Just One Yesterday

Chapter 1: The cliche opening

Sorbet traveled from France to Italy for Polpo’s invitation. His new name, Sorbet, was given by the said man.

“It’s Sorbet, then.” At that time, the giant was not yet a human-mattress. He was not in prison, either. But you can already see the tendency of inflation based on his heavy diet. Polpo was having the said frozen dessert and was nodding to himself in satisfaction. His large hand pushed the fake ID, along with other necessary documents, to the man in the black shirt.

“You are all set. Come to this place tomorrow.” He said.

After spending 4 hours on the cross-border train and one hour on the boat bouncing along with the wave, Sorbet felt that he just cannot handle any more information. For the first time, instead of memorizing the location and discarding that piece of evidence, this professional gun-for-hire kept the note in his new passport and decided to have a good rest.

Sorbet arrived in Italy in the summer, dressed like a tourist for a short trip. He still had one of those fast talk books for Italian in his briefcase. The book was already worn-out from how often he had flipped the pages. On his way to the hotel, Sorbet felt that he was going to melt under the sweltering sun, just like his name.

Later, he skimmed through the identity document given by Polpo. On the ID card, the name ‘Sorbet’ was printed just beside his usual, stoic face, perhaps that’s what Polpo wanted, to make the whole thing look ridiculous. Sorbet remembered that what Polpo said when he was trying to poach him. The gang that hired him just welcomed its new boss and the boss needed a team of trained assassins to help him with the dirty work, securing the business and clearing the obstacles. When the dust has settled, the gang will monopolize the narcotics market and the boss will show his gratitude to those who supported him during the hard times. The black-scleraed giant hinted that this is something that he wouldn’t want to miss. The new boss is a mysterious man and no one knows his past, but he is someone who can pull all those strings. Once the gang has its place in Italy, selling drugs will become a low-risk business with considerable profit. Their payment will also rise accordingly, so why not take the chance?

Sorbet was convinced. He likes money, but in France, death is always a noble thing and nobility is not something that can be monetized. Now, an Italian mafia offered him a well-payed job and they even arranged transportation. Of course, he wants to go abroad to pursue his career. As long as there is money, a dead Italian does not differ that much to a dead French.

---

 
He arrived at the warehouse in the evening. Polpo’s pseudo name was on the door. He remembered that location earlier before and used the note as the rolling paper for his tobacco. When Sorbet dropped off from the bus, he lit up the cigarette. He walked all the way to the door of the warehouse and the cigarette just burnt to the end. Well. Sorbet thought to himself. Let’s just hope that I won’t be welcomed by enemies. But, in fact, his hand already reached into the briefcase and clenched his handgun. Sorbet knocked on the door using the gun handle and someone inside responded. Then he heard the sound of rolling shutters from the side of the house.

Sorbet walked close to the wall and approached to the sound source. He could smell someone at the door. Sorbet was very sensitive to smells, which helped him detect threats out of sight. The scent was heavy, so it should belong to men. Polpo had told him that he will meet two teammates at the warehouse. It was them, then. However, even with this acknowledgment, Sorbet did not let his guard down. Back in France, he once heard that foreign workers are usually unfairly treated in Italian gangs. Even if they perform the same job as the native gangsters, a foreigner is always paid less and receive less respect from others. Sorbet is a professional, a professional murderer to be exact. He knew that, in this line of work, there were plenty of weirdos that basically have no sense of manner. In order not to be stepped on by his future colleagues, Sorbet decided to get the upper hand.

He burst into the room and used the briefcase to flip the short man to the ground and stepped on his neck. Sorbet looked around, trying to find his teammate, but there is no one in sight. Only the two half-filled cups on the table implied the other’s presence. He checked again, without noticing the man under his feet has already recovered from the sudden attack and used his right hand to signal his invisible companion.

“Metallica!”

“Little feet!”

Two voices shouted near Sorbet. He immediately felt the sharp pain in his right foot and left hand. Nails, razors and other sharp metal objects that he could not name formed under the skin of his left and some already punctured his skin, causing blood to flow all over his hand. Suddenly, medical scissors appeared inside his left wrist and caught the joint between its sharp blades, threatening him from any movement or else it would cut off his hand. The strong pain and numbness due to the blood loss made Sorbet drop his gun. It fell near the short man and he used his right hand to grab it immediately. Compared to the damage on his hand, the wound on Sorbet’s right ankle was merely a shallow cut from a knife and the pain was almost negligible.

“Don’t move.” The sound came from his left side. Sorbet turned to the sound and saw a man of his own height. That bare-chested man was wearing some weird clothing. He was muscular and his sclerae were also black, just like Polpo. The man was staring at Sorbet.

“Why would I——uh!” Unable to finish his sentence, Sorbet suddenly felt dizzy. The guy under him was somehow getting bigger and so as the man on his left. This is a stand attack, Sorbet thought, that’s why Polpo hired him. The boss wanted stand-users to work for him. The metal-inserting and this somewhat shrinking ability are their stands’ power. Sorbet snickered to himself. Now he knew their abilities, but they had no idea what he had in hand.

Sorbet continued to shrink. He could feel that he is losing his strength. The short man took the chance and swiped him to the ground. The gun was pointed to his head.

“Risotto, is he an enemy?” The short-haired man rubbed his neck with a painful face and stepped Sorbet’s injured hand for revenge.

“I suggest you stay still.” Sorbet calmly threaten.

“Shut the fuck——“Before he could finish, the short man realized that something was off. His right hand felt like it was pressing against something cold and hard, but his “real right hand” has lost control and pointed the gun to the guy named Risotto.

“Oi! Risotto! Get down! I’m losing control!” His right hand pulled the trigger and a bullet hit the floor just in front of Risotto.

“I’ll KILL YOU!” The short man yelled, grabbing his own right hand and pointing the gun to other direction as if he was trying to wresting himself. Sorbet quietly smiled. He was still shrinking, but fortunately, the wound on his left hand became less painful as he shrank. As you wish, he thought. Then the muzzle of the gun suddenly pointed to the man himself.

“Don’t move. Both of you.” The man named Risotto came closer and Sorbet failed to notice that. Although he was a muscular, buff guy, he was able to move without making a sound, which suggested that he had good control of his body movement. The distance between them closed and Sorbet began to feel those metal blades merging under his skin again. Those nails and razors did not shrink with him. So they pierced his left arm easily.

“No one is killing anyone today.” Risotto said firmly, but he didn’t retrieve his stand. Nor did the short guy. He slowly crouched down and picked up Sorbet’s briefcase, pulled out his passport and examined carefully before putting it back.

“Let Formaggio go. We are your teammates.” Risotto retracted his stand and pulled out a brooch from his trouser pocket, carefully showed it to Sorbet. Sorbet recognized the design, it was the same thing that Polpo mentioned about.

He silently called back his stand and released Formaggio. The said man also returned him to the full size. The trio fell silent for a moment until the sound of blood dripping from Sorbet’s hand reminded Formaggio that he was still wounded. Among the three, Formaggio was the first one arrived and he has already searched all over the place. So he called Risotto and Sorbet to sit near the table while he went to get medical supplies. Formaggio came back with some bandage, another cup and three bottles of beer.

He threw the bandage to Sorbet and the other man took it without a word and began to wrap around his hand. Risotto remained silent and was staring at the table.

“Ehem!” Formaggio cannot stand the silence anymore and forced himself to start talking. “So, we are the new assassin squad, right? I knew the whole ‘team building’ stuff so let’s talk.”

Sorbet glanced at him and took a sip of the beer. Risotto seemed uninterested. His cup was left untouched.

Formaggio turned his focus to the new member, aka Sorbet.

“As you can see, I’m Formaggio. This is Risotto, Risotto Nero. Yes, I’m fully aware that we sound like a fuckin’ lunch menu. Nice to meet you, Sorbetto.”

“It’s Sorbet. I’m French.” Sorbet opened another beer and poured into his cup.

“Oh! So that’s actually your accent. I thought you were having a cold or somethin’. What did you do in France?” Formaggio also added more beer to his cup, but Risotto still didn’t touch his drink.

“Same job.”

“So you’re a professional, right? You’re like Risotto.”

Sorbet looked at Risotto, he nodded in confirmation.

“And you are not?” He asked.

“Nah. I was working as a security guard in one of Polpo’s casino. Minimizin’ those problems.” Formaggio replied with a gesture of shrinking things down.

Sorbet realized that he was trying to make a pun, but he didn’t find it amusing. Unexpectedly, Risotto laughed at his comments.

Formaggio continues: “I heard that the boss wants a squad of assassins, so I asked for transferral and they approved. What can I say, I have mouths to feed.”

“You have kids?” Sorbet was curious, as well as confused. It’s not like having kids while you are young is impossible, but Sorbet just cannot picture a guy like Formaggio caring about his family.

“I have cats.” The short-haired man could barely control his excitement. “I have FOUR kitties! Take a look at their photo!” He took the photo out of his pocket. There were 4 kittens sitting on the couch. Each of them was wearing a small paper hat. It must be very hard to keep the kitten in posture. The photo was taken in a hurry and the edges were blurred.

“You guys have no idea how much it cost me to raise them,” Formaggio claimed with pride. Sorbet and Risotto silently exchanged a look that basically said: “what the fuck is with this guy”.

“How about you? You came from France to hide from someone?”

“No. I just want to be in a new working environment and expand my career. France is…too peaceful for this line of work.” There weren’t enough jobs and the payment was disappointing. But Sorbet still had some patriotism in his heart. So he rephrased his response into something less blunt.

“I know, I know. All for the money. ” Formaggio replied. “Risotto, what about you?”

“…I kill to survive.” Risotto didn’t look very happy. “I owe my life to the gang.”

No one knew how to properly respond to his words. It was Formaggio who reacted by pouring some more beer into the untouched cup and petted him on the shoulder.

“It’s all right. After it settles down, our position will be high and, as our leader, no now would dare to ask you for the payback.”

Working in a casino serves you right, Formaggio. Sorbet was impressed by his wit.

However, an hour and a half later, when they drove to their temporary base, Sorbet found himself stuck in the passenger seat with the said drunk man and all his hope was someone could come and rip out that silver tongue.

Chapter 2: Distribution center for stray animals

Chapter 4: Armchair assassins

After the assassins took care of the American gang, they finally were allowed to have a short recess. Although Risotto was not good at words, he was always fair. The assassins shared the rewards from the last mission, even Illuso had no complaints. Occasionally, the boss would send some urgent orders, asking them to put some local organizations in their place and kill someone who dared to challenge Passione. But compared with the extreme stress in the previous 2 months, their current life could be regarded as peaceful and relaxing. Only 2 people needed to stay on duty at the headquarter and the rest of the team can have their short break.

Until Prosciutto’s turn for a break.

It was Formaggio and Sorbet’s turn to stay on duty during that week and when Prosciutto entered the headquarter, they thought they were under attack. The blonde did not wear his usual suit but a long trench coat. His hair was not tied into neat buns either. Perhaps Prosciutto’s usual workaholic appearance had left such a deep impression in his colleagues that the slightest he change in his look could cause face blindness.

“It’s me. ” Prosciutto called out his stand. The Grateful Dead, as a representation of his owner, casted a disdainful look to his colleagues. “Seriously, you cannot recognize me without a suit?”

“Nah, I just didn’t expect the change in hairstyle to have so much effect,” Formaggio said and petted his own head. When he was the security in the casino, some customers smashed wine bottles on him and left 2 permeant scars on his head. Since the hair cannot grow on the scars, the optional hairstyle for Formaggio is limited.

“Combing back your hair makes you bald.” Prosciutto said as he tried to comb his hair out of sight. He gave Sorbet a look of “you know what I mean”.

For the sake of clear vision, the raven-haired killer who always combs his head backward felt that he cannot comprehend the Italian gangster fashion.

“I asked Gelato and Illuso to meet me. Where are they?” Prosciutto glanced around, trying to find the two. Gelato and Illuso just joined recently and had not yet to find a place to stay. Fortunately, their base is large enough for them to choose 2 empty storage rooms as a temporary residence. Gelato was, after all, a former soldier. After sleeping in the basement for a month, he could still keep up a regular sleep-wake cycle. But Illuso couldn’t do it. Before joining the assassins, he only slept in the mirror world. The basement had no sunlight to indicate time, so after several days, his biological clock began to confuse itself. Illuso often slept until noon and stay up awake till the middle of the night. But he was still young. He was not yet 20, so strictly speaking, Illuso was still a teenager. Considering that fact that Illuso grew up in a deprived environment and the teenager’s brain is still in developing stages, it’s possible that the nerves that control sleeping and waking did not grow well at his early age.

Prosciutto convinced himself. It surprised him that those self-help books from Formaggio as Christmas present really worked.

“It’s your day off, isn’t it?” Gelato, in his usual coverall, poked half of the body out of the communication room. The receiver Prosciutto smashed during the last mission was completely beyond repair so they asked for a replacement. However, the new device used a different kind of encryption system and it was not compatible with their current setting. After knowing that there was no one in la Squadra being able to fix the circuit, the former military technician volunteered to give-up his day-off to fix the problem.

Although Gelato did not go through any of the gang training, his ability to be an assassin is as good as any professional killer and he even mastered many skills beyond that. Prosciutto respected Gelato for this reason. Gelato rarely talks about his own past— perhaps he told Sorbet some of his stories, but Sorbet had kept his lips sealed, which is a good moral. Prosciutto could only guess from Gelato’s skill that he probably worked as some technology specialist in the army. Like all soldiers, Gelato was good at using guns, but not all good military personnel can skillfully answer telegrams, decipher codes, or fixing electronics. He probably worked in the logistics branch. Generally speaking, the logistics is in charge of military resources and has a high status in the army. They are the people who often play the role of bullies. However, Gelato from the logistics department was suppressed to the point that they drove him out of the army. It wasn’t very hard for Prosciutto to guess out how much humiliation Gelato had faced during back then.

Still, Gelato appeared to be optimistic about it. When Gelato joined them, he briefly introduced himself, from when he left the army to the point that he stayed in Sorbet’s house. He concluded: “It’s not all bad, at least they have to fake my death to cover things up. I heard that they declared that I died from an accident. Now it’s even harder for people to find my true identity.”

Prosciutto did buy the whole “faking death” excuse, but he wasn’t interested in military stuff. Given that fact the Gelato’s identity information indeed disappeared shortly after he left the army, Prosciutto decided that it would be unwise, or even counterproductive, to dig out things that were already buried.

Prosciutto reminded Gelato: “I’m going to take you and Illuso to shop.”

Illuso just woke up. He walked to the upstairs, yawning while tying his hair in ponytails. According to Formaggio’s observation, the number of ponytails would depend on how many hair ties Illuso could find on his nightstand.

“For groceries? I bought food yesterday.” Formaggio put down the newspaper and opened the fridge to check. Yesterday, he went to drink with Sorbet and got quite drunk. He remembered that he did buy things on the shopping list, but he was not sure.

The fridge was filled with beer and “healthy foods” that Prosciutto asked for. When Illuso joined the team, he was malnourished and significantly underweight. Therefore, Risotto ordered him to gain some weight during his temporary stay at the base. Illuso had to eat four meals a day and exercise regularly and Gelato was assigned to supervise him. Seeing the food he remembered to bought, Formaggio sighed with relief and took out a beer.

Prosciutto also drink at work, so he was not in a position to criticize.

“Buy clothes. Gelato cannot wear that military training outfit to work, that will lead to some unwanted attention. As for Illuso, it’s going to be cold and he doesn’t have anything warm to wear. I’ve already made an appointment with my tailor. The appearance of our team matters.” The blonde clarified.

Ok I got it. Women go shopping. Before he blurred out, Formaggio braked in time and bite back those dangerous sexism comments that would probably cost him a limb or two.

“I don’t want to go…It’s so cold outside.” Illuso was stilling wearing thin clothing, which was his only cloth. Their base had the heating system of the residential building, but it did not really help when the temperature dropped to a certain point. Even Risotto, who was still shirtless in the late autumn, decided to put on more clothes in both indoors and outdoors.

