Regardless of Bucciarati's warnings, Abbacchio had already had three drinks after ten minutes of festivities. He hated all this political bullshit. They had to kiss ass to several politicians this year to help fund them. Abbacchio shook his head and took another sip. Taking out drugs had been a bad move. That was the idealism of a stupid fifteen-year-old boy gifted with too much power, and, unfortunately, Bucciarati had jumped on board with it. Abbaccchio had tried discussing the problems with the plan several times with Fugo who merely gritted his teeth and recited the same spiel given by Giorno. If this continues, Giorno is going to bankrupt Passione unless we get some serious income from these politicians, and Bruno's too blinded by the "golden" dream to see it.
Abbacchio growled to himself as he took another sip. He walked around the venue looking for Bucciarati. The talks weren't for another hour yet. This day was going to be long as hell, and he wasn't nearly drunk enough yet to handle it. He saw Mista at the bar with Formaggio and overheard them talking loudly.
"—heard a little of it from Giorno yesterday, but he was pretty exhausted," Mista said as he took a drink.
"Well, Gelato's gone off the deep end. It's all cause Risotto wouldn't let him go on the damn mission. He started taking shots at Riz and Ghiaccio. Started raving about dying and how he remembered shit from the other side." Abbacchio stopped mid-drink and listened intently.
"Bro, that's intense," Mista's eyes were wide. "Do you think he really saw something?"
"I don't know. I know none of the rest of us did. He's always been short a few screws though. I mean last night should be proof enough." Formaggio downed the last of his beer.
Abbacchio froze. He didn't know who Gelato was but someone else had experienced the same thing. When Abbacchio died, he saw his partner and made peace with himself. It was a wonderful feeling, that peace. He certainly missed Bucciarati but the feeling was distant from him like he would be fine in the knowledge he would see him again eventually. Everything was fine and assured. Safe. Then Giorno had brought him back after they'd defeated the Boss. He was delighted to see Bucciarati, but ever since coming back, he'd felt an emptiness inside him. It was an emptiness that grew every day, a weariness with life. He'd made several plans to kill himself but never followed through with any of them. He knew that Bucciarati would suffer and he didn't want to do that to him.
The rest of their conversation quickly turned to girls and Abbacchio was no longer interested. He continued to meander through the crowd with his mind racing. He found Bucciarati talking to Risotto and Prosciutto.
"Abbacchio," Risotto nodded.
"Risotto. Prosciutto." He nodded back. Prosciutto smiled.
"They were just updating me on the mission progress," Bucciarati explained and Abbacchio nodded.
"We're going in tomorrow to clear out the last of them," Risotto said. "I will contact you both when the mission is completed."
"Good. Giorno will be happy to have the last of that band eliminated," Bucciarati said and Prosciutto looked away to scan the rest of the room.
"Something wrong?" Risotto nudged him.
"I just don't know where Pesci went. He doesn't do well in loud crowded spaces," Prosciutto's face was hard but Abbacchio could tell he was worried.
"I bet he hasn't gone far. He's probably wherever Illuso is," Risotto said and put a hand on Prosciutto's back.
"Yeah, you're right." Prosciutto chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"I assume Sorbet and Gelato didn't come?" Bucciarati asked.
"You assume correctly," Prosciutto said. Gelato, he must be a part of La Squadra then.
"How's he doing?" Bucciarati's voice softened.
"Sorbet's been texting me updates since we left. It's not much better. He's still talking about wanting to be dead. I think I'm going to put him on suicide watch for a week so he starts receiving help." He tried to kill himself too.
"He's pretty pissed at Giorno," Prosciutto added.
"I'm sorry. Let us know if there is any way we can help," Bucciarati said and Risotto nodded.
"I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go look around, make sure he's not in any trouble," Prosciutto mumbled and turned to leave.
"I'm going to go get a glass of wine and see if I can find Giorno. I want him to meet the new senator." With that Bucciarati left, leaving the two most talkative people in the room together. Risotto took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat.
"So...you do it yet?" Risotto asked.
"What?" Abbacchio turned to him.
"Bucciarati." He'd let his feelings slip once to Risotto during a conversation and ever since then he'd been hounding him to do something about it.
"No."
"I don't know why you're waiting," Risotto said.
"He's my boss. I can't."
"I'm Prosciutto's boss," reasoned Risotto.
"Well, that's your call, but I don't think it's a good idea to get involved," Abbacchio sneered.
