This is going to be a 3-parter encompassing three different Whumptober prompts, so stay tuned for more!

Also, for content warning, this does involve discussions about human trafficking and Giorno and Fugo essentially getting sold at an auction, so be aware of that if that's something you don't want to read about. Nothing is graphically shown or discussed but there are definite implications about their position.

Also, this is a literally everyone (except Diavolo) lives AU so La Squadra is here for the ride as well.

Whumptober prompts used: auction | pursuit

Day Twenty-Three

You Break It, You Buy It

Giorno huddled in the corner of the dark room, Fugo next to him, their shoulders and knees brushing, a comforting contact. He could hear other bodies shuffling in the dim light. From the little he had seen when they had been put in there, there were probably about twenty of them all together including him and Fugo.

They had really screwed up this time.

XXX

It had started out as an easy mission, just one to collect information on a capo they expected was doing business outside of Passione. That's why Giorno had only taken Fugo with him. They'd gone to a gala hosted by the capo in question and while Giorno had been keeping a low profile, not announcing his presence as such, and mostly just listening in on what the guests had to say, Fugo had snuck off into the man's private offices to look into records.

Several hours into the party, however, and Giorno began to get worried when Fugo didn't reappear. He slipped out and went to find his friend, wondering if he had run into trouble.

He would find out soon enough. When he got to the office, he found two of the capo's men detaining Fugo. Giorno had little choice but to play along, pretending this was a misunderstanding, but there were files spread and open across the desk and apparently Fugo had seen way more than either of them had expected to find. Giorno could tell by his pale expression that everything they had heard rumored about this capo was actually worse than they had thought, and the man was probably not keen on letting them walk out of here with that information.

Before he could try to negotiate, the capo himself came in. "Put them in with tonight's lineup," he said. "And make sure they don't cause trouble."

Before Giorno could even make sense of what this man was saying, they were shot up with some drug that made Giorno's head feel like he had a cold, and kept him from accessing Gold. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they were then bundled off into a dark part of the mansion somewhere past the wine cellar. Into some storage room where, to Giorno's shock, other people were already being kept. And not just people: children specifically.

They sat there in silence for a long time, listening to the quiet shuffling and scared whimpers of their fellow prisoners, before Giorno finally leaned over, speaking low to Fugo. "What is this?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

Fugo's jaw was tight, pale skin barely visible in the dim light. "The illegal smuggling and everything was exactly as we suspected. Expect… it's not drugs. Milani's been pedaling humans, Giorno."

Giorno's blood froze. He had suspected it the second they got in here, especially after seeing in the flash from the open door that all the other occupants in the room were around their age or younger, but hearing Fugo confirm it sent chills of disgust down Giorno's back.

"What are we going to do?" Fugo demanded suddenly and Giorno realized he was terrified, trembling. "Giorno, we have to get out of here. We have to stop this…"

Giorno glanced toward the door. "I don't know what they have planned, but we may find an opportunity when they come back for us. It sounded like something was happening tonight. I know this is bad, but we need to try to stay calm and figure this out."

Fugo curled further into himself, knees pressed up to his chest. "I can't feel him," he said. "Purple Haze. He's gone."

"I know," Giorno replied grimly. "I can't feel Gold either."

"Once upon a time, I would have been glad," he scoffed. "But now…"

Giorno nodded sympathetically. They had basically no protection. He didn't even have his backup pistol since they'd been thoroughly searched before being thrown in here.

"The others know where we are," he said.

"They don't expect us back until later," Fugo snapped. "We could be gone before then."

"You don't know that…"

"I'm not Narancia or Trish, Giorno!" Fugo hissed. "You don't have to sugarcoat anything or lie to me. You and I both know how bad this is."

Giorno sank back into the corner, but felt a certain sense of relief that he wouldn't have to pretend. Fugo was right. There was nothing about this that wasn't bad and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry, Fugo," he said quietly, because there wasn't anything else he could say.

"Me too," Fugo whispered back.

The door to the room opened and light poured in, making Giorno flinch and duck his head to shield his eyes.

"We're starting with the youngest ones first," one of the men said and they stepped into the room, pulling out several children who couldn't have been older than twelve. Fugo was fuming, and he actually started to get up, but Giorno reached out and grabbed his sleeve with his bound hands, pulling him back. He wanted nothing more than to tear these bastards apart too, but if they tried anything now he knew they ran the risk of being badly hurt or even killed, and if they were going to do anything about this depraved operation, they needed to wait for the right chance. Or hope that the rest of the team caught on quickly.

