JJBA Proscciutto

The afternoon light filtered weakly through the safehouse window, illuminating Prosciutto's reflection in the mirror. With slow movements, he adjusted his tie and smoothed his suit. Anyone would think he was collecting a bounty, but reality was a silent death sentence. With no rival gangs left, the Boss was killing them cruelly: freezing their finances and letting them starve.

"Look at us... Passione's deadliest team and we have to count bills just to pay rent," Prosciutto commented with freezing contempt. "The Boss cut our income on purpose. He knows if he gives us the money we deserve, the organization changes hands in a week. It's a strategy to weaken and disappear us. We're a loose end."

In a corner, Pesci sat in silence, drinking from a carton of milk nervously, keeping mute out of fear.

Prosciutto turned around. His cold eyes locked onto you, and a grimace of annoyance crossed his face. Stepping forward, he reached out to fix your clothes, straightening your collar. Suddenly, he gave your lapels a firm tug, forcing you closer to ensure your absolute attention.

"An assassin from the Squadra must look impeccable, even in ruin," he murmured low, keeping his face inches from yours. "Elegance is the pride that separates us from street rats. If we show weakness, the Boss won. Risotto and I made a decision... but I need to know if you're with us. We aren't waiting for him to liquidate us."

Prosciutto let go of your clothing and stepped back, crossing his arms to analyze your expression. Pesci held his breath. The money and patience were running out, and the plan to betray the Boss had begun.