Chapter Text
Giorno loved his work. It was one of the reasons he got up in the morning. Even at moments when it could be tedious, he reminded himself that he wouldn’t be happy doing anything else. From a young age, he had made his mind up to be a gangster. And when those dreams shattered upon seeing all the drugs that plagued Italy, a new vision sprouted forth. The vision to be the Don, to clear Italy of what was being peddled to kids and ruining families and lives.
His dream had been accomplished and he could not be more elated. Sure, many issues came up but he managed to work through them, just as he always did.
Besides, his life was perfect, so why wouldn’t he be happy? There were days that all he wanted to do is stay in bed and stare at a black wall for hours, but overall, he was ecstatic. Polpo left behind a lavish and wonderful mansion that suited Bucciarati’s gang plus his own needs. Bucciarati was Capo, he was Don. What more was there to say?
Giorno reminiscing while he was supposed to be working was not an uncommon sight. He usually zoned out while working, that part was natural and his brain just drifted.
He had progress reports to read over from other Capos around the area. He needed to get that done first, than he could finish the other work. Paperwork that was scheduled for the next following days was already complete, thanks to his fucked up sleep schedule and a need to work. To be useful.
He had just gotten into the section of protection money, counting up the numbers himself to make sure they were sound when a knock startled him.
“Come in.”
Bucciarati twisted the knob and he popped in the doorway. A smile played across his soft features. Barrettes pinned back his black hair from his face.
“Dinners ready, Giorno.”
Giorno nodded and then looked back down to the report. Bucciarati frowned at this. He placed his hip on the doorway.
“You’re eating with us tonight, Giorno. Come on, the others are waiting.”
“They shouldn’t wait for me to sit down before eating.”
“Well, Leone’s eating but everyone else is waiting,” he clarified, exasperated.
“Alright,” He said.
Giorno got up from his desk and brushed off his pink sweater. He grabbed the sheafs of paper and walked downstairs along with Bucciarati.
True to his word, everyone was waiting for him before eating. Besides Abbacchio, who unapologetically was slurping spaghetti down. He took a seat at the table, a plate already being set down for him.
“Thank you for making dinner, Bucciarati,” he said.
The gang had already begun eating loudly. Narancia was buzzing with positive energy, attempting to speak to Fugo with his mouth full. Mista was smacking away on his own pasta. Abbacchio ate silently, with more dignity than the younger members. Bucciarati and Giorno were the only ones who ate with some sort of decency.
“Ah, thank you. Narancia helped make the pasta with me.”
“Yeah!” Narancia exclaimed, a stray swipe of pasta sauce on his cheek. “Cooking reminds me of my mom so I wanted to learn how.”
“That’s very sweet, Narancia. It’s very good,” Giorno took a bite and he was correct.
After a couple bites, Giorno read through the rest of the report. It was the basics, any difficulties with the territory, any people who refused to pay protection money, property disputes, ect. ect. It was pretty routine stuff, except the large two papers stapled to the back. Those weren’t meant to be there.
Giorno placed the report on the table and started to read through the pages that were stapled. They were both typed in a nice, organized font.
Bucciarati sighed upon seeing Giorno reading through paperwork at the table. The kid seemed to have two moods. One being work and the other being indulging in the gang's antics but thinking about work.
He wavered his hand over the page but Giorno moved it at the last moment, thwarting his attempt to snatch the paper.
“No work at the table, Giorno.”
“...Yeah, yes. Hold on.”
Giorno’s eyebrows became pinched and concerned, which transferred over to Bucciarati.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just...Maybe there's something I missed.”
Giorno got that glint in his eye that screamed ‘work mode, do not interrupt.’ He pushed his bowl further on the table. There was hardly a dent in it.
“Thank you for dinner but I really need to get back to work.”
“But-“ Fugo started but Giorno was already up the stairs. Bucciarati sighed from beside him.
Abbacchio rolled his eyes and muttered out a ‘ungrateful brat’ which was ignored by everyone.
When Giorno got back in his office, he finally let his demeanor slip. His eyebrows scrunched up and he bit his lip.
The letter was...way more serious than what the progress report led onto. From the informative branch, one of their teams, three people had gone missing. In the Capo’s report it listed two possible suspects but one of them was more strongly thought to be the killer.
The note further went into how the suspect had been notorious in their branch for using various warehouses to set up drug labs. She had been successful, much to Giorno’s distaste, setting up at least four labs around Italy to create narcotics. He scowled.
