecting that. I know you've got a head for tactics, so all we need to do is hone your skills a little."

"Okay," Giorno said with a firm nod. "Show me the first one again."

It took Giorno a little longer to pick up on the throws but he had a pretty good grasp of it by the time they were finished with their session, both of them sported bruises from all the mock falls they had taken on the mats.

During the training, Abbacchio thought it was odd that no one else had come in, but the other fighters did tend to use the afternoons to relax and keep to themselves, especially if there wasn't going to be a fight that night. Still…it seemed oddly quiet.

He left Giorno to his own devices for a while though and went to take a shower before another disgusting dinner. He was just dragging on a clean pair of pants when he heard footsteps from multiple people crossing the tile floor.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw several of the men coming toward him. Abbacchio ignored them but once it became obvious he was their target he turned to glower at them.

"You want something?"

"Yeah, we heard a rumor and want to know if it's true or not," Wolf said and folded his arms across his chest.

Abbacchio snorted. "Eat shit." He reached for his shirt, but it was Cobra who pushed forward next.

"We heard you're a cop."

Abbacchio froze, feeling the piercing stares. "Who the hell told you that?" But even as he said that he remembered spotting Caruso speaking with Wolf the night before and had an idea.

"So it's true?" Wolf snarled, advancing further while Abbacchio refused to be intimidated. "You here under cover or something?"

Abbacchio grunted in annoyance. "Not that it matters to you, but I'm not anymore." He grabbed his shirt and tried to shove past Wolf.

He felt the man's hand clamp around his arm as he passed. "Actually, it does matter to me."

Abbacchio's lip curled. "Get the fuck off me."

It was his own fault he wasn't ready for Wolf to straight up grab him by the hair and slam his head into the corner of the shower stall. Pain exploded in his skull and before he could regain his feet, hands were on him, yanking his arms behind him. Abbacchio struggled but the instant he tried to free himself someone's knee slammed into his groin before he took another massive fist directly to the face—likely curtesy of Minotaur. Blood gushed from his nose and he sagged with a groan before he was pulled upright again to give his attackers access to his body. Heavy blows slammed into his chest, stomach and face. When they seemed to decide he had taken enough damage to be unable to defend himself they released him. Abbacchio fell to the damp tile, now painted red with his blood, as they circled him and kicked the shit out of him without giving him the opportunity to defend himself again.

A heel to the same spot on his head that was already bleeding had him nearly blacking out before he heard a voice cut across the jeers from the fighters.

"Get off him! Leave him alone. Now!"

The men halted briefly and Abbacchio managed to tilt his head up enough to see Giorno standing there with his fists clenched, Stand aura rippling around him.

Fuck Abbacchio thought but all that came out of his mouth was a groan, unable to do more than fight unconsciousness.

"What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" Wolf snarled. "Get out of here unless you want to be next." He turned back to Abbacchio and raised his foot to kick the gangster in the head again.

"MUDA!"

The shout sounded a second before Wolf went flying into the wall, shock clear on his face.

Abbacchio tried to push himself up onto an elbow. "Giorno…"

But Giorno already had Gold Experience out and he was demolishing the other fighters. Even Minotaur who tried to come up on Giorno's back was yanked backwards by part of the pipe turning into thorny vines and wrapping around his throat before Gold Experience slammed him into the wall so hard several tiles cracked.

The fighters that could still get up rushed out of the room calling for the guards.

Giorno left the men he'd taken out where they lay and rushed to Abbacchio's side, instantly reaching down to touch the side of his head.

Abbacchio gasped, swallowing back the nausea and stars that burst before his eyes.

"I probably don't have long but I'll try to heal what I can," Giorno told him, mouth pressed tight.

"Idiot," Abbacchio spat, before he started to choke on something rising in his throat and when he hacked onto the white tile he clearly saw it was blood, slumping back, his eyes sliding shut despite his best efforts. Giorno's hands were on his shoulders and he might have been saying something, but Abbacchio could no longer hear him, having no choice but to surrender to the darkness.

~~~~~~~

Giorno pumped Abbacchio's body full of Gold's power, rushing to heal as much of the damage as he could before he was inevitably stopped.

Dark bruises were already spreading over Abbacchio's upper body. Giorno blindly fixed any internal damage, but skipped over the cracked ribs for his head, trying to ease the swelling and repair the damaged flesh. Abbacchio tensed with a pained gasp from the healing process, but was mostly unconscious. Giorno heard the running feet approach and sent one last shot of energy into Abbacchio before he was grabbed from behind and yanked away.

"Put that away!" one of the guards snapped, though he wasn't looking at where Gold was still crouched over Abbacchio so he obviously wasn't a Stand user. Giorno was silent and one of the others stepped up and shoved a cattle prod into his side. Giorno cried out as the current surged through him, forcing Gold to dissipate. The guard kept the prod shoved into his flesh until he sagged, twitching as he was dragged out of the bathroom, through the dormitory and up to the main floor and into an office off to one side of the fighting ring.

Inside the room, manacles were snapped around his wrists and he was thrown to the floor, unable to catch himself with his hands behind his back. A foot slammed into his side before the cattle prod was pressed threateningly into his shoulder.

"The boss is on his way. He'll decide what to do with you."

Giorno stayed silent. What could he say in this situation? He just hoped he had been able to do enough for Abbacchio and that the other fighters wouldn't simply kill him while he was down and defenseless.

"What do you think the boss will decide to do this time?" one of the guard's asked, obviously meaning for Giorno to hear. "Let him off with a beating, or do you think he'll use the box?"

The other man chuckled. "Don't know. Guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

Giorno refused to let the talk bother him. He had known there would be consequences, but he couldn't have let them kill Abbacchio either. They were all each other had here and Giorno was sure he wouldn't have been able to last this long without the older gangster.

As long as Caruso wasn't planning on killing him, he would be fine.

It wasn't long before the man himself strode into the office, staring at Giorno with disgust.

"Get him up," he said to the guards who reached down and hauled Giorno into a chair.

Caruso slammed a fist into his face, nearly knocking Giorno out of it again.

"I told you not to use your Stand, you little shit, this is your own fault."

Giorno stared him down. "You should have told your men not to attack mine."

Caruso grabbed a fistful of Giorno's hair and yanked his head back so he was looking up at him. "How many times am I going to have to remind you that I'm the boss here. You don't have any power, you're nothing but a snot-nosed kid, and if you don't play by my rules, you get punished."

Giorno met his eyes directly and fury washed over Caruso's face as he yanked Giorno out of the chair with a vicious tug on his hair.

"Get him up."

The guards grabbed hold of Giorno and hauled him out of the office toward the back corner of the building. Giorno swallowed hard, not knowing where this was going to go, but when he saw where Caruso was heading, that was when panic started to set in finally.

"I think two days in the box for you should teach a lesson," Caruso said with a cruel satisfaction as he opened the crate that was barely four-foot square. "Get him in there."

Giorno balked, tugging against the guards pushing him forward. "No," he breathed.

They just laughed and shocked him with the cattle prod again. Giorno's knees buckled and he was simply lifted up and thrown into the box.

"No, please," he pleaded, trying to sit up before they shoved him back down.

"Sleep tight, brat," Caruso told him and slammed the lid shut, leaving Giorno in complete, cramped blackness. He could hear a lock engaging and he kicked out at the walls, panic settling in viciously.

He wasn't Giorno Giovanna, Don of Passione anymore, he was just Haruno, locked in the tiny closet by his mother because he annoyed her and she hadn't wanted to see him.

He could barely move, trapped in the tight space, hands stuck behind his back, legs pressed against his chest. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe…

Some survival instinct forced Giorno to stop struggling with a helpless sob. It wouldn't do any good after all, it never did. He began to force himself to breathe calmly through his nose. The air in here wasn't stale, he could see pinpricks of light that indicated holes, he wouldn't die in here. He refused to die in here.

Giorno trembled as he forced himself to breathe, tried to fight the urge to struggle. Panic would make it worse, they would only hurt him more if he made noise.

Giorno squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget where he was, repeating one thing over and over in his head:

He would survive this.

He would survive this.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Giorno and Abbacchio think about making plans to get out of their current situation.

Abbacchio slowly came to, cringing against a dull ache in his head that stabbed behind his eyes when he tried to open them. His whole body ached, actually, but the sensation was concentrated in his skull, throbbing along with his pulse rushing in his ears.

Why the hell did he feel so bad? Had he gone on a bender?

Finally prying his eyes opened showed that he wasn't in his old apartment nor in the Passione mansion, but in the fight club dormitory, and that was when he remembered getting jumped in the shower, and Giorno foolishly coming to his rescue.

Dammit, the kid…

Abbacchio pushed himself upright, but his head jangled in pain, causing him to groan, taking a deep breath.

"I wouldn't," a voice said from close by.

Abbacchio squinted up to see Drago standing over him, arms crossed over his chest.

Abbacchio snarled at him, looking around to see if Giorno was there, but the kid wasn't in his cot or anything. That didn't bode well.

"You took quite a hit to the head, you'll probably just make yourself vomit if you stand up," the fighter said blandly and walked over to the cupboard where they kept the first aid kit. He came back with a bottle of pain pills and tossed them onto the cot next to Abbacchio.

"Where's the kid?" Abbacchio demanded.

Drago folded his arms back over his chest. "He's serving his punishment for disobeying Caruso's orders."

"The hell does that mean?"

"It means he's not your problem right now," Drago said. "You're only alive because Caruso told them not to kill you. He doesn't want either of you stirring up trouble, understand? Trying to get any of the other men around here on your side isn't going to do anyone any good, got it?"

Abbacchio was furious but he also did feel incredibly nauseous from the pain in his head and he slumped back on an elbow and grabbed the bottle of pills, opening it clumsily. So that's what this had been about? Because he'd talked to Cobra for five minutes? Caruso really didn't take any chances.

"Don't worry about the kid, you'll see him again in a couple days," Drago said before he left Abbacchio to his own devices.

That didn't dissuade the goth's worries any. In fact, knowing Giorno's punishment was going to last days was worrying enough. But he also knew that anything he did would only risk making things worse for both of them.

He was also pissed though. Giorno didn't need to save him. He could take care of himself. Even though he had been nearly unconscious, bleeding on the floor of the bathroom. He could still taste old blood in his teeth and knew something had been bleeding inside of him. As his eyes finally traveled down his bare torso, he realized that there was not nearly as much bruising as there should have been. Giorno must have healed him as well despite everything.

"Idiot," Abbacchio murmured as he swallowed the pain pills dry and slumped back on the cot, allowing his eyes to shut again. There was a nagging in the back of his head (one that was, worryingly, sounding less like Bucciarati) that was kicking him for not following up on what had happened to Giorno, but realistically, he couldn't even stand right now, let alone make his way across the room. Giorno would understand that. He'd take care of the kid later…

