The Ludicrous Escapade Pt.2

Familiar Faces

You went through the whole inspection process for a third time. A full twenty four hours having passed since the last one. Back in the hallway, you brought out Dio.

The vampire unzipped his abdomen for you to show the lighter still burning brightly, presenting it as though it were some sort of prize. He was once again not speaking in the chance Polpo in the room over was a Stand user. You started to reach for it only for him to swat your hand away. He tapped his cheek, waiting for payment.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a quick peck. He smirked, a delighted glint in his eye before handing over the lighter, almost extinguishing the flame in the process. You sent him away as you walked back in front of Polpo's cell. Before the lights in his room could turn on, you placed the lighter down in the tray where it had been given before.

Polpo sat up, "Let's see... you're (Y/N)... (Y/N) (L/N), right?"

You nodded, "Yes, that's me."

He opened up his mini fridge and pulled out an apple. His teeth snapped through the skin as he demolished the entire fruit with a few bites. "This might sound sudden, but are you a religious person?"

You closed your eyes in thought, wondering what Polpo wanted to hear, "If there is a God, I'm not sure why he'd care much for the dealings of us people."

Polpo poured himself a glass of wine, "Well, what I'm about to say might contradict God's teachings, but please listen carefully. If the most important thing in this world is trust, the worst thing you can do is insult someone. Listen well... to insult or betray someone's trust not only hurts their reputation, but puts them in a very sticky situation. We will not fight others or risk our lives for money, power, or having our seat taken in a bus or theater. Fighting is foolish, and only idiots would bother with it. But..." He pointed at you, his unusual eyes boring into your very being, "I will risk my life over being insulted. I believe that God forgives even murder. Don't ever forget that."

He leaned back, a smile on his face. Colorful lights danced along the back of his cell wall. "Now congratulations! I will allow you to enter the organization. You brought back a little lighter like I had trusted you to do. You pass." He flicked a pin into the air. It landed perfectly on your side of the exchange area. "That's our Passione organization's badge. It proves you passed. You'll be working under Bucciarati for a while. I understand that you already know him well enough, so working together might prove easier." He took a sip of the wine before raising the bottle, "So what do you say? Why don't we celebrate your success?"

You picked up the badge and slipped it into your pocket, "I appreciate the offer, but I'll just be on my way if you don't mind." He nodded in understanding so you went on your way.

Waiting outside the prison was Bucciarati, "Congratulations, I suppose. I'll be taking you to meet the rest of my team." You picked up your pace to match the speed he was walking away at. "Our main job is collecting protection fees from restaurants along the streets and the port. I take pride in ensuring those citizens' safety so I expect you to not take this work lightly. Of course, we occasionally are asked to perform more menial tasks. We patrol fairly often as well. And do understand that you are now representing Passione. Be careful to avoid any actions that would make people think down on this organization."

"Okay. I understand."

Eventually the two of you stopped in front of a restaurant called Libeccio, "This is our team's usual hangout spot. Also, just like you and me, they're all Stand users." Bucciarati walked over to a round table which had his team sitting around it. To your surprise, you recognized all of them.

Narancia had his forehead pressed against the table with his workbook sitting on his head. The blonde man who had been previously referred to as Fugo looked about ready to pour some of the scalding hot tea on Narancia. Mista had leaned back on the hind legs of his chair with his eyes closed. The purple haired man that had bumped into you at the store on your first day in Italy had headphones on, zoning out any of the surrounding conversation.