“We are going to buy some winter clothes.” Prosciutto checked his watch. “You and Gelato, hurry up.”

“I don’t want to.” Illuso curled up on the sofa. He pulled his cloth further down to cover his cold feet.

“No. You want to.” Prosciutto called out his stand. The Grateful Dead paced around the blond man’s legs like a 2-legged feline. The tentacles from the body’s distal gently waved like cat tails.

When they followed Prosciutto and left the base, Gelato and Illuso felt a sense of self-sacrifice, which their colleagues would probably never understand.

---

Prosciutto was driving his car. On the co-pilot seat, there was a pile of fashion magazines. Gelato and Illuso decided to sit in the back.

“Since we just received payment, you can also order things to wear in spring and summer. Use the magazines as a reference if you can’t think up any.” Prosciutto handed the magazines to Illuso.

“Can’t we just go and buy stuff?” Although Gelato is gay and he read fashion magazines to pass time, those bright, colorful dressing styles were simply considered as “not practical” for him.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t want anyone to find out my expense record.” Prosciutto replied without turning back his head. “Plus, those mass-produced clothing can’t fit everyone’s body shape. No one wants to be trapped in his clothes at the critical moment of work. Besides, clothes in the store contain too much information that could be used in tracking. The price tags, the brand name, even some specific patterns, and fibers can be used as a clue. However, tailored clothing provide natural concealment, as long as your tailor can keep the secret.”

They were persuaded.

Prosciutto drove them to a house in the suburb. His tailor was a half-blind old man, god knows how come a half-blind tailor can make those high-end suits. After some greetings, they were asked to discuss with the tailor about the clothes and let the tailor do the measurement. The room was very warm and there was even a heating blanket on the sofa, perhaps the old man is afraid of the cold. Gelato and Illuso were asked to strip to the underwear and Prosciutto was measuring them. He read the number to the tailor and let him make recordings. Although it may look weird with two nearly naked men and a fully-clothed man in the room, Gelato and Illuso were used to living in groups so they were not bothered by being naked in front of others. However, when it was Prosciutto’s turn, the blonde took off his coat and bring the tape and record book to the fitting room and closed the door.

This made Illuso, who was putting on his clothes, feel a bit embarrassed. He looked at Gelato, but the other just shrugged and returned to discuss with the tailor. After some time, Prosciutto walked out and gave the tape and record back to the tailor and sat back on the sofa. Gelato just finished his discussion and it was Illuso’s turn. Before he got up from the sofa, Illuso noticed that Prosciutto took out a small plate of concealer — Man in the Mirror had made Illuso being super sensitive to the presence of mirrors. He quietly watched the man tucking the hair behind his right ear and revealing a bruise just above his right eyebrow — perhaps when he took off the clothes, the make-up accidentally came off.

Prosciutto had light skin color. He looked like those pampered young masters at the first glance and was in stark contrast with the rest of the team, whose skin colors reflected the hardship of living at the bottom of the society. But this also made the bruise on his aristocratic pale skin as painfully obvious as a black graffiti on a white porcelain bowl. Prosciutto pressed on the injured place and hissed at the pain. Then he skillfully applied the cosmetics on the purple bruise to cover it up. After he finished, the man looked in the mirror back and forth to confirm that the patch of skin color was successfully blended.

Maybe he was not much better than us. Illuso suddenly felt a sense of connection. He grew up in the poor orphanage, where there was never enough food to eat or cloth to wear. The care from the teachers was never enough for every child to feel that they were loved. “Owning something” was an extravagant thing in the orphanage, as they have to share everything since all they have was so little. But this notion was so commonplace and so natural in the world outside the orphanage and it made Illuso felt so unfair. At first, he tried to steal things to make him feel better, but as his crimes being exposed, he finally acquired the power of Man in the Mirror and dominated the world on the other side of the mirror. But this did not help with the situation, rather it made everything worse. The world in the mirror became his sole safe house and Illuso can only eat and sleep in the mirror world. When he finally realized that this was not normal, the real world on the other side of the mirror looked so strange and cold. Right now, he was stuck with people that once captured him, but Illuso started to feel that maybe this was not a bad thing — after all, this “orphanage” provided him his own bed and food and in this resourceful place, no one will blame him for hiding things that nobody need.

In the days of getting along with the assassins, Illuso finally realized that, in the world outside of the orphanage, there are people who shared the same fate with him. Formaggio was good at using alcohol to forget. In his spare time, the short man would immediately get drunk, as if he couldn’t bear to stay sober. Risotto kept pushing people away and was always practicing the magnetic ability of Metallica. Everybody knew the story of Gelato, a homosexual soldier thrown out of the iron gate as soon as his sexual orientation being exposed. Sorbet seemed to left everything behind. The French assassin never talks about his own past, as if he already sent it to the grave.

Now he saw Prosciutto, the forever confident, elegant, well-dressed assassin, whose suit had no wrinkles and hair always tied into neat buns. The assassin, who never showed any sign of exhaustion and panic, was skillfully using cosmetics to cover the bruise on his head. They indeed share the same fate, and there was no exception. Illuso silently paid his tribute to the theory of “Gravity”. He eventually realized that everything was not so bad. The old tailor promised to send the clothes their base in 3 days so that he could survive the winter without suffering the cold for the first time.

On their way back, Illuso got off and bought coffee for everyone. Upon seeing the black-haired young man walking back to the car with 3 cups in his hands, Prosciutto sighed in relief.

When they got back, the communication device was already fixed. Formaggio probably used Little Feet to get inside the encrypting system and figured everything out with the help from the instruction manual. The said man was taking his nap on the couch with a magazine covering his face.

Sorbet was unpacking a wood cargo box. He had a crowbar with him and some broken nails lying on the ground. Gelato approached him to help and they lifted a metal ammo box out of the package. Sorbet smashed the lock, lifted the lid and took out the contents. Pistols, sniper rifles, rifle scopes for various purposes, sound suppressors, a glass cutter, some body armor and multiple sets of his black shirts and pants. This must be Sorbet’s luggage from France. Gelato thought.

“Only one box?”He asked.

“Yes. Since I did not plan to go back, there was nothing worth packing.” Sorbet replied. He realized this must sound very self-contradictory. Normally, if people decide that they would not return to their home country, for nostalgic needs, they probably will try to carry as many things with them as possible. However, when Sorbet finally decided to pack his stuff, he found that what he decided to bring with him could barely fill up a standard luggage case.

It was not that Sorbet did not enjoy a colorful life back then. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Sorbet was very good at adapting to new environments and pick up new skills. He always utilizes his payment to learn things and build connections so that he can have more recourses for the next mission and this is how Sorbet made his name back in France. The skills he learned in order to blend in certain groups were kept as leisure hobbies even after the mission was completed. Sorbet decorated his house in France with mostly his own creative works: paintings, sculptures, ikebanas, and some animal specimen. In some rare occasions, he would steal something from the victim and keep them as trophies. Sorbet also kept a wide collection of books and even had some limited editions that cost him a fortune in the auction. He had his own ex-libris, of course, designed and hand-carved by himself. He learned this when he was assigned to kill a book dealer. It was true that nearly all Sorbet’s possessions had some unique meanings to him and had he want to bring those things with them, it would not be very difficult. It would be nothing more than filling a few boxes and hiring some more people when loading them onto the ship.

However, the reality was that Sorbet only took his working necessities with some clothes to fill in the empty spaces. He left the sculptures, books and Persian rugs in the house and abandoned the place. When he closed the door, Sorbet did not even bother to look at those things for the last time, even though he has spent a lot of time and effort in acquiring them. Sorbet is a man who knows himself. His assassin colleges in France used to give this comment. Although Sorbet loves money and would not tolerate any delay in payment, he certainly is not the type that will die for mere worldly possessions. The raven-haired killer was fully aware that Polpo hired him not because of his versatility, and certainly not because of him being a French with a refined lifestyle. He was invited and hired, only because he was a stand-user that has nothing against the gang and his price was reasonable. In other words, how Sorbet lives his life in private has nothing to do with his occupation and those trophies does not make him “Sorbet the assassin of Passione”. Therefore, when he decide to begin his new life as a hitman for the gang, Sorbet could easily leave everything behind. This might sound cruel, but Sorbet convinced himself that this is the right thing to do. He has done it multiple times and every time he walks away from his previous identity, it feels like a murder, a suicide. But this is the necessary thing to do. When a killer is trapped in his past, this means that he has already turned the cart before the horse and he will soon die because of this reason. When Sorbet entered the world of crimes, the first thing he learned was to bury his past and eliminate those cravings. A human heart is weak and will fall apart for various reasons. If he wants to continue living as a human, he shall fight against his own heart to balance between a living human being and a cold-blooded lethal weapon. So Sorbet continued digging graves and burying his heart underground but keeping it from suffocation. Until one day, when he was still in France, he looked through the window and the pedestrians finally merged into the city background. Everything became clear to him, that the ordinary people were moving towards their ordinary happiness and that he was not on the same track with them.

Sorbet sighed and felt glad about his decision. The guns did not carry memories, even if they did, the memories were from his past missions. There was nothing in the box that could bring out things that he intended to forget. The ghost of the past cannot haunt him and he would not be bothered by it.

Gelato noticed the sign of the cargo boat on the side of the box, so he asked:” You shipped it from France?”

Sorbet nodded. “I knew people from the marine industry. It’s safer anyway, but a bit slow. I sent it away just before I left France, it just arrived.” The raven-haired killer sighed again and gave his former crime tools a pitiful look. Although he tried his best in doing the maintenance work before packing, the shipment still did some damages.

Sorbet had packed some of the maintenance equipment with him, but he did not bring gun oil. He did not want to risk spilling it in the cargo—it was not like he cannot buy it in Italy anyway. But then the problem became that Sorbet still cannot name many of the tools in Italian. He worked with Gelato and they often clean their guns together, but Gelato always has everything ready for him.

Surprisingly, Prosciutto handed him the maintenance kit.

“You are welcome.” He said. Although the blonde still sounds bitter, he nonetheless sat with them and helped Sorbet examining the damage. Formaggio was still asleep and Illuso was sitting on the other side of the couch, curiously watching them.

“Whoa, this is rusted.”Gelato was examining one of the pistols. This box of armor probably spent a long time on the sea and oil protection wore off long ago.

“Is it still usable?” Sorbet leaned towards him to check.

“Several parts have been corroded. I won’t risk using it.” Gelato pointed out the broken parts to Sorbet. Illuso also came close to inspect.

“Illuso.” Prosciutto suddenly stopped him.

“!” The said man immediately sat back to the couch.

“Can you shoot?” Prosciutto asked.

“…no.” He unwillingly admitted. “B-but, the mirror world in under my control anyway. Even if I cannot use a gun, there are plenty of ways to kill people, you know. Even a four-year-old knows how to use a knife.”

“And during the time you stabbed someone to death, Risotto can kill you for at least four times.” Prosciutto scoffed. “In hand to hand combat, every one of us could beat you up easily.”

A shiver ran through Illuso’s body. “F-fine! I’ll learn! I’ll learn how to shoot.”

“Good, I also need to test those guns.” Sorbet put away the broken guns and put the unused things back into the ammo box.

“We can do it in the basement, there is plenty of space. Plus, we still have half a pig in the fridge. It can be used as a mimic for the human body.” Gelato said.

“But it’s my holiday!” Illuso almost cried. Everyone except Formaggio (who was still asleep) seemed to agree with Prosciutto. Why can’t they just let him rest?

“Think of this as a hobby.” Gelato patted him on the back. “Where is Risotto?”

“He said he wants to try using Metallica on fast moving objects, so he went fishing.” Prosciutto replied and glanced at Illuso. Before acquiring his stand, their leader survived in the underground and already worked as a gun-for-hire. Without help from supernatural powers, he only relied on his own strength to fight against enemies. His strong physique did not come from stand ability, nor did he rely on good genes. It was the result of rigorous exercise and self-discipline.

The blacked-haired man, surrounded by his colleges, walked down to the basement. Sorbet brought out the pork and hung it from the ceiling. Prosciutto laid plastic mats on the floor and the walls. Gelato took out several boxes of bullets and used his stand to silence the armors.

“Keep your feet separated. Don’t overextend your arms. Keep your eyes on the target.” Prosciutto and Sorbet stood beside Illuso while giving instructions. Gelato went upstairs and woke Formaggio up. Two of them grabbed some beer and snacks and enjoyed the show.

In the evening, Risotto returned. He was a bit concerned when seeing a bullet hole on the roasted pork. But the answer to his question was just “we have carried out a meaningful team building activity.”

Illuso opened his mouth and protested, but before he could make any sound, Formaggio stuffed him with a mouthful of roast pork. Under his feeding rountine, the user of Man in the Mirror gained 5 pounds within a month and finally fall into the healthy weight range.

---

 
Prosciutto volunteered to give up his day-offs to take care of Illuso’s shooting lessons, which gave Sorbet and Gelato a chance to spend their days for sightseeing. Since arrival, the French spent most of his days in Italy in either working or traveling to the working location. When walking along with the scenery of streets, all he could think of was finding the location that was most suitable for sabotage or snipping the target. Gelato also did not have much experience traveling in the city. He was a native Italian, but he grew up in rural areas and spent most of his days in the army. He only paid visits to cities during federal holidays and would always go to the same pub and restaurant and came back in the evening. Now, they finally had the chance to explore the city. Sorbet and Gelato disguised themselves as tourists and wandered around the streets. They followed tourist groups to sneak into sightseeing attractions and stole wallets from the travelers. At the end of the day, they even managed to make a small fortune from stealing.

Sorbet and Gelato arrived at the port in the evening. Like everyone else, they were waiting to see the sunset. But it was still a little bit early and the sun was still preparing itself before drowning in the water. Sorbet bought some fries for a snack, but neither of them liked greasy food. They reluctantly finished the fries.

The seagulls, flying around the port, spotted their new food source. These food thieves certainly would not let go of this feast. The black-haired man was chatting with his blonde friend, in the carton, the last piece of fries was left uncared. The seagull made a sudden swoop to catch its food, when it was about to succeed, a hand swiftly grabbed it by the throat.

“What—?”Sorbet was shocked by Gelato’s fast reaction, and so did the seagull. The bird remained silent for several seconds before it burst into screeching.

“Reflexes.”Gelato smiled and picked up the last piece of fries and ate it right in front of the bird.

“The sun is going down.” Sorbet gestured Gelato to let go of the seagull. Its screaming is too annoying and had already attracted some unwanted attention.

Gelato loosened his grip and threw the bird back to the ocean. He leaned against the railing and enjoyed the sunset. It was a breathtaking moment that he could not think of proper words to describe. Even after the sun fell behind the water, Gelato felt that he could still see its golden glory.
“I wanna get my ears pierced.”Out of blue, he wanted to keep the glimmer to himself and what he could think of was to wear a pair of golden earrings. Gelato remembered why he would have this sudden thought. When he was a kid, every morning, his mother would wake him up. On a bright sunny day, the sunlight hit on her earrings and it shined just like the sunset. His mother called him by his nickname, brushing away the golden locks on his forehead.

“Why so sudden?” Sorbet asked.

“Because…this was the first thing that I want to try after I left the army.” Gelato smirked, but his throat felt tight. The afterglow of sunset burned a scar on his heart. I miss my mom. He almost spilled that out, but he can’t go back, it choked him.

“Do you want me to help?” Sorbet asked. He and Gelato have been partners since Gelato joined the team. Sorbet was already accustomed to Gelato’s sudden ideas.

“Do you know how to do it?”

“No? But it should be easy…right?”

“Well, that sounds promising. I guess I will give it a try.” Gelato did not know how to pierce either, so he put his trust in Sorbet. The sun completely sank into the sea, its last rays of light disappeared. During night time, the breeze from the sea was chilly. Gelato shivered and leaned closer to Sorbet. The two of them left the port.

After dinner, they bought a pair of gold earrings with stolen money and returned to Sorbet’s home. The French took out a sewing needle and stabbed Gelato’s ears. The first few attempts failed miserably. The piercings were not symmetrical and because the sewing needle was too thin, he had to stab for multiple times to create a hole large enough for the earring. Gelato bled like he was being murdered.