~~~~~~~

Abbacchio didn't have the other fighters' respect anymore, though he was probably lucky they chose to ignore him above anything, whether those were orders or not. The first day he spent lying in bed, but after that he was able to get up and around. Maybe the sleep had helped Gold Experience's residual healing power to work faster because aside from some aching and some pretty horrific bruises, he didn't feel nearly as bad as he should after a beating like that.

Still no sign of Giorno, which made him increasingly worried. He tried to ignore the jeering speculations from the other fighters about what had happened to the kid, but he had no way of knowing if any of them were correct or not. He hoped they weren't. He felt like shit for letting the kid take the punishment just because he had been too weak to move.

That night after dinner though, the guards came up to him.

"Boss said the brat's punishment is done. You can come get him if you want."

Abbacchio rose cautiously to his feet, wary of some trap as they led him up to the main floor of the warehouse and over to a corner of the large room.

Abbacchio hadn't known what to expect, maybe Giorno locked in a room without food or water, most likely beaten, but as the guards approached the box that was sitting in one corner, Abbacchio's heart sank at the same time he felt fury rush through him.

"Don't tell me the kid's in the box," he growled.

One of the guards smirked at him as the other pulled out a ring of keys to unlock the padlock.

"How do you know he's still alive?" Abbacchio demanded, surging forward before the one guard held him back. "Can he even breathe?"

"There're air holes, and he was banging around there last night so I'm sure he's fine."

"Pieces of shit," Abbacchio snarled, fists clenching in fury as they opened the box and reached inside.

A small sound of surprise and pain was heard as they lifted a curled lump out of the box, tossing him unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Giorno! Shit!" Abbacchio breathed, stepping forward and crouching down to try and help unfold the boy's cramped posture.

"Careful, he pissed himself," one of the guards jeered.

"Fuck off," Abbacchio snapped back and leaned over Giorno who was attempting to shield his eyes from the light, whimpering pitifully. "Hey, it's all right, kid. You're out of there now. Come on."

Giorno flinched as Abbacchio slipped his arms under his curled figure and simply picked him up without another word to the guards, carrying him back down to the dormitory.

He was unable to avoid all the other fighters who sneered and tried to engage him but he ignored them all, almost regretting the fact he had Giorno in his arms or he might have been able to punch them in the face.

He finally got Giorno back to his cot and laid him down on top of the blanket. He could exchange it later for a clean one, but he wanted to assess Giorno's condition before he threw him in the shower. He seemed to be in shock, not to mention his body seemed to be locked up after so long in a cramped space.

To Abbacchio's surprise, Giorno had clenched a hand into his shirt and it pulled when he set the kid down, forcing him to have to sit on the side of the cot.

"Easy, kid," he said quietly. "You're out of there now."

Giorno's eyes finally blinked open, still cringing slightly at the light. Abbacchio shifted to shield him from the worst of it. "Abba…cchio…" he croaked.

Abbacchio sighed and made to stand up again. "Let me get you some water. Try to stretch out a little, okay?"

He hurried to get a cup of water and when he came back Giorno's face was contorted in agony as he shifted on the cot. Abbacchio hurried back over to try and help, taking hold of one of Giorno's knees and slowly easing his legs away from his chest.

"Easy, we'll go as slow as you need, I'm sure it doesn't feel good."

Tears leaked from Giorno's eyes and all of a sudden, he latched onto Abbacchio, fingers clutching in a death grip as his chest heaved with silent sobs and his body trembled uncontrollably.

Abbacchio sat there for a second, stunned, before he lowered his hands to Giorno's head and back, attempting to soothe him as well as he could. His fingers found muscle knots on Giorno's back and tried to work them out to relax the teen more.

The crying seemed to be cathartic though because by the time Giorno was finished, just hiccupping softly, he seemed more himself.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

Abbacchio turned to grab the water and helped Giorno drink some. "You don't have to apologize. If anything, I should be apologizing. This happened to you because of me."

"Couldn't let them kill you," Giorno murmured. "'Sides…felt good…to show them what I can really do."

Abbacchio couldn't help the dry laugh. "You feel ready to go get cleaned up?"

Giorno's cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment and nodded. Abbacchio helped him up as Giorno tried to bite back sounds of pain and they very slowly made their way to the bathroom.

Abbacchio stood guard at the shower stalls while Giorno cleaned up, not trusting any of the other fighters not to try anything stupid.

Luckily the warm water seemed to help Giorno's muscles and though he was still a bit stiff and hunched, he was able to make it back to his cot, stretching out on his back with a groan.

"You're probably hungry," Abbacchio commented as he grabbed a new blanket to drape over Giorno. "I'll go raid the kitchen for something."