Giorno didn't know how long it was, as more and more of the room's occupants were taken, but soon Milani himself strode in, some kind of masquerade mask perched atop his head, smirking down at Giorno who slowly got to his feet.

"If you think I'm going to let you get away with this—" Giorno said darkly.

"Please," the capo scoffed, cutting him off. "Don't make me laugh, whelp."

"Do you have any idea who he is?" Fugo demanded, surging upright himself.

The man smirked again. "Of course I do, that's why this is so sweet. Not only do I get rid of my problem, I get to make money while doing it. Blonds always sell well, and both of you are quite pretty boys. I'll probably make double what I normally would on you."

"You sick cazzo!" Fugo snarled, surging forward. One of the guards stepped up and caught him around the throat, slamming a fist into his stomach and forcing Fugo to collapse to his knees, gagging.

"Careful, we don't want visible bruises." Milani cautioned. "Though if word on the street is correct, this one might already be used so we might have to discount him anyway."

"Stop!" Giorno snapped, stepping forward as Fugo surged to his feet again, putting himself between his friend and Milani. As much as he wanted to rip this man apart himself, he knew it would get them nowhere. He met Milani's eyes and made sure to put as much conviction into his words as possible—not a difficult task at the moment. "I swear that whatever you do to me, I will come back for you and you'll meet the same fate as the former boss."

Milani still wore his smirk, seemingly unfazed, and jerked his head toward his men. "Take them. I'm sure the crowd is getting impatient."

The guards separated Giorno and Fugo and manacled their hands in front of them. They were led out of the cellar into another room down a dark corridor at the back of the basement level.

This place sent a chill down Giorno's spine the second they stepped in.

The place was lit only by candles, aside from a small raised portion in the middle where he could see some of Milani's other men standing with the other children. A sea of people in masks stood around it, shouting out prices as if…

"Oh god," Fugo breathed. "It's an auction."

Which meant that it would only be harder to track down everyone who had been here that night. Giorno felt his heart sink low into his stomach.

They were both pushed through the crowd, eyes turning to them, appreciative looks and even hands attempting to touch them. Giorno's skin crawled and he wanted Gold right now. At least to feel his presence if not to tear all these people apart, turn the bricks under their feet into thorny vines to wrap around their bodies and choke them to death. Perhaps even bamboo to impale them. Nothing could be too cruel for people like this.

They were pushed up onto the stage and Giorno quickly ripped one of his ladybug cufflinks off, surreptitiously pressing it into Fugo's hands.

"Whatever happens, try to keep this on you. If we get separated, I'll find you with that."

Fugo's fingers clenched around it.

"Just promise me whatever happens, you won't give up," Giorno said firmly. "That you'll fight back."

"Giorno…"

"That's an order."

Fugo looked up at him, obvious terror in his eyes that Giorno knew was reflected in his own. But that was all they had. Fugo clenched his jaw and nodded once.

One of the men grabbed Giorno and hauled him forward, presenting him to the depraved crowd. This was it.

XXX

Bucciarati liked to think he didn't worry unduly, but he could also tell when something was wrong. And the fact that it was nearly dawn and Giorno and Fugo still had not returned from their information gathering only mission was incredibly worrying.

"I don't like it," Abbacchio grunted as he poured another cup of coffee.

"No," Bucciarati agreed. "I think we need to start looking into this now. They could still show up, but…even if they got a lead or something and decided to follow it, the fact that they haven't even checked in is worrying. Giorno can be impulsive, but Fugo definitely would have called."

"I'll get the others up," Abbacchio said, heading up the stairs as Bucciarati sat at the table, chin resting on his folded hands.

He'd had a bad feeling about this case from the start, though he wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't like Giorno and Fugo couldn't handle themselves, but something could always go wrong, he'd been on enough missions to know that. And besides, he'd never liked Milani. He hadn't spent too much time with the man despite the fact he'd been established as a higher-up in Passione before Bruno joined. Their work had just made it so that they didn't cross paths very much. Though whenever they had, Bruno had gotten a feeling of unease from being around the man.

He finally got up and went into the office, attempting to call both Giorno and Fugo's phones one last time, but still with no success.

