Chapter Text
Leone Abbacchio glanced up at the somewhat unassuming hotel somewhere unobtrusive in the bustling middle of Naples. He'd stayed in the car for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't being followed. You could never be too careful, after all, especially when dealing with the inner workings of the Mafia.
Yesterday, Bucciarati had come to him with this mission, and Abbacchio had instantly accepted. After all, it was an easy run, and he wasn't in the habit of telling his capo no, unless Bucciarati was for some reason being an idiot. But that was beside the point here. One of the other capos, Focaccia, had recently caught a bullet in a gunfight, the reasons for which were still unknown. They'd found out at his funeral the other day that he'd left unfinished business in Naples, though exactly what the nature of that had been, no one was sure of either. But one of his top men had gone to Bucciarati, asking for help, since none of Focaccia's men would be able to move around the city or leave it without suspicion.
Bruno was busy helping Giorno adapt to his new position as Don, so he'd given the job to Abbacchio, knowing he would be efficient and discreet—a trait not all of their members possessed. Hopefully, it would be an easy mission, delivering papers or some stored wealth to the proper people, and that would be the end of it.
He checked once more, but it didn't seem like there was anyone following him. He reached over to the car's glove compartment and pulled out his pistol. He rarely carried it, actually hating guns considering what happened to his partner, but you never knew when it would come in handy. And Moody Blues wasn't the best Stand for combat—though Abbacchio didn't really need a combative Stand either. The gun was just a precaution but would also be more useful if he was just going up against non-Stand users too.
He got out of the car, tucking the gun into the back of his pants under his coat as he made his way to the hotel. He was supposed to meet Focaccia's right-hand man here with the package. Apparently only he had known the location of it and didn't want to trust anyone else in their team with it. He had thought it was an inside job, which is why he had gone to Bucciarati's gang to help.
Abbacchio went inside and strode directly through the lobby, heading to the stairs instead of the elevator. It might be five flights up, but it beat being stuck in the elevator with a potential Stand user. He'd learned to always expect the worst.
Once he got to the hall, he found the room to be the last one on the left, strategically placed by a fire escape. He knocked on the door and stood back so he could be seen through the keyhole. There was the sound of the door unlocking and it was opened by Focaccia's second, or rather, the new Capo, Marc.
"Abbacchio," he said in greeting, nodding, and moving aside to let the gangster in. Abbacchio didn't miss the gun in his hand, held against his thigh. "Thank you for coming."
"No problem," Abbacchio said. "Where's the package?"
A strange look passed over Marc's face as he nodded to the bedroom. "In there. But look, I need to warn you, this is a delicate situation."
Abbacchio rankled a little bit. Aside from his own team, few of the other members of Passione truly trusted him, considering the fact he had once been a cop. It didn't matter that most of the police in Naples were just as corrupt as the gangs as Abbacchio had found out the hard way.
"You can trust me like you can trust Bucciarati," Abbacchio assured him. "I'm only here because he can't be."
The man's shoulders straightened and he nodded. "I meant no offense of course, it's just, well, you'll see."
Abbacchio frowned, following him toward the door of the bedroom and watching as he opened it.
Abbacchio followed Marc inside and then stopped short at the sight that greeted him.
A little girl sat in the middle of the bed, staring at him with careful green eyes, her long dark hair put up in pigtails. Abbacchio didn't know what to say.
"This is Julia," Marc told Abbacchio. "Her father was the capo."
"Wait, this—she—"Abbacchio quickly corrected, trying not to show his confusion, "Is the package?"
Marc nodded. "Yes. She was staying with friends here while visiting her father, when…well. We need to get her back to her mother in Sicily."
Abbacchio looked over at the girl again, seeing her still watching him warily, her arms wrapped around her pulled-up knees.
"I'll go pull the car around and clear the area. I'll go with you to the port to make sure you get on the boat all right. After that, you should be safe."
Abbacchio nodded, standing there without knowing really what to do. This changed up everything. He thought he was just going to have to pick up a literal package and then make sure he wasn't followed in order to get it where it needed to go. Now he had to worry about another person entirely, and not just a person, but a little kid.
He cast one more look at the girl, her eyes stuck on him, before he left the room quickly and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucciarati.
The capo picked up after only a couple rings. "Abbacchio? Is something wrong? Did you meet with Marc yet?"
"Yeah, I did, but…Bruno, the package is a damned kid, Focaccia's kid. What the hell am I supposed to do?"
"His daughter?" Bucciarati asked, sounding just as shocked as Abbacchio felt. "Well, it would make sense his family would be in danger, but…well, I suppose it doesn't really change anything, does it?"
"Except I have to look after a little girl and not just some sensitive paperwork," Abbacchio growled, lowering his voice. "Dammit, you know I'm bad with kids. What the hell am I going to do?"
"You're not bad with kids," Bucciarati told him firmly. "Look, Leone, just protect her like you would Narancia or Trish. All you have to do is keep her safe, no one's asking you to be her parent, just her bodyguard. I chose you for this mission because I know you can handle anything."
