"Watch where you're going, asshole!" Lovino snapped as yet another elbow jabbed into his side. "You'd think everyone here was fucking blind!"

"I'm sure they're not blind, it's just really crowded," Antonio replied helpfully.

"I know that, dumbass, it's a figure of speech."

Lovino knew that there was little use in getting mad at Antonio, but he was in too of a bad a mood to care. They'd been wandering around the park for an hour waiting for the rally to begin. The mid-afternoon sun beating down on the crowd of thousands was unbearable and Lovino was seriously rethinking his choice to wear a suit during this part of the summer. In fact, he was seriously rethinking his choice to come at all. He'd only shown up because Feliciano had talked him into it, and now that Lovino was there, his brother was nowhere to be found.

It was seriously pissing him off.

"What time is it? They should have started ages ago!" Lovino didn't wait for Antonio to pull up his sleeve to check his watch before shoving further through the crowd. It didn't matter what time it was, not that Antonio picked up on that. Lovino just wanted to complain. It made him feel better.

The duo made their way closer and closer to the podium, halfheartedly keeping an eye out for Feliciano. When they had finally reached the edge of the crowd, Lovino caught sight of a familiar face. Unfortunately, it did not belong to his brother but rather to his only other biological family member. Lovino's grandfather stood at the base of the platform stairs, talking to one of his associates, someone Lovino never bothered to remember the name of. Looming over the old man was his stern bodyguard, a man Lovino had grown up knowing as Beilschmidt.

Part of Lovino wanted to get his grandfather's attention and tell him to hurry the hell up. Another part refused to acknowledge the man's existence. Before Lovino could finish his internal debate, his grandfather shook the associate's hand and turned to march purposefully up the stairs, waving at the cheering crowd. Lovino's jaw clenched as he watched the man step up to the podium and prepare the microphone, chuckling lightheartedly when the screeching feedback tore across the lawn.

Lovino's grandfather was handsome, even in his old age, sharp lines on his face only serving to make him look more dramatic. His gray hair was combed elegantly and he wore a suit not unlike Lovino's but of much higher quality, and without the wrinkles brought on by sweat. How he had managed to avoid that in the summer heat, Lovino had no idea, much to his irritation.

"I want to start off by thanking everyone who took the time to come here today." His voice was a perfect mixture of confident and friendly, an extra bit of charm added by his accent.

Lovino winced.

"I mean this from the bottom of my heart when I say that we couldn't have done this without the support of every single one of you hardworking people. You hardworking Italian-Americans." The last bit brought on another cheer from the crowd.

"Too often in this country, our people are pushed aside, stepped on, called criminals. Are we criminals?" He paused to let the audience answer before continuing with an affirmation. "No! We are good, honest people who work hard to support our families. To support our communities."

Lovino found himself rolling his eyes at the words, not because they were false in a broad sense, certainly many people at the rally were good, honest people, and Lovino had faced his own fair share of ethnic discrimination. His grandfather, however, was probably the last person in the world with a right to say that.

"We are here because we believe that it's time to say ENOUGH t…"

He fell forward suddenly, as if he were a ragdoll that had been dropped. The back of his head was a mess of pink, red, and gray. He twitched a bit, his jaw hanging open in a manner more undignified than Lovino had ever seen it. After what seem like a century but couldn't have been more than a few moments, he stopped moving, still slumped over the podium. As Lovino stared into his grandfather's wide, unblinking eyes it was clear that Don Vargas, leader of the most powerful crime syndicate in the city was, without a doubt, dead.

Twenty-one hours earlier.

Lovino grunted as he lifted his suitcase of the baggage claim carousel, his shoulders still stiff from the airplane seat. Uncomfortable seating aside, it hadn't been a bad trip, as far as they go. But it still wasn't enough to make up for what Lovino knew was to come. As he entered the pick-up area, Lovino scanned the room for his brother. Feliciano had said he would be there, but Lovino knew better than to be without skepticism.

"Lovi, over here!"

Lovino let out a sigh of relief and turned toward the shout. His brother stood across the room waving, accompanied by two other men that Lovino couldn't recognize from so far away. As he got closer, he realized one of them was Antonio, a man who had worked for the family for years, mainly as some variety of dumb muscle. The other man was tall and muscular, with a stern face and blond hair slicked back. Lovino couldn't help but think he looked familiar, but it was a fleeting thought that was forgotten when Lovino took a good look at his brother. It had been years since he saw Feliciano in the flesh, but the idea that his brother was no longer a teenage kid anymore hadn't sunk in yet. He was still skinny, but in less of an awkward way, his body parts more proportionate. His smile was just as bright as ever, but the years had given him stronger facial features that many would consider handsome. However, the most shocking thing of all was how tall he was. He wasn't that tall, truth be told, but he was taller than Lovino, which irked the older man. It wasn't that he was bitter about being short, because that was something he had come to terms with a long time ago. Lovino had just assumed that if there was any man he'd be taller than it would be his own little brother.