Sorbet apologized to him for a good few minutes. Obviously, he did not expect it end up with Gelato losing this much blood.

Gelato shrugged. The day after, he put on the earrings and completely forgot this small incident.

---

 
Melone joined them in the early spring. His stand indeed shared the same metaphor of the season during which life begins to form. With the seed of blood, the baby born to the woman was destined for parricide. After the newcomer introduced himself, the rest of the assassins secretly vowed not to provoke him. No one wanted to be hunted by their bastard children.

Melone picked his own code name. After knowing the other’s code name, the lilac-haired young man clapped his hands and made the decision.

“Then I will choose Melone as my name because it is my favorite food. Now you have fruit on the menu.” He happily announced.

Risotto and Prosciutto both gave him an uninterested look, but Illuso felt a chill down the spine. Had Melone joined them earlier, he would be killed immediately. Babyface can automatically track the target as long as it has the blood sample. If Melone joined them during their fight against the Americans, they would not waste that much time chasing the target and Formaggio would have no reason to let him live.

In the evening, Melone decided to start his first mission. Illuso, in the behest of Risotto, followed him in the mirror world and entered a night club. The flashing light in the night club could certainly cause a seizure. The chanting, moaning, and screaming were all covered up by the deafening music. People drank up alcohol and breath out the intoxicants. Different kinds of bodily fluids mixed with each other. Illuso was hiding in the mirror hanging on the ceiling and regretted this decision. Why they decorated the ceiling with mirrors in the first place? Why he chose this place to hide? In the dark night club, the crowd beneath him were squirming like a box of centipedes, black shells shining under the flashlight, white legs wiggling. There was someone dying in the corner, but nobody cared. Nobody had this God-like view as Illuso did. Where is Melone…Melone was in the other corner, and he was messing up with a hooker. That woman was clearly high on something and was barely conscious. Illuso cannot bear to watch anymore. He wanted to throw up. Man in the Mirror thoughtfully covered his eyes and let him rest for a while.

However, within such a short period, Malone escaped from his sight. The prostitute was still twitching on the ground. She had an overdose, foams coming out from her mouth. Finding Melone was the priority, Illuso ignored the woman and left the night club. Fortunately, the newcomer wasn’t planning to escape. Illuso found him under the bridge. Melone was sitting on his bike with his stand on his lap. From the screen, it read: “incubation finished”.

Illuso walked towards him. Seeing the other approaching, Malone did not seem surprised. He turned the screen to Illuso and showed him how his stand works.

“Babyface is an automatic stand with no combat ability. But it can generate homunculus and give instructions to its products.” Melone explained. “While they are doing the dirty work, I can hide in somewhere safe and give directions. As you can see, I’m weak. I can’t fight. So if the enemy spots us, you have to save me.” He smiled and stretched his wrist. Melone was skinny. He was even more malnourished than Illuso when he joined la Squadra back then.

<Melone, I’m thirsty.> A message showed up on the screen.

<<Then drink something.>>Melone replied.

<I did! Mommy gave me different kinds of water, but I’m still thirsty!>

<<Just drink whatever you want. You are a baby, you can drink and eat whenever you want.>>

<…>

<<Babyface?>>

<Melone, it’s so yummy!>

<Mommy’s blood, it’s so good!>

“Di molto bene!” The purple-haired man shouted with joy. “What a good mother!”

“What are you talking about?”Illuso was lost in that strange conversation.

“Illuso, have you had any drugs? ” Babyface hasn’t replied, perhaps that creature was still feasting on his mother’s flesh and blood. Melone switched his sitting posture and made a little space for Illuso to sit next to him.

“No. Of course not.” Illuso replied. First of all, he was still bankrupt due to shopping with Prosciutto, so he did not have any money left. Also, Risotto would kill them if they dare to touch the drugs. Drinking during working hours was already touching his bottom line, so no one dared to cross that boundary. Their leader, due to some untold reasons, holds strong hatred towards alcohol and substance. He would only take a sip of wine in extremely stressful situations and no one had spotted him drinking more than 2 cups.

“…okay. But still, you probably know that if the mother is a drug addict and has taken the drug during pregnancy, her child will have a high chance developing neonatal abstinence syndrome, that is, the child will be born with the addiction. It will have all the withdrawal symptoms and will only drink the mother’s milk—since it contains the drug that they crave for.”

<Melone> Babyface began to type. They turned to the screen.

<Melone, I want more, but mommy doesn’t have it.>

<<Maybe you can find this man to see if he could help.>>Melone took out the photo of the target and scanned it into Babyface.

<Who is he? He seems nice.>

< <You’ll know when you find him.>>

<…>

“That was smooth. Molto bene!” Melone put away the laptop and took out 2 beers from the bike trunk. He gave Illuso a can of beer. “Let’s wait until it finishes.”

“You have a very convenient stand.”

“I do!”

After about half an hour, Babyface returned. It already grew up as high as a teenager and was holding something in its hand.

“Melone, here.”Babyface held up its hand and put an eyeball on Melone’s palm. It must belong to the target as proof of a successful mission. Illuso thought to himself.

“Molto bene. Babyface, you did a good job.” Melone put the eyeball in a small glass bottle and patted on its head.

“Daddy’s blood also taste good! Melone, can I have some more?” The stand asked, with its finger on the chin, just like a real child asking for sweets.

“You have finished your job, Babyface. I don’t need you anymore.” Melone continued to smile. Even though his words were cruel, Melone spoke as if he was making some casual conversation.

The stand that made from woman’s flesh and blood were turned back to the corpse as Melone gave off his final command. The young man walked past her dead body as if it was nothing different from a garden fence. He hopped on the motorcycle and was preparing to leave.

“You are going to just leave her here?”Illuso sat behind him and hold on tight to the seat.

“That bitch died from an overdose. I have nothing to do with it.” Melone replied.

Chapter 5: Low-grade fever

They received the latest order from the boss. Passione will expand to the north and they shall move along with them Polpo have already transferred them to the capo in the northern region, but in fact, the assassins were still under boss’s direct management. Their new capo was only a spokesman.

“I don’t like him.” After meeting with the local capo, Formaggio bluntly commented. He was good-tempered in general and perhaps was the easiest person in the team to get along with. Although Illuso often teased him for his “useless” stand, Prosciutto urged him to write reports, Gelato dragged him into electrical repairing from time to time and was being allocated to make regular check-ups for the team’s inventories, Formaggio was never angered by anyone. He still managed to be on friendly terms with his colleges. Even Melone, who often called himself “a social butterfly”, admitted that he could not compare with Formaggio’s social competence and popularity.

However, given that even Formaggio showed despite to this person when they met for the first time, there is no doubt that that person is really a human piece of garbage.

Actually, it was not surprising for them to show disgust towards this branch of the gang. In Passione, each area has its own source of living. For example, the area under Polpo’s control was famous for gambling and smuggling. The area that they fought with the Americans were now making huge profits from selling drugs. Some other areas are involved in illegal businesses like scamming and prostitution. Of course, there are some groups making profits from legal business and collecting protection racket. As for the area where they were currently assigned to, its major income was from human trafficking and organ trading— the most despicable and anti-human business in the underworld.

“Nobody likes him.” Prosciutto puffed his smoke out of the window. Their new base was a small residential house, with two floors above the ground and one storage basement. When reallocating them to the new regional leader, obviously, the boss has concealed the assassins true identities and told the capo that these people are the “extra” guards that Polpo simply had no time to deal with after imprisonment. And clearly, the capo had bought into his rhetoric and believed that they were just running dogs for the gang. Their new base was so shabby that Prosciutto, being the first one to arrive, began to miss their old base soon after his arrival.

“Did you notice the way he looked at us? As if he’s planning to sell us off.” Illuso said. During their meeting, the man has glanced back and forth between him and Melone for several times and it made him very uncomfortable.

“He probably thinks that he could sell us one day,” Melone replied. He also noticed that man’s gaze, but he was not scared or disturbed. He had been in a similar situation several times and he was used to it. Only those who still had their childish innocence believed the rhetoric of “life is priceless”, but the truth is, when the price is high enough, there is nothing that cannot be sold —human life is no exception and he was the perfect proof for that. He was born with a price-tag, on which it was written a fair share of the legacy of a billionaire. It’s a shame that he was a man. Melone licked his lips. If he was a woman, he would be perfect for Babyface.

“We don’t need to be deeply involved with him.” Risotto firmly said. “We are not here to serve them, but to keep an eye on them.” The boss has given them two orders. The apparent one was asking them to protect the local trading line and secure the business, but the hidden command was to monitor the branch’s operation. Human trafficking and organ trading was not as profitable as drug dealing, but they still can earn a considerable amount of income. The problem of this kind of business was that human traffickers and organ dealers were treating “people” as their commodities and this position would give them a sense of power. The power of manipulating others for their own will would further give rise to arrogance and arrogance was the root of rebellion, which the boss would not allow.

“The meeting is over. You can leave now. Be careful when staying at your residence.” Risotto handed them their new identity documents and keys.

“Wait.” Formaggio stopped everyone from leaving the room. “They put each of us in a different place. That doesn’t sound right.” He pointed to the keys and then to the map. The location of their residence scattered around the city and none of them were close to each other.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Prosciutto agreed. He was arranged to stay in a poor district, which would be very strange for a social elite like him.

“Me too. Anyone want to change? Mine is in the old town area, no foreigner will even go there.” Sorbet asked. He felt that they were purposefully making these arrangements so that his team would stand out from the environment.

“I live in an all-girl apartment, Illuso, do you want to live with me?” Melone giggled while playing with his key chain.

“Fuck off.”

“We’d better not staying alone.” Gelato thought for a moment and said. “They are trying to separate us and prevent us from contacting with each other. They are already beware of us.”

“Where do you live?” Sorbet asked.

“Downtown area…3rd floor.” Gelato looked for the location on the map and replied.

“Can I move in?”Sorbet knew that he would definitely agree. They were partners at work and they need to look after each other, especially in a new environment.

“The place you’re arranged to, is it large?” Formaggio asked. “Coz I could live in the old town area and build connections. I can speak northern accents.” During his previous job at the casino, Formaggio had picked-up all kinds of unpractical skills and now it suddenly became handy.

“It seems like a double-floor apartment.” Sorbet tossed him the key. “Speaking of which, where’s your cat?”

“I brought them with me, in my bag. Anyone wants to share the room?”

“I can live in the mirror world so it doesn’t matter anyway,” Illuso remembered of him being trapped in the plastic lunchbox by Formaggio, so he refused him.

“I’d love to!” Melone happily sat close to Formaggio. “I love cats!”

“I have an acquaintance that works in a nearby hotel, I can stay for at least a few nights before figuring out a clean place to live.” Prosciutto put out the smoke and threw it into the trash can. “Capo, where are you going to stay?”

“I’ll stay here.”

Prosciutto sighed.

“And stay up all night, finding spy cameras and microphones, waiting for them to attack? I’ll stay with you, then.” Prosciutto made his decision and walked out to take his luggage. He parked his car in a nearby garage, of course, he rented through his own connections.

“I can check the spy cams for you.” Gelato raised his hand.

“Thanks, but I can use Metallica.” Risotto looked at Formaggio and silently asked if they need help.

“Nope, but thanks anyway. You know, I used to be the one who spies on others so it shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, I can totally use Little Feet to check wall cracks or small spaces under the table.” Formaggio declined his offer.

“Then let’s end our first meeting and report to me tomorrow afternoon.” Following Risotto’s command, the team took their luggage and headed to their residences.

---

 
Sorbet was right. Gelato’s place of residence was close to the shopping center and the ground floor of their apartment was actually a restaurant. It was not that uncommon for foreigners to live in this area. The only problem was that the house manager was really curious about why two grown-up men choose to live in a one-bedroom suite. He was then persuaded by Sorbet saying that he was a foreign writer who cannot survive without his local translator.

“I didn’t expect that you actually have a typewriter. Are you really a writer?” When unpacking, Sorbet did take out a typewriter and put it on the table. Gelato has never actually seen this equipment in real life. He only heard of other people talking about this fancy-looking machine. He paced around the table, inspecting it but dared not to touch.

“My writing ability is as good as your reading ability.” Sorbet picked up the dime novels that Gelato brought with him. All of them were heterosexual romance stories. “They’re all about a man and a woman, aren’t they?”

“But love is just love.” Seeing Sorbet’s permission, Gelato picked up the typewriter and examined its mechanic structure from all possible angles. He replied half-heartedly. “I mean, it’s just for passing time. Formaggio reads Shakespeare, can you believe that?”

“I didn’t see that coming, either.” Sorbet sighed and collected Gelato’s things together to make more space for his own belongings. Back then, when he just joined La Squadra, Sorbet went to Formaggio’s place for a drink and surprised by his collections of books. Although Formaggio looked like a person who dropped out from high school, his book collections were constituted of all kinds of classical literature. Formaggio explained that he read them when working at the casino so that he could entertain those rich ladies with his words and receive more tips from them, but after some time he felt that reading was purely enjoyable and eventually he managed to learn so much from it. Formaggio’s education level is approximately as high as Prosciutto, who received elite and private education throughout his childhood and adolescence. When it comes to aesthetic appreciation, he was even better than the blonde. Comparatively speaking, Sorbet, Gelato, and Melone had an average level of education and their strength came from special knowledge in their own fields. Risotto and Illuso had a tough start in life and they failed to receive a proper education, but on the other hand, this gave them more time struggling in society and learn practical knowledge and skills.

Upon their arrival to the new residence, Gelato and Sorbet hand already discussed their work distribution. Gelato was in charge of examining the room for spy devices and Sorbet would do the unpacking. Now, Gelato has finished his job and spread his clothes and belongings all over the bed. The good news was that they didn’t find any recorders or hidden cameras and no one in the neighborhood looked suspicious.

“We can screw down the air conditioning vent and hide stuff in it. I can do the cleaning.” Gelato put down the typewriter and pointed to the vent.

“It’s up to you.” Sorbet was sorting out his and Gelato’s clothes, taking out the hangers from the closet and hanging them one by one.

Gelato walked from the bedside to the vent and measured the distance between the two spots. He then moved the desk towards the window to make more space for walking. It took approximately 2 seconds for him to rush from the bed to the vent. If he could leave the opening loosely fixed, it would only take one punch to knock the vent open and take out the weapons. This was the perfect place for the armory, but still, for self-defense purposes, they have to keep something near the bed. I really hope Sorbet is not a sleepwalker, or else it will be very dangerous. Gelato thought to himself. He wiped clean the vent and put the weapon box inside.

Sorbet finished putting the clothes in the closet and he used his height advantage to put the suitcase on the top of the closet. After all these activities, the raven-haired assassin sweated a little bit and took off his coat as well as his weapons. He placed them on the drawer and sat the bed to rest. The trip to the northern region also exhausted Gelato, so he also lied down on the bed.

Two of them remained silent for a short while until the night fell and streetlight outside the window gradually lit up. Sorbet sniffed the air and broke the silence. “Can you get up for a sec?”

“W-what happened?” Gelato was almost asleep and abruptly stood up after hearing Sorbet’s voice. Sorbet didn’t reply but leaned down on the bed and sniffed the place that Gelato once lied on.

“What are you doing? Do I smell?” Gelato saw him frowning and shaking his head after smelling the sheet, he immediately asked. He knew that Sorbet was extremely sensitive to smell and could even guess out the number of people in a room and their gender just by smelling the air. To preserve that level of sensitivity, Sorbet lived a very careful life. Every day, he would hear clean and ironed clothes to work. His hair was always neatly combed to the back and his face was also shaved clean. However, Sorbet never smelled like laundry detergent, hair gel or shaving cream. Even if he just finished polishing his gun and had some wine before bed, he would never carry those smell to the base on the next day. From an intelligence personnel’s point of view, Gelato admired his ability to conceal personal information. No one could get any information from the smell of his body. But on the other hand, as a partner, Gelato was always worried about not being able to get along with Sorbet. He didn’t know how Sorbet was brought up in France, but he grew up in a big family in the countryside and was surrounded by a lot of people. He grew up in the smell of earth, dirt, corps, forests, and animals. Gelato did not have much olfactory sensitivity, on the contrary, deep down, he liked those smells—even at work, the smell of blood and smoke excited him, luckily, Sorbet could tolerate those smells.

