Chapter Text
Skull was fucked.
Just a general statement. A fact that holds true to real life. He was exhausted, he was aching, and he was currently dragging Colonello to a safe house in fuck all nowhere while bleeding out. Skull was fucked, and he wished Byakuran and his groupies to get fucked too.
The trail was- well the trail was non-existent. When he says he’s going to a safe house in the middle of nowhere, he means in the middle of nowhere. He owned this place before the mafia, before his performances and fame. Off the grid, hidden under a large canopy of leaves that was weighed down by thick layers of snow. And he was dragging another person, albeit toddler sized, through that aforementioned snow on a non-existent track.
Just his luck.
He could feel his lungs huffing for breath, his face sweating buckets under the coarse fabric wrapped on his face. The poison slowly made its rounds on his body. He stumbled over roots hidden by the snow, and he was wildly fluctuating between ‘I just had the most ace show ever but fuck this hot leather’ and ‘the concept was great, but now I severely regret skinny dipping during a snowstorm’.
He kept pushing through, the slight weight on his back a reminder of the (literal) load he was carrying. His own helmet, fixed with a purifier and a breather, was encasing Colonello’s head. It kept knocking against his own, which was starting to really tick him off. The only upside was that he was unconscious, so he wouldn’t have to hear his orders, threats, questions, and overall complaining (probably in that order). No need to spill about the location of his cubby either, which was great.
It felt like a massive relief to see his cabin. It was a beautiful piece of craft, and he couldn’t help the mental pat on the back for his great thinking as he hurried to get inside.
Colonello felt his consciousness return slowly. Weird for him, he realised. Especially with how he and Skull were just-!
Colonello shot up, movements cutting as he got up and backed up to the nearest wall. His eyes darted around as he reached for his gun, his shoulder twinging in protest. No gun, he realised. No enemy either. There was no one in the rather spacious room actually. Where was he?
He cataloged his surroundings, sharpening his eyes to check every nook. He was, apparently, set up on a rather nice bed. It was fitted with black cotton sheets. Next to the bed, on either side were wide wooden shutters, sealed tight with fabric stuffed in the gaps. White noise came from a whirring fan, perched on a wooden chair. On a bedside table was a small light that cast an orange hue, throwing dark shadows across the room. Bathed in the light was a glass of water and a note.
He wanted to laugh, did someone think he would seriously drink from an unknown glass?
His throat ached something awful though. Fuck it, he took the water. He grabbed the note too while he was at it.
As he was reaching out to drink the most likely poisoned water, he notices bandages crawling up his arm. Seems whoever put him in this room saw fit to patch him up too. By that logic, they’re either an ally or an enemy that’s leading with subterfuge. He’ll find a knife somewhere, just in case.
He looked down at the note and snorted into the glass. The note was scrawled with the most cliché horror movie font he’s ever seen. He just has to emphasize the written with pen part. There’s only one person who can, naturally, write like a ghost that’s mad that the new tenants aren’t paying them rent. It also helped that the note was infused with potent Cloud flames, but he pretends it’s the familiar handwriting. Colonello relaxed on one of the many giant pillows behind him as he readily took a sip from the glass.
Colonello! You have entered one of the many of the Great Skull-Sama’s safe houses! Congratulations. Shower up, you stink. There’re clothes in the bathroom. DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING! It’s mine. >:( I’m having a bath in the bathroom outside the room, do NOT interrupt. I refuse to look anything but AMAZING and GRAND in my own home. There’s food in the kitchen, help yourself. Enjoy it >:)
PS. Don’t open the windows or the doors, we wouldn’t want to die of radiation poisoning, do we?
Skull was absolutely ridiculous. Annoying as well. Never forget infuriating too. And somehow still alive? Colonello really had to wonder how in the ever-loving hell he was alive for that matter.
The last thing he remembered was being chased and cornered by one of Byakuran’s squads that were hunting them. At the time they were doing an information run for Mammon, who was planning to use that for the Varia to plan a counterattack. They knew the risks, of course, with how many enemies were crawling around the city. Not to mention the goddamned airborne poison meant specifically for them. It was honestly astounding how they even managed to get information out to Mammon in the first place, but they weren’t the best for nothing.