"Lovi!" Feliciano squealed, pulling his brother into a suffocating hug, "Ican'tbelieveyou'rehereI'vemissedyousomuchIt'sbeenforeverYoulooksoshortnow…"

As he rambled on and on Lovino tried not to focus on the sinking feeling in his stomach. Feliciano shouldn't be so happy to see him. Not with how he left. Not with how he avoided everything for so long. His brother was apparently just as forgiving now as he had been had always thought it was something he should work on, but he couldn't bring himself to tell him.

After finally releasing Lovino from the vice-like embrace, Feliciano gestured towards Antonio. "Lovi, you remember Toni, right?"

Of course he did. Antonio had been a pain in the ass for as long as he had known him. Lovino was honestly surprised that he was still around, though. Working for the mafia often sent someone to an early grave, especially someone as thick as Antonio. Lovino might have admitted that he was a bit hard on the guy, if he was the type to admit things. He wasn't though, so Antonio was firmly placed in a section of his mind reserved for annoying idiots.

"Lovi!" Antonio cooed, mussing up Lovino's hair. He either didn't notice or completely ignored the subsequent glare. "Feli's right, I think you have gotten shorter!"

"And you've gotten dumber," Lovino deadpanned, annoyed at the chuckle his insult brought on.

Feliciano giggled as well before grabbing the arm of the other man. "You remember Ludwig too, right?"

"Beilschmidt?" Lovino asked, incredulous. Ludwig Beilschmidt was the son of their grandfather's faithful bodyguard, so he'd been around often enough when they were younger. When Lovino had left, he was barely a teenager. Now he looked like he could bench-press an oak tree. He'd be intimidating if he didn't have a small, goofily smiling man hanging on him.

"Yeah, that's the one! He's my bodyguard now!"

Ludwig stiffly held out his arm for a handshake. "It's nice to see you again," he mumbled awkwardly. He had done a lot of awkward mumbling in his youth as well, so Lovino supposed that some things never changed.

"I take it you're going to be my bodyguard?" Lovino guessed, turning to face Antonio.

"You bet, Lovi! Just like old times!"

Lovino grimaced at the thought. He'd had been trying to forget old times. Plus, he wasn't exactly looking forward to having Antonio breathing over his shoulder the entire time he was visiting.

The group walked out the doors onto the curb next to a busy traffic circle. Feliciano led to way to a black limo parked right in front of the building. Lovino rolled his eyes at the vehicle. It was exactly the kind of thing he should have expected.

As soon as the chauffeur began driving, Feliciano resumed his babbling, mostly about things Lovino found to be pretty pointless. In a way he was glad. There were questions he needed to ask his brother, but not in front of an audience, no matter how trustworthy the bodyguards seemed.

After a while, Lovino noticed that they were not going in the direction of the family's townhouse. It became especially peculiar when the signs ceased to be written in English.

"Feliciano, why are we in Chinatown?"

"Grandpa is meeting with a new business associate. We're here to pick him up."

That surprised Lovino a bit. There was a chance the meeting was for legitimate business, but it was rather small. The family's Italian restaurant was mostly staffed by close friends, and their supplies were usually bought from sources nearby. It didn't make much sense for them to be talking to people on the other side of the city, let alone in an area specializing in an entirely different style of food. The family wasn't big on fusion cuisine. Even so, it seemed even less likely that the meeting was for one of the many illegitimate businesses that his grandfather ran. As far he knew, the family had never had a relationship with any of the Chinese gangs. Admittedly, however, Lovino didn't know much anymore. A lot can happen in five years, and with Lovino's only connection to the family being occasional phone calls to his flaky brother, there's a lot he could have missed.

The limo stopped in front of a red building with a huge golden dragon painted across an awning. A sign hanging from the side indicated that it housed a restaurant named Wang's Authentic Taste of China. It was tacky, in Lovino's opinion, he spent a moment feeling annoyed that the family would associate with whoever owned it before reminding himself that he didn't care anymore. Feliciano said something about being a bit early and waiting in the car until they were done. Lovino figured his grandfather had told them not to come get him personally because he was embarrassed of them. He always had been.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for Lovino, who was satisfied with putting off the reunion, they didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, the gaudy gold door of the restaurant opened and Don Vargas, followed closely by Beilschmidt, stepped out. The years had apparently done nothing to him as he looked the same as always. Beilschmidt, on the other hand, looked a bit grayer around the edges. When the two men climbed into the limo, Lovino couldn't help but note how much Ludwig looked like his father.