“Smells musty,” Sorbet answered him. He got up from the bed and found a spare set of bed sheets from the upper level of the closet. He buried his face in the sheets and looked irritated. “Can you help me change it?” He gave the spared sheets to Gelato and removed the current set from the bed. Gelato also sniffed the fabric. The spared set was just washed. It still had the smell of laundry powder.

They changed the bedding and hid their weapon under the pillow. After cleaning the room, the two of them were finally hungry and they went downstairs to the restaurant. The owner of the restaurant seemed used to the residents coming down for meals, so he packed their food and drinks without being asked to. The house manager probably told him about their occupation. Seeing Gelato talking to Sorbet in a pretentious tone, the owner believed that Sorbet was indeed some famous writer, so he added two cups of frozen treats to their meal. The duo went back to their room and had their dinner at the kitchen. Gelato took out the free dessert and realized that the owner packed two cups of sorbet for them.

“Have a taste of yourself?” He giggled at his own comments.

Sorbet took a spoonful of the said dessert.

“I taste good.”

Gelato almost fell from the seat due to laughing.

But after dinner, they have to face the elephant in the room — after arrival, Sorbet and Gelato were busy with other stuff, while secretly trying to find a way out of this problem. However, when they changed the bed sheet, they both realized that the large bed in the bedroom was not the combination of two single beds but a single giant mattress. There was no way for them to cut it into half, so they either sleep together or one of them need to sleep on the couch.

“I can sleep on the couch, or the floor. It doesn’t matter to me.” Gelato suggested.

“Do you move a lot when sleeping?” Sorbet asked thoughtfully.

“I don’t move.”

“Then we can share the bed. It is large enough.”

Gelato nodded. It was not that he wanted to sleep on the couch anyway. Besides, this place was originally given to him and Sorbet was the one asked to live with him. Anyway, the problem was solved and he was no longer bothered by it. Gelato decided to take a shower before bed and he used Sorbet’s soap and shampoo. He, of course, did not bring those with him, since Gelato never enjoyed that delicacy when he was young. Actually, Gelato was quite curious about how Sorbet managed to pack all these things into his suitcase.

When Sorbet came out from the shower, Gelato was already sitting on the bed, reading the dime novels. The bedside lamp generously lit up and revealing everything to the people on the opposite side of the street. Seeing Sorbet lying down beside him, Gelato put aside the book and lay down. After saying goodnight to each other, he turned off the light.

Gelato was not lying. He indeed slept soundly. He was like a rock, no sound, no movement, and barely emitting body warmth. After using Sorbet’s cleansing products, he did not smell, which made Sorbet failed to detect his presence while sleeping. When Sorbet turned himself over during sleep, he almost landed on Gelato. The two men were wakened by the sudden bump of the body and decided to use a pillow between them after confirming what happened.

On the second day, Sorbet took Gelato to the market and bought him a fragranced shampoo.

The team lived quietly in the new location. For now, their boss did not intend to set off any disruption. The work assigned to them was mainly to protect the existing profit chain. They almost finished building profiles for the local members of Passione, and everyone was getting bored with their work routines that they even found unexpected changes in the mission quite amusing

For some people, this working arrangement was ideal. Since their workload had reduced greatly, Formaggio had more time raising his cats or simply slacking off. The four cats he brought with him all found their partners and gave birth to a dozen cubs. Most of their offsprings end up joining the local feral packs. Formaggio only managed to keep 2 of them. Melone was also quite satisfied with his current job, not only because those little fur-balls have multiplied, but also because he has finished collecting DNA sample of all the key members in the local branch and also found several fitting mothers for Babyface. Gelato and Sorbet gradually took this transferral as a long-term vacation. The two of them went out for fieldwork or simply hang out from time to time, or they would stay in the apartment writing progress reports (Gelato bid his farewell to handwriting and began to use Sorbet’s typewriter). In the evening, they would go downstairs for dinner and listen to the restaurant owner gossiping with the house manager about their customers. Sometimes, Sorbet would make up some story plots just to feed their curiosity of “his composition”.

On the other hand, those workaholics in La Squadra were not very pleased about their current lives. Prosciutto, as the second-in-command, was in charge of communicating with the local capo. Although every time he would be super pissed-off by the other’s arrogance, Prosciutto eventually became used to handling difficult social situations and his tolerance towards idiots greatly improved. Risotto hasn’t developed any hobbies in the new city. During his free time, the leader of the assassins chose to stay in the basement and exercise. On the contrary, Illuso can’t wait for the chaos to happen. His job was to stalk on their assassin targets and watching the key personnel in case they were plotting something against the boss. To his frustration, although those scumbags were indeed wicked, they have never let the boss down. They have turned over profits from every deal and build connections with governors and other gangs just as the boss asked. Even though the local capo was a snob that played the lion among the sheep and the sheep among the lions, given the thriving of the gang, Passione still has his loyalty and it probably won’t change in the near future. Illuso couldn’t even find a chance to frame him up, which made him feel like a waste of time and he was unhappy about it.

Two months later, the Ferragosto was approaching. The assassin, of course, is not a job that enjoys federal holidays and has to always be ready to strike. On the other hand, any non-working days are holidays to members of La Squadra, so some of them have been enjoying themselves for nearly two months. They were told to stay put and finally, the boss’s new orders reached them just before the Ferragosto. This city is close to the northern border. It is one of the most important hubs for smuggling, drug dealing, and other illegal transactions. Mafias controlled the city and divided it into several parts, forming threats to each other. There were gang wars back then, but now the families chose to mind their own business and maintain the fragile peace. Passione, as a late-comer, has a rather simple goal in this city—to get its own place. Although the boss was ambitious, he was not a fool. War was not the only option to expand. Human trafficking and organ dealing were high-risk businesses and their profit was often unstable. Other gangs did not want to be involved in this line of work, which made it a perfect entry point for Passione to be involved. The boss has sent lobbyists to the existing forces in this city, persuading them to cooperate with Passione’s business. During these months, they have achieved a win-win situation. Most of the gangs agreed to work with Passione, using the trafficked population for drug smuggling, prostitution, and even as a guarantee for goods.

However, when everything went well and Passione was about to officially settle in, things changed. The local government suddenly decided to deal with the soaring crime rate in the city and increased the number of police. They even received help from the special force and launched a sudden attack on several major underground trading centers. With a blink of an eye, the table has been turned and all parties have suffered some losses. Soon after, news came from the insiders from the government, saying that this sudden action was because some of them intended to break the thin ice. One of the mafia branches has recently acquired a new ammunition production line and got promotion in the family. After receiving support from the base, they wanted to expand and dominate the city. The traitors incited the government officials to clear up the gangs and made use of the police force to help them to the dirty job.

For Passione, this was a chance. Since someone has decided to muddy the water, they also opened up the possibility of reshuffling the cards. if handled properly, Passione could use this opportunity to climb up and settle down in an even higher position. Right now, all the other gangs were trying to find the traitor and so was Passione. Local groups and big families all trying to form allies, but at the same time, they also sent out spies to each other. But, this was not enough for the boss. Passione was still in the lower rank of this city and his goal was to acquire one of the dominant position. Now, the more chaotic the situation was, the higher the chance for them to get the seats of the dominators here.

The traitor gang hasn’t yet revealed their true identity, but it was clear that they were protected by two sources of force, its family and the government. The war in the underworld could only deal with the former. So the boss’s new order was to rip off the government’s protection, to drag those officials who have been watching behind the sideline down to this bloody arena. His order was straightforward: kill one of the involved governors, frame the traitor, break their deals. Even though it would be obvious that these are done by a third party, it would be enough to incite fear among the corrupted officials. For those who treat other people as worthless inferiors, they would surely think their own lives are precious. Once their lives were threatened, they would certainly turn around and run away, breaking off those deals. Human trafficking was just a mere cover of the gang’s true intention. From the day the assassins were transferred, the boss was waiting for this opportunity.

Formaggio got news from his intelligence network in the old town, saying that during the celebration on the day of Ferragosto, a restaurant was booked for “a private meeting”. Illuso followed this line of information and dug out the details. The traitor gang and the government will send a group of representatives to discuss future plans and payment. For now, they were the only group who knew about this and they spent a lot of effort blocking this piece of news. The boss wanted to make use of the government to create chaos and isolate every force in this city. If the identity of the traitor revealed, the others will form an alliance to fight against the traitor, then it will be difficult for Passione to expand.

The task itself was not difficult. As long as the information was sealed, there was no risk in the implementation. Sorbet’s stand was perfect for framing a murderer, so he, unsurprisingly, became the key figure in this mission. Gelato was assigned to help him. Since Sorbet would be focusing on his stand, Gelato would be his eyes and ears and help him decide when to strike. Formaggio was familiar with the traffic in the old town area, so he was assigned to lead the duo out after the mission was finished. Illuso was given the responsibility to monitor the whole process and check up with everyone. The rest of them will track down the governor after Sorbet finishes his job. Once the representative is murdered, someone on the government’s side will be alerted and try to run away from the situation. The ultimate goal of this mission was to find out who was behind the scene and kill them so that the alliance between the traitor and the government would be destroyed.

The only problem was that Sorbet’s stand, “Folie à Deux”, has a limited range of 15 meters and he has to stay even closer if precise action is required. Since he had to shot his target using a specific person’s hand, Sorbet had to stay as close as possible to the whole scene without being noticed. The only feasible way was to hide on the second floor and stay just above his target. But this would prevent Sorbet knowing the exact position of the target and someone had to be there to tell him what to do.

At the beginning of their meeting, Sorbet said straightforwardly that this was too much to ask for. He was a gun for hire, not some acrobat in the circus. He, of course, cannot hit the target without knowing the exact location. What’s more, he had to control another person’s hand to perform the whole thing. It would be even more difficult if his manipulation ability was used on someone who did not have a similar body build. However, Risotto refused to give in. If he saw the potential, he would push it to its limit, which was the exact thing Risotto did to himself. In the end, it was Gelato who persuaded Sorbet. Of course, this was all for the sake of Gelato, who never hesitate to use his stand ability to erase the sound from the weapons. He has been using his ability just for Sorbet’s convenience. This was the time for Sorbet to show some gratitude and honesty back. He revealed the secret of how his stand work to Gelato and they began to practice according to the plan. Fortunately, they were partners for some time and both of them were familiar with guns and had good spatial orientation ability. After a few days of practice, Sorbet could almost always hit the target just by listening to Gelato’s description.

On the day of Ferragosto, Sorbet and Gelato dressed as tourists and ambushed the traitors. He bumped into one of the gang members and used his stand on that guy, swapping the control of their right hands. Then he went to upstairs to ensure that the guy stayed within “Folie à Deux”’s range. Gelato hid across the street, observing the inside of the restaurant. Prior to this, Illuso had already gone inside to the restaurant through the mirror world and installed the wiretapping device. After the meeting began, he marked down the identity of both parties and reported the payment location to Risotto. Just after they got everything they need, Gelato signaled Sorbet with the coordinates and angle for the shot. The gunshot for a few times and the mission was accomplished. They hopped on Formaggio’s car and left the old town area, leaving everything for the rest of the team to handle.

 

---

 

 

Formaggio dropped them back to the downtown area and then drove to Illuso’s apartment. After this incident, the forces in this city would certainly launch investigations in the old town area and it would be unwise to stay there. Sorbet and Gelato were still in their tourist costumes so they decided to spend the rest of the day as real tourists. Back in France, there was no such thing as Ferragosto and they missed the celebration last year due to urgent jobs. This was the first time for Sorbet and he realized that he indeed enjoys the lively carnival atmosphere. Gelato was also excited about the celebration. He had Sorbet’s arm in one hand and used the other hand holding the camera, taking photos of feathers on the hats, the garlands around the necks, and the glitters and ribbons decorated all over the streets. It only took him a short while to use up the whole roll of the film and he had to buy another one. For someone’s stand ability was to erase the sound, Gelato’s love of the lively noisy environment is quite extraordinary. They were stuck in the parade full of singing and laughter, passing through their apartment, the restaurant, the square with a fountain and streets they had been to and haven’t been to. They made back to the apartment in the evening and received a bottle of wine from the housekeeper. That old lady was drinking with the customers in the restaurant. The drunk men were singing and clapping as she climbed onto the table and danced along with the songs.

Sorbet looked at them for a short while and shook his head. He walked up to the stairs with an unfamiliar smile on his face. He cannot remember when was the last time he celebrated anything. People do celebrate in France. In fact, France has as many festivals as Italy, if not more. But, he was an assassin. He shouldn’t care about such things.

The night has come and the city was colored by the street light. Not far from the square, a bonfire rises, and the dancing crowd shaded their shadows on the surrounding buildings. Sorbet was standing on the balcony and smoking. The wind carried away the smell of smoke. Gelato, who still had the camera hanging around his neck, walked to him with two glasses of wine. Sorbet put out his cigarette and took a sip. It was not some good wine but was acceptable. Gelato put his glass cup on the edge of the flower box. He put a new roll of film in the camera and took a few shots of the city night.

Sorbet was not aware that he was staring at Gelato until the other suddenly turned around and pressed the shutter just in front of his face. The black-haired killer was called back to reality with the sound of a click.

While he was still in a shock, Gelato put down the camera and smirked.

Sorbet turned his head away and drank up the wine. This was not good. He thought to himself. It tastes like a low-grade fever. It heated up his body in a strange way. His head was dizzy and his heart was pounding. Even his fingertip can feel the pulse.

“You’re all right?” He vaguely heard Gelato asking, so he turned to him. Gelato had alcohol flush, his face and neck already showed a tint of red.

“I want to show you something.” Sorbet walked back to their bedroom. The cool wind failed to clear his head, so he decided to follow his feelings.

Gelato put down his camera and sat on the bed with Sorbet. They sat face to face and Sorbet called out his stand. Then he gently touched Gelato’s face.

“You may feel a bit dizzy at first, but you’ll be fine.” Sorbet’s fingers felt a bit cold, but it could be that Gelato’s cheeks were burning. He covered Gelato’s left eye with his hand. Realizing what he was up to, Gelato closed his eyes.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Gelato opened his eyes but he could only feel his right visual field. Sorbet was still sitting in front of him. His own left eye was closed. He had exchanged their left eyesight.

“Now close your eyes.”

Gelato closed his eyes, but what he could see was not pitch black. Sorbet opened his left eye and Gelato saw himself in the eyes of him.

Chapter 6: Gift box

After that night, things between Sorbet and Gelato became complicated. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since they were already partners in crime, it was always good to take a step further and trust each other a little bit more. But outside of work, their closeness gradually took the shape of constant flirting and PDA.

For example, when the team was having their weekly lunch meeting, Gelato took half of the lamb steak from Sorbet’s plate without bothering to ask. When the dessert was served, Sorbet occasionally took a spoonful of ice cream from the other’s bowl. The duo often shares food in private. After all, they bought the food from their own wages, it would be a waste of money if they left them untouched.

But, the rest of La Squadra was not informed of whatever plot development that happened during the day of Ferragosto. Formaggio, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, was so stunned by their act of affection that he didn’t realize his frozen dessert was already foraged by Illuso and Melone.

“When did this start?” Illuso asked. His job in the new area was to collect intelligence and has developed a professional passion for gossip.

“What do you mean?” Gelato looked up at his college, chewing his lamb chop.

“This,” Melone smirked and put a spoonful of sorbet on his bowl of gelato. “When did it start? For how long?” What’s the name for your first born? —Of course, he didn’t dare to ask the last question out loud.

Sorbet rolled his eyes.

“You guys should mind your own business—hey! Where’s my sorbetto?” Formaggio yelled.

“Then someone should stop betting on it.” Illuso snorted and put a spoonful of the said desert into his mouth.

“Give it back! You piece of—!” Formaggio grabbed his collar and pulled him back and forth, but what has been eaten cannot be spat out.

