Chapter Text

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



Cannolo stared in shock as Vittorio started to turn the knife on himself again in his frenzied fit of rage. The kid had already done a good bit of damage to himself by the time Cannolo could will himself to take action, but take action he did. He may have been a gangster, but he still had a soul, and there was no way he was going to let a 17-year-old kid destroy himself right in front of his very eyes like that. Not today, not on his watch.



Right as the frail teenager was about to make another cut, the older man charged at him. Having been taken by surprise, Vittorio was unable to react as Cannolo grabbed his shoulder with one hand and his knife hand in the other. In one fell swoop, Cannolo pushed the knife away from the boy while using his other hand to subdue him on the ground.



Realizing what was happening, Vittorio let forth a feral scream.



"AHHHHHHHH! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? LET GO OF ME!" he cried out. Blood from his many wounds splattered all over Cannolo's suit as the teenager writhed about and kicked like an angry toddler in a futile attempt to escape his iron grasp. His feet scored several hits.



"Come on now, don't hurt yourself like that!" yelled Cannolo, ignoring the pain from the injured boy's kicking. "What would your teammates think!?"



Vittorio stopped writhing and kicking, seeming to ponder the older man's question. In reality though, he simply didn't have the strength to keep it up any longer. Exhaustion and blood loss had taken their toll and the knife finally slipped out of the boy's grasp as he fell unconscious.



"Shit." said Cannolo. Even though he'd managed to subdue the boy, it seemed he'd still done enough damage to himself that he needed to get to a doctor fast, or he wouldn't make it. Luckily, Cannolo knew a few things about first aid- you kind of had to if you wanted to survive more than a week or so in his line of work. Attempting to stem the bleeding somewhat, he tore the scarf off of his neck and hastily wrapped it around the boy's torso (where the worst of his wounds were) as a sort of makeshift pressure bandage, barely leaving enough space for him to breathe. Satisfied with his handiwork, he took out his phone and dialed a number- Giorno's number.



"Don? It's Cannolo. The mask is destroyed. Shot it to pieces in the main hall. Got Vittorio, too- he's alive, but he's hurt, bad. Really bad. Tried to stab himself to pieces when I tried to talk to him. I need an ambulance out here, fast. Or he'll die." Cannolo paused to listen to his boss's response. "Alright, I'll meet them at the entrance. Thanks."



Putting his phone back in his pocket, he picked up the knife and sheathed it before cradling the unconscious boy in his arms and running out to the cathedral's entrance. As he was running, he began to notice just how many scars and other wounds in various stages of healing littered the boy's thin, bony frame- clearly all of them self-inflicted.



"Damn, kid..." he thought to himself with a sympathetic frown. "You're one sick puppy, aren't you...?"



Hoisting the kid over his shoulder so that he'd have a free hand, he was able to open the entrance door. He walked down the stairs and gingerly placed his charge -who was thankfully still breathing- at their base so that the medics might have an easier time tending to him. He returned to the top and sat down to wait. He was not normally a spiritual man, but as he waited, he found himself bowing his head in prayer.



"Please, God... if You're out there, just... let this kid live." he prayed, tears welling up in his eyes. "Let him find peace from whatever Hell he's living in. Please... he's only 17! He's still got his whole life ahead of him. Let him live it!"



It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive. Cannolo rose to his feet as the medics rushed to the boy's aid. He explained that he'd tried to talk the boy down but failed, and that he didn't know much else about him except that his name was Vittorio Cataldi and he was 17. He turned away and leaned against the wall as the medics began working on him. He just... couldn't look anymore. One of the medics approached him as Vittorio was loaded in, offering him a ride to the hospital with him. Politely declining the offer, he waved the medic off and began to walk away. He would have happily taken the offer had Vittorio been the only one in danger that night, but he still had two other charges to see to that night- both of whom were highly likely to end up in the hospital as well, or worse.