There was a moment of silence as the air in the back of the vehicle turned tense. Internally, Lovino panicked. This was the absolute last place he wanted to be right now and he mentally pummeled himself for agreeing to come. He had sworn so many times that he would never go back. Yet here he was, staring into the eyes of the person he hated more than anything just because his brother begged him to. He hoped Feliciano was happy.

"So, Lovino," his grandfather began in Italian, "How's the job search coming?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes. The man was baiting him, still angry after all of those years. Well, Lovino was angry too, and he refused to give him the satisfaction.

"I've been working at the same place for about three years now. Managing it for about nine months. Nice business. Authentic Italian cuisine."

It was a Pizza Hut, but nobody needed to know that.

"Oh, that's great," the old man replied, his voice dripping with smugness, "I have to say though, I still don't know why you had to run off to get a business degree when you ended up doing the same work you could have been doing if you stayed. It's not as if we would have requested a resume."

"I wanted to manage a real restaurant."

Lovino smirked as his grandfather scowled. "Since when is Roma's not a real restaurant?"

"Since you started storing dead guys in the freezer."

"Lovi," Feliciano interrupted softly, "Please, don't do this here."

"It's alright, Feli," his grandfather assured, "I'm the one who asked. If your brother thinks it's more important to chase mediocre dreams than to protect and support his family, I can't stop him. I just hope you're a better man than he is."

"Please," Feliciano tried again, "Both of you, stop. For just a little while"

Neither of them responded, but they both turned away from each other.

Antonio leaned over to Ludwig. "Do you speak Italian?" he whispered, though it was too small a space for anyone to miss what he said. "Because I have no idea what they just said." Ludwig slowly shook his head.

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

By the time the limo rolled to a stop in front of the family's lavish townhouse, everyone was ready to jump out for a breather. Lovino and Feliciano stood awkwardly on the curb while their grandfather stomped through the front door without looking at them. His bodyguard nodded an awkward goodbye as he left to go home. The other four lookm at each other in silence.

"I'm making pasta," his brother said lamely, "And I already got most of the prep done before we came to get you, so it shouldn't be too long. If you want to go ahead and get settled in the gue...I mean, your old room…"

"Yeah, thanks, Feli." Lovino grabbed his suitcase, brushing of Antonio's attempt to help him with it.

When the renovation happened, Feliciano sore to Lovino that he did everything he could to talk their grandfather out of getting rid of the latter's childhood bedroom. Lovino guessed he was supposed to be upset with the choice, but in all honesty, he didn't really care. When he left, he took everything important to him anyway. Almost everything.

After taking about a half an hour alone to collect his thoughts, Lovino headed towards the kitchen, thankful that the route didn't take him anywhere near where his grandfather would be. Antonio was setting the table in the dining room, sheepishly explaining that Feliciano asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner. Lovino noticed only four place settings, and none were at the head of the table, which meant that their grandfather wouldn't be eating with them. He asked Antonio just to make sure.

"Feli said he ate at that meeting, so he's not going to eat with us."

Lovino nodded in approval. If he managed to avoid his grandfather for the duration of his trip, he might be able to survive the next few days. That thought, along with the fantastic smell wafting from the next room lifted his spirits, if only a little. Lovino stuck his head through the doorway to the kitchen. He saw Feliciano and Ludwig standing side by side in front of the counter, piling the pasta onto four dinner plates together. Their backs were facing the door, but Lovino could hear them laughing about something, his brother's high-pitched giggles tumbling over the blond's low, steady chuckle.

"Feliciano," Lovino said, maybe a bit louder than necessary. He watched with amusement as his brother jumped. Ludwig turned to look at him, his mouth snapping shut into a frown and his face turning slightly pink. "Do you need any help?"

"Help? Uh, no, don't worry about it. We're done."

Lovino nodded, smiling slightly, before turning back around to take a seat. To his slight annoyance, Antonio plopped down next to him. Feliciano and Ludwig came out a moment later, each holding two plates. After serving the food, they sat across from the other two men. It wasn't long before Feliciano and Antonio started chatting. Ludwig ate silently, presumably still embarrassed about having been caught expressing another emotion besides seriousness. Lovino half listened to their mundane conversation as he enjoyed his meal. Feliciano had always been an amazing cook, and Lovino had always been a bit envious of that. Now, his brother's food was one of only a handful of things Lovino missed from before he left.

The bodyguards left after dinner, each receiving a wave-off when they offered to help with the dishes, followed by and enthusiastic hug from Feliciano. Finally alone with his brother, and without a chance for Feliciano to hang up the phone and avoid the conversation Lovino took the chance to ask him the questions he'd been saving up.