“Shut up! All of you!” Prosciutto, who was sitting at the other end of the table, shouted at his teammates. He was talking to Risotto about the recent work. From the size of the bags under their eyes, it was safe to say that they were quite busy recently.

After lunch, the team members briefly reported their recent progress. After knowing the fact that everyone in the team was having a good time in their new place (and all missions went smoothly), their beloved leader and his second in command finally sighed in relief and passed out on the sofa. Ever since the government decided to clean up the street, the assassins returned to their old schedule. The boss started to gave out names to kill and at the same time, they still need to work as the guards for the local branch, securing the trading line and, meanwhile, keeping an eye on the members and capos. With time passes, their workload gradually increased and nearly reaching the limit of their capacity. Although both Risotto and Prosciutto worked nights and days (and they were very efficient and would totally win the “employee of the month” if Passione was a company), they still left some work to do during the weekend. Of course, this was not saying that the rest of La Squadra was not spending their maximum effort in their jobs. Everyone’s workload had increased considerably. It was not uncommon for them to spend days on the fieldwork and stay up all night.

After several weeks, they finally made it to the end of the operation. After the final report, the team all slouched in their seats and was too tired to say a word. Risotto was typing out the final report until he silently passed out and fell on the desk. His face hit the keyboard and, unfortunately, pressed on the delete button. Formaggio and Gelato used their last bit of strength to hold him up from the keys, but it was too late and they have already lost half of the unsaved file. Prosciutto was clinging to his chair and tried to stand up. He took a few wobbly steps to the coffee machine and grabbed his fourth cup of coffee. There was still one phone call to make. He drank the coffee while dialing the numbers, hoping that the liquid can cover the hoarseness in his voice. Melone and Illuso fell asleep during the meeting. They were sitting with both hands on the table and the long hair has covered their eyes as if they were in deep thoughts. Sorbet was sitting at the sofa, struggling to stay awake and finish his weekly weapon maintenance. The black-haired killer constantly talked to himself, reminding his own professionalism. He decided to take a smoke for refreshment but took a long time to realize that he was smoking on the wrong side and lit up the filter.

Passione gained its place in the city and became an important member of the underworld. The boss was very pleased to see this result and decided to gave La Squadra his generous rewards. The last message sent to Risotto said that they will soon receive 100 million Lira as payment, which was still not a small number after splitting by 7. The assassins were relieved after hearing from their leader. Their efforts were not in vain.

However, this has made Prosciutto quite concerned. He was the one who did the communication works so he knew how their salary was delivered. After the boss made his decision, the payment would be handed to them through multiple layers of people. Prosciutto believed that no one has the balls to steal from the boss, but, after all, they were talking about 100 million Lira. With that amount of money, people will take the risk.

His concerns were proved to be true in the worst possible way.

That night, when all of them were waiting at the base, the capo of the local branch brought them a large cargo box in person. The wooden box was big and heavy. When they carried it into the basement, Formaggio joked about its content, saying that it must be a whole box of gold bullions in order to be this heavy.

But when they open the cargo box, the assassins realized that something was off. Inside the wooden package, there was an iron cage covered by a large piece of cloth. The cage was about half a person tall and Sorbet immediately smelled the scent of some living beings in it.

“You mean, the boss has sent us…an animal that worths 100 million Lira?” Illuso scratched his head and his fingers tangled with his long hair.

“What kind of animal could worth that much money? Some rare kinds?”Gelato guessed.

“I hope it’s not a dog.” Prosciutto stepped back. He was allergic to dogs.

“A bird, maybe? A peacock, or a parrot?” Melone was eager to know about the content, “If so, can I use the feather for my hat?”

“Let’s open it and see,” Formaggio called out his stand and used its sharp finger to cut open the fabric. With a tug, he pulled down the curtain.

The incandescent light shined above them and lit up the cage without mercy. The assassins fell in silence.

Inside the cage, there lied a ragged human, to be exact, a child, a teenage boy about 15 to 16 years old. His clothes barely covered his body and his skin looked sallow. Due to the obvious malnutrition, there were not even a few hairs on his head. When the curtain opened, he instinctively crawled to the other side of the cage that was still covered by the shadow. After realizing there was nowhere to hide from the light, the boy curled up like sowbug, facing the assassins with his bony back.

At the corner of the cage, they found a large envelope of files. Risotto took a few steps and picked it out. He took out the file from the kraft paper bag and scanned it only for a few seconds before throwing it back to the ground. Formaggio’s watch began to creak and the radio on the near table suddenly screamed. The leader of the assassins was usually calm and collected, but now, Metallica released its magnetic force uncontrollably. The iron railings of the cage curled and bent, making horrible sounds. The boy in the cage was so scared that he curled up even more and used his hands to cover his eyes.

This was simply beyond everyone’s comprehension.

Prosciutto was the first one came back to reason. He picked up what has been threw to the ground, took a few glances and put it back to the paper bag. The blonde walked towards the cage and lead Metallica’s force to open the cage. Risotto finally regained his control over his emotion and helped his second in command to remove the railings. Prosciutto took off his blazer and covered the boy with it. Risotto held the boy in his hands and walked upstairs. Prosciutto followed him in silence.

The rest of the team looked at each other before Formaggio, who was the oldest among them, took a look at the files.

“Fuck! That son of a bitch!” He flipped the pages and swore loudly and went upstairs.

The assassins came near the table and examined the files. The information confirmed their worse suspicions and no wonder Risotto was so pissed off.

The boy in the cage was their “100 million rewards”. He was healthy, has no genetic diseases, and his blood type was the rarest. He had both of his eyes, kidneys, liver, lungs, intestines, blood and bones booked to various buyers from the organ market, with a total worth of 100 million Lira.

That capo of the local branch had the boss’s money for his own and replaced it with an equivalent.

Sorbet felt that his body began to chill, but at the same time, his blood was boiling. His colleges also gave off the same feelings. At that time, everyone had the same thought in their minds:

Kill them.

Prosciutto and Risotto took the child to the dining room and let him sit in the chair. Risotto sat next to him to check his injuries and Prosciutto searched for food, and, unfortunately, there was only some meat in the fridge and it was not suitable for making dinner for the child.

Prosciutto heard the sound of Formaggio, along with others, walked upstairs. Everyone was unusually quiet. He knew his teammates, although they were a group of carefree people who rarely see anything as “serious” or “important”, unlike him, they were not brought up by gangsters and being taught about glory and dignity. But still, the assassins will never allow themselves to become this low.

“How come there is no milk in the refrigerator?” Prosciutto said with a huff. He was in a really bad mood and was on the verge of killing.

“Nobody drinks milk here,” Formaggio replied. He was the one buying the groceries for this week.

“Now we do. Formaggio, go to buy some milk.” Prosciutto slammed the refrigerator door, looked disappointed.

“It’s fucking midnight! The shops are all fucking closed!” Formaggio raised his voice, which made the boy jumped a little.

“Be quiet, both of you. Prosciutto, go and make some hot water.”Risotto muttered.

The blonde stopped complaining and boiled some water. He gave the child a cup of hot water and used the remaining of it to cook some pasta. Prosciutto found some pasta sauce in the cupboard. Risotto bought them not very long ago. If it was a usual night, Prosciutto would never use these pre-cooked products. Those pasta sauce were for people who cannot cook a decent meal and it was shameful for a born and raised Italian to admit they cannot cook. He heated the sauce in the pan and added some condiments to improve its cheap taste. After the noodles were ready, he took out the noodles and topped with some olive oil and added the sauce to it. This was probably the least tasteful dish he had ever cooked, but he had no choice. The boy had no choice either.

The dinner was ready. The dim yellow light above them had somehow made the food more delicious than it should be. The child’s eyes were fixed on the noodles and he had recovered some liveliness. He played with his fingers for a while, but dare not to pick up the fork and eat. Prosciutto sat beside him and waved his colleagues away.

“It’s not polite to stare while he’s eating. Get out.” He glanced at Risotto and his leader took the lead and left the dining room. Illuso walked up to him and said a few words. After receiving his capo’s approval, he left through the mirror.

 

---

 

 

After about 10 minutes, Prosciutto entered the conference room.

“He’s in my room now. From now on, his name is Pesci and I’ll look after him. He is a stand user, but he’s too weak to summon it. I’ll train him.” Prosciutto said with a calm tone. One of the capillaries in his right eye had burst open, tainting a piece of red color on the white of his eye.

Illuso suddenly appeared in the mirror. He was panting and sweating. He rushed to his place in the mirror world and brought all the files to the base.

“What do we do now?” Gelato asked. But it wasn’t really a question since all of them knew the answer.

“I’ll kill them all tonight.” Prosciutto gritted his teeth. He rarely talked about killing someone before the deed was done, so he must already have a plan in his head. He flipped through the files brought by Illuso, and pick out every name and their addresses that could be related to this incident.

“Hey, hey, hey—stop, calm down. Don’t you expect they will inform each other as soon as one was attacked? ” Seeing Prosciutto pulling out more and more people, Formaggio was the first who came back to senses. The user of The Grateful Dead shares the same trait with the stand of going on a rampage and involving too many people into his act. If they truly want to destroy the organ dealing market, it was fine to just kill as much as possible. But what Formaggio worried was that this would leave a message to the boss and it could be interpreted in a different way. For the boss, he had to choose between the wealth brought by human trafficking and the dignity of being a gangster. There was no forgiveness for humiliation. It has to be paid in blood. This is the creed of the mafia. What the assassins experienced today was worth some blood to spill—if their boss was a true mafia man, he would let it happen, but only if the assumption was true.

“Formaggio is right. I’ll go.” Risotto said. He picked out some important figures from the files pulled out by Prosciutto. According to Illuso, if they can get rid off these people, all the organ trading would not be able to proceed and this was exactly what they were up to: to stop the whole trading process, at least for several years.

“This guy installed an alarm system in his apartment. Sorbet and I can take care of that.” Gelato took out a file and pointed at the man printed on the paper.

“These people always sleep at their mistress’s house. Babyface can take me to them.” Melone also made his choice.

“I’ll go to steal something.” Formaggio snatched the note that had the location of the local branch’s private vault.

“You can take care of that son of a bitch, leader.” Prosciutto picked out the physician who did the assessment, “I’ll take Pesci with me.”

Risotto nodded. The address of the local capo was left in front of him. He and that bastard will have a serious talk tonight.

Illuso marked down the route for each of them and used his stand to send them off. After that, he took off to his target’s address.

 

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Before leaving the base, Prosciutto took the boy to the upstairs and let him used the bathroom to clean himself. The boy can shower himself and can put on his own clothing. He could follow the command and could, clearly, understand speech. He can talk, can do basic calculations and is able to use forks and spoons instead of using his hand to eat. This implied that he was a normal kid with some decent family education. Prosciutto thought to himself. At least this means that Pesci had a normal life before he was abducted. Before they got on the car, Prosciutto asked Pesci to drink some water and took some pills that prevent motion sickness. The boy wanted to sit at the back row, but under the order of Prosciutto, he finally sat at the co-pilot seat.

Prosciutto drove them to the place where the physician lives. He drove the car down the road and hid it in the woods.

“Pesci, there’s nothing to be scared of. Take this and follow me.” He took out a bag of ice and put it in Pesci’s hands. Before the operation, he explained to the boy about the stand and stand user. The boy was quite shocked at first, but soon he accepted reality. They walked to the front gate of the villa and Prosciutto called out The Grateful Dead. He knocked out the guard first and activated the aging ability to its full power. After a few minutes, there was no one can be seen through the window. Prosciutto walked through the front door to the villa, as if he was invited to a party. Inside the house, all the servants and guards were in a coma due to rapid aging. He didn’t even bother to look around and went straight to the target room.

“Come. Pesci.” He stood at the end of the stairs and turned around to call out the hesitating boy. “You’re one of us now. This is your job.” He walked down the stairs and ruffled his hair and patted his back as an encouragement.

The green-haired boy nervously glanced at the people laying down on the floor and then looked at Prosciutto for reassurance. He nodded and carefully walked pass those withered bodies without stepping on them and followed Prosciutto to the second floor.

Prosciutto slammed open the bedroom door. Hearing the loud noise, the physician, who was dried out and barely alive, twitched uncontrollably. He was far from dying because of old age since Prosciutto had a delicate control over his stand.

“Pesci, pour me a glass of ice water.” Prosciutto grabbed a chair and sat beside the bed. The moonlight shed on his youthful face like he was a male version of Hebe the goddess, that ensured herself the eternal youth.

Pesci took a glass of ice water and stood behind Prosciutto.

“Pour him.” Prosciutto gestured.

Pesci poured the water over the face of the old man on the bed. The cooling effect reversed the aging and revealed that the old man was the physician.

“Recognized him?” Prosciutto asked Pesci.

“…yes.” Pesci nodded, but he quickly remembered that Prosciutto was his superior. He panicked and mumbled. “No! I…uh…I mean, I knew him! Prosciutto aniki! He did all the check-ups!”

“Pesci, my Pesci.” Prosciutto sighed. “There’s no need to be nervous. You belong to us now.”

“I see, it’s you. Heh.” The man in the bed knew that he wouldn’t make it out alive, but he didn’t expect that he will be killed by his former “commodity”. “Answer me, kid. Did your new dad know how expensive you are?”

“I’ll kill you—!!!” Pesci screamed and landed his fists on the physician. But, as a victim of human trafficking, he was kept in the cage for too long and simply having one dinner cannot give him much strength.

“Pesci!” Prosciutto raised his voice and grasped the boy’s shirt and pulled him back. “Pick up the bag now!” He then ordered.

“You’re one of us now. We don’t need to say ‘I’ll kill you’.”

The blond man stood up, grabbed the physician by his neck in one hand and lifted him from the bed.

“…because by the moment those words come into our minds, our target is already dead and the deed is done.” His grip tightened and the aging of the Grateful Dead paced even faster. In an instant, the physician died and his body quickly rotted. The muscle and organs fall out from the body, but before those could reach the ground, they decayed into dust. Within a few minutes, there was only a skeleton left on the bed.

“Let’s go. Pesci.” Prosciutto threw the skeleton off and took Pesci back to the car.

At the same time, Gelato and Sorbet also successfully broke into the target’s residence. Their target lived in a high-rise apartment. The assassins descended from the roof to the balcony and cut-off the alarms from the outside. Gelato broke the window with the help of his stand and soundproofed the whole room after sneaking into the bedroom. The target was shot died while asleep. The bullet went through just between his eyes and created a perfectly round red hole. The shattered pieces of the brain and the blood painted the pillow, like some modern ink splash artwork.

Gelato once told him that he was born in a hunter family. Sorbet watched his partner skillfully tied the hands and feet of the body with ropes and hung the body upside-down on the bedpost. He suddenly remembered this piece of information.

No wonder he was so skilled. This was what the hunter does to his prey.

“Take off his clothes. Quickly.” Gelato asked. He took out a dagger and sliced the throat of the corpse to bleed it. Their victim has a collection of teapots in his bedroom, so Gelato took them to collect the blood.

Sorbet used his height as an advantage and cut open the pajamas the corpse was wearing. He tore the last piece of cloth down and holding the flashlight for Gelato.

His partner pressed on the abdomen of the body and used the back of the knife and draw a cutline across the belly. After deciding where to make the first cut, he steadily inserted the knife into the lower part of the abdomen and made a straight vertical cut and stopped till it reached the sternum. He pulled out the knife and used the bed sheet to wipe out the blood. Then he grasped on both sides of the wound and tore it open. Due to the gravity, the unsealed viscera poured out from the cavity as well as blood and other body fluids. The stinking smell made Sorbet wrinkled his nose.

But Gelato seemed unaffected. He didn’t show any signs of disgust. He was calm like a chef who was dealing with cooking ingredients. Gelato used his bare hands to separate the organs apart, gathered the scattered intestines together, and scrape the fat and blood vessels off from the viscera with his knife.

“Here. This is the intestines.” Gelato skillfully picked out the organ and hold that pile of guts in his hands and asked Sorbet to lend him a hand.

