There was a low, wide-beamed ceiling above you when you woke up, and a thick, familiar bedspread carefully covering you up to your chin. You seemed to be dressed only in your underwear. You started to sit up to look for your clothes, but changed your mind halfway through the operation. You lay down again, very slowly, closed your eyes and held your head to prevent it from rolling off the pillow and hitting the floor.
Then you woke up again, some time later, when the bedroom door opened. You cautiously opened one eye. A wavering figure gradually defined itself into the circumspect figure of a man, staring at you disapprovingly from the foot of the bed. You closed your eyes. You heard a muffled British noise. You then concluded that the damn cat had taken you to the wrong inn, if that was an inn. If that was a cat. The noise probably indicated a disbelieving expression, but when you looked again it was gone.
You were beginning to slip into a pleasant state of unconsciousness when the door opened again, this time revealing a middle-aged woman who you deduced was the innkeeper's wife, carrying a jug of water and a basin.
She entered the room cheerfully, making a noise, and opened the shutters with a loud bang, which reverberated through your head like the crash of a ship. Advancing on the bed like a frigate, she snatched the bedspread from the fragile grip of your hand and threw it aside, leaving it shaking and exposed.
"Come on, darling.'' She said. "They asked me to hurry.'' She slung a stumpy arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a sitting position. You held your head with one hand and your stomach with the other.
"Hurry up?'' You said, with a hangover taste in your mouth. The woman began to wash your face energetically. ''Ah! Where am I?''
''In the wrong place, that's for sure. You're lucky you're not alone. You wouldn't want to wake up in the middle of the street, would you?''
"Yes, I would.'' You said, but you were ignored as she undressed you without the slightest ceremony and placed you on your feet in the middle of the floor for more intimate care.
''Wait! Fuck! What's that?! What the hell are you doing?''
"Agno, you dumb cat! Do you have any idea how big a debt you've put me in? Port wine? You took me to a fucking palace!''
So you picked him up and were met with a protest. That protest, however, was nothing like a meow. And the ball of fur you expected to be holding was actually a thin, cold, scaly body full of teeth. The sinister yellow eyes stared into yours, and then you screamed as loud as you could and threw the little dinosaur across the room.
''Ah! Carajo! Puto infierno!"
You searched the room for your revolvers, but they had been taken as well as your dirty clothes. With the frantic movement, you felt your brain rattle and hit the solid walls of your skull. In one of the brief glances around the room, you came face to face with the mirror. Your clothes were clean and were, in fact, yours; but not the ones you were wearing. It felt like your scalp was going to break with the tension of the hair being pulled back, so you let it loose. The final product of that woman's care was ready, complete with clean clothes and perfume and a heart beating wildly beneath your blouse.
The dinosaur hadn't attacked you, even though you were a more than easy victim to take down even for a creature of that size. It took you a long time to take things in, but when you did, the door opened with another bang.
A very confused man walked through the door, thin and weak, cringing as he saw your furious figure walking towards him.
"Ah? What happened?'' The man asked.
"Diego, that son of a bitch!'' You were ready to push the poor guy yourself through the door, but first you decided to pull him by the collar. ''Where are my guns? Answer me!''
Unable to react very well to being violently shaken, the man only replied:
"In reception! We keep the guns because we don't allow people to enter the rooms with them!''
And so you let go of him, pushing him away and running down the stairs to what seemed to be the reception. You almost beat up another host, yelling at those who were taking refuge from your fury behind the pillars and calling out for Diego, who luckily you hadn't found yet, as you now had your two guns in your hands after demanding them of the receptionist. Your hands tightly gripped a blonde-haired person who you somehow mistook for Diego but who, after some time, managed to get out of your grasp, remarking in a grotesque accent: "Who is this neurotic woman?!'' - and then a slim, serious employee tried to calm you down, to no avail.
You pushed the poor woman to get lost in an empty hall. It seemed to be a very, very chic hotel. The kind you'd imagine Diego staying in. What if he's in one of the rooms? You wondered, but then threw that sensible possibility out of the window when you saw that you weren't alone in the hall.
The little dinosaur that had once hidden in some corner of the room was now in front of you, squealing peacefully as it looked around. It didn't seem at all aggressive, and perhaps it would be useful for you to track Diego down, although you needed to learn how.
