47I want this to be as non-confrontational as possible.
Risotto's words echoed in the blond's head. He could still hear the stress in his leader's voice. The fear. All of them were still reeling from their friends' death - even Risotto. He'd never show it though. Not in front of the rest of the team at least.
After Risotto had been scouted by Passione, Gelato and Sorbet were the first people assigned to his team. Prosciutto himself had been next. For both of them to be taken so suddenly, and in such a gruesome way.. Prosciutto bit down on his lip until the sharp taste of iron began to spread in his mouth. He couldn't dwell on that. He needed to stay alert. The man stared unblinking at the mirror that had been propped up in the back seat of the car. Should anything other than his friends fall out of that mirror, he would have to activate his Grateful Dead and storm into the building alone. And if his friends did appear, girl in tow, he'd need to stomp on the gas and get them all out of there as quickly as possible.
He went over the plan in his head. All of them had it memorized; they'd gone over it numerous times. Formaggio would find out where their enemies were hiding by hitching a ride when one of them inevitably came into town, then inform the others of their location. Check. He and Illuso would drive to their location, but hang back as not to draw attention. Illuso would enter a mirror and infiltrate wherever they were staying. Check. They'd done all that without a single problem.
The next part was what worried him: Formaggio and Illuso would be inside a house that was crawling with enemies. Enemies they knew nothing about. Enemies who's stands had the potential to destroy the whole operation.
Prosciutto sighed. He needed to shake off those thoughts. He regained his focus and continued over the plan.
When Formaggio found an opportune time, he'd use Little Feet to shrink the Boss's daughter. After that, he'd unshrink the mirror in his pocket and have Illuso pull them in.
If they could get that far they'd be nearly home free. Illuso would exit through the mirror in the backseat and they'd speed away. Their enemies wouldn't even know who they were. They needed that anonymity.
So Prosciutto waited.
The redhead watched giant heels click across the floor before stopping in front of the vanity.
"It's for your own good that we're here. There are definitely people after you. Just because we haven't run into them doesn't mean they don't exist." Formaggio recognized the voice that forced it's way past the tightly shut door. It belonged to a boy named Fugo. He'd been pestering the boss's daughter since Formaggio had arrived. He wasn't sure whether it was himself or the girl who was more annoyed.
"I'm fine. Go watch some other door. I don't need your help so give me some privacy!" the girl yelled back. Formaggio had already been listening to them argue for a solid ten minutes. While not a devout man, he was about ready to start praying for the conversation to end.
"Okay. Fine. Just be careful, you've got no idea what these people are capable of!" Fugo's exasperation was beginning to get the best of him. Formaggio smiled. Soon he'd be released from this hell.
"Yeah, and you don't either." With that final blow Fugo was defeated. A loud sigh could be heard beyond the door. Footsteps soon followed.
Perfect. All he had to do was wait until he was sure the boy was gone, then Little Feet could pounce at her ankle and-
Suddenly the shoes turned to face him. Formaggio froze, watching for any tiny movement that would indicate her next action. He hadn't been seen right? That would be impossible, this whole time she'd been looking into the mirror!
Trish lifted her knee onto the bed. The redhead's fears vanished.
Guess I didn't realize that all this even has me stressed..
The girl had completely disappeared onto the bed. Formaggio knew that a clock was counting down. He had a limited amount of time before someone else disturbed his target's privacy. In that time he and Illuso had work to do. The assassin crept cautiously from under the bed. He needed to find a blanket edge, or even a mattress tag could work. Luckily for him, the bed wasn't quite neatly made. Near its foot, a blanket corner hung sloppily over the edge. Formaggio ducked back under the bed and sprinted toward it. With a running leap he was able to grab onto it. Years of using little feet had made him more than capable of navigating the world while tiny. He scaled the bed by propping his feet against the mattress and using the blanket like a rope.
It took him less than a minute to reach the top. Peeking over the edge he could see the girl lounging, her face obscured by a magazine. Formaggio crawled onto the blanket. He stayed on his hands and knees. This way the blanket's wrinkles could obscure her view of him if she happened to look in his direction. He crept forward. He was behind her shoe now. All he needed to do was get to bare skin, then Little Feet could strike.
Suddenly her legs began to shift. She pulled them closer to her body until they were crossed. Formaggio was left in the open. He pulled in a sharp breath. He needed to think. The redhead dove into a clump of fabric. It wouldn't hide him completely, but it was enough to work with. He laid on his stomach and pulled out his pocket knife. At this size it wouldn't cut anything fast. He knew that from experience. But he also knew how to work with this kind of situation.
