☆ ⁺ « A DEATH SENTENCE
★˚⋆ FUGO REALIZED HE HAD NEVER known what a nightmare was before this. Nightmares weren't being chased or injured or horrified. They were to be completely unmoored, utterly helpless in the face of what the stars had dealt you.
He watched Mista stumble back onto the bridge, breathing heavily. Each breath was a gasp. Painful.
"We have to go after them," he managed to say. "We can still catch up. We just have to get to them."
"We can't," Fugo had to say. "The thrusters came on already. We're not in the Black Zone anymore."
"Then we flacking go back!" Mista roared. "We just lost our Captain, you asshole! What else are we supposed to do?"
"Don't you dare yell at me," Fugo said. "You went out with the Captain, not me. You were the one who was supposed to catch them."
"You came up with this flacking plan!"
"I never told the Captain to go! It was just a plan!"
"Guys, what's going on?" Narancia stumbled onto the bridge. Fugo swore under his breath. He had told everyone to wait in their rooms until he called them. Did no one flacking listen to him anymore?
"Where's the Captain?"
"We have to keep going," Fugo said, ignoring Narancia. "We'll go through the Bend Gate. Get to Minos. That's what the Captain told you, isn't it?"
"You can go wherever the flack you want. I'm taking a pod back to find the Captain."
Narancia sounded like a lost child. "You lost the Captain?"
"Like hell you will." Fugo went to grab Mista's arm when he started off. He wrenched out of Fugo's grasp like it burned. "That's a death sentence, Mista. The Captain is gone. We have to move on."
"We can't just leave without trying!"
"Haven't you been stupid enough? Can't you at least listen to me just this once?"
Mista bared his teeth. "I knew you never cared about us, Fugo, but you can't just blatantly disrespect the Captain like this. You've spent the past few years under their command for what?"
Fugo wanted to punch Mista so bad it felt like his arm was electrified. He stormed back to his seat. Forced himself to take deep breaths.
Mista was wrong to accuse Fugo of not caring. He didn't bust his ass for this crew everyday for the money. He did it because the Captain had been willing to give him a chance. They had been willing every time Fugo screwed up. In a way that few people could, the Captain seemed to empathize with Fugo. Seemed to care about him and actually look out for his well being.
Losing that?
Losing the Captain?
Stars, Fugo could hardly think about it. If he did, he would end up like Mista, irrational, reckless and stupid.
The crew couldn't afford that right now.
"What's going on?" Trish was here now. She looked between everyone. Her voice quavered. "Where's the Captain?"
Fugo closed his eyes. If there was ever a time to give up, it was now. They had lost their general, their voice of reason. The army couldn't fight without its general.
But Fugo's plan with Prince Rikkiel was still in place. He had sent the prince the coordinates to Minos as soon as he'd gotten them. He would be waiting there, along with a legion of Imperial guards to arrest Zero once he arrived.
And not only that—
"Where's JoJo?" Fugo asked. As if he'd been listening the entire time, JoJo came onto the bridge, standing a little behind everyone else.
Fugo gave him a hard glare. He was going by pure intuition and gut instinct. Other than that, there were really no clues. His hair and eyes were different, as well as his demeanor and entire character. But the way his face would twitch, and those momentary lapses when it seemed like someone else was there . . .
"We're continuing without the Captain, then?" JoJo asked. Fugo's point exactly. He acted shy but he was always quick to get at the heart of the matter.
"No, we're going after the Captain," Mista said, setting his jaw. His words came out in a rush. "We'll drift back into the Black Zone like we did before. People said it was impossible to survive and look at what we just did. All we have to do—"
He stopped. Everyone did. People tended to do that when Purple Haze made an appearance.
"We're not doing anything like that," Fugo gritted out. The smart thing to do would be to recall his Stand before it melted someone's face off, but he needed everyone to shut up for a minute.
"We're a thieving crew. And more than that, one under the employ of the most infamous man in the galaxy. If it weren't for our Stand abilities, we would be dead by now." Fugo met each crew member's eye. "We're obligated to carry out our job. Going back to get the Captain would take too long. We only have two weeks left; less than that. Even if we could find the Captain, Zero would kill us by the time we get out. Right now, the choice to me seems either to risk everyone's deaths, or honour the Captain's sacrifice and continue on. The Captain banked everything on this job. They would've wanted us to continue no matter what."
No one said anything. They were thinking, though. Fugo dismissed his Stand.
"We'll vote," Fugo said. "All in favour of continuing on, raise your hand."
Fugo raised his hand. He waited.
He waited until everyone had raised their hand. Even Mista.
"If we continue on, we'd be doing it under your leadership?" Mista asked. Fugo couldn't read the tone in his voice.
"If there are no objections."
"You're heartless and callous, I think there are a few objections." Mista glowered at Fugo. He looked off into the distance for a few moments. Sighed. "But you're right when you say the Captain would have wanted us to continue. They made me swear it. And I don't think I'm in the right mindset to be leading anything right now."
"I'm glad we agree."
For the first time, Fugo noticed Mista's eyes were red. He kept blinking, holding back tears.
He thrust his hand out.
