Opium For My Copeium

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"As useful as cannon fodder..." (Y/N) snickered to herself, getting comfy with her pal. "I didn't think you would volunteer to stay back, Rissy. I thought you would be in the frontlines with Prossy."

"I was the best choice in locating you, and by then, shooting had already started to break out so here I am." He shrugged the topic off. Sure, perhaps he did want to slaughter the rest of their team, but he shot the little annoying rat, so he'll take what he can get. As much as he dislikes Bruno's team, they were better than what she could have gotten stuck with. But that being said, he still didn't like them. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno... I still wanted to shoot people, since I didn't think that I would end up being the flag. I mean, it's fun and stuff, but I kinda wanted my revenge." Revenge on both groups, do not give her the paintball gun she will obliterate everyone in sight. "You'd be first on my hit list, Rissy."

"There are no consequences if I shoot you, remember that." He rolled his eyes. Truth be told, he could think of a few reasons why she would want her revenge. If she managed to go through so long taking blades out of her skin without being a little angry, he would think she's fucked in the head. Which is odd, seeing as she is most definitely fucked in the head. At least a little. "I'm the one with the high ground here."

"Wow, threatening an unarmed civilian? How cruel you've gotten. That's another shot. Pew pew." She pulled up her finger gun, nodding her hand to imitate the knockback. "And a shot for trying to kill me, and then a shot for dragging me out of bed at five in the fucking morning, and another one for each time you got me with that stupid spray bottle, and for... uh... not letting me get the ice cream even though it was free, and for..."

As (Y/N) continued her needless ramble about all the stupid reasons she would shoot Risotto, who is looking more and more like a tired dad babysitting their shitty spoiled kid, a zipper slowly unfastened behind her, the ground folding like cloth to reveal a lean arm that reached behind (Y/N).

"Um... I'm running out of reasons to shoot you." the (H/C) haired girl rubbed her temple, trying to stir up bad memories that didn't exactly exist. Granted, there weren't many to begin with. He was very kind to her and dealt with her antics. He did let maggie and her keep the cat, and he did show her a lot of favoritism, but that was because A. She's fucking awesome and deserves the love and praise, and B. She's fucking awesome and deserves the love and praise. What she didn't deserve was the hand that hooked her jacket and launched her backwards into a hole, much to Risotto and her surprise.

"There you are, you troublemaker..." Bruno's voice echoed in the small area as the zipper closed. Using Sticky fingers, he had tracked down the area she was under to do a quick little extraction, and now they would return to the frontlines on the other side. This all felt a little familiar, but it was probably because they did this exact same thing the time her eye got speared.

"Wow, you found me fast." There was a good chance that Bruno placed a tracker somewhere on her body, which probably explained his accuracy. "How are you doing, Bruno?"

"Just peachy." Even if he was tired and a little grumpy, a little smile slipped as he unzipped the ground ahead of them to continue tunneling. This was turning out to be a much more stressful game than they anticipated. Giorno managed to root Prosciutto in place and shoot him square in the leg, which left them at Formaggio, Risotto, and Ghiaccio against Fugo, Giorno, Abbacchio, and him. Turns out, winning against people you have beef with is very addictive.

"I see that smile! You're having fun, admit it!" (Y/N) prod his cheek, before hissing at the unorthodox amount of light that spilled onto them both. They had made it to the other side and finally resurfaced. "Damn that's bright..."

"Hi, (Y/N)." Giorno waved. He hadn't gotten much time in the spotlight since Abbacchio sent him off to play watchtower, but with their dwindling numbers, it was just easier to stick together rather than split into groups. "How was your kidnapping?"

Mista's voice echoed in her mind like a message from god. "Oh you know, just initiating some ligma syndrome."

"Don't you mean lima syndrome-" Fugo fell for that stupid joke one too many times, that and he actually knew what Lima syndrome is.

"What's ligma?" Giorno, poor baby who's never had a shitty friend who's only joy in life is others suffering, fell forit. We did it boys. We have achieved peak comedy.

"Ligma fuckin BALLS" An unknown, raspy, and loud voice barged into their conversation weilding his guns and a crazed smile. Ghiaccio found them. With a wave of ice to hold them in place and a hailstorm of bullets, they were sure to all be killed! Quickly, Fugo used (Y/N) to shield him and his comrades and Giorno forced the plants underneath them to direct the ice shot upwards to deflect the paint bullets. With their allies all protected, Abbacchio would be the one to deliver the final blow. In mere seconds, this battle was over.

"Why the FUCK was I the first thing you could come up with?!" (Y/N) clenched her chest as if to check if her heart had jumped out of its original location.

"Easy. You aren't out even if you were hit." Fugo explained, patting her head. "You're fine. Tough it out champ."

"Ah..." the voice behind them caught their attention, and someone gasped.

A purple splotch stained Bruno's shoulder. "N-no... Bruno, you... You were hit?"

"It seems I was," his expression melancholy, he turned to his men. There didn't need to be any words spoken between them, they knew what it meant. No matter where, if you were hit, you were out. "It's alright. You still have the upper hand. You can still win. It has been an honor."

"No." Fugo bit his lip. "It IS an honor, Bucciarati."

With a curt nod, he stood up, and walked towards the arena exit.

He would never be forgotten.

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