Giorno looked reluctant for him to leave but the other fighters were all mostly still watching tv in the cafeteria right now so Abbacchio was okay with leaving him for a couple minutes while he went to the kitchen.

He passed over the slop from dinner and found a can of soup and some bread and cheese. He heated some of the soup in a mug and brought it back to Giorno who sat shakily, reaching for it.

Abbacchio sat on his own cot as he watched Giorno eat hungrily, the food bringing a little color to his skin.

"Feeling better?" he asked as Giorno swallowed the last of the soup.

The kid nodded, lowering the mug and wiping his mouth. "Yes. How about you?"

"I'm alive," Abbacchio murmured, then reluctantly added, "Thanks, by the way."

Giorno looked up at him with some surprise but nodded.

"Don't think that gets you out of trouble for being an idiot, though," Abbacchio growled. "How many times do I have to warn you about pulling stunts like this before you actually learn how to take care of yourself?"

Instead of protesting, Giorno hunched over himself, looking small. "I'm not going to apologize for saving my comrades. Even if I had known the…punishment beforehand, I would have still done it. We're both alive, that's what counts."

Abbacchio closed his eyes briefly with a long sigh, but couldn't really deny that sentiment either.

"Abbacchio," Giorno said firmly. "We're getting out of here. I don't know how yet, but we are getting out of here."

"I guess I have no choice but to believe you," Abbacchio said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"I am the Don," Giorno replied with a tired smile.

Abbacchio jerked his chin at him as he reached out to take the mug from his hands. "Whatever. Why don't you get some sleep then?"

Giorno didn't look like he needed much bidding. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow.

Abbacchio, who had been exhausted from worry and his own injuries that last couple of days, stretched out on his own cot and was quick to join him.

~~~~~~~

It was dark and he couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in, crushing, squeezing him no matter how hard he fought. It only made it worse. Even if he had a voice to scream he wouldn't have. That would only make them mad, and they would hurt him again.

The darkness was thick, unbreathable, suffocating, he was going to die in here, he was going to…

"Giorno!"

Someone grabbed his shoulder and he flailed awake, fighting against the wrapping around him, a small cry escaping his throat.

"Easy, just a nightmare," someone hissed and pulled away the constricting item.

Giorno gasped for breath, body soaked in sweat, chilled, as he blindly latched onto the shape in front of him.

"Shut him up!" someone snapped, sending a jolt through Giorno as he prepared for a blow.

"You shut up," another voice growled, this one closer.

"Don't," Giorno whispered, pleaded. "Don't make me go back…I'll be quiet, I'll be good…"

"Kid, it's just a dream," the gruff voice finally filtered through his muddled brain and Giorno blinked his eyes open, shaking himself as he made sense of his surroundings. Ambient light illuminated the pale hair of the man bent over him, large hands anchoring him by the shoulders as Giorno's fingers dug bruises into his forearms, having latched onto the only lifeline he had.

As realization dawned, shame came with it and he forced himself to release Abbacchio, pulling away from the older man's grasp. How the hell was he ever supposed to gain Abbacchio's respect if this sniveling child was all he ever saw?

"Sorry," he whispered.

Abbacchio sighed and, instead of leaving, worked to untangle Giorno's blankets. "There's no shame in having nightmares, you know," he grunted. "We all have them. Fact is…I might just like you more when you show your human side."

Giorno glanced up at him in shock. How could Abbacchio prefer this version of him? No one had ever said that to him. Growing up, showing any emotion had been a weakness others would only exploit. It had never made him likable.

"Look, I get that you think you need to act tough, and be the big bad Mafia boss, but you're only fifteen and you need to get over yourself. It's okay to have nightmares, and it's okay to have trauma and it's okay to not get over it instantly. Fact is, sometimes letting it out helps more than bottling it up, and believe me, it took a long time before I realized that, no matter how much Bruno tried to hammer it into my head."

Giorno was surprised to hear this from Abbacchio of all people but maybe he had a point.

"Okay," he said softly, not knowing what else to say.

"Just get some sleep kid," Abbacchio said, sounding tired as he sat back down on his own cot. "I'll wake you up again if you start having another nightmare."

Giorno didn't want to admit to how much comfort that brought him, but he lay back down on his side, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders.

"Abbacchio," he whispered after a moment of silence and saw the other man crack an eye open to stare at him.

"What?"

"I want to figure out how to get out of here," Giorno said firmly. "It's been over a week. If the others haven't found us by now, then, maybe we need to think of another option than just waiting."

Abbacchio was silent for a moment before he nodded slowly. "I feel you, kid, but if we do it, we have to get it right. Something tells me if we screw up we won't get a second chance."

"I know," Giorno said, trying to push thoughts of the box away from his mind. "That's why we need to come up with a plan. Are you with me?"

"I don't really have another choice, do I?" Abbacchio muttered as he closed his eyes again, obviously dismissing the conversation.

Giorno tried to get comfortable on the cot again as he contemplated a possible escape plan. What he really needed to find out was the exact range and power of Caruso's Stand. Then it was just a matter of finding weaknesses.

~~~~~~~

Giorno thankfully had a full two days of rest and recuperation, which he spent stretching out his muscles and doing some more light training with Abbacchio. The other fighters avoided them completely, which was good, considering they were trying to discuss possible escape plans. Actually, a lot of the fighters looked wary when they crossed paths with Giorno now. It seemed that using Gold Experience had only helped his reputation among them, but he didn't miss the malice in their eyes either and knew it wouldn't go well the next time he was in the ring, all eyes on him to make sure he wasn't using his Stand. He was going to have to be on his toes.

And inevitably, another fight came and they all had to file upstairs to the main floor and the gathered crowd.

The spectators seemed particularly excited that night, shouting for their favorites when they came out.

Caruso was there off to the side, talking to one of his men as they tallied up bets.

Giorno waited anxiously for his turn. Abbacchio was pitted against Cobra that night and took him down in almost embarrassingly short order, gaining the crowd's approval. It seemed he was becoming a fast favorite with them, if not with the other fighters.

Then Giorno was called up to face off with Wolf again. The fighter sneered at him as he tied wraps around his hands. Before Giorno could step up into the ring, Caruso grabbed his shoulder.

"Through some irony, the majority of bets are actually for you to win," he grunted. "So, you're gonna take the fall tonight. Understand?"

Giorno glanced up at him, eyebrow cocked. Caruso squeezed his shoulder painfully. "It will be easy. Just wait for my signal and let Wolf make it look good."

Giorno still didn't reply and felt Wolf's eyes boring into him. Caruso dug his fingers into Giorno's shoulder even harder.

"Do you understand?" he growled.

"Of course," Giorno replied and pulled away, stepping up into the cage.

As he faced Wolf and the door locked behind them, he realized he had absolutely no intention of losing.

Notes:

Thanks again to everyone who has been reading this fic!

I'm also (partly) participating in Febuwhump this year and I will start posting some prompts for that this week and then sporadically throughout the month, so be sure to check that out if you are interested!

Chapter 7

Summary:

Caruso pits Giorno and Abbacchio against each other out of spite.
Also, an escape attempt is made...

Because Giorno had no intention of losing this fight, he was ready when Wolf came at him this time. He was able to dodge several blows, but he knew Caruso would want a good show, so on one of the dodges, he spun quickly and jabbed a sharp punch into Wolf's lower back.

The man grunted, spinning around, but Giorno had already skipped away.

Wolf was quicker than Minotaur though and was after him in a second. He threw a heavy punch that Giorno was just barely able to deflect with his left shoulder. His arm numbed from the impact but he ducked close inside Wolf's reach and slammed his shoulder directly up into the man's solar plexus, forcing him back as the air shot from his lungs.

"Little shit," he growled, grabbing Giorno before he could dash away again, and threw him violently to the ground.