Sorbet, of course, felt uncomfortable with the thought of having someone’s inner organ in his hands. He usually does not involve himself in melee and close-on assassination, but this was not because he was OCD about staying dry and clean. He had no problem cooking and cutting raw meat. Still, it didn’t mean that he can handle this. Sorbet tried his best to fight off the feeling of nausea and took the pile of intestines from Gelato’s hands and quickly throw it to the desk.

“This is the colon…eh, never mind.” Gelato also felt sick after pulling out half of it. He threw it on the ground and kicked it under the bed.

“Kidney.”

“Stomach.”

“Liver.”

Gelato worked like a professional surgeon and pull out different viscera from the body and placed it on the table. That dead bastard would never see it coming. Sorbet thought. He had sent so many victims to the dissection surgery, now its was his turn to be taken apart.

“It reminds me of when I was a kid.” The corpse almost bled out and had its organs removed. Gelato let it stay hanged and used his sleeve to wipe the knife clean. He leaned against the desk and said: “My grandfather used to take me hunt. He can always catch something, and then I would help him with field dressing.”

While speaking, Gelato rubbed his knife on the liver and watched the dark red organ wobbled back and forth. He licked his lips and used his thumb to held the liver and cut a small piece off from it.

“After the prey is down, it is best to field dress it immediately since the juices from the inner organs will taint the meat. Before throwing them away, grandpa would always cut a piece of fresh liver and put it in my mouth, saying it is very nutritious and should not be wasted.” He put the piece of liver into his mouth and that piece of dark red meat disappeared between Gelato’s lips as if it was his second tongue. The bloodstain on his lips made Sorbet felt an unprecedented sense of hunger.

“Give me a share.” Sorbet asked. When they were having dinner together, if Sorbet wanted to have a bite of what Gelato was eating, he would ask like this.

“Sure.” And Gelato would give the same reply. He reached to cut the second piece of liver, but Sorbet grabbed his hand and used the other hand to stroke his cheek. He sucked on Gelato’s lips to taste the blood and then put his tongue inside of Gelato’s mouth and stole the liver from Gelato. They both bite down and tore the piece of liver into half.

“It’s good.” Sorbet chewed on the liver and trying to remember its taste. This was the first time he had raw liver and he didn’t hate it at all.

“Just as I thought.” Gelato smiled softly and put the knife back to his pocket. “You got some blood on your face.” He pointed to the area just below his eyes, but before Sorbet raised his hands to wipe them off, Gelato stood closely and grabbed Sorbet’s collar to make him bend down. He stuck out his tongue and licked away the blood on Sorbet’s face.

Their gaze met and kissed fiercely. The smell of blood thickened. The hanged corpse’s eyes were wide open, gradually cover in the cloudy haze.

 

---

 

 

In the end, the boss didn’t blame them for acting without his permission, because during that time, the boss was faced with more serious problems. The rapid growth and expansion of Passione have attracted attentions from not only other mafia but also stand-users from other countries. After receiving the intelligence about a French stand user, as a representative of some international cooperation, coming to Italy to investigate the “Arrow and Bow”, the boss knew that he has to handle this in person. Thus, he ordered all branches to temporarily cease-fire and lay low. The assassins were transferred back to Polpo, who was more proficient in managing stand user’s affairs and were ordered not to use their stand ability.

The capo from the human trafficking and organ dealing area received the news of foreign investigation before the boss and, as a snobbish creature, he sensed that Passione may not be able to make it through. So he sold the information of the boss to the international cooperation and stole the 100 million Lira from the assassins and used the money to flee. When Risotto finally arrived at the local base, there was no one left, only some corpse lying on the floor, executed by the traitor to seal his escaping route. The last thing the assassins heard about this man was that he had already left Italy.

Prosciutto almost had another headache after hearing this news and Pesci was scared by his reaction that he had to hold his breath.

“One day, Pesci, one day, you’ll have your revenge.” He took a smoke to relieve the tension. “Now, go to practice your Beach Boy.”

During his stay with the assassins (and, particularly, under the care of Prosciutto), Pesci had a considerable amount of growth. He grew a few inches higher and his weight doubled. His skin returned to a healthy color and got quite chubby. Even some of his hair grew back from the malnutrition. At first, Formaggio would give his cheeks a few pinches and smiled like he was his uncle. Illuso even gave him a nickname of radish. But, after a few death glares from Prosciutto, no one dared to see Pesci as their “adopted child”. Pesci was a member of the assassin team, and he, sooner or later, would become just like them.

Although the assassins can no longer use their stand, they continue to receive the boss’s orders. The responsibility now fell on those who did not rely much on their stand ability. They changed back to traditional ways of killing. This certainly increased the risk, but still, their life was not as busy as before.

 

---

 

Under Polpo’s negotiation, the boss finally agreed that the assassins can have half of the total revenue that the capo left before his flee. In the end, the payment for the assassins was way higher than 100 million Lira—with the additional payment for prosecuting traitors. Sorbet and Gelato spent their share of money buying a house in the countryside of Napolis. If they have to move to other places, they can rent it to others and make it another source of income.

One day, in the middle of the night, they received an order from Risotto and executed a drug dealer that refused to pay Passione its share of interest. Gelato snapped his neck using his bare hands. After leaving the crime scene, Sorbet took off the rubber gloves and toss it into his pocket. He did not like the feeling of wearing a rubber glove. It made his hands sweat a lot. Gelato walked behind him, carrying the body over his shoulder as if it weighed like nothing. Although he was shorter than Sorbet, Gelato was actually stronger than the raven-haired man. They put the corpse in a large plastic bag and hid it in a pile of trash and drove home,

Everything was going according to the plan and they would arrive home within 15 minutes. However, when they were waiting at a crossroad for the traffic light, they heard siren rings from not afar. The assassins were not sure whether it was because someone had discovered the body and called the police since there were some homeless people wandering around in that district. They were not sure if the police were coming after them, so the two killers pulled over and turned off the engine by instinct. They hurried to the backseat, trying to pretend there’s no one in the car. Gelato was on the co-pilot seat and he was shorter. So he went through the gap between the seats and quickly laid flat on the backseat. But Sorbet was much taller than him and he had awfully long legs which were proved to be completely useless in this situation. With the siren approaching, Gelato’s anxiety level reached its peak and he immediately grabbed on Sorbet’s waistband and pull him to the backseat. Sorbet landed himself on Gelato and his black shirt happened to be a perfect cover for them.

They kept still, waiting for the police car to pass by them. The police seemed to lost their target, so they slowed down to take a closer look at the street surroundings. Gelato, who was lying face-up on the backseat, saw the flashlight came through the window and subconsciously held Sorbet closer. It was a summer night and they were wearing shirts. Their bodies entangled with each other. The thin layers of cloth cannot conceal anything with such close distance. He could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath, and heartbeat. Sorbet kept using those fragrance-free products, but his clothes were hanged close to Gelato’s and the scent of laundry detergent gradually stained — which was probably the reason why he smelled his scent on Sorbet. Gelato thought to himself, but his brain was fuzzy. Sorbet was on top of him. His head was just next to Gelato’s and his breath tingled Gelato’s ear. He can’t think clearly with this proximity. Or it was just that they were so close to each other and the brace was too tight so his scent got rubbed over to Sorbet’s body.

The police finally gave up searching and left the street. They took a sigh of relief but refused to separate. Blame the summer night where everything was simply too hot and steamy. Sorbet straddled himself on Gelato’s lap. His mouth was all over his body.

“We should go back.” Gelato tried to brush him off, but Sorbet bit his fingers instead. His partner had a pretty low sex drive and for the most of the time, it was Gelato who would ask for intimacy. But this time it was different. Sorbet took Gelato’s middle finger into his mouth and left a ring of bite marks. As if it was his wedding ring. Sorbet would never let those words come out from his mouth, but instead, this was the way he vowed to him.

“I’ll go check the car. I saw something sneak under it.” Sorbet let him go and fixed his hair, which became a mess during their brief make-out session.

“A stray cat?” Gelato asked. Sometimes, stray cats would hide under the car for shelter and warmth, so it is always wise to check before starting the engine. Formaggio had repeated this little tips enough time for the whole team to develop a habit of looking for strays cats before they go. That short-haired man was easy to get along with, but if he knew someone who hurt those fur-balls so carelessly, he would certainly give them hell.

“Not sure.” Sorbet got off the car and bent down to check. Gelato also sat up from the backseat.

“The back!” Gelato knocked at the window and pointed to the car trunk. Their trunk was opened, but from Gelato’s point of view, he could not see who did this. So he also got off the car and caught the teenager who was trying to squeeze into the trunk right on time. Sorbet grabbed at his back collar and lifted him up as if he was a human-sized cat. The teen began to screech but Gelato instantly muted him. After realizing that he cannot make any sound, the curly-haired teen switched to sign language swearing. His legs, hanging in the midair because he was still lifted, was kicking back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Sorbet asked. He was kicked multiple times before Gelato took out a rope and tied his feet.

“FUCK YOU.” The teen with blue curls moved his lips in a very clear motion that it could be used for teaching lip reading to beginners.

However, probably due to the fact the the teen looked ridiculous when being held up like a cat, Sorbet didn’t feel much offended by his reaction but found him quite amusing. Gelato ceased this moment and tied up his hands before Sorbet let the young man sat on the trunk.

“I suggest you keep quiet. The police just left.” He put up a finger and held it in front of his face and helped the teen to lift up his glasses. This little hitchhiker had a good sense of fashion. His glasses frame matched his red snickers. “Are they chasing you?”

As soon as he heard the word “police”, the teen fell in silence and looked around. After confirming what Gelato had said, he reluctantly nodded.

“Why are they chasing you? For robbing a bakery?” Gelato took out a bag from the car trunk. It was filled with bread and some change. He noticed this bag while searching for ropes and deducted that it should belong to the young stranger.

The teen moved his lips but he cannot speak.

“You’re wearing a school uniform. Did you run away from school?” When grabbing at his collar, Sorbet saw a label with something that looked like a school badge. This kid certainly did not look like a homeless person, maybe he ran away from school. But he ran away from school for what?

When he heard they mention “school”, the teen squirmed again.

“I’ll give your voice back, speak carefully.” Gelato decided to save the trouble and stopped Sorbet from asking more questions. He made his words clear to the teen and the kid nodded.

“I’m not going back to that shit-hole.” After regaining his voice, the first word that came out from his mouth was a swear. “They don’t want me anyway. Stop asking me and just pretend you didn’t see me. I’ll get off halfway.”

“Why did the police chase you?” Sorbet asked again.

“I pushed some jackass down the stairs.” The teen gritted his teeth.

“That’s not a serious crime.” Sorbet looked confused.

“From the 15th floor.”

“Oh.”

“So what’s your plan right now?” Gelato followed.

“I guess I’ll just wait until this shit is over. Those bastards deserve that and no one will care after a few weeks.” The curl-haired teen thought his murder case can create an impression of being merciless and brutal, at least shocked the two adults a little bit. But he didn’t expect that the blonde and the raven-haired man looked like they just heard an interesting story. He lost his temper and threatened: “Why do you care? Want to call the police, huh? I warn you, if you dare to do so, I don’t mind getting more blood on my hands.” Unfortunately, he forgot that he was still being tied and thus, this threat was not effective at all.

“We won’t call the police, that will give us more trouble…do you know who we are?”

“Some goddamn faggots making out in public area. Why you do care? You’re gonna adopt me?” The young man rolled his eyes again.

This pissed Sorbet off, as he firmly replied: “Yes, we are.”

The young man’s face became as blue as his hair.

“…I was just kidding. Don’t do this to me…” He fumbled. “Please…”

 

---

 

 

The new member of La Squadra called himself “Ghiaccio”.

Risotto showed disapproval of them kidnapping teenagers into the business, while Prosciutto slapped the back of Ghiaccio’s head for swearing out loud.

“He may get along with Polpo.” Formaggio suggested, “or else we’ll have to finish him. He has seen too much.”

Illuso agreed. Melone gave him a pitiful look. Ever since Ghiaccio arrived, he was quite fond of this teen who acted like a dictionary for all kinds of insults. He saw him as his new science project and his passion towards him had reached the level of disturbing.

“Can’t I adopt him? I have a basement.” Melone asked.

“Stay away from me! You pervert!” Ghiaccio screamed.

“Sorbet, take him to Polpo.” Prosciutto rubbed his temple. Ghiaccio’s screaming was unbearable for him.

So Sorbet drove him to the prison and waited for the teen to met Polpo. After about 15 minutes, the boy came out and was unusually quiet and pale. He opened the door of the back seat and got inside of the car. He lied on the backseat with his hands crossed over his chest as if he was lying in a coffin.

“I fucked up.” He murmured. “My chest hurts.”

“Well, wait till we get back and tell us about it.”

 

---

 

 

“I think Polpo was happy with at the very beginning.” In the lounge of their base, Ghiaccio was lying flat on the sofa, hands crossed at his chest and his eyes staring at the ceiling. The assassins, who rarely had time to hang out together, all sat close to him and listened to his story, with beer and snacks in their hands.

“I mean, we have some similarities in personality. So he gave me a trial and asked me to hold his lighter.”

“I know this part. You have to keep the flame on for 24 hours, right?” Melone said.

“Don’t interrupt me!…But yes, it should be kept for 24 hours. But I was wondering what would happen if the fire goes off and I got carried away. He didn’t tell me and just asked me to take it.” Ghiaccio took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I was still thinking about what if the lid was closed so I just…did it.”

“heh.” Illuso cannot help but laughed.

“Man, my mind just…went blank. I opened the lid and lit it again. That’s when I felt a sharp pain through my chest and Polpo said to give it back and I shall leave.” Ghiaccio closed his eyes. “That must be a heart attack. I’m going to die.”

“You’ll be fine. You passed the test.” Melone gently held his hands.

“Don’t lie to me. I feel so cold. I’m dying, I know that.” Ghiaccio put up his finger.

“Rest in peace, then.” Formaggio patted his shoulder and turned to watch the game on TV with his colleagues. Melone stayed with him and observed their new coworker carefully.

After a while, the temperature in the lounge suddenly dropped.

“The air conditioner broke again?” Formaggio asked Gelato. The blonde got up and checked the controlling panel.

“It’s off.”He replied.

“Then why is it so cold in here?” Illuso shivered.

“It’s Ghiaccio.” Melone sat next to Ghiaccio, who was covered by a thin layer of ice. “He’s frozen.”

Chapter 7: A landscape painting of a white beach

As their relationship became more and more intimate, Sorbet and Gelato spend more time with each other than with anyone else. They worked as partners in crime and share the same seat when staying at the team base. Sometimes Melone would try to get in between and sometimes it was Formaggio, but soon no one wanted to be the third wheel and decided to give the lovers some quiet time together. Their PDA was not restricted to any situation, even during the assassin’s weekly meeting. Gelato would sit in Sorbet’s lap throughout the meeting without feeling embarrassed at all. At first, Ghiacco would make a scene over it and Gelato would yell at him afterward. Then everyone got used to it and could turn a blind eye to their display of affection.

Risotto did not say anything about his teammates developing unnecessary intimacy with each other. He had faith in them and believed that those two would not let their emotion hinder their judgment. Sorbet was a professional gun-for-hire and Gelato was an ex-solder. Their former occupation required them to see themselves as weapons and suppress their emotions to the utmost. In fact, Risotto felt that he was in no place to comment on their “feelings” since he was the one got carried away by anger and hatred and embarked on this career. Even his stand, Metallica, was related to his remorse that he could’ve saved his nephew from that car accident. This made Risotto felt sarcastic. Their gang was called “Passione”, but the assassins who did the dirty jobs and pave the way for “Passione” were not allowed to have such passion.