Murder and trying to restablish the narcotics branch? He would deal with this personally. The Capo also informed him of who this woman was and what the overall plan was. Her name was Amaro Brina and she had been a good informant until a couple years ago. She seemed bitter at him becoming the new Don. Her plan? It was simple. Get rich quick off of drugs.
‘How petty,’ he thought bitterly. He would have to inform the gang of this. To get help. After a quick scroll through from her profile in their database, there was no stand listed but he couldn’t always trust that. It never hurt to have one or two people for backup.
Maybe the day after tomorrow he could initiate the assassination. He had a whole team to deal with this type of stuff but this was personal. It was almost as if this woman was baiting him, trying to get his attention somehow. Whatever the case may be, he wanted to deal with this as soon as possible.
Giorno pulled up his schedule and saw that he was actually free in two days. Perfect. He just needed to relay this to his team.
In the meantime, however, he filled out as much paperwork as he could, trying to distract himself from his stomach growling in hunger. There was also a gnawing sensation in his mind screaming at him. This didn’t sit right with him, but he played it off as simple anxiety.
He would ignore it for now.
————
“Breakfast time!!” Mista shouted, knocking at his door several times over than what was considered an appropriate amount.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” Giorno called from his bedroom. He was still changing for the day. He was free today, which meant the execution.
In the end, he dressed in a lavender sweater that was too large for him with soft leggings. His signature hair was placed perfectly and a sprinkle of mascara and lip gloss was applied. He smiled in the mirror before exiting to go down to the kitchen.
It was an average morning, he saw, as everyone was holed in the living room, eating biscuits for the first meal of the day. They were watching a rerun of jeopardy. Mista and Narancia exclaiming their answers from the top of their lungs while Abbacchio and Fugo calmly said their own answers in an inside voice. Bucciarati just looked confused the entire time, that could partially be blamed on his lack of education whenever a school topic question arose.
A homely sight.
Giorno snatched a biscuit from the plate on the counter before lounging on the couch. He nibbled on the biscuit, managing to get more than half the questions right. Mista and Narancia were impressed, Fugo was on the same level as him and Bucciarati was just even more confused. And Abbacchio just snarled at Giorno.
After the Jeopardy rerun ended, Giorno managed to catch everyone in the kitchen once more.
“I would like assistance on an assassination, if you don’t mind,” he proposed.
Bucciarati’s eyebrow quirked.
“Why don’t you have the assassination team deal with this? It’d be less risky.”
“Yes, but this is...personal to me.”
Narancia shoved a biscuit in his mouth. “Ooh! Ooh! Details?”
“Well, there is a woman suspected of murdering her three fellow team members and her Capo knows she’s trying to reestablish the narcotics squad. She already has warehouses.”
“Sounds serious,” Mista noted.
“Today? You know where she’s going to be?” Fugo asked.
“Yes. The Capo basically gave me her schedule. She’s supposed to be in her lab in a couple hours, in a warehouse by the shore. I thought we could go pay a visit.”
“Is she a stand user?” Bucciarati asked.
“Hmm,” Giorno hummed. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t hurt to be careful, however. I just want this dealt with. She has a couple labs scattered around but I can send the other Capos to dispose of those.”
“You’re sure you wanna do this? I mean, I’m not doubting your abilities, it’s just...you’re Don now and —“ Fugo was cut off.
“I’ll be fine. I want her disposed of. It’s my day off, anyways, it’s not like I’m busy.”
“Of course. Who do you want to accompany you? You’re not going alone.”
Giorno took in stock his members. Narancia was most likely to be needed, his radar was crucial. Mista would be a good backup, if she got away somehow, he could get the pistols to shoot her or incapacitate her. Bucciarati would be a good planner and he could probably shift around quickly. Fugo wasn’t allowed on missions like this, not because anyone told him but because the rule was placed there by himself. He refused to be in a situation where he let his stand out. After infecting Giorno (even if he did use the antidote on himself) he refused to let another person fall under the effects of Purple Haze. Abbacchio was...yeah, he wasn’t going to do that. The man already hated him enough, Giorno wasn’t looking for more reason for the man to unleash his rage upon him.
“Narancia, Mista and Bucciarati? Would you mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Sure!”
“Yeah!!”
Giorno gave a soft smile. “Alright. How about we leave in an hour? I already know the exact location.”
“Alright,” Bucciarati said, nodding.