He set the phone back in the cradle and reached into his desk drawer for his gun. He was just tucking it into his coat when the phone rang.

Bruno snatched it up immediately, praying that it was one of the boys, calling back after missing his call to tell him that they were on their way home.

But that wasn't the case.

"Bucciarati?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Nero."

Bruno stiffened. Why the hell would Risotto Nero be calling him at 5am?

"What do you want?" he demanded, worry knotting in his stomach that this could be related to his missing boys. They might have reconciled with Risotto's team, but Bruno wasn't sure he entirely trusted them yet either…

"I want your team's help on a mission," Risotto told him.

"We don't have time to help you," Bucciarati snapped, glancing up to see Abbacchio and the others enter the room, questioning looks on their faces. He held up his hand. "We're dealing with something right now."

He was about to hang up when Risotto said, "I think this might be of interest to you."

Bucciarati pressed his lips into a firm line. "Explain."

"You're looking for Giovanna and Fugo, right?"

Bruno's face must have paled because the others all stepped in, pressing close to listen.

"What do you know about that?" he asked, holding the phone away from his ear slightly so the others could hear.

"They weren't the only ones gathering information at Milani's party last night," Risotto said. "Formaggio was there too. We got a tip that he was into some bad business a few weeks back, and were looking into it, hoping to get into the new boss' good graces. Looks like he was the one who stuck his nose into something he didn't expect to find."

"What the hell are you talking about? What happened to them?" Bruno demanded.

"Formaggio said they got caught poking around. After that, he didn't know, but Milani's into bad stuff. Stuff I want to be clear that I don't agree with. So, when I say I'm willing to take him down and anyone associated with him, I mean it." The growl in his voice was plain. "But this runs deep, Bucciarati. From what Formaggio found out last night, we're going to be upsetting a sizable portion of Passione by taking him down. I think it's best we pool resources for this one."

Bucciarati glanced around at the rest of his team who nodded. "Agreed. Meet us here so we can discuss plans."

"Already on our way."

Risotto ended the call and Bucciarati put the phone carefully back in the holder before turning to the others.

"I trust all of you will work with Risotto's team despite past differences," he told them and got several, albeit reluctant, nods. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the ball of anxiety welling in his chest at bay. "Giorno and Fugo are in very serious trouble."

"We'll get them back, right?" Narancia asked. "Because I'm not gonna let that bastard hurt them!"

"Oh, we'll get them back," Bucciarati said, glancing out the window as he saw La Squadra's vehicle pull up. "We won't be stopping until we do."

XXX

By some small miracle, Giorno and Fugo ended up together. The same man—Palazzo, someone Giorno had never met in person, but he knew he was a rich eccentric who lived in the city—fought hard to get both of them and paid a sickening amount. After they were pulled off the platform, the guards took them into the back where the man 'looked them over' which really just consisted of groping and disgusting comments, before he paid Milani the money and the two teens were escorted outside with the guards and another dose of drugs to be loaded into the back of a van, the windows blacked out.

Giorno looked up at the moon that was fast disappearing toward the horizon, showing just how long they had been there. He felt an encroaching ache of helplessness and vulnerability. Just a sixteen-year-old in a horrible situation, not a powerful Stand user, not the Boss of Passione. Not Giorno Giovanna.

He hadn't felt like Haruno for a long time, but right then he did.

But unlike Haruno, Giorno had people who cared for him. He had a friend who was still miraculously by his side. He had found the strength to reach up and tear the brooch from his suit coat, letting it fall on the ground without being noticed by the guards in the darkness before being shoved into the van. Like the cufflink he had given Fugo he'd had Gold infuse these with lifeforce before they left for the mission, and even if Gold was inactive, they would turn when needed.

If Bucciarati and the others made their way here and found this, it would lead them to wherever they were taken.

Milani saw them off personally, smirking the entire time as they were shoved into the back of the van and secured with chains already equipped to the inside of the vehicle. Giorno didn't want to think of how many times they had been used.

"You had better be good for your new master," he leered. "Signore Palazzo does not take kindly to little boys who disobey him."

"You'll burn for this," Fugo snarled as he was tightly secured alongside Giorno who simply stared at Milani, making sure he got his point across.

Because he had meant everything he said earlier. This man would crave death by the time Giorno Giovanna was done with him. That was a promise.