Risotto completely dispelled his doubts after a mission with them. He, Sorbet, Gelato and Melone were divided into two groups, aiming for a political figure. But the message about their killing leaked before the mission and Gelato and Melone were ambushed by the enemies and had to retreat. The target fled in the city and they had to use the backup plan and let Sorbet snipe the target from above. Risotto was watching out for enemies while maintaining radio connection with Gelato. The sound of gunshot burst from time to time and Gelato, in his effort to cover Melone, took a few shots. Although the bullets missed the vital part of Gelato’s body, he lost a considerable amount of blood. They were retreating and reporting the location of the target to Risotto. Gelato was panting and his voice was fainting. Cold sweat forming in Risotto’s palm. He stayed guard and confirmed the location for the shot with the former solder. Sorbet was listening to their conversation all along while maintaining his posture. The leader of the assassins secretly used Metallica on him to feel his heartbeat. As the target approaching, Sorbet’s heartbeat began to slow down and his breath stopped. Even after the target was shot dead, his heartbeat did not go back to the regular rhythm. It was until they met Gelato and Melone, Sorbet threw the rifle to Risotto and took Gelato in the car and drove back to the base for medical treatment, his feet stomped on the throttle all the way and did not lift up.

On the other hand, Gelato was not as “professional” as Sorbet when faced with situations like this. He was impeccable in his job and could concentrate to an extent that all irrelevant information in the environment was filtered out of his attention. Although he was much better than Ghiaccio in terms of emotion regulation, compared to the cold-blooded gun-for-hire, Gelato was vulnerable to act on his feelings. In fact, his first killing was completely a result of the act on impulse. That man tried to rape him and Gelato snapped and beat him to death. But one could not say this was a bad thing for Gelato. As his partner, Sorbet tended to suppress his emotion and separate his private life from work. Gelato complimented him with his knowledge of human emotions. Unlike Sorbet, Gelato let himself experience those emotions so that he could easily make use of his experiences as an advantage. He could recreate those extremely stressful or threatening situations when interrogating prisoners. Gelato would take away their voices and raise their fear and anxiety to the limit and gave back their voice as soon as they break down and spill out the truth. In this way, he could dig out whatever he wants from his target.

But this also meant that Gelato cannot ignore his own feelings. He could stay poker-face throughout the mission and aim perfectly without breaking a sweat. But as soon as the news of Sorbet being injured or his mission went south, there would be some strange sound coming from Gelato’s body, as if a bow was bent to its limit and was about to break. His teammates have confirmed that they all heard that sound and it sounded like a cracking glacier and have repeatedly stressed that it was not a hallucination.

Of course, their differences also reflected in their ways of killing. Sorbet was used to work without using his stand unless the situation was urgent. Most of the time, he just worked as a regular ordinary assassin, shooting the target dead. He preferred to keep a distance with people he aimed to kill and decide their fate via his sniping scope. The distance between the muzzle and the target prevent every possibility for empathy to emerge. Aim. Fire. Target down. Life was compressed into a mark of ink on his contract paper. Gelato, however, made use of his ability to the utmost. He acted like a weapon, but could still think and feel. He even used his own emotional outburst against his enemies, causing them to collapse both physically and mentally. Gelato had no problem getting blood on his hands. His stand made him not only a perfect candidate behind the trigger but also a bullet or a knife, tearing apart human flesh without making any sound.

To conclude, neither Risotto nor Prosciutto could give any comment on Gelato and Sorbet’s relationship. It was indeed not suitable for assassins to develop deep connections with each other, but right now, they have two newcomers that had never killed anyone, one skinny guy that could barely lift anything heavy, plus one who just cannot aim. Compared to them, falling in love with your colleague was no big deal.

Two months later, the boss lifted the alarm. They never heard of that French stand user or the international foundation ever since. At first, Melone and Illuso tried to find some clue from Sorbet since he was also a French, but the only thing they got was Sorbet rolling his eyes and telling them not all French people know each other. Passione had fulfilled its plan on geographic expansion and its next step was to thrive. Like said, their boss had an extraordinary ambition to build his empire of crime. The assassins stayed in Naples as they no longer need to move around in groups. The chances for team fights greatly reduced and for most of the time, each of them would work separately in cities and can only spend time together when collecting bounties or holidays.

Sorbet and Gelato bought a house in the rural areas in Naples. There were only a few neighbors around and it was actually a good place for retirement. However, everyone knew that was impossible. The house in the suburbs was not much different as Polpo’s warehouse. It served the purpose of a hideout — no one will wonder what’s inside the back of their truck, wine bottles or guns did not look that different as long as they were sealed in wood boxes. Another advantage of living in the suburb was safety, though it would be quite unnecessary for these two to worry about their own safety — in fact, if they live in downtown, their neighbors need to seriously think about buying insurance for the whole family — but in any case, objectively speaking, houses in outskirts were much safer then the high-rise apartments in the city.

However, Sorbet was quite unhappy about the house they bought having too many windows. Strictly speaking, the house they bought was a holiday cottage and its primary function was for renting to tourists. As a result, the goal of this place was to make sure that whoever lives in the house can enjoy the outside scenes while staying inside the room. As for privacy, the location of this house has ensured that no one else besides the owner would wander around this place. Still, this did not stop Sorbet from worrying about others finding out this place and snip them dead while asleep. If it wasn’t Gelato who put a stop to his complaining, Sorbet would gladly choose the basement as their bedroom. Eventually, after some bargaining, they decided to live on the second floor and cover their bedroom window with thick dark curtains.

“This area was flat and there’s no good angle for sniping. You KNOW that.” Gelato tried to talk some sense into Sorbet while they were moving the mattress.

Sorbet replied him with a look of “I know, but I still think it’s a bad choice”.

This was the first time that they had a house of their own. During breaks, they would come here and make renovations. The assassins certainly cannot go to the construction market and hire workers to help them with room renovation, but fortunately, their colleagues were enthusiastic about this and offered help. Melone and Prosciutto had quite an argument when it came to deciding the style of interior design and the argument ended up with Prosciutto won by one vote all thanks to Pesci. Melone, who lost the vote, unwillingly gave up his idea of modern art wallpaper and pink plush carpet (but, of course, Prosciutto’s suggestion of handcrafted carpet was also rejected later on). The lilac-haired man quickly accepted his failure and kept one of the homunculi of Baby Face after the mission and use it to work on the wall and the floor. Their furniture was delivered by Formaggio, whose stand was proved to be extremely useful in delivery. The only problem was that no one knows whether these pieces of furniture were bought or stolen by him and Illuso. Risotto and Gelato installed the water pipes and wires and by the way, they discovered that Metallica was not conductive. After they finished the renovation, the team had a party at Gelato and Sorbet’s new house. It was right after their payday and everyone was in a good mood, even Risotto indulged himself with some wine. It was late at night when the party ended so they decided to stay until tomorrow morning. There was only one bedroom in the house and the guest rooms were used for other purposes. So besides the two owners of the house, the rest of the team stayed in the living room for the night. The two underaged teens slept on the sofa under Prosciutto’s threat and the rest of them slept either in their cars or on the floor.

“You can sleep in the mirror world.” Illuso’s sudden generosity was really surprising. He probably had too much wine to put up his usual anti-social persona. Formaggio didn’t accept his offer and headed to his car. Prosciutto and Risotto slept on the sofa in the mirror world.

Then, Melone elbowed Illuso. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He raised his eyebrow and winked.

“Yep.” Illuso snickered. There was the reflection of the sofa in the mirror world, so logically, there should also be an empty bed in the bedroom. The two of them rushed into the bedroom in the mirror world and jumped onto the bed. When Illuso helped them moving the furniture, he purposefully put a large leaning mirror in their bedroom and made sure that the angle was just right to see the bed. The two gossipers carefully squeezed together for the best seat in front of the mirror and tried very hard to see what’s going on in the bedroom. They waited for a good half an hour, but the couple did not move at all. So Illuso and Melone gave up and went back to sleep.

Sorbet can’t say that he had a good sleep that night. Throughout the night, he had a feeling of being watched by someone. So before finally drifting into slumber, he kept still and glanced at Gelato from time to time. He hoped that Gelato felt the same and stayed alert with him, but Gelato had already fallen asleep. He had too much alcohol and the flush was still there, on his peaceful face.

It was a miracle that Gelato can sleep so well under this tension. In the next morning, Sorbet was barely conscious and had to rely on coffee to stay awake. He felt really jealous of his partner, who was always energetic and ready for the day. He and Gelato had been partners for almost 3 years and they at least spent half of the time sleeping together. As far as Sorbet could remember, Gelato had never had problems with sleeping. The only time he could remember Gelato having insomnia was the night he met him and took him to his house. Sorbet was sleeping in his bedroom and heard Gelato, who was supposed to be sleeping on the sofa, tossing and turning and making the spring creak. But he still managed to fall asleep after midnight and the next day, he acted as nothing had happened. During the first few times that they sleep together, Gelato would wake up because of sudden physical contact, but after a few times, he got used to it and let down his guard — of course, he still had to know who was sleeping next to him. On the other hand, it took Sorbet a long time to accept that someone was lying beside him in his sleep. After Gelato took his advice and used fragranced shampoo to prevent being accidentally injured by Sorbet (because he cannot sense the other’s presence while asleep if they use unfragranced product and would automatically enter the defense mode if there is someone he cannot identify), Sorbet faced another problem that he simply cannot sleep well when knowing there is someone near him. This problem was not fixed until the day of Ferragosto. Many things happened that day and Sorbet and Gelato became more than friends was one of them. That night, they slept close to each other. Gelato was hugging Sorbet’s arm as if it was his rifle. His head rested on the pillow, just beneath Sorbet’s chin, and the smell of shampoo wrapped him. The raven-haired killer’s olfactory system decided to give up after being smothered by this scent throughout the night and decided to turn a blind eye to its presence. After that night, Sorbet could finally fall asleep with the warmth and scent of the other party.

He put down his mug and stopped being nostalgic. This wasn’t like him. Bringing out the past was something that Gelato would do, and the said person was sitting right in front of the window, collecting information about their next mission. His working desk was facing their small garden and the outside was painted by green.

He should be more cautious about it. Sorbet thought. He was sitting in the living room with all curtains pulled closed. The raven-haired killer sat in the dark corner of their living room, watching his partner bathed in sunlight. Gelato was half-naked, leaving his torso for everyone to watch. His eyes were fixated on the computer screen and he was taking notes of the cyphered code. It contained the information for their next job. He hasn’t fully recovered from his last mission. There were still some bullet wounds on his body, those tiny red pits, like the battered surface of the moon. Gelato’s body was covered by scars, some of them came from his old times at the army, but he got most of them after becoming an assassin. He could always win the fight, but sometimes there was a price to pay. Even a knife would break if the angle wasn’t right. From time to time, Gelato would complain to Sorbet for making fun of his scar-covered skin, as the other barely had any. To make things even, he had to do it himself, biting his own marks on Sorbet’s body.

In fact, most of his injuries were unavoidable. He was in a dangerous line of work, and at the most of the time, his working environment was far more dangerous than his colleagues. He was an ex-soldier, so he naturally was better at dealing with a large number of enemies than others. Although this doesn’t usually happen, once it does, he’s the one the team relied on. Sometimes Prosciutto would volunteer to replace him, and sometimes Ghiaccio would offer his help. But Risotto and Sorbet were very clear that those two had fundamental differences with Gelato. Prosciutto and Ghiaccio would assess the severity of the situation and choose the most appropriate way to deal with the problem, and would even consider whether it is wise to do so and whether they can avoid unnecessary encounters. However, Gelato would not think about it at all. As long as Risotto gave his order, or as long as Gelato believed it was necessary for them, he would immediately go straight for it, rather than waiting until he got everything clear. Gelato would act in caution during the mission, but he never assesses its risk in advance. Risotto sincerely felt that having such a subordinate is a blessing, but at the same time, it forced him to take into account all possible risks when arranging tasks — because his orders will be done, come hell or high water. Even if the only end is death, his people will oblige.

But this did not mean that Sorbet would think the same as Risotto. He was not the leader, he was Gelato’s partner and his lover. He spent his time in this profession longer than anyone, so he knew the reason behind Gelato’s recklessness. It was a way of self-abomination. This job was not something that you can quit without any consequences. If you make enemies, they will come after you. If your mission failed, your target will come after you. When you grow older, your body function will decline, but the hatred in others will only deepen as time goes by. Ever since they enter this line of work, the assassins were destined for a gruesome death. For anyone who cherishes his own life, this was certainly not an ideal job. But one could only understand after he becomes part of it, and it was already too late to back out.

In the New Year’s Eve, the assassins came together and had a party. Melone hosted it because Prosciutto and Risotto were busy writing reports for the boss. They didn’t quite get what Melone was proposing right then and just nodded in hope of him to stop bothering them.

Fortunately, although Melone had a bad taste in almost everything, he didn’t fuck up the party. Actually, it was as good as the one hosted by Formaggio. They had two newcomers this year and it happened that both of them are teens and never experienced such things. Melone made a lively atmosphere and prepared food and games. Ghiaccio did not throw a single tantrum throughout the night, which was indeed a miracle. Although he did not openly talk about how glad he was, from time to time some white fog would rose from his head since White Album was no fully in control. Pesci was obviously very happy at the food and giggled and blushed at Formaggio’s dirty jokes. He was always nervous when staying near people who were much older than him, but today he finally felt relaxed around his colleagues. Prosciutto watched carefully as Pesci smiled at him, he sighed and returned a smile and sipped a drink with Risotto.

They stayed up late that night, so Sorbet and Gelato decided to stay at the base. They slept on the sofa that they usually shared during the meeting. Sorbet, being the taller one among the two, was crushed beneath Gelato, who was sound asleep within a few minutes. Sorbet, of course, was sleepy. He drank too much wine and Gelato’s body weight made it hard to breathe, which made him even dizzier. But when he was almost slipping into sleep, Sorbet heard some quarreling over the table. He was instantly alerted and tried to identify the voices. Sorbet vaguely remembered that it was Prosciutto and Risotto being in charge of cleaning up, so he decided to listen.

It seemed that Prosciutto was having a one-sided argument with Risotto, which was new. They were quite close in private, but no matter how close they were, Risotto was still his leader and Prosciutto respected that. Even during times that he disagreed with Risotto’s decision, he would not put up a fight with him. Sorbet fought against his will to sleep and tried to recognize what they were talking about. Prosciutto’s voice raised and dropped as it was fueled with his emotion outbreak. Risotto’s voice was too low to be heard. Sorbet only figured out part of their speech, but what he had heard was enough to make him feel sorrow.

Prosciutto was regretting his choice. He said that he should’ve sent Pesci to childcare instead of keeping him here and be killed one day. Pesci was not ready, but he had to. If he hadn’t accepted his fate, victory will not fall into his hands. Actually, after that incident, Prosciutto, Formaggio and Gelato tried to reach Pesci’s parents. They used their connection to search for missing children list at the police stations, name lists at the orphanages and other reports of missing children, but they found nothing. The assassins revealed the possibility that they did not want to admit in the first place and the only chance for them to dismiss it was to ask Pesci directly. Pesci trusted Prosciutto and would certainly give his answer if being asked by him. But Prosciutto, who had no fear during work, cannot bring up any courage to ask Pesci that question. Life had already been so cruel to the boy, he shall not add any sorrow to him. If he forced Pesci to talk, to admit that he was sold by his own parents to organ dealers, Prosciutto felt that he would never forgive himself. There were already too many people who ended up in here because they did not have other choices. He rather lied to himself that Pesci has had a few years of happy life as an ordinary people, before being abducted by the notorious mafia.

“Maybe Pesci will hate me.”Prosciutto said.

“It wasn’t you who put him in the cage.” Risotto replied.

“But I didn’t free him either.” Prosciutto shook his head, “Pesci was still weak, he still doesn’t understand what it means to be an assassin. The more he can’t understand, the more I feel that he is not ready for his fate…If he failed to gain his glory, he will certainly hate me when he dies, just like I hate my parents who laid my life as their tool for success — Risotto, please don’t misunderstand me, I never think that murder is a crime. People are given the power to plunder, so they have the right to take away other’s life. But, Risotto, I ask you, do people have the right to make others live? I never regretted killing, but right now, I feel that I’m committing an unforgivable crime.”

“You think too much, Prosciutto, you’re drunk…” The leader of the assassin comforted him and they left the dining room together.

Before fallen asleep, the words of Prosciutto lingered in Sorbet’s mind, because Sorbet, too, had involved Gelato in his business. If Prosciutto thinks himself as guilty, then Sorbet was guilty, too.