Thread by thread. He plucked at the fabric and slowly cut his way into it. His eyes glanced at the girl. She was still preoccupied. In his panic he carelessly slid the knife across his thumb. He bit his tongue. Formaggio didn't dare yell out in pain. He balled up his hand. This wouldn't stop him. He'd been through worse.
Formaggio sliced at the fabric until the hole was big enough for him to wiggle through. He wiped the blood from his knife and closed it. His hand held splotches of red. He pressed it against the sheets, allowing himself a moment to bask in the safety of cover. The assassin couldn't enjoy it though. But it wasn't the usual "I know I'm still in danger" hang up. This feeling was something new. The cut on his hand reminded him of the package that had been delivered to their headquarters. The gift from their boss. Formaggio was an assassin. He'd seen some pretty gruesome and fucked up stuff in his time. But it was different when you knew the person. When it slowly dawned on you who those slabs of human belonged to. Stacking them together and seeing the horror on Sorbet's face. Realizing that the chopping had probably started at the ankles.
The redhead's chest felt tight. He didn't want to think about that. Not now at least. He filled his head with thoughts of strategy. Thoughts of his target. Anything to push away those images that haunted him. He crawled forward, army style. The less movements he made, the better. Earlier he'd seen where the blanket ended. He'd be able to prick her knee without even leaving the covers.
Closer. Closer.
The assassin would reach the edge soon. If he moved forward too quickly he ran the risk of exiting before realizing where he was. He stopped. At this size, with the amount of ground he'd covered, the end of the blanket should have been just a few inches in front of him. He summoned Little Feet. Sure enough, it was able to slither out of the covers. It knew its task. It raised its claw and swiftly slashed, barely even breaking the girl's skin. Like lightning she released the magazine and slapped at her knee, then inspected her hand. To her surprise, there was no residue of dead bug. Little Feet had already disappeared. She scanned the area. Even the tiniest movement would give formaggio away. She reached toward the covers but stopped short, opting to feel her wound instead.
"Now I've got to deal with a bug infested house too. Can't these idiots just rent a hotel room?" she growled. Luckily for Formaggio, the girl pulled her hand away and leaned back, perhaps finding that her magazine was a bit larger than she remembered.
Now he had to wait. The shrinking had already begun. It would take her a bit to realize what was happening. His only concern was what would happen when she did. Would she panic? There would be a short period of time where if she screamed it would still be loud enough to alert the others.
Formaggio slunk up to the edge of the blanket. He lifted just enough to peer out. She was fumbling with a page. The look on her face was familiar to him: sheer confusion. The girl hadn't realized what was happening. Her eyes slid from the magazine onto the rest of the room, searching for an explanation. Her hand fell back onto the pillow. It seemed almost endless. Despite her groping, she couldn't find it's magazine fell out of her hands - it was too large for her to handle now. Her jaw dropped. No words escaped it. It was Formaggio's lucky day. She was past that point now. Even if she screamed no one would hear her. She lifted her hands in front of her face. Her expression now showed disbelief. Fear. In just a few more seconds she'd be completely shrunken.
Formaggio dug in his pocket until he found the hand mirror he'd previously shrunken. He summoned his stand and tossed the item to it. There wasn't much left to do. If everything went well, he'd be out of the house in under a minute. He leap to his feet and lunged at her. Before she could even register his presence, he'd thrown an arm around her waist and was lifting her over his shoulder. Little Feet threw the mirror to the ground and reverted it back to its original size. It tapped on the glass with it's foot. The girl kicked Formaggio in the gut. But he was ready for such a response, his muscles already braced.
An eye appeared in the mirror. Upon spotting his partner, it was replaced by a hand. It reached through the mirror as if it was the surface of a pool. The hand scooped them up with practised ease and pulled them inside.
Formaggio sat on the edge of the bed. Little Feet had already returned him to his normal size. Illuso stood in front of him, screwing the cap onto a jar.
"You did grab a lid with holes in it this time, right?" The redhead stretched his arms. Illuso shot him a dirty look.
"One time. It was one time that I used a normal lid. And you know what? No one important got hurt. So yes. This lid has holes." The man angled the lid toward his friend. The tilt knocked the girl inside off balance, causing her to stumble and fall against the glass wall.