"If you wait, the chance will be taken from you," Risotto said.
"Let me worry about that," Abbacchio muttered.
"So be it." Risotto remained silent after that. Abbacchio looked about and saw Bucciarati had found Giorno and he parted ways with Risotto to join him. When he approached he heard Giorno and Mista arguing.
"I said I'm sorry Giorno!" Mista insisted.
"You said you were getting me a glass of wine and then never came back." Giorno narrowed his eyes.
"I forgot!" Mista said.
"Clearly. I could tell you weren't thinking with your brain at that moment," Giorno sneered.
"I'm sorry, but she was hot," Mista smiled. Oh, Mista, you poor boy.
"This isn't a club, Mista! We're here on business, if you can't handle that, I can easily enlist a different bodyguard for the job!" Giorno snapped.
"I know we're working! I'm here and I'm ready if something goes wrong!"
"Which is why you've had how many drinks with Formaggio?" Giorno shot back. "I need your head clear, Mista."
"It is!" Mista yelled.
"Then prove it," Giorno said and turned his back on Mista to resume his discussion with Bucciarati. "Is the Senator here yet?"
"Yes he arrived a few minutes ago and I wanted to introduce you." The group walked over to a table with an older man in a business suit. He stopped talking with the man next to him when Bucciarati approached.
"Bruno Bucciarati! It has been a while!" The man smiled broadly. He stood to shake his hand.
"Hello. Senator I wanted to introduce you to the new Don of Passione, Giorno Giovanna." Bucciarati gestured to Giorno.
"Senator Pugliesi, it is nice to finally meet you," Giorno shook the man's hand.
"The famous Don Giovanna! Wow, you're younger than I imagined," He said as he released his grip on Giorno's hand. "It's a pleasure, you're basically a prodigy so I'm told."
"I'm very pleased that you've decided to partner with us," Giorno said.
"I think it's noble what you're trying to do. I also owe Passione for all the support you've given to my campaign and election."
"We knew you would do the most good in office. Now that we are in a position of power, we can start cleaning up Italy," Bucciarati said.
"Drugs are only the first step. I have many more plans to change the face of the Italian nation," Giorno said.
"You're very ambitious, I'll give you that. I know my wife certainly supports the changes you've been proposing. And you know, whatever makes the wife happy." The Senator and Bucciarati laughed.
"Is your lovely wife with you today?" Bucciarati asked.
"No, our daughter had a skating competition today so her mother's with her."
"I'm sorry we had to take you away from that. Family is very important," Giorno said solemnly.
"Well, it's for my family's future that I do this. It's part of my job, going to functions like this, I know they understand." He smiled broadly.
"Well, thank you for your time, Senator Pugliesi. I have more people to introduce the Don to but we'll speak more later when the talks begin," Bucciarati said and they parted ways.
"He seems like a good man," Giorno mused as they continued through the crowd.
"He's also one of our greatest donors that we are trying to get in our pockets. That man is a millionaire," Bucciarati pointed out.
"But now it's all about ass-kissing to stay in these politician's good graces," Abbacchio grumbled.
"It's certainly better than the alternative," Giorno snapped.
"At least we earned the respect instead of crawling on our knees to these leeches," Abbacchio scoffed. "We worked hard for our lot in life and that was a point of pride for the members of this gang. You've stripped them of that."
"Humility is something this gang could use more of," Giorno glared at Abbacchio.
"Fine, but the way you're going about this—" Abbacchio started but Giorno stopped and spun around to face him.
"I won't have this argument with you again, Abbacchio. It's useless and I hate useless things. I also don't like repeating myself. I am the Don and this is the plan. If you aren't on board then you are free to leave, just like any of the other members of Passione that didn't agree. This is how things are now," Giorno concluded. "Do I make myself clear?"
Abbacchio crossed his arms and glared back.
"I will not repeat my question," Giorno growled.
"We're clear," Abbacchio snapped in return.
Pesci bumped into people as he walked through the crowd looking for his teammates. People were giving him glares and snarky comments which were completely missed by Pesci. He hadn't apologized to any of them as he continued pushing his way through. It wasn't out of rudeness but it was something that didn't always occur to Pesci. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, so it didn't register with him when he bumped into a man and spilled his drink.
"Hey! Fucking watch it, retard!" The gangster spun around and grabbed Pesci by the collar. Pesci panicked and began blubbering to no avail. A bottle crashed onto the man's head.