Giorno crashed, instinctively rolling away from Wolf's stomping foot as he gathered himself and stood again, always moving, always watching Wolf to see what he would do next.

That was when he saw Caruso step up on one side of the cage. He met Giorno's eye and nodded slightly, gaze piercing into him. Giorno pressed his lips together. He was going to have to think about how to do this.

"Get over here, brat," Wolf taunted suddenly, obviously also having seen the signal. "It's time for you to learn your place."

Giorno met his eyes. "I know my place," he said firmly. "Why don't you come get me?"

That was exactly what he was looking for. Wolf's eyes flashed in anger and he surged forward. Giorno stepped forward to meet him and when Wolf swung, he took a deep breath, letting Wolf's momentum do the work for him as he grabbed the man's arm as he made to swing a punch at Giorno.

Giorno pivoted to the side, sticking his leg out to trip the other fighter, then let go of the man's arm as he flew toward the side of the cage with a surprised cry.

Wolf's head connected with the support bar on the side of the cage with a dull clang as Giorno stepped back, waiting to see if he got up.

A gasp of gleeful surprise washed through the spectators as Wolf collapsed on the ground, seeming to be stunned. Giorno stood, panting, wiping blood out of his eye. As Wolf stayed still, the crowd started cheering, and why not? They had just won their bets.

The door to the cage was opened and guards came in to grab Wolf who was slowly pushing himself up, clutching his head, seeming to be confused by what happened. Giorno went to follow them out but was stopped on the step by Caruso who grabbed his arm and yanked him the rest of the way out.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded dangerously. "I told you to take the damn fall."

"As you can see it was Wolf who took a fall," Giorno said, steady. "There wasn't a lot I could do about that."

"There wasn't, was there?" Caruso replied sarcastically. He reached into his coat and Giorno suddenly felt the cold press of hard steel against his side. He didn't have to look down to know there was a gun there. "I warned you that there would be consequences if you disobeyed. I could put you in the box again." Giorno felt dread settle into his stomach, but Caruso was already continuing. "But you lost me a lot of money so I think we'll make this interesting."

He turned to nod to his guards who snagged Abbacchio and herded him over. The goth had obviously already seen everything transpiring, and he met Giorno's eyes pointedly. Giorno glanced away. He didn't need Abbacchio's disapproval right now. He was tired of not making a stand. He could just hope that Caruso wouldn't be so stupid as to take them out where the spectators might see.

"I'm feeling generous tonight so I'll give you another chance to provide entertainment," he said, a cruel glint in his eye. "You'll be going up against each other in the last fight of the night."

Giorno met Abbacchio's eyes, this time with a little relief before Caruso cut in.

"But…I want it to look good, understand?" he informed darkly. "No pulling punches, no fake takedowns, no signals. One of you wins and one of you loses—the fight stops only when one of you can't get up. If I see any hesitation, or one of you trying to take the fall for the other, the guilty party will be shot instantly."

"You'd do that in front of the crowd?" Abbacchio asked.

Caruso shrugged. "I've done it before. These people are degenerate maniacs. They don't give a shit, they just come for blood. Some high-stakes blood sport really gets the money flowing."

"You're a sick bastard," Abbacchio snarled.

"You should talk to your boy about cheating then," Caruso said. "Now get up there. And remember the rules this time. My men will be ready if they see any hesitation."

Caruso pressed the gun more firmly into Giorno's side as he forced him back up the steps and into the cage, Abbacchio quickly being shoved in after him. The crowd watched with interest as Caruso stepped in after them, addressing the spectators.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bit of a special event tonight. These two need to resolve some issues so they'll both be stepping into the ring again. So it's up to you to decide who you want to put your money on: Manticore, or Golden Boy."

Giorno bristled at the moniker but he steadily met Caruso's gaze as the man turned away from the crowd, hand still on his gun under his jacket. Giorno was aware of the guards circling the ring, their own weapons more visible, held ready. They wouldn't have long to hesitate or come up with any plan, so as soon as Giorno heard Caruso click the lock on the door into place, he surged at Abbacchio.

The other man was slightly surprised, but quickly deflected the blow, wrapping his arm under one of Giorno's and spinning him around until Giorno's back was pressed against his chest, Abbacchio's other arm around his throat.

As Giorno struggled, Abbacchio bent to growl into his ear. "Why the hell didn't you just take the fall? You just got out of trouble."

Giorno stomped on his instep and slammed his free elbow back into Abbacchio's already injured ribs, causing him to grunt.

"I'm tired of playing his games," he said.

Abbacchio snorted and finally released him after Giorno gained another hit. "Well, good going, brat, because that's exactly what we're doing right now. I hope this was part of your plan."

"Maybe," Giorno said and kicked out at Abbacchio. The other man simply grabbed his leg and yanked up, throwing Giorno hard onto his back. The blond rolled and saw Caruso staring at him pointedly. They were really going to have to start throwing punches soon. So he came back up swinging and as Abbacchio grabbed for him again, he delivered a solid blow to the man's jaw.

He had been pretty sure that would enrage Abbacchio at least a little and he was right, because the man followed it up with a kick that struck Giorno in the hip as he pivoted, the impact enough to throw him back against the chain-link.

Abbacchio trapped him there and grabbed the front of Giorno's shirt, heaving him back to the center of the ring where he crashed onto the ground, the wind exploding from his lungs.

Abbacchio followed him down, pinning him.

"I really don't want to have to hurt you, kid," he grunted under his breath.

"You don't have to lie," Giorno gasped. "I know you've wanted to punch me in the face since we got here. And you should. All of this is my fault after all."

Instead of instigating Abbacchio's rage, Giorno was surprised to see guilt wash over his face instead. There was no time to analyze that at the moment though because Giorno was currently counting down the seconds to how long Caruso would allow this to go on before taking action.

So he did the only thing he was positive would make Abbacchio livid.

As the older man seemed to be contemplating their position, Giorno simply brought his knee up hard into Abbacchio's groin.

The man's eyes blew wide and he curled instinctively with a sharp exhale. Giorno grabbed a fistful of the ponytail Abbacchio had tied his hair back in and yanked, effectively tumbling Abbacchio to one side.

Abbacchio made a strangled sound of anger as he lunged after Giorno. "You little…"

Giorno spun around only to be met with a fist directly to the face. He tasted blood in the back of his throat from his nose and another blow quickly followed, skin splitting across his eyebrow and dripping blood into his eye. Giorno finally managed to get his arms up to defend after the third blow, but Abbacchio just switched lower, slamming a punishing fist into Giorno's stomach. Giorno folded, gagging, and Abbacchio caught him in a swift headlock.

Giorno clawed at his arm, knowing what he was doing. Abbacchio was trying to end the fight by simply forcing him into unconsciousness, but he had to win this one. There were multiple reasons why.

Despite the fact that he left bleeding marks in Abbacchio's flesh, the man didn't let go. He slammed a warning fist into Giorno's side.

"Just go down, kid," he muttered. "I don't want to have to put you down, but I will to save us both."

Giorno's vision was blackening, but he gave up on trying to get Abbacchio to release him, instead simply going limp. Abbacchio instantly loosened his hold and Giorno slammed an elbow backwards into his still healing ribs, then came up, headbutting Abbacchio so that his teeth snapped audibly together as he staggered back.

Giorno didn't stop there, blinking away his discomfort, he took a flying leap at the taller man and brought him down. He only got a couple hits in though before Abbacchio easily bucked him off, dealing him a punishing blow in the meantime.

"Little shit," he hissed. "I said go down!"

Giorno gritted his teeth as they squared up and began to exchange blows. They both got some hits in but Giorno was tiering. He didn't have Abbacchio's strength or stamina and he knew it. He was going to have to end this soon if he planned on winning.

Abbacchio finally landed a blow to the side of his head that sent Giorno tumbling to his knees. Several drops of blood fell onto his hands. Part of the crowd was yelling at him to get up but most of them were backing Abbacchio, yelling for him to finish it.