It went tits up when their point of contact ended up giving a squad their location. It was a race through grimy, dark-lit alleys, sprinting to get to Skull’s motorbike. Colonello remembered them being cornered into a dead end at the last stretch of it.
Skull had looked at him then, helmet visor reflecting a flickering neon light, a purple glow emanating through the visor.
There were marching steps, loaded weapons, and shouts. He was shot then, in the shoulder, with a Storm infused bullet meant to destroy. He passed out but not before seeing a rush of purple flames fill his vision.
Now he was here. In a safe house that Skull apparently had. Would wonders never cease?
He put the glass back on the table, lifting up his still torn jacket to assess his shoulder. Underneath was neatly wrapped gauze and picking away the bandage revealed a scabbed wound. It was a swirling dark red and purple, but surprisingly not the gaping hole he was expecting. Did Skull do that? He pondered for a second on the properties of Cloud flames, coming up with nothing.
He looked back at the note that he set aside, deciding a shower would probably feel great right now because apparently healing up a man doesn’t include making sure they smell like daisies.
The water was blessedly hot, only comparing to the relief that came with the end of a campaign in COMSUBIN, back when Lal was his trainer and commanding officer.
He wobbled (like a penguin, they were birds even if they couldn’t fly, which makes them cool in his books) to the kitchen, suddenly starving now that he was sure he wasn’t dying due to poisoning, from the air or the water.
It was equally dark in that room too, lamp shades set up that threw the shadows of furniture, accompanied by whirring fans. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet even with light footsteps, but they seemed meticulously well maintained. He couldn’t help the small shine of admiration because that was quite the clever alarm system. Someone wouldn’t expect it if they were trying to sneak in, that’s for sure.
He made his way to the fridge, hopping on a small stepping stool that was just in front. He grabbed the closest container, not even checking what was in it before cracking it open and digging in with a fork he found in one of the drawers.
Afterward, as he was putting the container in the sink, he decided to explore. Skull might have told him not to, but everyone knows that if you tell someone not to poke, they are definitely going to poke. Boredom does not suit Colonello, Skull should have realised that ages ago.
The house was more of a very large cabin, he found out. There was the ground floor and the basement, which stored tools and a generator. It was an open floor plan, a living area connected to the kitchen, plush rugs spotted around the room. A door to the bedroom he was just in and a second bathroom just down from that.
It was a rather nice setup, but without the smaller scaled furniture, most of the Arcobeleno tended to use in safehouses after they were cursed. Skull must have bought it before the curse, which is strange for a civilian to do. Most civilians wouldn’t be able to afford a really nice cabin but that was something to think about later.
Littered around the living room were shelves and boxes, littered with various knickknacks that seemed to have come from all around the world if he’s looking at it right.
A small red and orange doll handstitched with black beads for hair, a miniature vintage car polished to perfection and a stack of books written in hieroglyphs. Definitely an odd collection of things that he found as he was rummaging through.
He made his way to the wall opposite the couch and coffee table, looking away from the kitchen. It was a corkboard of photos, printed in a variety of black, white, and muted colours. They were quality photos though, the pictures clear without the ever-present grain effect usually found in older cameras.
He peered at them curiously. Multiple pictures of Skull with strangers, posing as dramatic as they possibly can, wide grins on their faces. It seemed like every partner in the photo was different, in different countries too. Though his bike was a common feature. And in the middle was- huh.
Huh.
He tilted his head to the side, squinting at a black and white picture. Unlike the others, it seemed to be a newspaper cut-out. It was neat, trimmed, and prim but still noticeable. It was grainy, just slightly but it contrasted against every other photo. And it was placed smack dab in the center, given a noticeable rim of space to itself.
He got closer, dragging the stool from earlier behind him, to step up and unpin the picture.
He settled down on the couch, gazing at it intently.