In any case, it's always better to be safe than sorry. A dinosaur can't attack you with a bullet to the head, just as Diego can't be a threat with his chest open.
So you raised a revolver and heard the click of the lock being lowered by your thumb.
Another low click echoed, this time it was the sound of the dinosaur's curiosity. Then you cocked the gun.
"Don't shoot it.'' Diego said from an armchair behind you. "Weren't you looking for me? Here I am. No need to shoot.''
You turned your neck quickly enough to feel your muscles ache, even though you somehow knew he would do it.
"Why?'' You asked, still pointing the gun at the dinosaur. ''You always use and discard these dinosaurs without caring. Why can't I shoot this one?''
"Because you seem to like this one.'' He then sighed, standing sideways to you, reading something. ''I don't want to give you any more reason to kill me.''
''I... like it?''
Then you looked back at the creature, trying somehow to recognize something through the scales and the yellow eyes, guiding your mind back to the faint memory of last night and Agno's shapeless, incoherent figure in your head. The meow sounded like that of a normal cat, but your confused brain remembers vague specks of a reptile's tail and needle teeth etched into the membrane of your memory.
"You... You son of a bitch!'' Discarding your initial plan, you ignore the little dinosaur and point the gun at your main target, who is languidly reading on the fancy armchair. "You've turned my cat! Why?!''
''It was the easiest way to lure you in, but you were so drunk that I could do it without any disguise, just by appearing in front of you and carrying you.'' He put his reading aside for a moment as you realized that Agno would never be so benevolent as to lure you to a safe place... or, if he did, he wouldn't be such an idiot as to take a wrong path. ''Do you have any idea of the place you were in and how important the information in it was? Do you even remember anything?''
His voice sounded like a reprisal, and somehow you agreed with this tone.
''How did you find me? I mean... wait... how long have I been here?''
''It's not very difficult to find a drunk sleeping in the street or singing in Spanish. I saw you after I crossed the finish line."
Then, for a moment, you realized that you had completely forgotten about the race. If it was still morning and Diego was already in town... he'd probably take first place in this stage. The bastard must be happy, you thought.
"I don't remember... fuck, what do you want, Diego?''
"What do you think? You still haven't given me your answer.''
''Answer? Answer to what?''
"Your memory and your eloquence aren't at their best today.'' He said. "What do you think?''
He then leaned over and showed you a small old catalog, dusty and crumpled with traces of dampness. In it, there were only pictures of beautiful, European-style houses, displayed for sale on land that wasn't very coveted by the market. The one he indicated with his finger was large and very pleasant, so much so that you were convinced that this was not an American catalog. It was a two or three-story house, with an air of sweet home that you found strange to have caught Diego's eye.
''It's not as big as I'd like. But it's spacious, cool in summer and winter and, in a word, comfortable. When I become a politician, I'll have a lot of work to do, but I want my holidays to be in England. What do you think?''
"Why do you want to know my opinion?'' You asked, suspicious, while still pointing your gun.
''You don't intend to continue living as a nomad when this is all over, do you?''
''I've been a nomad all my life, what do you mean by that?''
''Yes... all your life. I've been living the way you've lived all your life for three months now and I'm already thinking about my retirement. Aren't you tired?''
"People like me can't get tired if they want to survive.''
''What if I offered you a break?'' He lowered the catalog and nodded slightly, but you still weren't face-to-face with him. ''I guess any idea of rest other than death is strange to you, am I right? But since we're going to work together, we should both gain something. What do you think? When this is all over, the house and other possessions will be yours, free of charge."
Then you remembered the last time you saw him, and this memory strangely seemed to make your wounds hurt again. He was there to try and convince you to ally yourself with him again, that damn manipulator.
"What? You're trying to buy me off with a shitty little house at the end of the world in your country?! I'm not...''
"I already know what you're going to say.'' He interrupted you, bored. ''You're going to kill me in the most gruesome way, and then I'll rot in the ground while you relax in some tropical paradise. I guarantee you, (Y/N), that I won't let you die and then you can live peacefully, with a magnificent house in the air of a new continent. We also have other advantages. I know a very reliable and extremely bribable cleaner, Miss Brewster. What do you say? Put the gun down and we can talk.''
''Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Do you guarantee I'll survive? You, who tried to kill me! What's to say you won't betray me again? What the hell do you want from me?''
''I didn't betray you.''
"Oh, no, of course not!'' You took a step forward, gesturing aggressively with the gun still in your hand. ''Who was that bastard? Magenta? Did you have fun with him after leaving me to die in the snow?"
He was silent for a few seconds, as if bringing up the subject offended him deeply. But he was patient, somehow.
''It wasn't as much fun as shooting fruit in a tree, but it was useful, extremely useful.''
"Useful? What do you mean, useful? What are you planning, Diego?''
''Are you curious about my plans? Then perhaps it would be in your best interest to ally yourself with me.''
''What? No! Why the hell are you insisting on this?! What do you want from me, Diego?!''
''Your memory loss...'' He looked at you cynically. ''Was it long-term? We've had this conversation before, Miss (Y/N).''
You remained still and took a deep breath, feeling your hand tremble as the air left your lungs. You could feel that your breath seemed to be at least forty percent alcohol. Diego seemed to have more to say, but your mind swung heavily back and forth, like a huge bell trying to decide whether or not to ring. What worried you, however, was whether that ring was a shout or a shot.
"I feel like I'm being very generous with you. Do you know how many people would kill for an offer like that?''
''Why do you want me to be your ally so badly?''
He was quiet for a few seconds, looking at you with disdain.
''England is a very beautiful country, despite the people. But don't worry, you won't have to keep in touch with them if you don't want to.''
''Why are you trying to buy me off with this?!''
''Why don't you just accept it? You can gain fame, power, money, prosperity, whatever you want!'' He finally raised his voice, seeming to be making a considerable effort not to. ''What's wrong with you? Can't you see that you're outnumbered by Gyro and Johnny? You're on the weaker side!''
''Weaker side? What are you talking about? There is no weaker side, we're all fucked, Diego!''
Then he took a deep breath, searching for the remnants of sense in what was left of his wounded pride. Diego straightened his shoulders and gave you a look that strongly suggested there should be no discussion.
"Our faces are all over the country.'' He said. ''When this race is over, victorious or not, we will be hunted down. You don't want to spend your life running away, do you? Doesn't the UK sound like a great refuge? Come on, Miss (Y/N), I know you can hardly be sensible, but at least you can. Think about it and don't lie to me.''
You had a sudden, disquieting apprehension. You hadn't intended what had happened the last time you saw Diego to happen again. In fact, you were still trying to convince yourself that it didn't happen. There was no intention of accepting this deal. Betraying your friends in exchange for a house in England? And worse, offered by Diego? It smelled and tasted like a trap.
But your mind was clouded as his monotonous words entered your ears with empty promises of security and a future retirement that any worker would kill for. But it was from Diego's mouth that these offers came. And now he was standing there, vulnerable, staring at that damn catalog of houses like a chess player in checkmate.
He kept talking, and your gaze became emptier and emptier, you no longer knew what exactly you were looking at. Diego's silhouette faded into the corner of your eyes as more than sensible thoughts flooded your mind: kill him, take revenge, end it.
"Besides, I can get you tickets to the theaters, not everyone knows that the seats...''
Enough. You shot and hit something hard. You hit the back of the chair on the other side of the room. Your bullet hit the inside of its backrest, which caused it to start swaying on the spot, so quickly and with such energy that any newcomer to the room would have been stunned by the situation. Did you miss a shot? No, it was easier to believe in demons than to have missed a shot. In fact, the purple armchair was now empty of human occupants. Wiggling his fingers in the air with a quick jerk, Diego managed to anticipate your shot and quickly deflected it. His movement threw the whole room into disarray, and the wind blew a gust over your neck that gave away his location. Right behind you.
You turned and fired again. Another bullet wasted, this time on the grand piano that you didn't realize was there until now, playing an atrociously vigorous, fundamentally hysterical and plangent chord. The next second, you were both straining and wheezing in another corner of the hall. You found yourself simultaneously scrambling and fleeing across the hall, and Diego did the same with a kind of double, triple, kangaroo jump, standing on his outstretched legs while you took two leaps towards him, then another leap, putting yourself between him and the closed door. With your eyes trembling and your hands tense, you could hear Diego behind you again, his nostrils emitting the soundtrack of snorts that had been absent from your tussle until now. Still chanting those impossible sounds, Diego grabbed you from behind and managed to disarm you. Your last bullet hit the ceiling and Diego took the gun out of your hand to throw it across the hall.
