Penalty for Sin
Prompt: Even heroes have the right to bleed.
Character(s):Giotto, Daemon Spade, G
Word Count:1,647
Bonus Guidelines: The Vindice Arcobaleno in the manga
Penalty for Sin
He held the small glass bottle to the light, holding it aloft to see it from a better angle. The blood inside it glinted, red-black like life and death mixed into one.
"How does it feel to have Shimon's blood in your hands, Primo? Figuratively speaking, of course. You did sign a bloody sentence for his family…"
He knew that voice, although he had only heard it once before. He lowered the vial down into its box and glanced up to see the tiny Arcobaleno that had been with Vindice on that day he had rescued Cozart.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Arcobaleno of the…." He trailed off, lilting at the end so that it came out as a question. Perhaps he would get some answers today about this mysterious entity.
"And now there's more blood on your hands. Or more specifically, blood on Vongola's name. You didn't think we would let Daemon's Spade's crime go unpunished, did you?" it asked, ignoring his pleasantries. Giotto's eyes closed heavily.
"No. Of course not. I was merely under the assumption that Bermuda would be the one to come see me. " He opened them again, intent on getting to business. "We will have to negotiate, I trust you realize that." This time it was not a question.
The Arcobaleno was silent for a skip in time before letting out a small scoff. "We punish those that cannot be brought to justice by normal law, Primo. Daemon Spade has fallen and so we shall proceed. There will be no negotiations."
He stood, planting his palm on the table beside the box. "I will have to disagree, Arcobaleno. Daemon is my responsibility and so I will…" he fell short as the Arcobaleno held up one small hand.
"And so you will give him leniency, Primo? I took your sense of justice to be stronger than that. No. You will have to punish him. Vindice won’t let him walk away from Justice. His actions caused the death of many people.
He sighed, frustration lilting the way breath left him. "It isn't because he is my friend, although he is, but because I really do believe he has become unbalanced every since Elena's death. He must not have been in his right mental state. I couldn't possibly hand him over to you.
The Arcobaleno was silent for a moment.
"Daemon," it said at last, in a tone replete with finality. "Daemon Spade will serve time in a prison of CEDEF’s choosing. He will also give up his right to leave Italy and always will he be under supervision. You are in charge of him, Primo. I charge you with him. I don't think I need to state any consequences." Vindice would kill him on the spot should he fall out of line again.
"I understand," he agreed. "I will always keep a close eye on Daemon."
The Arcobaleno eyed the bottle by his hand with another expression of displeasure. That is your sin, Giotto. Don't let there be any more on your hands."
He nodded, pinpricks of shame and guilt embedding in his heart. "I won't."
The air in the catacomb was stagnant. It didn't flow fluidly to his lungs and he found he had to adjust his intake of breath to replenish the supply. Still, he walked briskly down the stone-paved stairs, faster even when the drip drop of water seeping through the cracks in the ceiling plummeted into his hair.
Grimacing, he brushed his hand over the damp tuft and used his hyper intuition to avoid the incoming shower, which was stronger as he reached the lowest level.
His nose wrinkled at the smell. It wasn't quite rancid. But the stench of sweat and salt was rather strong. Leave it to Alaude, he mused as he walked on, to place Daemon in the worst part of his holding cells.
That man is where he deserves to be…
Alaude had never taken kindly to those who ventured in betrayal. In fact, it was only because of his own interference that his Cloud Guardian hadn't taken Daemon's life to compensate for the ones he took by his wayward actions.
The sound of coughing dispelled that thought as it bounced along the narrow pathway. It wasn't very faint and he recognized the tone of it so he knew he was close.
He was on his feet and leaning against the wall. His hand was pressed against his chest as a fist, putting pressure on it to unobstruct his airway. Eyes sealed tight in discomfort, he didn't seem to notice his arrival.
"I suppose that asking if you're well would be foolish," Giotto remarked, garnering the attention of the inmate.