"You have to tell me the truth about this," he began, firmly grasping his brother's shoulders, "Has he gotten you involved in any mob stuff?"

"No, nothing illegal!" Feliciano answered frantically.

"I didn't ask if it was illegal, Feli," Lovino stressed, knowing his brother was trying to avoid answering, "I asked if had to do with the mob."

"He's had me run errands for him…"

"What kind of errands?"

"Nothing big! You know, just passing along messages, or collecting money, or buddying up to people."

"He hasn't got you doing anything dangerous, right?"

"I mean, I don't think so? I guess everything is a little dangerous around here."

"He hasn't told you to hurt anyone, has he?"

"No! Not at all! Lovi, you know I couldn't…"

"Yeah," Lovino sighed, "I know." He put his head in his hands and swore under his breath, then once more out loud. Their grandfather had always said Feliciano was the soft one of the two. Lovino had hoped that meant he wouldn't get coerced into doing anything, and maybe it did for now, but he had no idea how long that would last.

"Lovi," his brother said tentatively, "I promise everything is fine. You don't have to worry."

"I don't have to worry? My little brother's stuck in the middle of a shit show! How long do you think it'll be before everyone in the family is trying to get you made? You need to get out of here!"

"I can't…"

"Of course you can! Come back with me. You can stay at my place for as long as you need."

"Lovino!. I. Can't."

"Why not?"

Feliciano opened his mouth, then shut it. Then he opened it again and shut it again. Tears started streaming down his face.

'Fuck, Feli, don't cry," Lovino groaned, "Listen, we can talk about this tomorrow. Let's just get some sleep for now."

Feliciano nodded, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "The rally is at two tomorrow, but Antonio's coming to pick you up at twelve-thirty. I have some errands to run in the morning, so I'll meet you there."

"Alright, sounds fine." The men walk quietly to the hallway containing their bedrooms. Lovino cracked open his door before feeling Feliciano's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Lovi? Everything is going to be okay."

Lovino let out a heavy sigh. "Just promise me you'll think about what I said. About leaving."

"I promise,"

"Good night, Feli."

"Good night, Lovi."

Lovino slipped into the room and turned around. The last thing he saw before shutting the door were his brother's sad eyes.

Lovino didn't hear the sound of the first gunshot. He didn't hear the sounds of the other gunshots, nor the screams of the crowd. He stood frozen in place, not ten feet away from his grandfather's still figure. It wasn't until Antonio roughly grabbed his shoulders and shook him that Lovino registered what had happened.

"Lovi!" Antonio shouted from behind him, "You have to move! We have to get out of here!"

He let Antonio guide him, trusting the bodyguard to keep him from tripping. Antonio kept trying to push his head down, but Lovino lifted it anyway in an attempt to see what was going on. The shots continued to ring out quickly but steadily. Lovino saw people drop to the ground. He recognized nearly all of them as members of the family, from low-level associates to his grandfather's most trusted men. A wave of dread washed over Lovino as he realized what that meant.

"Antonio," he yelled out at last, "Where's Feliciano?"

The bodyguard continued to push him, not giving any indication that he heard. Lovino planted his feet on the ground and turned to face him.

"Antonio!" he repeated, "Where's Feliciano?"

"I don't...I don't know!" he finally answered. He straightened up to looked over the crowd. "I can't see h…"

Lovino screamed as Antonio lurched forward onto him, the man's head no longer intact. Summoning more strength than he knew he had, Lovino shoved the much heavier body off before it could push him to the ground.

Then he ran, harder than he ever had before. Lovino ran until his lungs ached and his heart felt like it would burst. He ran until he was out of the park and down the street. And the entire time he ran, Lovino couldn't help but notice how cold he felt.

Author's note:

I so excited to finally be sharing this with ya'll. I've been working on it forever and it will be by far the longest thing I have ever written.

Anyway, some important notes. First, this is supposed to be taking place during the mid-1970's, even if I never explicitly say so. I'm a history major, so I personally place a lot of importance in the time period when writing from certain perspectives. Also, the city this story takes place in is intentionally vague because I didn't want to put in extra work having to calculate distances and stuff when it might get in the way of storytelling. It's a big, heterogeneous city based loosely after New York or Chicago, but feel free to picture it as whatever you want. I don't plan on being specific enough for it to really matter.

In case you didn't know or couldn't tell, the assassination of this version of Ancient Rome was based off of the murder of famous crime boss Joe Columbo, who was also shot while at an Italian-American pride rally. In real life, however, Columbo wasn't killed instantly but was instead paralyzed for seven years before dying. The scene was also based partially off the movie The Warriors, in which a gang is framed for murdering another gang's leader at yet another rally. It's a great movie that I highly recommend.