The older gangster stepped toward him, shaking his head. "One of us has to win, kid," he said regretfully.

Giorno spit a gob of blood out of his mouth, tongue running over a chipped tooth he would have Gold fix later. He looked up to meet Abbacchio's eyes. "I know," he said.

Abbacchio raised a fist with resignation, and Giorno made his move. He darted out to grasp Abbacchio's wrist, pivoting as he kicked the other man's legs out from under him and as Abbacchio fell, Giorno executed a clumsy grapple, trapping Abbacchio in the hold he had taught him.

Abbacchio's eyes flew wide as he realized what had happened. He tugged to try and free himself, but Giorno had readjusted the hold properly now, flexing the arm he held until Abbacchio gasped in pain.

"Don't," he warned, leaning back and squeezing Abbacchio's neck more firmly in the crook of his knee, cutting off his circulation.

Abbacchio tried to grab at Giorno but he kicked his heel into his shoulder, locking his legs and squeezing harder until Abbacchio's eyes finally rolled up into his head and he sank heavily against the ground.

Giorno detangled them and hauled himself up with the help of the chain-link, blinking blood from an eye that was already mostly swollen shut.

He glanced over to Caruso who stood with his arms folded over his chest. The man gave a reluctant nod and Giorno felt relief flood his veins as one of the guards unlocked the cage as the crowd erupted into various levels of shouting.

Abbacchio stirred at Giorno's feet and hauled himself onto his elbows before one of the guards yanked him upright.

Giorno followed them out and stared directly at Caruso.

"Looks like you won your money back," he said as the crowd were loudly protesting as they paid up.

Caruso didn't say anything and Giorno turned his back on him, limping back toward the dormitories.

He really hoped this would buy them a couple days of being ignored.

Abbacchio spat into the sink, watching the red wash down with the water. Overall, the kid hadn't dealt him too much damage—though he could have done without the kick to the balls. He was actually…impressed? It seemed bizarre to him to think that anything Giorno Giovanna did could impress him, but the way he had executed that submission hold was actually quite well done, especially considering the lack of practice and Abbacchio hadn't been expecting it.

That being said…

Abbacchio winced slightly as he dunked his swollen hands under the cool water, knuckles split and bleeding. He'd given the kid a pretty hard beating himself. In the moment he'd been pissed, sure, and in the zone of the fight. Giorno had just been an opponent and a capable one at that, thanks mostly to Abbacchio's training and Giorno's added cunning. But he still had the words Giorno had said playing in his head: "You don't have to lie. I know you've wanted to punch me in the face since we got here. And you should. All of this is my fault after all."

Was it true? Abbacchio couldn't deny that in part it was how he felt. Or how he had felt when they first got here, and he also knew Giorno had just been saying it mostly to goad him into the fight, but it had bothered him for some reason. Made him feel…slightly guilty. And he thought that, maybe he didn't feel that way so much anymore. Who knew it would take the kid literally forcing him into unconsciousness for him to realize that.

A footstep startled him and he turned around to see Giorno limping into the bathroom. He had an arm curled around his ribs and his face was mostly hidden by his hair which he had let out of his braid, but Abbacchio knew how bad it was. After all, he'd been the one to do it.

"Are you okay?"

Abbacchio stared at him in surprise, wondering why the hell Giorno was the one asking when he looked like that.

"I'm fine, what about you?"

Giorno turned to him and Abbacchio cringed as he saw the blood on his face and the left eye swollen shut.

Giorno shrugged, even that action making him cringe. "Nothing too damaging. You made it look good."

Abbacchio pressed his lips together as he reached for a clean cloth and ran it under cool water. "Well, at least you didn't just stand there and let me beat the shit out of you."

"Only thanks to your training," Giorno said, sincerity in his voice as he reached for the cloth.

Abbacchio noticed his hands were shaking and sighed, motioning for Giorno to sit on the counter. When the kid gingerly heaved himself up, Abbacchio started washing his face off. Careful around the tender eye. He'd get some ice for that later.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

Giorno shook his head, hiding a wince from Abbacchio's ministrations. "You don't have to apologize."

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't," Abbacchio snapped then took a deep breath, making sure Giorno knew he wasn't frustrated with him necessarily. "It's not like I enjoyed it."

Giorno sighed softly. "I was the one who put us both into that position."

"You won though, genuinely, and you did a good job," Abbacchio admitted.

Giorno looked up at him, seeming surprised by his praise. Abbacchio narrowed his eyes and nudged Giorno's head to one side so he could scrub the blood off the side of his head.

"I have a plan," he said quietly.

Abbacchio glanced around but no one was around yet.

"I was hoping this might afford us at least a day of convalescence. We just have to be able to get to an exit."

"We can't leave, kid. Not while Caruso still has his hooks in us."

"No," Giorno said. "I'm not planning on leaving. I'm hoping that something I create with Gold will be able to though. Something that I can use to send a message to the others."

Abbacchio nodded slowly. He wouldn't have thought to risk it when they had first got here, but it had been longer than he expected, so the others might need a little help getting to them. It seemed like something they would just have to risk.

He left Giorno to finish cleaning up and dug out a fresh shirt for the kid that didn't have blood down the front of it. He then went to grab ice and pain pills, both of which would be much needed.

By the time he got back, Giorno had changed and was lying gingerly down on his cot.

"Here," Abbacchio handed him the ice pack and Giorno gratefully placed it over his swollen eye. "Your face looks awful, but how's the rest of you?"

Giorno grunted. "I'm going to be sore for a couple days but nothing is damaged. How's your arm?"

Abbacchio rolled the shoulder Giorno had trapped in the lock. It was a bit stiff but no real harm done. "Fine." He sat down on his cot, swallowing a couple pills. "So, this plan of yours…"

Giorno's lips pressed tight. "I'd rather not discuss it just in case. I know this might be hard, but I have to ask you to trust me."

Abbacchio exhaled slowly. A couple weeks ago, he might have completely refused, but he was beginning to see the Giorno who had been able to take down Diavolo. As much as he sometimes hated the way Giorno went about getting his plans in action, he had to admit that the kid really did have a head for tactics.

"Alright," he said finally as he lay down, grabbing the other ice pack he had brought and using it on his hands. "Tomorrow?"