“Okay,” Giorno confirmed, taking a bite from another biscuit and laughing lightly.
————
The car ride was tense, obviously, but still lighthearted. It was going to be about thirty minutes, plenty of time to prepare themselves. Mista was cleaning his gun with a rag coated with gun oil and Narancia was watching him. Giorno decided to drive the car because Bucciarati was god awful at driving. None of them were looking to die at the hands of a car today.
When they finally arrived to the warehouse, they parked around two blocks away. Giorno was getting a bad feeling but he knew to push it away. He didn’t have time for anxious feelings. Not anymore.
“Alright, she should be in there right now. All we have to do is sneak in and get her.”
Giorno nodded and they started to walk slowly. Narancia’s radar was currently showing her in the warehouse. No other humans were with her.
“How about we split up? Think she’s less likely to know what’s gonna happen to her if we all approach from different sides. Also, she can’t escape that way.”
“Of course,” Giorno said. “I’ll take the left side entrance.”
“I’ll take the right!” Mista exclaimed.
“Hmmm, I’ll take front.”
“I guess that leaves me with the back,” Bucciarati said.
They went their relative ways. The warehouse was indeed by the shore with long, narrow alleyways that seemed to spiral. The building itself was crumbling brick and very, very large.
Mista took the right entrance as he said. There didn’t seem to be any action yet but there would be some eventually. A single metal door was in place so he knew if she tried to escape, he’d be right there.
Bucciarati took the back entrance. The shoreline was right there and it was hard to not get distracted with thoughts of his father's boat and fishing. He powered through, his stand rippling energy below the skin, ready for anything.
Giorno stood stagnant. Golden Experience wasn’t out until he needed him but he was ready. He reminded himself that the woman might target him, considering she was trying so hard to get his attention. Giorno was reminded of the knife hidden in his shoe if everything went to shit and worse case scenario.
Meanwhile, Narancia was...getting strange signals. He didn’t think the woman would try to move, too busy cooking up whatever drugs she saw fit. But she was moving towards Giorno, quite quickly. He rushed to try and yell to Giorno, meet him on the side. Suddenly, there was another blip on his radar right behind him. He didn’t have the chance to even look behind when a brick came over his head and he was out like a light.
A blue figure stood behind Narancia, the brick phasing through its hands. It snarled without any mouth. Attached were spines, the center most long and the sides being the shortest. Frigid air surrounded the creature along with light snowflakes. It disappeared out of thin air after one more look at the unconscious body.
The figure reappeared a couple feet behind Giorno. It didn’t make a sound yet he was able to feel the life energy and immediately turned around. Golden Experience was out now, purple eyes scanning.
The creature rushed forward and Gold mirrored this. The creature seemed to focus on more physical attacks rather than its own abilities.
A stray hit landed to Gold’s midsection, which transferred painfully over to Giorno’s own ribs. They made a horrific cracking noise and he felt a white hot sensation spread.
Gold rushed with newfound anger, his leg kicking the opponents shin in hopes of tripping it. The creature fell but just when Giorno was hoping to land a flurry of punches on it, the stand managed to get back up. It fell on its side quickly but propelled itself up in mere seconds. The resolve of a trained professional was apparent.
Golden Experience’s fist was just about to land a hit in the stomach when he felt a new life presence right behind him. Without any time to think or focus, a dull pain bounced around his head. Giorno collapsed, unconscious.
A lady, tall and almost skeletal in figure, stood behind him, heaving a breath. She wore heeled boots, ripped leggings under shorts, a cropped tank and an oversized jacket. Her dyed blue locks swayed as she threw the cracked wooden 2 by 4 on the ground.
The heeled boots kicked Giorno over to his side. She summarized he was out cold and likely wouldn’t wake up soon. Leaning down, she grabbed his limp body and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Impressive fight, however, I’d say I’m a bit disappointed. Oh, well.”
The lady scoffed before walking out of the alleyway with Giorno over her shoulder. She spared one last glance at Narancia.
And just like that, she was off.
————
After thirty minutes without any sign of the woman, any noise, or his teammates voicing anything, Bucciarati was getting nervous. These missions never lasted this long, especially with Giorno on them. He vowed he could deal with this woman and she would be out at any time. This was not the case.
It was risky but he needed to call them. To make sure everyone was okay, safe and not hurt or worse.
His first shot was Narancia. The kid always picked up the phone at lightning speed. The dial tone rang for a first time, then a second time, then a third time and by the time, nobody picked up. He worried his lip, silently pacing.