"For God's sake, when are you going to listen to me?!'' He exclaimed impatiently, close to your ear, as you struggled.
The roughness of his hands denounced the use of his skill, and he pushed you to hold you against the wall, rough as a dog, like some old nightmare of yours, culminating an exceptional force on your spine, or so it seemed to be, while his other arm was over your collarbones, taking care not to choke you with his forearm.
"Let me go, hijo de puta!'' And then he managed to cover your mouth.
"You asked what I want from you, right?'' His hot breath spread across your neck. ''I heard that you somehow managed to become the president's guest of honor. I still want to know how the hell you did it, but not now. If you're going to get into his lair, I want you to tell me everything you find out, you hear me?"
You stood still, made no gesture to deny or confirm, then he took his hand away from your mouth.
"Mierda!'' You turned your head angrily, trying to look at him, but getting no more than a glimpse of the golden hair on his shoulders. ''No fucking way! Why the hell would I accept that?!''
''If the president lets you into Independence Hall, it'll be because he doesn't intend to let you out alive.''
That was enough to get your attention. The simplest truth, but you wouldn't give in so easily.
''You think I don't know that? I'm not an idiot, Diego!''
''And you think you'll be able to get out of this on your own?''
"I will!''
''No, you won't make it! Listen to me! You won't have any weapons, not even a single packet of herbs with you when you go in there!'' He then grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around so that you were facing him. ''They'll search you and empty your pockets; if necessary, they won't even let you in with your clothes on. The president will kill you and cover it up as he always does. Everyone will think you've disappeared or dropped out of the race, when in fact you're buried in some indigent cemetery!''
He squeezed your shoulders tightly, as if to stop you from going anywhere, and he smelled different; dusty and hot, wild but strangely familiar, with an odor of sawdust, like a sheep, you thought. You'd never seen him like that, but you felt like you had a thousand times before. It was when you realized where you were again that the world seemed to shudder. You flinched and winced when he gave you a jolt.
When you came to your senses, the same foolish impediments to trusting Diego were still in your head.
"Well... and what's the difference between trusting you and trusting the president?''
He was quiet for a few seconds and you saw this as a good opportunity to try to get rid of him. You freed yourself for a moment with the effort of your legs, but you didn't count on the support the wall would offer Diego, who immediately pinned you down without mercy.
"I'm trying to save your life, for God's sake! Are you still drunk?!''
''You want to save my life?!''
''Is that so hard to understand?!''
''It wouldn't be so hard if you... I don't know... hadn't tried to kill me in the frozen strait!''
Every time you mentioned this subject, he seemed offended and without argument in a way that made you extremely pleased. But you couldn't ignore the dilemma he had posed; Diego was right. If you enter Independence Hall alone, you will die. President Valentine will eliminate all obstacles; and you were a big pain in the ass, considering the great damage you caused him by killing Blackmore and other of his employees.
"Oh, fuck, let me go, Diego!'' You continued to struggle, feeling his inclination to release you.
''Promise me you'll be civilized at least once in your life!''
"Go fuck yourself!''
Diego himself seemed to be considering retirement in the UK, his lips pursed. He was sporting the soft beginnings of a close shave, you were close enough to see; the blond, invisible stubble softened his features and at the same time gave you a certain sense of strangeness - only rarely you had seen him without being perfectly clean-shaven.
"No. There's... no trap in that.'' He finally said, answering the unspoken questions that passed through your eyes.
You gave him an obvious look of disbelief.
"I assure you.'' He said, and the corners of his lips twitched slightly. "I have no reason to do that.''
Diego had already done everything he could with you. He had dragged you around, shaken you, strangled you, killed you... and you wouldn't like any of it. Just in case he had something like that in mind at that moment, you stuck your knee between his legs and prepared to deliver a knee strike where it would hurt the most.
"I was mistaken.''