Skull, adult Skull, the one he’s never seen, is standing in front of his motorbike, leaning on the handlebars. He seems to be set up in a large rink, giant stands behind him and still filled with bustling blurs of people. It was bright, he could guess the lights that were beaming down on them were eye-searing. He was wearing dark leather, his face visible and makeup contrasting the pale tones of his face. His hair was wild as ever.
His helmet, absent from his usual punk getup, was being held by a young teen who was sitting shyly on the bike. The kid was looking up at Skull with eyes almost totally black in the picture, and Skull was grinning down at the kid. The kid seemed raptured by Skull’s presence, an awkward smile lighting up the kid's face as he seemed to be drawn into his sphere.
He squinted harder, shuffling a bit onto his back as he got comfortable on the couch. The kid looked- familiar for some reason. The kid had pimples running down the side of his face, normal for a teen. He had slightly worn clothes with small holes around the neckline, speaking of some hard times. Still nothing too obvious. Dark hair and eyes were common in most places of the world. In fact, Colonello would say that the only distinctive feature of the kid was his sideb-
Those fucking sideburns.
Those curly, springy, sideburns. That spikey black hair and those sharp black eyes. The hesitant smile that Colonello could see morphed into a cutting smirk right before his eyes.
That was Reborn!
“What in the genuine fuck kora!”
“Colonello-senpai!”
Colonello was startled so badly that he fell off the couch, flailing as bad as an actual toddler.
"Fuc-Skull! Don’t do that, you moron!” Skull bulldozed right past his complaints like the asshole he was.
“Colonello-senpai! Glad your awake, was worried that a measly bullet had actually killed you for a second there! Luckily you had the Great Skull-Sama to assist you, eh?”
Colonello looked at Skull, eyebrows steadily climbing as he righted himself before his eyes darted back to the picture that fluttered to the floor.
“Watcha lookin’ at?” Skull’s eyes tracked down to where Colonello was looking before his eyes settled on the picture. It was upside down, the white side that was glued onto the back showing up. Skull groaned, eerily similar to a growl Colonello thought.
“Seriously senpai? Skull-Sama specifically wrote to not touch anything you dyslexic prawn!” Which, rude.
Skull’s cheeks puffed up, turning red. Colonello noticed that he had taken out his piercings, all except the silver studs in his ears and snake bites below his lower lip. It still made for a strange sight on a toddler’s face. He was also in a loose purple shirt and black pants, a chain hanging from his pant pockets.
He took that all in silently as Skull went to pick up his picture, complaining as he went.
Skull flipped the photo.
Skull stopped. Inhale and Exhale.
“Well.”
Skull and Colonello looked at each other, a standstill of epic proportions. The tension built up for every second that passed.
Not another second before Skull turned on his heel and ran. It may have been successful if it wasn’t for the fact that Colonello was expecting exactly that. He released a torrent of rain flames towards the fleeing Cloud.
His jump turned into a hard free fall, rolling Skull across the floor as his movements ceased. Blue flickering flames danced across Skull’s skin, keeping him locked in place. The photo remained clutched in his hand, tucked into his chest as he glowered at the Rain. Colonello felt Skull’s eyes on him keenly as he made his way across to him.
“What is this?”
Colonello demanded, snatching the photo from Skull’s hand. He whined, purple lips turning downward. Despite the rather pathetic sight, Colonello felt his instincts blaring at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His instincts, the ones that had him disarming bombs (successfully) while hungover to hell and back were warning him, which- shit. He looked at Skull, properly assessed him, and noticed his glacier eyes. He hesitated, halting any movements, seeing the way Skull tracked the photo like a wolf on prey.
Colonello slowly put the photo down on the ground between them, watching the tension he didn’t even notice ease a bit. As Skull calmed down, Colonello had a moment to freak out to himself. Skull had never, in Colonello’s forty-three years of knowing him, acted any kind of territorial.
“Skull?
Silence greeted Colonello.
“That was Reborn, wasn’t it?”