"Primo," he acknowledged hoarsely. He coughed again, trying to clear his throat. "Why are you here?"
Daemon hadn't shown any remorse for what he had done, or so Knuckle had told him after his many visits. He was rather like a different person according to him.
He's not your friend anymore, Primo. You would do well to remember that.
That Knuckle, a priest whose beliefs were grounded in forgiveness, would say that made him anxious. But they were still friends; he was sure Daemon would still be his friend.
G couldn't understand why he still held on to that.
You're a fool. You were betrayed because you refused to see and now you're being blind again to what's in front of you. Daemon is no friend to you. Don't let him in to trick you again…
Dear G was always looking for his best interests, and in retrospect his words held truth to their shape. Daemon had betrayed him. That was factual. He had gotten the opportunity to do so because he had chosen to close his ears to his extremist views instead of listening for the warning signs. But Giotto didn't think that Daemon would trick him again. After all, he was going to ensure that such a thing would not happen again.
"I'm here to release you and to give you back your ring," he said, pulling out an old brass key and sliding it into the lock. He turned it sharply and the audible click of it opening resounded along the walls.
Daemon didn't question him and approached him before kneeling down on bended knee. Giotto unfurled his hand to expose the Mist Ring. He slipped it on Daemon's finger, a little gaunt after the year he had spent down in the catacombs.
"I will recommend you to my successor," he said, knowing that suddenly saying so would confuse him. He elaborated. "Because your actions were my failure I have taken responsibility. As such I will also be stepping down as the Boss of our Famiglia. I expect you to be there when I tell Ricardo he will succeed Vongola." He almost smiled at the perplexed look on Daemon's countenance and the fervor shining in his eyes. "I trust you approve of my appointee?"
He didn't speak and remained kneeled. His gaze turned to the floor and he wondered if perhaps Knuckle had been wrong and there was some remorse in there after all.
"He will make Vongola strong. I know it," he said at last, his tone caressing the adjective.
"I see," he murmured. He waited as Daemon stood and before he could leave he grasped his arm. "Your watch?"
Daemon extracted it from his coat and he reached for it, weighing it in his palm before opening the latch with a flick of his thumb. His own flame rose from its surface, lighting the dim prison and the happy shadows of Elena's face in the portrait.
"Was it for her, Daemon? Do you really think strength is synonymous with the power to kill? I think Elena only wanted to protect people." He regarded him thoughtfully, noting the glassy texture that filmed his eyes and the way he had to bite his lip from the inside to keep from reacting to her name. He snatched the watch back viciously and stalked away.
He called out to him. "So long as you keep that we are eternal friends."
He didn't stop and Giotto, acknowledging his failure, wondered if the person who could make him had yet been born.
He held the glass bottle aloft, twisting it in his hand to view it from all angles.
"What do you have there, Giotto?" asked G as he walked into his study. Today was their last day in Italy before they departed for Japan and left the front of the Family in Ricardo's hands.
"Penalty. Well, that's what Vindice’s Arcobaleno called it when he slashed my wrist."
G looked scandalized and angry. "What?"
He laughed and stroked the bandaged wrist. "Even I have the right to bleed, G. Just because I'm the Boss does not mean I can't make my share of sacrifices." He smiled at his best friend, noting how he clicked his tongue in irritation but no longer anger. “The Arcobaleno said this blood would pay for the sins I committed against Cozart and by consequence those that I let Daemon accrue." He smiled. "I hope he’s right. I would have bled my whole body dry to make amends."
G took it from him and regarded it with a frown. "If it gives you peace of mind, then so be it. G had always frowned over his sense of guilt. But Giotto knew that he had failed his responsibilities as Primo when his guardian ran amok and when he couldn't do anything for Cozart save accept wiping his name from the face of the mafia world.
"It does," he laughed.
He took back Penalty and placed it in its box before moving it next to its counterpart.
Sin and Penalty lay next to each other, waiting for the day when one would pay for the other.