"Promise me you won't get us killed, you bag of flack."
Fugo took Mista's hand and shook it firmly.
"I don't intend to."
He let go of Mista's hand and turned to Narancia. He looked up at Fugo, barely managing to scrub away a tear that fell down his cheek. Behind him, he heard Trish stifle a sob.
They would get through this. Fugo would make sure of it.
It was what the Captain would have wanted. It was what all of his plans were banking on.
"Set a course for Minos. We don't have time to waste."
- ✦ -
They were silent for two days. Zero would know, with how many times he attempted to call both Sheila and Passione.
It would be an overstatement to say that he was worried. Zero was irritated more than anything. This was a setback he couldn't afford and didn't want to be caught up in. He'd started dreaming of that damn Stand Arrow now. It glowed ethereal in his dreams, always in sight but never close enough to reach. It was driving him crazy. He'd cut off contact with nearly all of his associates and business ventures. Nothing was as important as this Stand Arrow. He needed it. Desperately.
His office had become his permanent dwelling. He rarely left. He probably wouldn't leave until it came time to retrieve the Stand Arrow. He paced the space like a caged lion. Someone had to answer. Sheila most definitely. They were Stand users; they couldn't just die.
Zero caught sight of his reflection in one of the screens. It startled him. It had been a while since he—anyone—had seen him without his mask.
His cheeks were shallow. His grey eyes, once flinty, were now dull and misty. He ran a hand through his hair, disgusted at how greasy and lank it was. Was this what he looked like?
He looked naked. Vulnerable. Sad.
It was awful. He hated it.
Maybe it was time to commence his second plan. All plans required a backup, and hopeful as Passione was, Zero would be a fool to bet everything on one crew. If this failed, if the crew ended up disappearing, Zero would have to go to someone else. It wouldn't be as easy as Passione had been, practically begging him for a job.
Risotto's crew was well-known in Zero's circles. Ruthless. They might have been more of the approach Zero needed, except that something in him had hesitated at the thought.
Today would be the last day, Zero decided. If neither Passione nor Sheila answered his call, he would assume they were dead and move on to the second plan. There would be no regret or remorse about it.
It would be troublesome dealing with Donatello if that were the case, however. Maybe he could sell the prince something to get him to leave off.
Even as he resolved to do this, Zero couldn't sit down. He continued to pace around his office.
Waiting.
Could they really be dead?
A ping went off. Zero rushed towards his desk, scattering the screens and keyboards there to the floor. He nearly forgot to replace his mask and did so quickly, pushing it onto his face.
"Sheila. Are you alright?"
She wasn't in her pod anymore. She was in a diner of some sort, an egg and toast in front of her and various indistinct people passing by behind her booth. She'd redone her braids and her makeup. She looked more like herself.
"They're dead, Zero."
Something dropped in Zero's chest. He sat down, gripped the edge of his chair.
"What do you mean by that?"
Sheila leaned back. All traces of emotion had fled from her face. She was cold. Impassive.
"The Captain is dead. The crew had to send them outside to reactivate a switch. They got lost in the storm. The crew is leaving them behind. I listened in on their comms. They were so frazzled they forgot to turn them off."
The Captain of Passione. Dead.
That was unfortunate. Extremely so. They had been the tether for all of Kiss in Blue Heaven's resolve altering. Without them, the crew's resolve would be threadbare. The fact that they were even continuing the job at all was surprising.
"You're sure of this?"
"Yes."
"Who's assumed command of the crew?"
"The engineer. Pannacotta Fugo."
That was also surprising. Zero would have expected the headstrong gunman. But Fugo? Blue Heaven's hold on him was the weakest out of everyone.
"Did you find out where they're headed?"
"A planet near Bend Gate XIV. Minos. Polnareff and the Stand Arrow should be there."
Minos was an insignificant planet in the middle of nowhere. Strange that Polnareff should choose that planet out of the entire galaxy to make his hideaway.
"You'll follow after them," Zero said. "Make sure Polnareff doesn't give them any trouble. I'll inform Prince Donatello and have him intercept the crew. I'd rather make the transaction on an Imperial ship."
"Prince Donatello, sir?"
"We have an agreement. It will make things easier, considering he's offered to take Passione off of my hands."
Sheila nodded curtly. "Understood."
It was at moments like these that Zero wished his Stand could alter resolves remotely. Once changed, there was nothing Zero could do to adjust that person's resolve. How that person reacted was entirely up to them. It was irritating. Just one look at Sheila and he could see she was straying from the obedient servant he had set out to make. She was listing off of her axis. She would have to be replaced.
He hoped that once he achieved Requiem, that would change. There was so much untapped potential in his Stand. He knew that he could control the entire galaxy if given the chance.
He had to tread carefully. He couldn't afford to stumble when the end was so close. He had to be patient. The stars would give him what he was due.
"Will that be all, sir?" Sheila asked.
"Indeed. I'll check back with you when required."
- ✦ -
Abbacchio couldn't believe he was still alive. He'd barely gone into the Black Zone—only skimmed across it, in fact, and even that had felt like enough to wrench his soul from his body. He had never been one to worship the stars, but he found himself thanking them now.