Giorno gave a brief nod. "Tomorrow."

~~~~~~~

Tomorrow dawned to the normal bustle. Abbacchio and Giorno went through the motions, still being mostly ignored by the other fighters aside from a brief sneer here and there. It seemed that labeling themselves troublemakers had made it so no one wanted to associate with them, which was fine with Abbacchio. The fewer people getting in their way the better, especially now.

They waited until the other fighters were invested in their typical morning routine in the gym, using their injuries as an excuse not to join.

Once they got out of the gym however, Giorno met up with Abbacchio as they made their way through the kitchen and around to the cafeteria to get up to the first floor.

"Where?" Abbacchio asked.

Giorno pressed his lips together. "The main entrance might be our only option. If I can get the door open enough then I can let out the carrier pigeon I'm going to have Gold make."

Giorno had a small paperback book under his arm, which must be what he had in mind for the pigeon.

"Basically, I just need you to keep an eye out for guards and distract them if need be. Hopefully just doing this won't trip Caruso's Stand."

Abbacchio grunted in agreement. They still had no idea what the Stand's limits really were. Hopefully they would at least be able to open the door as long as they had no intention of leaving.

There were no guards visible once they got up to the main floor and Abbacchio and Giorno hurried toward the main entrance. He stopped a little way's back, watching as Giorno approached the door. It was locked, but it was easy enough for him to turn the latch into vines and pull it free.

Abbacchio listened carefully, keeping an eye out before he turned back to Giorno who had turned toward him.

"Good?" he asked.

Abbacchio glanced around again. "Clear."

Giorno nodded and summoned Gold Experience. He handed his Stand the book and the paperback morphed into a pigeon. Giorno let his Stand hold it as he pulled a small rolled note from his pocket and quickly attached it to the bird's leg.

"And you're sure that thing will get to the others?" Abbacchio asked.

"The creatures Gold Experience makes have a will of their own, but they are also, in a way, part of me," Giorno said. "I can imbue a sense of purpose into them."

Abbacchio was willing to accept that explanation for what it was and continued to keep watch.

"Ready," Giorno announced as he reached for the door.

The instant he began to pull it open, Abbacchio watched as Giorno's body suddenly went rigid, and he let out a choked sound.

"Giorno!" Abbacchio called, stepping forward.

Giorno held up his hand, shaking his head as he carefully took the pigeon from his Stand who was flickering. "I—I got it," he said before he opened the door further then collapsed onto the floor with a cry, curling up in some kind of obvious agony.

"Hey!" Abbacchio rushed forward, but the instant he got close to the door, he could feel a wave of agony crash over him as well, starting at the brand on his shoulder and shooting through his body like a strike of lightning. He was forced to his knees, reaching for Giorno or the door, he wasn't sure which. He could barely move.

He tried summoning Moody Blues to close the door for him, but his Stand wouldn't appear. The longer he sat there the worst the pain got. He could see Giorno choking up blood, and with the last of his energy, he grabbed the back of the kid's shirt and collapsed backwards, hauling both of them further away from the exit, and kicking the door shut again.

The pain slowly subsided as they both lay there, weak and panting, unable to even think of moving as footsteps rushed toward them.

"Stay there, don't move!"

Abbacchio glanced up to see the guards surrounding them, several leveling guns at them as two kicked them onto their stomachs and cuffed their hands behind their backs.

"You were warned not to try to escape," one said.

"What do we do with them?" another asked.

"We call the Boss, see what he wants us to do." He eyed up Abbacchio and Giorno. "Frankly, I don't see much of a point in keeping these two around anymore. They're more trouble than they're worth."

Abbacchio's lip curled. "Same to you when we get out of here."

The guard smirked, hauling him to his feet painfully. "Sadly, that doesn't look like it's gonna happen, does it?"

They were both hauled into a small office and tossed into one corner while one of the men went to presumably call Caruso.

Abbacchio glanced over at Giorno, afraid of the answer he might get when he quietly asked, "Well?"

Giorno provided a small smile and nodded. "It's done."

Abbacchio sank back against the wall with some modicum of relief. At least this venture hadn't entirely been in vain.

Now they just had to hope the pigeon would get to the others before Caruso had them killed.

The door opened and the guard who had been on the phone came in.

"Well?" the other men asked. "Is it an execution?"

"No. Caruso says he has something special planned…for tonight," he said, glancing at the captives with a cruel smirk. "It's a lot more interesting than an execution."

Chapter 8

Summary:

Giorno and Abbacchio are pitted against the rest of the fighters, but a rescue party might be on the way...

Notes:

Final chapter! That means it's time to get them out of here ^_^

It didn't look like there would be a chance to escape, Giorno realized, as he and Abbacchio still sat, hours later, in the office, hands manacled behind their backs. The guards hadn't let them out of their sight, obviously worried they would try something.

Giorno could have tried summoning Gold to release the cuffs but they still wouldn't be able to get out of the building without releasing Caruso's hold on them, and then they would just be trapped inside, waiting for the man to come back with reinforcements, hoping they could get a lucky hit in before they were taken down.

There was no communication between them either as any time they so much as looked at each other, the guards came in with kicks or threats, obviously afraid they would try something.

They seemed pretty stuck.

Much later, Caruso came in, a dark look on his face as he turned to the guards. "We need to do this tonight. I want you to let the others know now. I've already got the men spreading the word."

Giorno's ears perked at this. Was that an admission of desperation? Could the others be on his tail, or was Caruso just wanting to get rid of Giorno and Abbacchio before they caused him any more trouble?

He came to stand over the captives. "I can't afford to have you screwing everything up for me, but I'm a fair man, I'll give you a fighting chance in the ring."

"So you want to make more money off of us before you kill us is what you're saying," Abbacchio sneered.

Caruso smirked. "Can you blame me? Melee fights always make money, especially when they promise major injury and even death as a possibility. The crowd likes that. A little reminder of the old gladiatorial days."

He turned to the guards and nodded to them. They came forward and hefted Giorno and Abbacchio to their feet. "Get ready, boys, because tonight you're going to be taking on the rest of my crew. Last man standing goes free."

~~~~~~~

Giorno didn't like this at all. With that prize, he had a feeling a lot of the fighters would be willing to do anything. He knew not all of them were here willingly. He and Abbacchio would obviously be the first targets once the fight started, but if they could last long enough for the other fighters to turn on each other too, they might have a chance.

"You okay with working together on this?" Abbacchio asked Giorno who looked up at him in surprise.

"Of course," he replied. "We're both going to get out of here, Abbacchio."

The goth gave him a look. "That's the plan anyway."

They were already locked in the ring when the spectators started coming in. There was a huge crowd that night. Caruso had been right, apparently a melee fight really did draw in the numbers.

There was nothing they could do now but fight. Hopefully they would be able to hold their own by watching each other's backs, since Caruso had made it clear that if he saw Stand powers being used, they would be shot.

Eventually, Caruso came out to announce the fight and opened up the cage to let all the other fighters in.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, we have a special fight for all of you. Last man standing wins! Put your bets down now."

Giorno and Abbacchio positioned themselves back-to-back as the other fighters began to circle them, hemming them in.

"We're gonna demolish you," Wolf snarled. Minotaur licked his lips.

Giorno flexed his hands in the wraps, thinking about the best way to go about this. They couldn't rely on defense the whole time, they would have to take some of the fighters out if they even wanted a chance to win.

"You hurt Cobra, the other night," Giorno murmured to Abbacchio. "He's still favoring his right knee."

Abbacchio hummed in acknowledgement. "Minotaur took a hit to the left shoulder as well. He won't be able to defend himself that well on that side."

Giorno nodded. If they played the others' weaknesses against them, then they might have a chance.

A bell rang and the fighters wasted no time in rushing them all at once. Giorno didn't even try to push back, he pressed his back against Abbacchio's and they spun around as Abbacchio delivered several damaging, rapid-fire hits to the fighters in front of him.

Giorno went straight for kicking, going right for Cobra's bad knee.

The man howled as he staggered back and was instantly replaced by Drago. Giorno had never gone up against the champion fighter, but the man spent little time in leveling a damaging blow right to the side of his head.

Giorno turned to soften it slightly, but it still left his ears ringing and he knew he would have to play more carefully.

Abbacchio caught him before he collapsed however, and spun him toward one of the other fighters as he rushed Drago and slammed a shoulder into his ribs as he bent and grabbed the man's ankle, tipping him backwards and slamming the heel of his foot against Drago's skull.

Giorno was too preoccupied to watch more and found himself facing Wolf. He blocked several blows before he threw one himself, fixing his stance like Abbacchio taught him to put as much power behind it as possible. Wolf's jaw snapped shut and his head whipped back. Giorno used the chain link to heave himself up and kick the man solidly in the chest, sending him backwards only to be trampled by Minotaur.

The huge man practically plucked Giorno from the cage edge and slammed a knee into his middle. Giorno gagged for breath then found his face meeting the ground as a meaty fist slammed into the side of his head.

He must have blacked out for a brief second before he heard Minotaur grunt, and blinked up to see Abbacchio on Minotaur's back, arm locked firmly around his neck as he repeatedly slammed his knee into the small of the huge man's back.

Giorno dragged himself up, slamming an elbow into Minotaur's solar plexus and as he folded with a gasp, he smashed his elbow into the man's jaw as well.

