JJBA One Shots - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Rescuing Hearts - Bruno Bucciarati

This one shot is a little different - written in third person and a definite female mc, two parts.

Taking place before the events of part 5:

Bucciarati stood before the Capo's massive figure. The dimly lit cell reeked with cigar smoke and alcohol, the air heavy with a suffocating silence. Bucciarati's eyes narrowed as Polpo spoke in a grave tone.

"Bruno, you must eliminate the boss of our rival gang," Polpo ordered. "He is the head of Passione's greatest threat. If you take him out, his organization will collapse." 

Polpo regarded Bucciarati with a mixture of curiosity and approval, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "You understand the stakes of this mission, Bucciarati?" he asked.

Bucciarati nodded. "Yes, Capo," he replied, his voice steady. "I understand."

Polpo leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his wine. "Good," he said, a hint of satisfaction coloring his words. "But remember, there is one among their ranks you must be careful of, the Morte Sorprendente - the striking death. This killer has brutalized countless Passione members...some even doubt if they are human."

A chill ran down Bucciarati's spine. "What do you mean? How is that possible?"

Polpo shook his head slowly. "The details are unknown. But the Morte Sorprendente's methods are so savage, so cruel, that they defy rational explanation." 

Polpo took out a sheet of paper, rolled into a scroll. He pushed it through the opening of his cell toward Bucciarati. "Here is the intel we have gathered about the Boss. Get anyone you need to assemble a task force, and take extreme caution." Bucciarati nodded, then turned and led himself out. Could this assassin truly be more monster than man?

Over the next days, Bucciarati assembled a task force consisting of his own team as well as members from all branches of Passione. He planned out the mission, and was confident that it would succeed. 

As night fell, they set out, anticipation hanging in the air. Sure enough, enemy gang members soon ambushed them in the streets.

"Here they come! Stay alert!" Mista shouted, firing his revolver. Chaotic violence erupted, stand users from both sides battled each other relentlessly.

In the chaos, Bucciarati slipped away unnoticed, determined to seek out the boss. His steps led him to the outskirts of town where he came upon an abandoned mansion loomed. It stood decrepit and sinister in the moonlight, just as the intel Polpo had given him described. This was the boss's lair.

He swiftly called his stand and unzipped a back wall of the mansion. He crept inside, his senses heightened. He carefully wandered through the mansion. Suddenly, the sound of movement broke through the silence. Bucciarati quickly ran towards its source. 

In the center of an opulent study sat a man in a crisp suit. The moonlight soaking through the ornate windows revealed his posh appearance. "Well...if it isn't a Passione rat," the boss sneered. His aura weighed on the air, deadly and menacing. 

"Your reign ends now," Bucciarati bravely declared, Sticky Fingers behind him at the ready.

A vicious struggle instantly erupted, shockwaves of force cracking the walls. Bucciarati landed blows on the boss, greatly wounding him. The boss crumbled to the ground. As Bucciarati was about to finish him off, a blur of movement caught his eye.

A veiled figure materialized from the shadows, raining a barrage of lighting-fast strikes at Bucciarati.

He grunted, deflecting the furious assaults. "The Morte Sorprendente...!" 

The mysterious assassin leapt backward. The air crackled with tension as the veiled killer circled around him, their bloodlust leaked out into a suffocating aura. Bucciarati's heart pounded in heavily in his chest as the assassin circled him, their menacing stand glaring into his eyes. Bucciarati prepared to confront his most formidable adversary yet. 

Their stands clashed with a thunderous roar, the sound reverberating through the night like a symphony of destruction. Each blow was met with equal force, each movement showcasing their skill and resolve.

The boss cackled painfully from the ground where Bucciarati had left him, issuing a stream of vile insults at the assailant. "You wretched little beast! Slaughter this garbage like I trained you to!"

With those depraved words, it was as if any last glimmer of humanity drained from the assassin, reduced to a mere attack dog. Bucciarati seized this fracture of vulnerability, zipper abilities slicing through the boss. With a sickening thud, the hulking man crumpled.

The Morte Sorprendente froze, their body going rigid as if they had been caught by some invisible force. Bucciarati approached cautiously, using his Stand to tear away the veil.

Beneath was...a young girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen. Delicate features, full lips, rosy cheeks. But those eyes. Those dead, empty eyes.

Bucciarati's breath hitched. Despite her beauty, there was no trace of the girl underneath - just a soulless vessel crafted by the boss, shaped into a mindless killer. She probably knew nothing but orders, and with the boss gone she no longer understood her purpose. His heart twisted, realizing she had been robbed of any semblance of a normal childhood.

At that moment, the study door burst open and the rest of Bucciarati's team rushed in.

"Bucciarati! You got him!" Fugo exclaimed, eyes going wide at the sight of the boss's body.

Abbachio stared in disbelief at the diminutive figure. "That's the Morte Sorprendente?"

Narancia frowned deeply. "It's just a little girl, how could somebody turn her into this..."

A phone in Bucciarati's pocket buzzed with an incoming call. He answered. "Go ahead."

It was Pericolo, the Passione underboss. "Well done neutralizing the threat. We need you to secure the boss's body for processing. That is your top priority."

Bucciarati felt his jaw tighten at the cold-blooded order. "Understood. But...what about the Morte Soprendente? I don't think that she is a threat anymore." His gaze lingered on her hollowed expression. "She's just a child who was twisted into a weapon against her will."

There was a weighty pause on the other end before Pericolo responded flatly. "She is not the mission objective. Deal with her as you see fit after retrieving the body."

Bucciarati's brow furrowed, realizing the weight of those callous words. Pericolo was giving him full discretion over the girl's fate - whether it be harsh justice or mercy.

"...I'll handle it," he said finally, ending the call. 

Part 2 ---->