"Dude! What the hell are you doing! Give me that!" Formaggio swiped the jar away from Illuso, taking care not to shift it in the process. "I would have taken your word for it! Look what you did! You've got to be more careful, this ones important." He slowly turned the jar upright again. Once back on her feet, the girl crossed her arms and crinkled her nose - an obvious objection to be treated like cargo.
The pair payed her no mind. On one hand, they had other things to worry about. On the other… Well, this was new. Kidnapping wasn't their job. Killing was. It was a lot easier to talk to someone you were about to murder then to a girl who you'd need to get information from later on.
"Sorry. You carry the jar. Let's get moving. We don't know what could happen when they realize she's missing. These people are stand users after all." He headed toward the door. Formaggio lifted himself to feet and followed. "I already know the layout of this place. I had a bit of time to look around. I saw the enemies too. There are six of them." The redhead nodded.
"We've got an advantage there at least. Nine to six. Easy." Both men fell silent. Formaggio gulped "Seven. Seven to six. Easy." Neither spoke as they navigated the building.
The girl's eyes searched the rooms rapidly. Where had everyone gone? Just minutes ago the dark haired man (Bruno?) had been sitting in the kitchen making coffee. Fugo wasn't nervously pacing in the hall around her door, or anywhere else. Where was the boy with golden hair? Had they abandoned her already? Had these men done something to them? Possibilities raced through her head. Yet nothing made sense. It was as if they'd all just dropped off the planet. Even when they got outside there was not a soul to be seen. The car Narancia had driven was still there.
"So Prosciuttos parked about a block from here. It's a short walk. We can cut through the vineyard." Illuso broke the silence. Formaggio continued to follow him into the plants.
Eventually they reached an empty car. The girl was confused. Hadn't they just mentioned another person? Formaggio opened the door and slid along the seat toward the mirror. Illuso ducked in after him, stand already out.
"Its a shame we couldn't get a larger mirror back here. This ones a bit skinny." The redhead grumbled.
"So you'll go through sideways. This is a car. We don't exactly have room for anything fancy." Illuso rolled his eyes as Man in the Mirror helped the other back into the real world.
The girl was speechless. One minute she'd been face to face with her reflection, the next she was facing the car's interior once more. She twisted around to see the mirror behind her. The other man was exiting it now. She was stunned. This was impossible. First, she'd shrunk to just a few inches tall, and now they were passing through a mirror?! She'd already attempted to pinch herself awake multiple times. But nothing worked. Things were only getting stranger.
"Thank goodness. Are you two ready to go?" Her eyes shot to the front seat. There was a man there now. Blond hair and a suit. She could see his eyes focus on her in the rearview mirror. "Good job." Without a moment of hesitation, the man started the car and sped away from the vineyard. The black haired man turned in his seat, watching the road behind them. Suddenly the redhead raised her jar to eye level.
"So this is the boss's daughter, huh?" The man was inspecting her.
She hated that. People talking as if she couldn't hear them. As if she wasn't there. There had been so much of that since her mother had died. At least the last group had had the decency to introduce themselves. She wanted to tell him off. To swear at him. Hit him. But she couldn't. Part of her didn't dare. All she could do was bite her lip and glare.
"She looks kinda angry, huh?" Formaggio chuckled.
"Shut up, this really isn't the time for that. What if I hit a bump when you were holding the jar like that?" The blond snapped. He parked the car on the side of the road and turned back toward the two men. "Give me the jar." Formaggio stalled for a moment, but eventually obliged. Prosciutto examined the girl carefully before unscrewing the cap and holding the jar so he could look down at her. After a period of silence he finally spoke up. "My name's Prosciutto. What's yours?"
The girl didn't want to reply. She had nothing to say to them. They were her captors. If she answered she'd be giving them exactly what they wanted. Information. She clamped her mouth shut and kept her eyes down.
"Alright, I see you don't want to talk. If you do feel like talking later, just get our attention." Prosciutto paused to clear his throat. "This is gonna be a bit of a drive, and standing in there the whole time might be a bit uncomfortable. If you work with us I'm willing to turn you back to normal and let you use the passenger seat." Formaggio tensed up. Was Prosciutto out of his mind?
The girl continued her silence. Prosciutto shrugged and began to replace the lid.
"Wait." She didn't know why she was speaking. Parts of her condemned the action. Commanded her to stop immediately. The blond pulled the lid away. "My Name's Trish." Prosciutto grinned.
"There we go. A good start."