Tense from the unspeakable violence in your mind, you had just started to stand up when you heard what he said. Before you could stop, he brought your legs together, trapping your knee between his thighs.
"I told you I was wrong, (Y/N).'' He repeated, impatient and with wounded pride. ''Do you understand?''
Was Diego admitting a mistake? This was pathetically unexpected and, just maybe, the equivalent of an apology for him.
''Ah... no.'' You answered, feeling a little shy. Then you moved your knee, but he kept his thighs together. Your heart was still beating fast. ''Can you let me go?''
''No, I can't. Will you listen to me now?''
"I think so.'' You said, still annoyed, but polite. ''Just... just don't try anything weird.''
You were close enough and saw Diego's lips tremble again. He pressed his thighs together more tightly for a moment, then relaxed.
''Don't you understand how pointless this discussion is in our current situation?''
''No.'' Your anger had subsided somewhat, but you couldn't allow him to ignore it. ''You tried to kill me, you son of a bitch. Why now do you want me to be your partner? Do you think I'm an idiot?''
''No. I think I'm the idiot for trusting a witch like you.''
''Yes, you are. For that and a whole bunch of other reasons. When this is all over, I'm going to shoot your goddamn lizard head off myself... so why? Why are you trying to save me?''
''For God's sake, stop asking these questions.''
''Then how do you want me to...''
He didn't say anything, nor did he interrupt you. But that look made the words die in your throat. For the first time in your life, you saw a remnant of humanity in that man. A simian gleam in those oneiric eyes. It took you a long time to realize that he was without his hat, his blond hair fluttering in the hustle and bustle of the hall, his agitated locks silhouetted for an instant against the face of a brown wall. The nauseating smell of dust mixed with the breakfast they were serving the guests.
"Gyro and Johnny...'' You then started another line of reasoning. ''If I agree to this... temporary partnership, you'll have to make a truce with Gyro and Johnny. I'll tell you everything I know and everything I'm going to find out in exchange for your support, but you need to stop these fights with Gyro and Johnny once and for all.''
"Sounds reasonable.'' He said, and you were surprised by the calm in his voice. ''But I don't want to see you near them. If we're going to work together, stay away from Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar.''
You stopped, frowning and looking at him.
''What? What did you say?'' Something between fury and fear boiled in your blood as you abruptly tried to break free, feeling a little dizzy when you succeeded and realized that he had no objection to releasing you.
"You understand.'' He repeated. ''I can't trust you if I see you with them.''
"And who the fuck do you think you are, Diego? They're my friends!" You wanted to laugh, but you were too stunned to. "Didn't you hear what I said? Temporary partnership! You're going to help me get out alive and, in return, I'll give you whatever you want from me! My only request is not to cause distractions between you, Gyro and Johnny.''
''Who do you think you are to say who I should or shouldn't kill?'' This time, you felt his voice rise with a little impatience. ''I can ignore Gyro and Johnny, but not if I see you with them.''
''And why is that?''
''If you work with me, it's only with me. Only in this way can we establish some trust. Temporary partnership? Do you even know how that works?''
''Trust?! You want to talk about trust?! That doesn't answer my question at all!''
You shook your head, taking a step back when you felt an energy of impatience resonate in his body. He seemed somewhat hesitant. Diego was very different, that wasn't the kind of behavior or speech you'd expect him to say so easily. Was he hiding something? Was something bothering him? Well, that much was obvious. Diego Brando seemed genuinely uncomfortable with something as unintelligible as what he was about to say.
"I don't care what you and those two bastards did, if you've already been used, I don't care about any of that. But I can't put any trust in you if you keep on with them.''
"Used?'' You leaned forward, like a dog ready to bite another. ''What are you talking about, Diego? Are we still talking about a partnership?''
Your willingness to be violent somehow disarmed him. He seemed slightly regretful of what he had said and how he had made the situation confusing. You no longer knew what the hell he was talking about. You no longer knew who the hell that man was.
So his silence was the bluntest confirmation of what he meant.
"Used? How dare you! You son of a bitch! I wasn't used, I didn't do any of what you're thinking with any man in this fucking race, I was busy trying to survive!''