"Who you calling a retard, retard?" The man turned around to see Narancia standing there with a broken bottle in his hand.
"I'll fucking kill you twerp!" The man reeled up for a punch but Narancia pulled out his switchblade and held it to his throat in an instant. The look in his eyes was cold.
"Not if I kill you first," Narancia growled. Another guy next to the man pulled on his elbow.
"Whoa, man, chill, that's one of Bucci's Boys. He works directly for the Don. Kid's got a stand." The man's eyes widened at his buddy's words.
"Yeah, and that's one of Risotto's assassins you just fucked with! I don't think he or Prosciutto would be pleased to hear about that."
"Yeah, okay, sorry dude. Just chill!" They both pulled away from Narancia's blade and left.
"Thank you, Narancia," Pesci said.
"No problem. You gotta be more careful Pesc. You're an assassin, aren't you? You should be used to that."
"I know...Prosciutto says I need to have more confidence in myself," Pesci sighed. Narancia looked at him for a moment sizing him up. "Have you seen Fratello or Risotto?"
"No, I haven't. I saw Illuso earlier but no one else yet. This place is kinda packed." Narancia winced as Pesci continued to stare at him. He folded his arms tightly over his chest and took a step back. Pesci continued staring waiting for Narancia to say something. "Why are you staring at me?"
"I'm sorry. Sometimes people don't like that." Pesci turned away.
"Do you want me to help you find Illuso?" Narancia said carefully.
"Sure that would be great," Pesci was walking away as he said it. Narancia followed him.
"So how did you end up in Passione?" Narancia asked. He was particularly strange and seemed younger than Narancia.
"Fratello found me with another gang. They weren't very nice so Prosciutto beat them up and invited me to join him. He says I remind him of his brother," Pesci smiled as he continued walking.
"I see," Narancia said clearly confused. "How old are you?"
"I'm nineteen until next May." Pesci said. He then caught sight of Illuso and ran for him. "Illuso!" Pesci exclaimed.
"Hey, Pesci! How's it going?"
"It's really crowded." Pesci frowned.
"Yeah, I know, that's cause there are more people here than just the Passione gang. The rich people, y'know? Giorno has to fund the gang somehow now that drugs are out."
"Drugs are bad," Pesci agreed.
"Not all drugs are bad…" Narancia said.
"Well, obviously medicine is okay," Illuso said.
"No, I mean even some of what's on the black market can be helpful to people. Some of those drugs aren't addictive but they aren't medicine either," Narancia argued. Illuso pulled him aside.
"Look, I get it, but Pesci doesn't. All he needs to know is that we have to kill the ones that resist," Illuso said. His intense look silenced Narancia.
"Pesci! There you are," Prosciutto said as he approached.
"Fra! A guy tried to fight me but Narancia stopped him!"
"You're okay, though?" Prosciutto put a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said looking at Illuso. "There's just so many people everywhere."
"Yeah, there are," Prosciutto said. "It was hard to find you guys." He looked at Narancia and said, "Thanks for that. I couldn't find him. He can usually handle himself just fine, but large crowds bother him."
"It's loud," Pesci said.
"Well, glad I could help. Just be careful next time, yeah?" Narancia said.
"Thank you. It's nice to have good friends."
"You're welcome, Pesci." Narancia said. He's a strange duck but he must be strong to be on Risotto's team.
A loud scream ripped across the room and more soon joined. People began to turn tail and run towards them. Pesci covered his ears as the screams increased in volume. Someone yelled, "stand attack!" A fire alarm went off and more people began to panic. Narancia summoned Aerosmith in order to get a bird's eye view as Risotto ran over to them.
"We have to evacuate the building, Bucciarati's orders!" Risotto yelled.
"Go outside and wait for me, Pesci. Make sure people get outside!" Prosciutto yelled over the screams. Pesci nodded and ran out. Prosciutto then turned to Illuso and waved him away, "Go with him! Get people out now!"
"What's happening?" Narancia looked through his radar but there were too many people for him to get a clear reading. There was a giant space with a small cluster of people. That must be where the stand attack was happening.
"Bucciarati and Abbacchio are trying to evacuate all non-stand users." He looked at Prosciutto. "We need to go help."
"Why what's going on?" Prosciutto held onto Risotto as people pushed past.
"Fugo's gone berserk."