He couldn’t step away from the door. There was a chance everything was alright and the woman could come out, if she was still inside. Something in his gut screamed at him that she was not but he had to follow protocol.
The next call was for Giorno. Even if it took a second, Giorno’s polite ‘hello’ was always the first thing he said when he picked up. Not this time. There was no answer from him either.
A bad feeling sat heavy in his stomach. Something about the air was off. He didn’t like it.
His last call was to Mista. He was sure the gunslinger wasn’t going to pick up but he did. Bucciarati breathed a heavy sigh of relief, though the fear for his two other teammates still lingered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Narancia and Giorno aren’t picking up their phones, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, shit. Uh, how about you call them a couple more times. I’ll leave a couple pistols here to make sure she doesn’t get out and I’ll look for ‘em?”
“Yes. Yes, please,” Bucciarati said.
“Alright. See ya,” Mista responded and the line cut to dead.
Bucciarati continued calling them, switching between the contacts in hopes that they would just pick up. His hand shook as his phone rang. Mista was calling him.
“Mista.”
“Shit, yeah. Narancia’s been knocked unconscious but he’s alright and I can’t find Giorno. You might wanna take a look for anything over there. I’m gonna get Narancia to the car.”
“Shit,” he swore.
“It’s most likely the suspect fled. Maybe Giorno ran after them? But I’ll split up the pistols just in case.”
“Okay. Alright.”
Bucciarati pocketed his phone and started to rush to Giorno’s position. Narancia was unconscious? What the hell even happened? And besides that, where was Giorno? His mind kept coming up with unsightly thoughts and visions but he pushed away.
When he arrived at the alleyway, he was met with something he expected. Nothing.
It was empty. But there were signs of a struggle.
A broken plank of wood and a couple drops of blood.
“Fuck,” he said, getting a closer look. “Fuck!”
Did they knock Giorno unconscious? The kid wouldn’t go without a fight, he knew that. Frustration edged at him and he grabbed onto his hair. Where could they have taken him?
He pulled on the locks, anger setting him. He let one of his team members, one of his kids, fall to the enemy. How could he do this? He shouldve made it clear that doing this mission was unnecessary and given it to the assassination squad behind Giorno’s back. Maybe then Giorno would still be here. There was a chance he was alright. That Giorno chased after the suspect. Bucciarati’s gut opposed that, though.
Ever since Giorno had become Don, they lived comfortably. Missions happened at least once per week, maybe more but it was more peaceful than before. His team got hurt less. The most damage they sustained was some cracked ribs, two concussions and one broken wrist. Nothing fatal.
He hated himself for dropping his guard. He thought they were safer now. But they were in the mafia, they are the mafia. They were never safe. Bruno was a fool to think that.
Bucciarati hadn’t realized how uneven his breathing was until a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. It managed to ground him but the panic was still there.
“He’s gone, Mista. Shit.”
Giorno would’ve answered his phone at least once. If he was running after the suspect, he would’ve picked up. But he didn’t. That didn’t leave much hope.
“Yeah, I gathered. Narancia’s in the car. We have to head home for Abbacchio. He can use Moody Blues and figure out exactly what happened, alright?”
“Yeah, but-“
“No, we need Abbacchio. And then we can find Giorno, safe and sound. Let’s go.”
Bucciarati stayed motionless, staring at the blood. Giorno was the most capable out of them. How could he get captured or even worse, killed? Bucciarati wanted to stay here, like Giorno was going to show up magically and he was going to be fine. Or at least look for him in the area.
Mista sighed when he saw Bucciarati was not going anywhere. Truth be told, he was feeling just as much pressure but couldn’t show it. If Bucciarati was already in a panic state, he didn’t want to show his own. It would only make things worse.
“Look, the best course of action is to head home, okay? Whoever took Giorno is long gone. Either they walked, which is unlikely or they got in a car. They would be miles away by now, in either direction. We need to get Abbacchio or we won’t figure out where Gio is. He won’t show back up here. We both know it.”
“...Yes, of course — Sorry, l-let’s go.”
Mista didn’t mention the stutter as they walked back to the car. The drive home was tense and awkward.
Narancia sat in the back, laying limply and quiet. Giorno wasn’t there. He couldn’t soothe their fears, talk about frog facts or sprout pretty flowers in the back on command. Mista clenched the steering wheel.
They royally fucked up.