Abbacchio growled, hating that he felt the need to call his capo to complain in the first place and that Bucciarati in turn thought he needed encouragement. He really was a sorry excuse for anything. Still…he cringed with the thought of Narancia or Fugo being sent on this mission. Maybe he was the best suited.
"Fine," he grunted, and ended the call, closing his phone with a snap. He took a deep breath and eyed the door, before going back inside, facing the little girl.
"If you have anything to pack, do it now," he told her. "We'll be leaving soon."
She sighed and carefully slid off the bed, pulling a purple backpack from the chair in the corner and slinging it over her shoulders.
"That's all you have?" Abbacchio asked.
She shrugged. "I was just supposed to be here for a few days but then…" she trailed off, swallowing hard and looking away. Abbacchio instantly felt a twinge of sympathy for her. She had just lost her father, after all, and she might not even know why or how. Actually, come to think of it, he thought it a bit strange she hadn't been at the funeral, but then, maybe Marc and the others had wanted to keep her out of the public eye. Especially since they still didn't know who had killed her father.
He found her eyes on him again, narrowed with a scrutiny that almost made him uncomfortable, but he fought the urge to shift.
"Are you a vampire or something?" she asked after a second.
Abbacchio scowled before he could stop himself. "No."
"So, you're just goth then?"
He cocked his head to one side, and shrugged. "Sure."
She nodded as if that was okay. "I like the lipstick. Purple's my favorite color. But you do kinda look like a vampire. I didn't think it was possible to live in Italy and stay that pale."
"Don't usually go out during the day a lot," Abbacchio admitted. Obviously, most of their work involved either staying inside, or working under cover of darkness. It wasn't like they got a lot of beach days.
"I can tell," she said in a way that sounded more insulting than anything.
"You always talk this much, kid?" Abbacchio asked, already seeing how this might be a long trip.
"My name is Julia," she said tartly, folding her arms across her chest.
"Okay, Julia," Abbacchio said.
"What's your name?" she prompted. "Or do you prefer I just call you goth vampire man?"
"Abbacchio," he bit out.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked with a smirk. Abbacchio wondered how long it would take to get to Sicily, before the door opened and Marc returned.
"We're ready. Do you have all your things, Julia?" he asked.
The girl nodded.
"Good," Marc said. "Give me a minute with Signore Abbacchio."
Abbacchio followed him out to the main room, meeting the man's eyes questioningly.
"I can only tell you what I know myself," Marc said. "But Focaccia was trying to out a traitor when he died. Most of us are loyal to Don Giovanna, but…not everyone."
Abbacchio nodded, knowing that well enough. And yeah, he'd had his doubts about the kid too, but Giorno had proved himself and now with Bucciarati's guidance, was quickly becoming an admirable leader.
"We think someone from our team made a move to take him out so he could become capo in his place. And if that's the case, then I'm the next one on the list, hence why I can't take the risk of leaving the city now."
"But why can't the kid just go back to her mom?"
"We think that Focaccia might have hidden some vital information on the last trip he made to Sicily and that even if his wife doesn't know what she has, she might know where it is. We were afraid that someone might use Julia to barter for it. The second part of your mission is to bring back whatever Focaccia left with his wife after getting both her and Julia to a safehouse. We think whatever he left could possibly reveal the traitor as well."
"All right," Abbacchio said, glancing back toward the door. "Best not waste any more time."
Marc went over to the bedroom and opened the door, beckoning for Julia to come out, leading her out of the room. Abbacchio fell in behind her, so she was between him and Marc as they went down the stairs next to the room.
"Is the elevator broken?" Julia asked after the third flight, lingering on the top step.
"For us, yes," Abbacchio told her firmly, nudging her into moving again.
She sighed but continued, and they finally reached the ground floor and went out the back exit to where Marc had parked the car. Abbacchio opened the back door for Julia, then got in the passenger seat as Marc got behind the wheel.
"Your passage has already been arranged. We've checked the passenger list, but there's no telling if anyone will somehow get on as crew so you'll have to keep a look out. Call me once you get to Julia's mother and I'll give you the address for the safehouse. You'll be able to find the key with your Stand."
Abbacchio nodded, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Julia staring out the window. He wondered briefly what she was thinking, if she had any idea about what was even going on. But then, kids were a lot smarter than one would assume so she had to be aware of at least some of the danger she was involved in.
He changed his gaze in the mirror to look out the back window, making sure no one was tailing them. He watched one car for a little while, but it turned off in the opposite direction at the next light, so he relaxed a little. If he was really lucky, he'd be able to get Julia onto the boat, back to her mother, and find the papers Marc was looking for.
But then, Abbacchio reminded himself that things rarely ever went that easy.
They got to the docks and Marc cursed quietly as he parked the car. "There's a lot of people around."
Abbacchio got out of the car as well, glancing around at the people boarding the ferry. He used his skills picked up as both a gangster and an ex-cop to read the crowd, easily picking through the obvious tourists, and trying to find the more suspicious members. Nothing instantly came to view, and he opened the back door, ushered Julia out, keeping her close to his side.
Marc stood, looking around as well, before he reached into his coat and pulled out the tickets, handing them across the car to Abbacchio. "Here. I probably shouldn't go any further, in case someone spots me." He turned to Julia. "Be good for Signore Abbacchio, Julia, he's going to take care of you now. Get you back to your mom."