When he came to on the transport ship, he discovered that the pilot had woken up before he did. Passione had still managed to escape, but the pilot was keenly suspicious about how that was possible with an Inspector GA onboard. They'd dropped off the other inmates at their prison, and Abbacchio had hitched a ride with a nearby patrol to report to his superior's office.
He was chewed out. Thoroughly. They might have threatened to fire him, he couldn't remember. At any rate, they gave him a small one-person ship and told him not to show his face again unless it was with Passione. That suited Abbacchio just fine. Nothing he hadn't heard before.
He received a call soon after from Prince Donatello himself. It took Abbacchio by surprise. He answered it dressed in nothing but shorts and a tank top.
"Inspector Abbacchio. A pleasure."
Abbacchio just barely hid a wince. "Your Highness. I apologize for my appearance. I wasn't expecting a call from you."
"No, I wouldn't think so." Through the call, Donatello gave him a once-over. In contrast to Abbacchio, the prince was immaculately dressed, the Imperial crest pinned to his left breast.
"Is there something you need, Your Highness?" GA's and the Imperial family were on polite terms with one another, but Abbacchio preferred to keep away from them when he could. Truthfully, he didn't care for anyone in the family.
"How is your pursuit of Passione going? Any luck?"
Abbacchio's eye twitched. He didn't see how that was any of the prince's business.
"Is there a reason you're asking that, Your Highness?"
"What if I said I wanted to offer you my assistance? It happens to be in my personal interest to see them apprehended."
"The Galactic Authorities are an independent force, Your Highness. The Imperial family is not an exception to this."
Donatello smiled wickedly. "Ah, a stickler for rules, are you? What if I offered to pay you instead? Turn in Passione to me instead of the jails. I'm willing to transfer any amount of money you'd like."
The words were uncomfortably familiar. They prickled against Abbacchio's skin.
"I'm afraid I'll have to cut this call short, Your Highness. The Galactic Authorities don't make it a habit to accept bribes."
Abbacchio caught sight of Donatello's scowl just as he cut off the call. He could be executed for this, he knew. It hadn't been a direct order, but refusing anything from an Imperial prince was bound to spell trouble.
Well. That was something he could deal with. It just so happened that he wasn't too keen on Passione being captured.
Using Moody Blues was difficult without the actual transport ship. He eventually had to find it again just to watch the playbacks. It was messy. Chaotic. Something must have gone wrong with the escape pods. They weren't dead, however, which was a relief.
He managed to piece together the path they had taken, or something close to it. He followed it as closely as he could until he got to the edge of the Black Zone.
That gave Abbacchio pause. They were stupid. But not that stupid.
He didn't know what to do. The playbacks said they had gone through here but that was impossible. Abbacchio didn't want to die that badly.
He took his ship and skirted around the edge of the Black Zone, taking several days. It was lucky he had thought to restock before he left or he would've starved to death. Moody Blues lost all track of the crew by the time Abbacchio reached the other side of the Black Zone. For the first time in a long time, he truly had no idea where Passione was.
Abbacchio let his ship drift. He called himself an honorary member, but without coordinates, Passione could be anywhere in the galaxy. Abbacchio pondered going back around the Black Zone. Or maybe he should keep going, trying going through the Bend Gate.
He supposed it was possible that the reason Moody Blues couldn't make a playback was because Passione had never made it out of the Black Zone to begin with. They could have disappeared in that void, like countless ships before them.
It was a dismal thought. Briefly, Abbacchio wondered what he would do if that was the case. Retire, probably, even if he barely had enough in his credit account for that. He couldn't imagine continuing on being a GA after something like that. It wouldn't feel right.
Through the ship's main window, Abbacchio thought he could make out something, drifting through space. Small. White. Vaguely human-shaped.
His heart jolted. Was someone out there?
He prepared a pod to go out and investigate. He kept telling himself that it couldn't be a human. Just a piece of rock or debris. He was wasting time. Getting himself worked up over nothing.
He managed to get close enough to reel the object into the pod. Once it had been dispensed inside, Abbacchio approached it warily, wondering if he'd just made a fatal mistake.
It really was a human. Abbacchio couldn't tell how long they had been floating around in space like that. In all likelihood, this would probably be more accurately referred to as a corpse.
What was the protocol for a situation like this? Abbacchio couldn't remember. Figuring out who this person was might be a start. But was it smart to remove their helmet? They could be decomposing.
Keeping his own helmet on, Abbacchio gently twisted on the body's helmet. When it didn't give, he twisted harder, practically wrenching it open. It popped open with a hiss, steam escaping from the helmet.
Abbacchio lifted the helmet. He was an Inspector with the Galactic Authorities. He would maintain his composure. He would not react. He would remain professional.
When he saw the face, Abbacchio didn't know what he felt. He recognized the face of the body. Saw it practically everyday. They weren't decomposing in the slightest. He took off one of his gloves and went to check their pulse.
It was faint, but it was there.
- ✦ -
NEXT CHAPTER ─
❝ HOW HAVE YOU NOT BEEN FIRED? ❞
☆ ⁺ « STRICTLY OFF THE RECORD