Colonello backed off on his flames, the blue flickering away out of sight. In a flash, Skull had scooped back up the picture. His purple eyes never looked away from him, piercing in intensity. Colonello could see a purple glow reflecting off the other's skin, which did not speak of good things.
Colonello sighed.
“Have you got any alcohol stashed away in this place?”
Skull looked at Colonello.
Colonello looked back.
The two sat on top of the table, staring at each other.
As one they took a drawn-out sip of their drinks. Colonello choked, almost hacking up all over Skull, which is just appalling. Skull took out his good vodka for this occasion, it should be appreciated.
“Kora! Fuck that’s strong.”
Skull nodded. “Yep, bought it in an opium den while touring Berlin. They sold me an alpaca too now that I think about it. Pretty sure Gregory’s grandchildren are now scaring the crap out of hikers in Alaska.”
Colonello stared at him with narrowed eyes, before shaking his head.
“Don’t get me off track you slippery bastard.” Skull squawked, offended at the calling out. “You were super possessive over that photo. Pretty confident that the kid was also Reborn. So, spill.”
Colonello had really blue eyes, Skull was just noticing. They would look better if they weren’t looking at him all accusingly.
Skull pondered on what he should say. He could lie. Say that the kid looked so much like Reborn that he couldn’t help but find it hilarious. A mini clone that was his fanboy. But peeking at the bandages hiding under Colonello’s sweatshirt, he didn’t think he really could at this moment.
The Rain just had to go and attach himself to Skull like a limpet. It must have been all the Carcassa invasions, and the moments in between that led to this inevitable attachment. Colonello hasn’t even seen one of his stunts and yet he has somehow weaved his way into Skull’s list of what’s his.
Skull took a sip to gather his thoughts.
“I’m an actor.” Colonello was confused, of course he was, the precious dumbass. Mammon would have immediately understood. But thoughts of Mammon led to thoughts outside, so he continued on.
“I’m an actor, a stuntman, a singer, a performer, an artist. I’m also a Cloud if you hadn’t noticed.” He gestured to his purple everything. “I’m a Cloud who chose to do all those things, to tour and perform for the world instead of bunkering down and rabidly protecting one town or city in my case. Did you ever think why?”
Colonello shook his head negative. “Can’t say I have, kora. Just assumed you were weird.”
Skull scoffed, amused despite himself. “No. I’m inverted, did you ever think what that would mean for a Cloud? Most are convinced an Inverted Cloud would instead claim people as their territory, but that’s just backward.”
Colonello leaned forward, curious. “Then if you don’t claim people, what do you claim?”
Skull laughed. “The immaterial, most times. Ideals to be upheld, untouchable substances, thoughts, and memories. Mine? My territory is my art. My performances. and my tools to create.”
Colonello squinted his eyes as he said, “That still doesn’t explain why you were so possessive over a photo. Another thing, since when did you have any solid knowledge of Soul Flames? Pretty sure if you knew more you wouldn’t be at the bottom of the pecking order.”
“What part of actor do you not understand? You weren’t around for the start, I know, but back in the day, I was called the Greatest Stunt Actor in the world. Acting, and manipulating the perception of others around me, that is one of my greatest strengths. So, when plopped into the deep end of the mafia, told ‘swim or die’ I fell back on my strengths.”
Colonello leaned back, taking a more measured sip of his drink.
“You made people underestimate you.”
Skull winked, “Bingo. With less scrutiny, and the opinions of others solidified, I was able to get away with learning what I needed. After that, it was easy as piss. I found it advantageous to stay hidden after that, so I didn’t give anything away.”
“I guess that explains why I’m still alive then.”
“It did help a bit.” Skull grinned cheekily at Colonello, feeling pleased as punch with himself.
Colonello sighed, “Still doesn’t explain anything about the picture. Was that really Reborn?”
“Yeup.” Skull nodded, leaning back on one hand as he drank. Colonello lifted his eyebrows to ask a question Skull has very much been ignoring.
Colonello sent a tendril of materialised Rain flames to Skull, poking him in the side. Skull snorted, batting the flames away with his hand.