To his surprise, Minotaur dropped with a heavy thud on the mat.

"Glass jaw," Abbacchio gasped, wincing as he put his weight on the knee he'd been hammering into Minotaur's body. "Good thing too because his back was fucking solid."

They were able to take out a couple more fighters by tag-teaming, but Giorno was honestly exhausted and he was sure Abbacchio was getting there too. He had never personally been in a physical fight this long before.

The crowd was going insane, cheering on their favorite—or rather the fighter they had put money on.

Giorno took a brief breather, propping himself up on the chain link as he wiped blood out of his eye so he could actually see. That was when he glanced down and saw a familiar face in the crowd, staring up at him. He stared in shock as Mista met his eyes.

Giorno glanced over toward Caruso who was holding a gun in case he needed it. Mista glanced in that direction as well, and then nodded, seeming to understand the situation.

Giorno turned back to the fight as the gunman began to weave his way through the gathered spectators.

Giorno didn't waste time. They were being rescued. He didn't have to worry about Caruso's rules anymore.

He glanced up to see Abbacchio being set upon and as he went to help, Wolf flung himself towards Giorno, only to be stopped by part of the cage turning into vines and choking him, yanking him back toward a post with a startled yelp.

"Gold Experience!" Giorno shouted and his Stand appeared fully, kicking another fighter in the back of the head as Giorno forced his way toward Abbacchio.

"What the hell are you doing?" Abbacchio demanded, clawing at the art Drago currently had wrapped around his throat.

Giorno took one of his wraps and threw it, having Gold form it into a snake midair. The fighters in the vicinity shouted and parted, leaving Giorno and Abbacchio alone in the scramble.

Unfortunately, that left them unprotected from Caruso.

"Giorno!" Abbacchio shouted, and Giorno turned just in time to see Caruso aiming his gun at him.

Two shots rang out and Giorno felt an impact in his side, forcing him to stagger back as he watched Mista take a flying leap at Caruso, taking him down as the man cried out, holding a bleeding hand.

Abbacchio caught Giorno with a curse as the doors to the building flew open thanks to Sticky Fingers and Bucciarati, Narancia and Fugo burst in.

"Shit, Giorno," Abbacchio gritted out, pressing a hand to the wound that was causing a pool of blood to form above Giorno's right hip.

"S'fine," Giorno gulped as he had Gold begin to heal the wound, turning the bullet back into flesh—he had a lot of practice with that thanks to Mista.

Outside the cage, it was chaos. The spectators seemed to think it was a raid and were trying to get out of there before they could be convicted of illegal betting.

The cage door was ripped open thanks to bullets from Aerosmith and Narancia and Fugo stood there, beckoning to them.

"Giorno! Abbacchio!" they cried.

Giorno gasped in pain at the sudden movement when Abbacchio simply heaved him up and carried him out, summoning Moody Blues to kick aside Wolf as he passed. When they got out, Bucciarati and Mista were detaining Caruso, or attempting to. He had brought his Stand out and while it was not necessarily strong, it was fast and was giving the two a run for their money.

Mista's gun was knocked out of his hand and, though Bucciarati had a hold of Caruso's hand that held his gun, he could still summon his Stand.

"For Those About To Rock!" Caruso shouted.

Giorno dove forward as soon as Abbacchio lowered him to the ground and grabbed Mista's gun. He didn't hesitate as he instantly held it up and fired.

Caruso stopped in his tracks, staring down at the hole in his chest.

"In case you're still questioning it, that's why I'm the Don," Giorno gritted out, holding his side.

Bucciarati swiftly ducked in and used Sticky Fingers to disassemble Caruso's body, just to make sure he wouldn't be coming back.

Giorno slumped, panting, gritting his teeth against the pain of the still healing bullet wound in his side.

"Giorno," Bucciarati breathed and hurried forward, kneeling to grip his shoulders before pulling him into a careful hug. "God, I was so worried."

Giorno took a moment to gratefully soak in Bucciarati's kind embrace before he pushed himself upright more, looking around. But it looked like everything had been taken care of. The fighters had been locked back into the cage with Narancia and Fugo presiding over them.

Mista strode over and Giorno handed him his gun.

"Thanks," Giorno said.

Mista laughed. "Thank you! I was the one who dropped it." He leaned over to wrap Giorno in a hug that was almost tight enough to hurt considering his various injuries but it was still welcome. "Glad we found you in one piece, kiddo—or, more or less one piece, I suppose."