''How long have you been trying to survive? Since Kansas City? I can't believe the truth of what you say.'' He raised his voice, as if to shout at you. ''Unless getting drunk with two men is something important for your survival!''
You sighed loudly, an indignant, furious sound. Your mouth refused to close and your eyebrows were almost knitted together. You felt nothing but fury at the sight of Diego's face. Fury, disgust, indignation, revolt, outrage. You didn't know exactly what it was, your mind was spinning, jumping like a flea, cursing and destroying all remnants of reason.
"I can't believe this...'' You said. "Oh my God, you're unbelievable! You're a son of a bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you jealous, is that it? Or are you so selfish and insufferable that you can't look at me without wanting to have me as a subordinate? Or rather, an object!''
He grabbed you by the arm when you made a sign of turning around, his grip hurting your flesh.
''An object? Who do you think I am?'' He muttered close to your face when he realized it wasn't a good idea to keep shouting.
"A man, just that. A selfish, betraying, lying man who can't accept that he can't have anyone he wants as a slave or a subordinate! Is that why you want to ally yourself with me? To try to control me and use me for as long as I'm useful?!''
Suddenly, he pulled you violently to him.
''If I only wanted to have sex with you, I would have done it a dozen times!'' You felt as if his voice was shaking your head. ''Do you think I'm some kind of bumpkin?!''
''You fucking bastard!'' You pulled back one of your arms and punched Diego hard in the face, startling him.
He grabbed your hand, pulled you towards him and kissed you, much harder and for much longer than any man had ever done before. His free hand held your head, and he kissed you with a frightening intensity, not so much a kiss, but an unbridled madness, a strange and desperate rage. You were strong and you were furious... but Diego was stronger and he was much more furious. You struggled, and he kissed you until you both felt ready to stop.
"Bastard?'' He said, gasping for air as he let you go.
He put his hand over his mouth and took a step back, trembling. There was blood on his hand. You had bitten him without him feeling a thing.
You were shaking too. Your face was hot, your lips pressed together so tightly that no expression was visible on your face, only your eyes burning.
"I could have, but I didn't.'' He continued, breathing more slowly. ''It wasn't what I wanted. It's not what I want now.'' He ran his bloody hand down his shirt. ''I want you, but not like you think. But I can't let my impulses take over... not like now... not before I trust you.''
You didn't blink, as if your brain had lost all connection with the rest of your body, still processing the moment of the kiss.
"I... if I agree to help you... if I accept this partnership... it's because I want everyone alive.''
''How can I be sure you care enough to want me alive? You might as well take revenge for what I did in the frozen strait.''
''I care, you idiot. While the president lives, I want everyone alive, including you. And that's why... that's why I want you to stop acting like rivals for once, when we all have a common enemy. If we... if you and I have unfinished business, it doesn't matter, we'll sort it out when the president is dead.''
Tears streamed down your face. Diego took a tissue from his pocket and handed it to you.
"Blow your nose, dry your face and then tell me what the hell you're thinking.''
And you did as he said, sniffling and pushing back your damp hair with one hand. You sat down, still feeling very dizzy from the hangover.
"Your accent comes out more when you're angry.'' You commented, with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile as you returned the tissue. You were fighting with all your might to forget the last five minutes.
"I'm not surprised.'' He retorted in exasperation. ''Now, say what you mean, and say it clearly, before I start speaking Celtic.''
"Do you know how to speak celt?'' You were slowly pulling yourself together.
"I do.'' He replied. ''And if you don't want to learn some rather crude expressions, spit it out. What do you intend to do at Independence Hall? You're not thinking of rescuing Lucy Steel, are you?''
''My question first.'' You said. "What did you mean when you said you wanted me, but not the way I'm thinking?''
He sighed, kneeling in front of you again, but didn't answer.
''These matters...'' He started, and you relaxed a little and swallowed when your question was completely ignored. ''They'll be resolved when the president is dead. We can agree that we both want that, can't we?''
Diego didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out.
"Yes.'' Sweat had condensed on his hair, and droplets ran down his neck. ''Yes, you're right.''
''I know.''
''So we're going to work together?''
"That's not a choice if I want to live, apparently.'' You sighed, looking down. ''We need to work together. Just tell me what you have in mind for this and, please... get my cat back to normal.''