Character(s):Giotto, Daemon Spade, G
Word Count:1,647
Bonus Guidelines: The Vindice Arcobaleno in the manga
Penalty for Sin
He held the small glass bottle to the light, holding it aloft to see it from a better angle. The blood inside it glinted, red-black like life and death mixed into one.
"How does it feel to have Shimon's blood in your hands, Primo? Figuratively speaking, of course. You did sign a bloody sentence for his family…"
He knew that voice, although he had only heard it once before. He lowered the vial down into its box and glanced up to see the tiny Arcobaleno that had been with Vindice on that day he had rescued Cozart.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Arcobaleno of the…." He trailed off, lilting at the end so that it came out as a question. Perhaps he would get some answers today about this mysterious entity.
"And now there's more blood on your hands. Or more specifically, blood on Vongola's name. You didn't think we would let Daemon's Spade's crime go unpunished, did you?" it asked, ignoring his pleasantries. Giotto's eyes closed heavily.
"No. Of course not. I was merely under the assumption that Bermuda would be the one to come see me. " He opened them again, intent on getting to business. "We will have to negotiate, I trust you realize that." This time it was not a question.
The Arcobaleno was silent for a skip in time before letting out a small scoff. "We punish those that cannot be brought to justice by normal law, Primo. Daemon Spade has fallen and so we shall proceed. There will be no negotiations."
He stood, planting his palm on the table beside the box. "I will have to disagree, Arcobaleno. Daemon is my responsibility and so I will…" he fell short as the Arcobaleno held up one small hand.
"And so you will give him leniency, Primo? I took your sense of justice to be stronger than that. No. You will have to punish him. Vindice won’t let him walk away from Justice. His actions caused the death of many people.
He sighed, frustration lilting the way breath left him. "It isn't because he is my friend, although he is, but because I really do believe he has become unbalanced every since Elena's death. He must not have been in his right mental state. I couldn't possibly hand him over to you.
The Arcobaleno was silent for a moment.
"Daemon," it said at last, in a tone replete with finality. "Daemon Spade will serve time in a prison of CEDEF’s choosing. He will also give up his right to leave Italy and always will he be under supervision. You are in charge of him, Primo. I charge you with him. I don't think I need to state any consequences." Vindice would kill him on the spot should he fall out of line again.
"I understand," he agreed. "I will always keep a close eye on Daemon."
The Arcobaleno eyed the bottle by his hand with another expression of displeasure. That is your sin, Giotto. Don't let there be any more on your hands."
He nodded, pinpricks of shame and guilt embedding in his heart. "I won't."
The air in the catacomb was stagnant. It didn't flow fluidly to his lungs and he found he had to adjust his intake of breath to replenish the supply. Still, he walked briskly down the stone-paved stairs, faster even when the drip drop of water seeping through the cracks in the ceiling plummeted into his hair.
Grimacing, he brushed his hand over the damp tuft and used his hyper intuition to avoid the incoming shower, which was stronger as he reached the lowest level.
His nose wrinkled at the smell. It wasn't quite rancid. But the stench of sweat and salt was rather strong. Leave it to Alaude, he mused as he walked on, to place Daemon in the worst part of his holding cells.
That man is where he deserves to be…
Alaude had never taken kindly to those who ventured in betrayal. In fact, it was only because of his own interference that his Cloud Guardian hadn't taken Daemon's life to compensate for the ones he took by his wayward actions.
The sound of coughing dispelled that thought as it bounced along the narrow pathway. It wasn't very faint and he recognized the tone of it so he knew he was close.
He was on his feet and leaning against the wall. His hand was pressed against his chest as a fist, putting pressure on it to unobstruct his airway. Eyes sealed tight in discomfort, he didn't seem to notice his arrival.
"I suppose that asking if you're well would be foolish," Giotto remarked, garnering the attention of the inmate.