Giorno smiled, licking his split lip as he pressed his fingers to his bullet wound, feeling the skin closing over. "It's good to see you again too, Mista."

~~~~~~~

Abbacchio endured some of Bruno's fussing as he closed bleeding wounds with zippers, but turned to stare at all the fighters trapped in the ring, glowering at them.

"What are we going to do with them?"

"Give them a choice," Giorno said as he staggered up, leaning on Mista. He looked up to address the fighters. "In case you're not aware, I am Giorno Giovanna, the new Don of Passione," he said. Some of the men had the grace to look humbled. Others continued to glower. "Unlike Caruso, I'm willing to offer you all a choice. If you were kept here against your will, you are more than welcome to leave. If you were here willingly, I will offer you a job in the organization. If you don't want to take it, however, I want you out of this city in three days or I will have you removed. I'll leave you a little while to make your decisions."

Abbacchio snorted, but he was more impressed than anything, he had to admit. The kid really had grown up, he supposed. He almost had some of those men pissing themselves.

Bruno had called in another crew to help clean things up, and when he was done, he turned to Abbacchio. "I'm sure you're both tired. Why don't you go wait in the van?"

He stared pointedly at Giorno who was sagging further against Mista, obviously implying that Abbacchio should lead by example. He rolled his eyes slightly, but couldn't deny he was exhausted.

"Fine," he said and turned to Giorno. "Come on, kid, let's get out of here."

Giorno looked up in surprise and looked like he was about to protest but Abbacchio gave him a look, and he only seemed to slump further against Mista, giving a nod in acquiescence.

The fresh air felt amazing after being cooped up in the basement of that building for so long. Abbacchio decided spending a couple days reading in the garden might be a good recovery plan after this.

Luckily the van was parked right out front of the warehouse and Fugo hurriedly ran to open the door for them as they approached.

Abbacchio slumped in the back of the van as Mista helped Giorno in after him. Both of them were beat to hell and exhausted. Abbacchio lifted an arm instinctively to help haul Giorno inside and the kid pretty much collapsed into his side, eyes shut as he sank further against Abbacchio.

"You good, GioGio?" Mista asked.

"Mm," Giorno murmured, looking like he was already mostly asleep.

"Aww, Bucciarati look!" Narancia chortled. "Abbacchio's actually letting Giorno sleep on him! What the hell happened in there?"

"Shut up, brat, I'm not so tired I can't kick your ass," Abbacchio growled at him half-heartedly. Normally, he might have shoved Giorno away, but instead he found himself pulling him closer. He was too tired to do even that much, he told himself.

Bruno, to his annoyance, gave a soft smile and pushed Narancia away. "Leave them alone, Narancia. I'm going to stay here and wait for another crew to come help clean up. The rest of you get Giorno and Abbacchio back home."

"Sure thing," Mista said and got onto the driver's seat, Narancia and Fugo also climbing in.

Abbacchio closed his eyes as they started moving, feeling Giorno breathing heavily against his shoulder. He checked the kid's bullet wound briefly, but it did seem to be mostly healed with just some residual bruising, which was hard to distinguish among all the others.

By the time they got back, Abbacchio was really feeling the last couple weeks. Maybe it was the fact that the constant adrenaline he'd had to keep up was finally gone, but he honestly wasn't sure he could even get into the house.

He nudged Giorno as they pulled up and the kid stirred groggily, blinking.

"We're home, kid," Abbacchio told him quietly.

Relief flooded Giorno's face and he gratefully accepted the hand Mista offered to help pull him out of the car.

Fugo and Narancia helped Abbacchio out and into the house where Trish ran to meet them gratefully, hugging them both.

"You'll probably want to get cleaned up, but we'll have food ready for you by the time you're done," Mista said as he helped Giorno toward the stairs.

"I'll get the first aid kit as well," Fugo said.

Abbacchio eagerly headed toward his bathroom and took a long, hot shower—one where he didn't have to worry about being jumped. The hot water went a long way to working out his aching muscles, and despite the fact he was literally covered in bruises, he felt a lot better afterward, especially when he was finally able to put on his makeup and his own comfortable, black sweats again.

When he got back downstairs, he found Giorno sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of pasta while Fugo and Trish fussed over his injuries.

"Really, I'll be fine, I'm just going to be sore for a few days," Giorno protested, obviously more worried about eating.

"These bruises look awful," Trish tutted, taping a bandage over a cut on his forehead.

"I promise it's fine," Giorno told her. "Really, I'm just glad to be back home."

"What about you, Abbacchio?" Fugo asked.

Abbacchio waved him off. "Nothing some pain meds and decent sleep can't fix."

Mista put another bowl in front of him and Abbacchio eagerly went at it, the simple pasta a million times better than anything he had eaten in days.

Bucciarati came back while they were on their second helping and Giorno glanced up at him.

"Is everything cleaned up?" he asked.

Bucciarati nodded. "It will take a bit to root out the rest of Caruso's operation, but with the fight ring closed down and him dead, I don't think it will take too much work. And don't worry, we've already dealt with the fighters who refused to cooperate." He came over to sit at the table as Mista hurried to bring him some dinner too. "How are you both?" he asked glancing between Abbacchio and Giorno.

"Nothing a few days of rest won't fix," Abbacchio said and Giorno nodded in agreement.

Bruno sighed. "Well, you both deserve it. I'm only sorry it took us so long to get to you. We suspected Caruso, of course, but it wasn't easy to track down your exact location. I'm glad you were able to get that pigeon to us, Giorno."

"So am I," Giorno said. "And everything turned out all right. It wasn't the worst position we could have been in."

Abbacchio wasn't going to bring up the fact that he had been beaten nearly to death in a bathroom, and Giorno had spent two days locked in a box. If he wanted to leave that out of the report, that was fine with Abbacchio, but if Giorno continued to wake up from night terrors, he might have to have a word with Bruno at least. He knew better than anyone how those kinds of things could crop up again when you least expected it.

Still, they were back, and mostly unscathed. It could have been worse. Abbacchio didn't know where he had gotten this new optimism from, but he didn't really care too much at the moment. It was probably the relief of knowing he could lay his aching body in his own comfortable bed that night.

Bucciarati got up with the stack of empty dishes to put them in the sink. "Regardless, I'm glad you're both back safely."

Giorno pushed away from the table, still obviously holding himself stiffly. "Do we need to do anything else to clean this situation up?" he asked.

Bruno shook his head. "Fugo and I will take care of all of that, there's really not that much to do. We already have a few candidates for Passione members to take over Caruso's position. But you can worry about looking at those tomorrow, Giorno. Both of you just need to worry about resting and recuperating right now."

Giorno sighed, but nodded. "Thank you. You'll have to show me the candidates you had in mind tomorrow."

Bruno nodded and Giorno made his way stiffly out of the kitchen, hopefully to his room. Abbacchio realized too late that he probably had a concerned look on his face when he noticed Bruno watching him.

"Thank you for looking after him, Leone," he said.

Abbacchio grunted, propping his chin in his hand. "It's not like I was just going to feed him to the dogs."

"I know," Bruno replied with a small smile on his lips. "But it's nice to see you two getting along."

Abbacchio glowered at him and stood. "Don't get too used to it. It was extenuating circumstances."

"Of course," Bruno replied with a small smirk that he quickly turned to hide.

Abbacchio sighed and pushed himself up. "I'm going to bed."

"Alright, sleep well."

Abbacchio made his way upstairs and was planning on just crashing in bed, but as he passed Giorno's door, something in his conscious nipped at him and he rolled his eyes and sighed. If he didn't do it now, he never would.

He knocked on the door.

"Oh, you can come in," was the reply from inside.

Abbacchio opened the door to see Giorno watering his copious plants around the room, surprisingly not in bed yet. He looked slightly surprised to see Abbacchio.

"Did you need something?" he asked. "I never asked if you needed anything healed…"

Abbacchio waved away the offer. "Mostly just bruises, I'll be fine. I, um, I just wanted to talk to you for a little bit."

Giorno looked slightly uncomfortable, but was quick to hide it as he took a seat on the bed and Abbacchio pulled out his desk chair, feeling rather awkward. There was really no other way to put it.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend here since I know you're more than aware. I get that I've been a dick to you since you joined."

Giorno's eyebrow rose, but he had the grace not to say anything.

"Mainly because I thought you were just a stupid, reckless kid. Frankly, the reason I hate that so much is because it reminds me of…how I used to be, and I know how that can affect the people around you." He picked at a scab on his knuckle before turning back to Giorno with a reluctant sigh. "But watching you work the last couple weeks—you're reckless, sure, but you also have a head for planning. You're actually genuinely cunning, and not a lot of people can say that. And you have saved my life on more than one occasion now, hell, you practically brought me back from the dead back in Sardinia and I was still a dick to you." He sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for all of that. And I'm going to try to be better."

Giorno nodded, ducking his head slightly. "Thank you, Abbacchio. Truth is, I don't think I completely understood you before this either. So maybe I should also apologize for being annoying."

Abbacchio snorted. "You really don't have to. You're just a kid after all. This is a big job, and I'm sure it's a lot. I couldn't even imagine doing something like this when I was your age. The only thing I want you to remember is that you aren't doing it alone. You have people here to help you, including me."

Giorno gave him a sincere smile, a little lopsided considering one side of his mouth was swollen. "Thank you, Abbacchio. It really does mean a lot to me."

"Just make sure you remember it," Abbacchio said and pushed himself upright again, hesitating slightly before he decided he may as well add this since he had already gone into chick flick territory.

"Look, kid, I don't know what happened to you before you came here, and it's none of my business if you don't want it to be, but if you ever do need to talk…" He cocked his head to one side. "You can always come to me. Bruno's probably better, but I know he can be a little overwhelming, so if you ever just need someone to listen or whatever—you know I'm usually up at night, and I really don't mind if you need someone to vent to. Everyone else does."

Giorno looked slightly surprised, but a small grateful smile curled his lips. "Thank you, Abbacchio, I…I really do appreciate it."

Abbacchio reached out to ruffle his hair, feeling Giorno stiffen a moment before he leaned into the touch. "No problem, kid. Get some rest, huh?"

Giorno nodded and kicked his slippers off, sliding under the covers with a relived sigh. Abbacchio reached for the lamp, but Giorno stopped him.

"Leave it on, please?" he said.

Abbacchio pulled his hand away and nodded. "Sure."

Giorno settled down. "Goodnight, Abbacchio."

"Goodnight, kid."

Abbacchio closed the door quietly behind him before heading to his own room. Exhaustion was pulling at him and he sank gratefully down on his bed, stretching out as he felt all his aching muscles start to relax.

It felt good to be home.

Notes:

Thanks so much to everyone who has read and followed this story! It's been kind of a rough month but seeing your comments always makes me happy <3

I have a bunch of Febuwhump one-shots coming the rest of the month (tomorrow, the first part of a 2-parter is going up so if you want some Bucciarati whump, check it out!)

If you ever want to chat with me, feel free to visit my Tumblr @lady-wallace or my Instagram art account @ladyofinkandpaper