Julia nodded, biting her lower lip briefly before she turned to Abbacchio, looking up at him expectantly. Abbacchio nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, making to usher her toward the embarking ship.
A muffled shot, the sound of a suppressed gun, was heard, and Abbacchio whipped back around at the sound of Marc's shocked gasp, finding the man slumped over the hood of the car, a rapidly spreading crimson stain between his shoulder blades.
"Marc! Merda!" Abbacchio growled, grabbing his own gun as he yanked Julia against him, shielding her between himself and the car as he ducked.
"What's happening?" she cried.
"Shush," Abbacchio snapped, as he brought his pistol up, rising enough to shoot over the trunk of the car as he saw several figures advancing.
He clipped one, but had to duck as more bullets whizzed overhead, shattering the car's windows.
Julia screamed, pressing herself against his side as Abbacchio whipped his hair out of his face, glancing carefully through the broken glass.
"We know you have the girl. You had best come out now!" one of the men said. "We don't want to have to put holes in her, but we will if we have no other choice."
Abbacchio ground his teeth, cursing under his breath as he whipped around and shot several more times. He heard another grunt and didn't waste any time, simply grabbing Julia and sprinting away from the car.
"Run," he hissed.
He practically hauled her away from the car, diving behind several crates stacked along the docks, providing some cover at least. He caught sight of Julia's wide, tear-filled eyes, and gripped her shoulder, probably too roughly, to get her to look at him.
"Listen, we need to run for that alley over there, okay? You stay behind me and do what I say."
She nodded, looking terrified, but he had no time to think about that, simply readied his gun, grabbed her hand, and ran, putting himself between her and their attackers' position.
He laid down his own covering fire, but the others retaliated, and right before Abbacchio got to the alleyway, he felt fire explode through his shoulder and side, staggering.
He was unable to bite back a grunt, slamming heavily against the wall of the alley, barely catching his breath, leaning around the corner to send off several more shots, before he urged Julia forward.
"Go!" he shouted.
She ran with him right behind her and luckily, a car was coming down the street at just that moment.
Abbacchio stopped them with his gun, and yanked the driver's door open. "Out, now! Go to Don Giovanna for compensation." He snapped.
The man staggered out of the car with wide eyes, and Abbacchio practically threw Julia inside and climbed behind the wheel, screeching off down the street.
Abbacchio gritted his teeth against the pain from the bullet wounds but he couldn't think of that now, even as he felt blood seeping through his clothes and into the car seats.
"Who were those men?" Julia asked.
Abbacchio glanced over, seeing her turned around, looking out the back window, and reached out to pull her down into the seat. "Stay down, and buckle your damn seat-belt," he snapped.
Julia silently did as she was told, hunched in the seat. Abbacchio kept glancing in the mirror, trying to take as many turns as he could, but he was pretty sure that they had lost their pursuers. At least for now.
Abbacchio cursed under his breath, deciding on what to do. They'd missed the boat, and it could only be assumed that the traitors had figured out the plan to get Julia back to Sicily. So, it seemed that now, the best course of action would be to lie low somewhere in Naples and figure out who the traitor was and take him out.
Abbacchio wondered if he should call Bucciarati, but decided that it would be easier to stay under the radar if it was just him. Having the whole crew running around the city would only add suspicion and probably make the traitor more desperate to make his move.
It looked like he was on his own with this one.
Julia spoke up suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. "Were those the same men who killed my dad?"
Abbacchio glanced over at her in surprise. "Do you…" he cleared his throat, reminding himself to be more sensitive. "Do you know what happened?"
She looked away, hugging her backpack in her lap. "We were getting ice cream when it happened. We were just waiting for Marc to get the car, when some men came up. Daddy told me to run and find Marc, and I did, but I looked back and…"
Damn. Abbacchio hadn't realized she had seen it happen. Could that be why she was such a target?
"Did you recognize any of those men back there?" Abbacchio asked.
Julia shook her head. "No. They had their faces hidden the first time."
Abbacchio nodded. Would make sense, when you were betraying your own capo. Though Focaccia had always seemed to be a smart man and probably would have known anyway. Abbacchio wondered what he'd had that the traitor wanted so badly.
He slowed down the next time he turned down a side street, blending in better with the city traffic. He gritted his teeth and put a careful hand to his side, feeling a wet slick of blood that was seeping into his pants a lot faster than he would like.
"You're hurt," Julia said, sounding worried. "You're bleeding a lot."
"I'll be fine," Abbacchio grunted. There was a safehouse not far from here on the beach that they should be able to reach. There would be a well-stocked first aid kit there.
"Where are we going now?" Julia asked.
Abbacchio sighed. "Somewhere safe." He looked over at her then, seeing how small and scared she looked. "Don't worry, kid, I will get you back to your mom. It just looks like we're going to have to take out some bas—bad guys first," he quickly amended. He probably should stop swearing in front of the kid.
Julia looked over at him and, after a long moment, nodded. "Okay."
Abbacchio turned back to the road ahead, and continued to drive, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.