“Fine, fine. If you really want to know.” Skull leaned forward suddenly, getting to his feet and into the other’s face. “Do you know what the next best feeling is that comes after doing something great?”
Colonello leaned back, eyes dropping to half mast as he peered up at Skull over his drink. “Wouldn’t be able to say. What is it?”
Skull grinned, feral and gleaming. He felt his eyes burn, the sign that the flames hiding behind them are stirring up with anticipatory energy. “It’s other people recognising and praising you for it.” Skull jumped back, twirling around, arms in the air.
“It’s the hordes of fans marvelling your accomplishments! Feeling awe and revelling in your unique miracle of creation.” Skull got back up in Colonello’s face, “It’s my fans loving me and my art.”
Colonello backed up, eyes widening, and face paling as heard the possessive and delighted rumble in Skull’s throat. Skull heard Colonello’s heartbeat rapidly beat in turn, Cloud flames pumping through his body and enhancing his senses.
“Don’t you see Colonello? That right there is proof that Reborn is mine. He was my fan back then, and now he’s my Sun. He’s always been mine, even if he doesn’t know it.”
Colonello drew back up as he said, “What do you mean he doesn’t know it?”
Skull laughed breathlessly, shaking his head. “Apparently, he doesn’t remember. When we met again at the first Arco meeting, I saw no recognition. Something happened to him, true, but it doesn’t change the fact that the picture exists. That he’s still-“ Skull cut himself off. He looked to the front door, leading out to the world. “He’s still mine.”
Colonello nodded, knowing the uncertainty of it all. Not knowing for sure if anyone is truly alive or not.
“I’m more surprised you didn’t immediately bring it up when you met him. Knowing all this time and not saying anything? That doesn- actually that sounds exactly like you, doesn’t it?” Colonello looked awfully exasperated as he took another swig, finishing his drink.
Skull laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s fucking hilarious that he forgot! I had hoped that one day I’ll be able to dramatically reveal that he was my fanboy!” Skull cackled, and Colonello eventually joined.
Silence eventually returned, this time companiable.
Colonello piped up though, a thought coming to mind.
“What would have the dramatic reveal looked like exactly?”
Skull hummed, a hand pressing into his chin. “Something along the lines of using one of my identities to create another figure that he reluctantly admired, then revealing that it was in fact me the whole time and he’s been a fan of mine twice now. Really rub it in there.”
Colonello nodded, before actually realising what Skull said.
“What do you mean ‘identities’, can we double back there?”
Skull rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe he had to spell this out for him, seriously what a guy.
“You really think I would willingly submit to anyone’s authority, let alone Carcassa’s? Who do you think runs that shitshow, cause it certainly ain’t your run-of-the-mill druggie bastard, I can tell you that.”
Colonello only had three seconds to properly process that before realising what he meant. By that time Skull had already scampered off to put their glasses away. Motherfucker.
Does that mean that he’s been intentionally ordering invasions on Mafia Land? Just to fuck with him?!
“Kora, go fuck yourself Skull!”
He was duped, so fucking duped, by Skull of all people! He was never going to live this down.
Colonello shot out of his bed in a familiar barrack on Mafia Land as memories flooded in from a future that never was. He landed on the ground, struck by shock, unmoving, and barely breathing.
It was minutes into his shocked trance when his phone buzzed. He jumped in his skin, grabbing his gun and pointing at it for a silent moment. The screen lit up.
Reborn:
Colonello, urgent meeting. Be at the usual meet-up point at 0700, in two days. What’s your current status? Answer now or I’ll put a bullet in you myself.
Colonello sat for one more silent second before a shit-eating grin spread across his face. For those who have had the privilege of seeing the Cloud Arcobeleno’s face without his helmet, they would be able to recognise it as almost an exact replica of his own infamous shit-eating grin. Plastered on the Rain Arcobeleno’s face, it just made him look deranged.
Colonello cackled, hard and loud, scaring all personnel within a mile. They were trained well, so they ducked and covered, anticipating a barrage of batshit attacks by the resident training sadist.
Reborn was never going to live this down!