escape | vento aureo

iv. victor

With the cold gone, the pain in my side returns. I carefully hop off the ledge, refusing to let my discomfort show in my face or movements. My opponent's eyes never leave me; rage flares behind them, but something else as well. He's analyzing me. Ghiaccio isn't like the others I've faced. His anger doesn't blind him or trip him up--it fuels him. He's cold and calculating. Whoever decided to let me fight him is definitely getting a foot up their ass.

I approach him, as he does the same, until we meet each other halfway.

"That was a dirty move, you bas--"

"This is the mafia," I reply, giving him a deadpan look and tone. "Nobody cares."

He snarls. "Then nobody'll care when I turn you into an ice statue and break you in half."

As long as I'm close to these spectators, who must be close to him somehow, he won't pull off another blizzard. I only have to see him to stand a chance. But I've got no idea how I can best him. He's fast, strong, and intelligent. And a major thorn in my side. If I knew more about his Stand--how tough the armor is, how fast he can travel, how the cooling aspect works--this would be a walk in the park. But as I learned in Morioh, you can't expect to know everything, and assumptions have to be made at times.

However, I'm fighting for my life this time rather than just to learn.

I widen my stance and focus on him; Ghiaccio can make the first move. He takes advantage of my stillness and lunges like he before, though he's not spreading his ice as far--only right where his skates land.

Complaints come from the men behind me. They don't want to be tangled up in this fight, but at the moment, I don't care. It's time to make an assumption. I stand my ground this time and open a portal below his foot not even a second before the ice can form. The exit goes right beside me. I grab his leg and hold it there. He shrieks furiously and goes to blast ice at me through the portal. I immediately shrink its size so that it fits firmly around his leg; he can't pull his leg out or push the rest of his body through. So there he sits on the ground, almost doing the splits and desperately trying to get out of his predicament.

Ghiaccio finally realizes there's no getting out of this.

Before he can do anything rash, I say to him, "Concede or else."

He sends ice snaking across the ground toward me. It seizes my leg, sending searing pain through the appendage. Sucking in a deep breath, I try not to imagine the frostbite that could be forming on my skin at this very moment. "What was that, dumbass? 'Concede or else'?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." I begin to close the portals at an agonizingly slow speed. "When my portals close, nothing can hold them open. Not iron, not steel, not titanium, nor anything else you can come up with. It'll cut your leg right off."

"I can bring anything to absolute zero," Ghiaccio growls. "You'll lose your own leg in a matter of minutes."

"And you'll lose yours in less than a second." I force the portal to an even smaller size, it cuts right through his armor like a knife cutting an apple. Blood spurts from his leg, some of it getting on my face. I hold tight to his leg as my own begins to grow numb. "Tell me, Ghiaccio. Is this really worth losing a leg over?"

He growls in pain but doesn't say anything.

I grunt and close the portal more, causing more blood to splash out of his leg and onto me. It's got to be cutting deep into the flesh now. At once, the ice disappears from my leg. I fall to my other knee, my leg still numb from the cold. I look at him, shocked. His face is still contorted in anger, but I spot tiredness behind his eyes. He answered my question; it isn't worth it. But this alone isn't an act of surrender. "Concede!" I shout at him.

"I . . . concede," he replies quietly.

"Louder! So that they can hear you!" I can't leave a shadow of a doubt that this is the end of our fight.

He repeats his words, this time much more loudly.

I expand the portal to release his leg, and once it's out, I close both of them. Oh, God . . . I beat him. He's the strongest Stand user I've ever fought. A wave of exhaustion hits me like a truck; the adrenaline's wearing off quickly.  I slide down to my elbows and try to catch my breath, previously unaware of how quick my breathing had gotten.

A hand rests on my shoulder. I look up and see Cirillo. A proud look is hidden behind concern. "Let me check your leg, Quinn. You might have to go to the hospital." He helps me roll into my back and sit up. The man inspects my leg with ginger hands, not touching the red skin. The feeling in it has returned, and by that, I mean it hurts like hell. He finally says, "I don't think you have frostbite. You're very lucky."

"Thank goodness," I sigh. 

"I couldn't see most of what was going on, as I'm not a Stand user myself, but I have a feeling it was epic."

I chuckle. "It's not going to feel epic in the morning."

"I can tell he's strong. If I'd had a say in who you fought, it definitely wouldn't have been him." His face turns a shade red in what I guess is embarrassment.

"I don't need to be babied," I tell him with a soft smile.

Quiet words behind me catch my attention. I glance over my shoulder and see one of Ghiaccio's buddies, the one with pigtails. When his eyes meet mine, he gives me a distasteful look and heads down to join his friends, who are getting Ghiaccio ready to go, no doubt to a hospital. My face heats up a bit. I've already made enemies, haven't I?

The other capo, Pericolo, walks over to Cirillo and me. He extends a hand to me, which I shake firmly. "Welcome to Passione, Quinn," he says in a kind voice. 

"Grazie, signore," I respond.

Cirillo helps me outside. I'm glad now that I wore baggy clothes (though, with the way things are going, I'll be wearing them a lot more often) and have enough fabric to keep out the cool night air. It's an odd shift from being minutes away from dying to enjoying the night air. I take a deep breath but don't smell anything notable.

"I hope whatever you're fighting for, whatever you decided is worth losing a leg over, is in Passione," Cirillo says quietly, escorting me to the side of the road. He hails a taxi. Before I get in, he tells me, "Take it easy for a bit, and come back to the bakery in two days. I'll fill you in then." 

I get inside the vehicle. Cirillo makes a hand gestures toward the driver right before closing the door and walking off. I tell the driver my address, and he pulls back onto the road.

******

"It's on the house, signore," the taxi driver tells me.

Shocked, I look at his face through the rearview mirror. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. Signore Cirillo is a good friend of mine," he replies with a smile, a genuine one too.

I get out of the vehicle and thank him. He pulls away, and I walk a few blocks from the address I gave him to the my apartment building. Once I've made it to my apartment, I flop out onto the couch. Thank goodness I have nothing to do until I see him again. My leg still hurts, though the pain is beginning to fade. It must have been going through the earliest stages of frostbite before Ghiaccio released me. I hope his injuries aren't too bad, not because I feel bad for him but because I don't want to have someone holding a nasty grudge against me.

I rest my head on one of the pillows and close my eyes. That can wait till later.