He kept thinking about this and decided to tell the story to Gelato on their way back. The blonde sitting in the co-pilot seat was shocked for a second before his expression became complicated with pity and taunt.

“The old man finally has a crisis? Don’t confuse me with that child Pesci!” Gelato barked and pinched Sorbet’s arm. He flexed his arm just to show how well-built a grown-up man he was, which was very different from Pesci’s chubby arms. “Do you want me to nag about my past again?”

Gelato was referring to his childhood stories. After becoming close to Sorbet, he occasionally shared some stories of his past. It was not something that Gelato deliberately want to tell, he just wanted to strike up a conversation with his partner. He carefully omitted some critical information when telling those memories, like the town he was born and his family structure. Gelato didn’t really care about Sorbet knowing his past. His real name and origin meant nothing to him, but it would be a fatal mistake for his family. Therefore, Gelato decided to seal those things in his head.

He shared his memories with Sorbet about hunting in the mountains with his dad, the fresh deer liver offered by his grandfather, the autumn harvest that his mother took him and his siblings to, and seeing his little brothers and sisters growing up. He shared those precious memories with Sorbet, not only because there were joyful memories that he’d like to share with people he loved, but also because those were the last proof of this soul before he was named Gelato. Sorbet led him into his new life and this was the only gift Gelato could offer. At the same time, he was trying to bid goodbye to his former life.

“No. No thanks.” Sorbet replied. He realized that such sentimentality is only a result of hangovers. But it was extremely difficult to kill off a thought. It will continue to grow until the question was addressed. “I think I’m just —”

“I’ll never hate you, or blame you for anything.” Gelato cut off his words. He turned to look at the road in front of them and the cheerfulness in his voice gradually disappeared. “I should’ve — how should I say it, I can’t think of the right word…Sorbet, do you remember the time when we first met?”

“In the bar. Yes.”

“Right. They forced me to leave after finding out my sexuality. I had nowhere to go and almost being raped by a bastard.” Gelato rubbed his nose, trying to organize his words. “That was the worst day of my life, but then, I met you. You took me to your house and offered me a job. You saved my life.”

“And this is the problem.” Sorbet stopped at the red light,

“No. You solved my problem.” Gelato finally found the right word. He spoke with a serious tone. “Because, even if you didn’t do it, I already killed someone, I already am a murderer — no, ever since I was born, I am on this path. This is my choice. Sorbet, you didn’t drag me into this dead-end path, you are here to keep me company. You, and the rest of La Squadra, made this less unbearable.”

He continued. “I told you my past, yes, they are my happy memories. But what I didn’t plan to tell you was that, that ‘ordinary happy life’ will never come true for me. In my home town, homosexuality is a sin and should burn in hell. I know that I was different when I was very young and I tried very hard to act like a ‘normal’ person. That happiness had a price of me pretending to be someone that I was not. If they know who I really am, I’ll be exiled. But you know what? The most ironic thing was that, when I put on my disguise, I thought it was the right thing to do. But those people that I looked down upon, those who disdain to pretend, they already see me through. And that’s why I killed that man.”

The red light turned green. Gelato told him to continue driving. He knew that Sorbet was trying to comprehend his words and he would understand him. Sorbet was an assassin for a very long time. He definitely had felt the same.

It was a process of waking up from self-deception. Before he was called Gelato, he lied to himself that as long as he can hide his truth, he can live a happy life just like everyone else. But in fact, he was a social deviant from the very beginning. Life could be smooth and peaceful for a short while for him to wear a mask and hide in the crowd. But it won’t last long. The writing is on the wall and it cannot be concealed. Things could be easy for him at the beginning. A boy could satisfy himself from his parents’ love. But how about when he grows older and began to longing for love? Does he have to spend his life with a woman that he doesn’t love and doesn’t love him, just to play the perfect family as it shows in the religious pamphlet? Gelato was too scared to think, so he ran away. He ran into the army, where male hormones were most prosperous and he blew his cover. Where shall he go? He no longer had his cover and was forced to stay with the group that he refused to belong to. I don’t want this! I never asked for this! His heart wept and cried silently, like a child who was shut out of his home and begging his parents to open up the door, as if in this way he could become a part of the family again. But this was not something that will listen to his request. They gave him too many drinks. He cannot think coherently. That man took him into the toilet stall and place him on the toilet seat. He unzipped his pants and took out that hideous, wart-covered organ. No! I don’t want it! Gelato was certain that he yelled his protest, but his voice was so small that it fell on deaf ears. He cannot remember how he fights back. The alcohol was messing up with his judgment. He punched him, again and again. The corpse in front of him had its face completely crushed, blood and brain tissues scattered everywhere. He found himself standing in a small pound made of blood and toilet water and threw-up on himself. This was the last straw. His camel just died. But at that moment, Gelato felt that his life has never been so easy.

He was, of course, different from Pesci. Pesci may have had a good life until he was abducted by the mafia, but Gelato knew from the start that he was on the dead end. He just accepted this fact after becoming an assassin. He felt no regret when killing his target, not only because people who were against them were also criminals who deserve to die, but also this was the way he could stay with his friends and Sorbet. Driven by fear and anger, he killed the first man who forced him to accept his fate, but then, Sorbet reached out his hand and Gelato took it. At that moment, their fate was sealed and the times they spent together made Gelato thought that it doesn’t matter. It’s okay. When the time has come, he can say that he had a good life.

“I know that there will not be a peaceful end for me,” Gelato said. This thought was making his chest heavy, which was strange. He knew he was happy about it, yet he found himself choked on his words. “But…Sorbet, my dear Sorbet, if I can die with you, I’ll call it a happy ending.”

Sorbet’s expression stayed the same and he fell into silence. It was not because Gelato’s words were difficult to comprehend. Sorbet was just surprised. Like most of the people who struggled to survive in the underworld, Sorbet entered it without truly knowing the dark side of the society and found himself trapped in this giant spider web. He had no choice but to learn the rules and play along because he knew that he didn’t have enough power to quit without losing his life. He didn’t want to die, so he forced himself learning everything and becoming one of the best players in the game. He felt no strange at Gelato’s change in attitude because he had the exact same feeling when he came to this line of work. From the moment they enter the underworld, they started to drift away from their ordinary life. There was no one cared for Sorbet back then, so he deeply believed that he would die alone — which was nothing to be afraid of since he had killed so many people and deserved a gruesome death. But Gelato’s words hurt him. It was not the part of dying together that made his heart ache, but the part that Gelato took it as a form of happiness. This painful, suppressing and deviant life path that Sorbet had to bury his heart again and again and eventually become numb, and Gelato dared to say that “this was his happiness”. When Sorbet finally got used to the darkness and left his heart dying and crying in cold, his Gelato, with his love for him, ignite the light and put the warmth of fire into his heart. Sorbet suddenly felt a sense of fear, an emotion that left him long ago. Gelato’s words were having their effect on him. Now the flower was growing in his basement. Without any sunlight, it is destined to die. He should’ve watched it die, just like other flowers from a long time ago.

But now, he doesn’t want to let it die.

 

---

 

 

They never talked about this topic after that. With their workload increasing (Risotto became accustomed to grouping them together rather than giving individual tasks to them), their schedule gradually synchronized. Gelato and Sorbet stopped being bothered by their past discussion. In their leisure times, they either choose to lay on the bed and doing nothing at all or spend some time cleaning the house and doing gardening. Sorbet planted a lot of tall grass and vines in front of the window and they covered the window to Gelato’s office desk completely within the first summer. Besides that, they would also go out for a date. Gelato became interested in filming after the Ferragosto. He enjoyed taking photos for his target, but also just for fun. The feeling of pressing the shutter was the same as pulling the trigger. He once commented.

Of course, they would still talk, like every couple. They talk about the weather, the restaurant, and the television show. After every job, there would be a date. Passione upgraded its communication system once again and Sorbet had to give up his typewriter and used computers instead. Gelato used his mechanic skills to link the computer keyboard with the typewriter and gave it to Sorbet as an anniversary gift. After the date, they would do gun maintenance together, count ammo supplies and medical supplies to prepare for the next mission. Occasionally, they would make love. Time, place and position, all depend on their mood during that time. Sometimes, when they were having sex at the base, Formaggio would knock at the door saying that Prosciutto asked them to be quiet for the sake of Pesci’s innocent mind, which only made Gelato moans even louder than he already was.

And then, one night, their conversation returned to that difficult topic. They were discussing the television show at first, but unfortunately, the show was an adaptation of “Bonnie and Clyde”.

“This was so dumb.” Sorbet was disgusted at the over-romanticized plot. In the story, one of the lovers was badly injured and the other was driving her to escape. Meanwhile, to keep the other person awake, they shouted like two madmen, making promises that would be fulfilled if they made it out alive.

“So you never think of the future?” Gelato felt that it was an oddly romantic plot, although there were some loopholes in the logic.

“No. I’ve got works to do.” Sorbet gave him a very practical answer, and the truth was, he indeed never think of the future. He stopped making long-term plans from a long time ago and stopped worrying about what would happen in the future either. Objectively speaking, they did not have a future. No one could get away with murder, especially for people who lived in the underworld. Things could happen unexpectedly. He could be dead in a few hours. Having life like this, making long-terms plans was nothing more than a waste of time.

“That’s impossible.” You are not born to be a cold-blooded killer. Gelato expressed his disbelief. Even if for people like Sorbet who was so practical that it became boring, they can still thinking about possibilities in the future. He was a human being, so he had to have some thing to looking forward to. Sorbet left France for Italy was the best proof.

“Then I’ll ask.” Seeing his partner refused to talk, Gelato decided to force him to open up. He called out his stand and muted Sorbet. This was the exact technique he used when interrogating prisoners. He would ask them simple questions and they would reply with a nod or a shake of their head. The limited response made it very difficult to lie.

Sorbet knew his tricks and decided to follow Gelato’s idea. Gelato opened his heart and told him his true feelings, so it was time for him to be honest. Sorbet knew that it was impossible for him to dig out his own thoughts, so he let Gelato do his work. In fact, Sorbet was also quite curious about his own feelings. Gelato’s words affected him and made him feel something that he never felt before.

“Well…I’ll just throwing out random questions.” Gelato glanced at the TV show, now the plot was about a divorcing couple. “You don’t want to bring that up, is it because you don’t want me to know? In other words, you don’t have plans for me to be in your future.” He repeated the lines of the female character without a flinch in expression.

Watching soap opera does no good for you. Sorbet internally commented and shook his head.

“So I’m in your future, oh, I am really touched.” Gelato faked his tears and asked again. “We’ll live here.”

Sorbet shook his head. Of course, they would move. Once Passione orders them to leave Naples, they will have to pack their bags immediately.

“But we will live together.”

Sorbet nodded.

“We’ll be rich.” Gelato gestured. “Really, really rich.”

That’s possible. Sorbet thought. Their boss was generous with his payment, at least for now.

“And then we’ll leave.” Gelato placed his hand on Sorbet’s chest. He unbuttoned his shirt and let his hands roaming over and feel the heart beat.

Sorbet did not move but looked at Gelato in confusion.

Gelato met his gaze and sat in Sorbet’s lap. The light over them shed shadows across his eyes. Sorbet liked Gelato’s eyes, from his angle, his eyes were wet and the color of his ires flows like liquid paint.

“I’m saying that we will leave this behind, to a place that no one knows.” Gelato leaned to his ear and whispered. He was speaking as if trying to decipher the codes. He indeed was deciphering something. He read Sorbet’s reaction carefully and marked down the slightest changes in his expression. He knew that he was close to the truth. Sorbet’s heart was pounding.

“A man can dream,” Sorbet replied. His voice returned and his heartbeat became steady.

“Wanna hear about my dreams?” Gelato took off his shirt. The shirt strap made clicking noises when he untucked them. The blond man closed his knees around Sorbet’s waist.

“Enlighten me.” Sorbet kissed his earlobe and gently pulled his earring with his teeth. He gave Gelato a new pair of golden erring as a New Year present. This pair looked better on him.

 

---

 

 

Few days after, Sorbet went to the city to meet one of their informants. On his way back, he went past an art gallery that was about to close down. There was a final sale and the first thing he saw was a landscape painting. Sorbet was not familiar with the art. The only thing he knew was that it was an oil painting and the brush strokes were quite immature. The painter was probably an art school student. But he liked it. The painting was about a beach that he cannot identify. The summer breeze blew calmly at the distant yachts and trees. The sun shined brightly and the sand was as white as a newborn’s teeth. If his teammates were here, they certainly would think that this work was awful. It conveyed no thoughts or feelings, plus there were no signs of creativity. One can look at it for an hour, and yet fails to figure out what the painter really wants to say — it was very likely that the painter didn’t think of anything while painting, or he or she just copied a photo.

But Sorbet bought it and hanged it on the wall of their bedroom. They finally realized Illuso’s intension of putting the leaning mirror in their bedroom. So they used the painting as an excuse to remove it.

Gelato also took some photo of that painting. He rearranged one of the spare rooms into his film workshop and developed the photos out. Recently, he has been working on those old films that he stocked.

In the evening, he took out all the photos and sorted them out. There were hundreds of them. The photos of their target would be destroyed afterward. What he had left was the pictures of themselves and Gelato was not sure about how to deal with them.

Sorbet sat with him on the sofa and he skimmed through the photo. Some of them were portrayals of his teammates, some of them were with him and Gelato. Quite a part of them were sneak shots that Sorbet had no recollections. He found some photos of that Ferragosto, where he stood in the balcony with a cigarette between his lips. His gaze was fixed on Gelato, who was hiding behind the camera. Then, there were photos of their New Year party. Melone started a drink competition with Prosciutto and was easily defeated by the blonde. He was lying under the table, unconscious. Formaggio sneaked into the kitchen and took out a piece of cake, which he shared with Pesci in the next picture. He was applying nail polish to Gelato. He remembered that Gelato held the camera way too high and laughed uncontrollably. He was shaking and got nail polish all over his finger. In the next photo, Gelato was kissing him. He was too drunk to find Sorbet’s lips, so he decided to give him a peck on the cheek. Sorbet got some nail polish on his face. It was dark red and was glistening under the yellow light.

“We shouldn’t keep them.” He said. They were assassins, they had no name, no faces. Anything they left for themselves would be held against them one day. But Sorbet can no longer continue to convince himself that it did not matter to him. In this morning, he personally bought the painting, which is now hanging on the wall of their bedroom and they would look at it every day.

“You’re right.” Gelato was sitting in his lap, kissing his ears half-heartedly, soft lips rubbing his earlobe. “And we shouldn’t be together.” He nipped his ear and pick up a photo they just took a short while ago. In the picture, they were kissing in front of the illusion of the white beach, Sorbet was looking at the camera. This all belongs to me. His eyes said it all. Gelato held the picture in front of his face. He knew that he already lost in their argument.

Sorbet sighed and took away the photo and placed it together with others. He left them on the table and pushed Gelato onto the sofa and kissed him until there’s not much oxygen left in his system. His hands moving down and held Gelato’s neck to increase the feeling of suffocation. Sorbet used his other hand to grabbed the camera, Gelato had already put a new roll of films inside.

He counted the time and let him go before being fully suffocated. Gelato can hold his breath for a long time, but he didn’t know how to breathe while kissing. Sorbet put up the camera and watched him through the lens. Gelato’s hair was messy and was brushed backward, revealing his forehead. There was a small scar near his hairline, which was caused by flying shrapnel. His face was flushed red because of the lack of oxygen and lust. This was the sweet and fragile side of Gelato that only Sorbet had the privilege to see.

So he had no hesitation and took a few quick shots.

It turned out that one single roll of films cannot last very long. They discarded the camera on the table since there’s no time to replace the film. The pleasure of love was momentary. Life was too short.

Gelato developed all his photos out and put them in a large envelope. He hid it on the back of the frame. Sorbet didn’t know that from then on, whenever he looked at the painting, he was also looking at themselves.

That night, Gelato had a dream. A dream that the magic was real and they walked pass through the photos, through their own home, through La Squadra’s New Year party, through the city night of Ferragosto, and finally walked onto the white beach. Summer breeze gently blew. The sun shined brightly and the sand beneath them was as white as a newborn’s teeth