"Primo," he acknowledged hoarsely. He coughed again, trying to clear his throat. "Why are you here?"
Daemon hadn't shown any remorse for what he had done, or so Knuckle had told him after his many visits. He was rather like a different person according to him.
He's not your friend anymore, Primo. You would do well to remember that.
That Knuckle, a priest whose beliefs were grounded in forgiveness, would say that made him anxious. But they were still friends; he was sure Daemon would still be his friend.
G couldn't understand why he still held on to that.
You're a fool. You were betrayed because you refused to see and now you're being blind again to what's in front of you. Daemon is no friend to you. Don't let him in to trick you again…
Dear G was always looking for his best interests, and in retrospect his words held truth to their shape. Daemon had betrayed him. That was factual. He had gotten the opportunity to do so because he had chosen to close his ears to his extremist views instead of listening for the warning signs. But Giotto didn't think that Daemon would trick him again. After all, he was going to ensure that such a thing would not happen again.
"I'm here to release you and to give you back your ring," he said, pulling out an old brass key and sliding it into the lock. He turned it sharply and the audible click of it opening resounded along the walls.
Daemon didn't question him and approached him before kneeling down on bended knee. Giotto unfurled his hand to expose the Mist Ring. He slipped it on Daemon's finger, a little gaunt after the year he had spent down in the catacombs.
"I will recommend you to my successor," he said, knowing that suddenly saying so would confuse him. He elaborated. "Because your actions were my failure I have taken responsibility. As such I will also be stepping down as the Boss of our Famiglia. I expect you to be there when I tell Ricardo he will succeed Vongola." He almost smiled at the perplexed look on Daemon's countenance and the fervor shining in his eyes. "I trust you approve of my appointee?"
He didn't speak and remained kneeled. His gaze turned to the floor and he wondered if perhaps Knuckle had been wrong and there was some remorse in there after all.
"He will make Vongola strong. I know it," he said at last, his tone caressing the adjective.
"I see," he murmured. He waited as Daemon stood and before he could leave he grasped his arm. "Your watch?"
Daemon extracted it from his coat and he reached for it, weighing it in his palm before opening the latch with a flick of his thumb. His own flame rose from its surface, lighting the dim prison and the happy shadows of Elena's face in the portrait.
"Was it for her, Daemon? Do you really think strength is synonymous with the power to kill? I think Elena only wanted to protect people." He regarded him thoughtfully, noting the glassy texture that filmed his eyes and the way he had to bite his lip from the inside to keep from reacting to her name. He snatched the watch back viciously and stalked away.
He called out to him. "So long as you keep that we are eternal friends."
He didn't stop and Giotto, acknowledging his failure, wondered if the person who could make him had yet been born.
He held the glass bottle aloft, twisting it in his hand to view it from all angles.
"What do you have there, Giotto?" asked G as he walked into his study. Today was their last day in Italy before they departed for Japan and left the front of the Family in Ricardo's hands.
"Penalty. Well, that's what Vindice’s Arcobaleno called it when he slashed my wrist."
G looked scandalized and angry. "What?"
He laughed and stroked the bandaged wrist. "Even I have the right to bleed, G. Just because I'm the Boss does not mean I can't make my share of sacrifices." He smiled at his best friend, noting how he clicked his tongue in irritation but no longer anger. “The Arcobaleno said this blood would pay for the sins I committed against Cozart and by consequence those that I let Daemon accrue." He smiled. "I hope he’s right. I would have bled my whole body dry to make amends."
G took it from him and regarded it with a frown. "If it gives you peace of mind, then so be it. G had always frowned over his sense of guilt. But Giotto knew that he had failed his responsibilities as Primo when his guardian ran amok and when he couldn't do anything for Cozart save accept wiping his name from the face of the mafia world.
"It does," he laughed.
He took back Penalty and placed it in its box before moving it next to its counterpart.
Sin and Penalty lay next to each other, waiting for the day when one would pay for the other.