Fugo watched the boat speed away, jaw clenched tightly in disbelief and fear. These were the people he'd known for years speeding away to certain demise at the hands of inhuman cruelty personified. He would likely never see any of them alive again. As Narancia had dived into the water, Fugo might as well have watched him drown.
He just couldn't understand it; they were all sailing away to their deaths. And for what- some girl they barely even knew? It just didn't make sense.
But it did, and that's what he hated most.
He could sort of understand it, knew that Bucciarati was too kind of a man to let go of something like what he had witnessed. But to risk everything he'd worked for, everything he'd earned, everything he'd gained? For that? It was idiotic. There had to be something he was missing.
'Is this my 'betrayal?' he thought, biting his lip as the boat finally disappeared around a building, taking everything he'd come to know with it. 'Is refusing to 'betray' the Boss 'betraying' you, Bucciarati? Do you see it as such?'
He couldn't just keep standing here. News of the group's betrayal would surely circulate at rapid speed and then what would he do? He hadn't gone with them, he wasn't a traitor, but the Boss might not see it that way. Just by being associated with Bucciarati's group could sign his death sentence.
But Bucciarati probably knew that too; however much he said that they had a choice, the reality was that they didn't. They didn't have any sort of choice once they signed their lives away to Passione when they joined. Bucciarati wasn't an idiot; he knew that, even if he tried to think otherwise.
That thought alone sent Fugo spiralling into further confusion. What could possibly mean so much that Bucciarati would be willing to risk all of their lives? Just for a girl they barely knew? He felt bad for Trish, sure, but she wasn't worth condemning himself to death over. No, she couldn't just be it, there had to be something more, he reminded himself, something Fugo wasn't understanding. Something everyone else understood but him.
And Fugo had always hated the feeling of not knowing.
There wasn't anything he could do, he decided. The best course of action was to flee, to lie low until it was all over. With any luck, he'd be able to escape Venezia before any of the Boss's men arrived, before the Boss himself relayed the information of what had just occurred. If they caught him, there was no telling what they might do. Of course he had useful information on the traitors, but he could be tortured for that, and if he just gave it away, they'd probably just kill him anyways, just to be safe. That, and he wasn't sure he'd want to tell the Boss about Bucciarati's team. He had to run, much as he felt cowardly doing so. Although he supposed he chose to be a coward the moment he threw them away- no. What he was doing was not in the wrong; it was the others who were making a mistake. Surely what he was choosing was just.
Spinning around to stalk away, he nearly collided with a pink-haired man that somehow had approached from right behind without him noticing. Although it was probably just a random stranger, Fugo leapt away warily, ready to call out Purple Haze if he needed-
"Pannacotta Fugo?"
"Who's asking?" Fugo replied, knowing that he already gave away the answer. This man wasn't just a tourist then.
"My name is Vinegar Doppio. I'm a member of the Boss's elite guards." Fugo's eyes widened. So they were already here in Venezia. That wasn't good, he had to- wait. It wasn't good for Bucciarati, he reminded himself, he had nothing he had to do. He wasn't included in that team anymore. "Where are the rest of your squad?"
One look into this man's, Doppio's, eyes, and Fugo could tell that he knew the answer already. This was a test, one that Fugo was going to pass. He wasn't in the wrong; not this time. "They've… gone. They left with Trish."
"Are you telling me they're traitors?"
"I… yes." Fugo hated himself for admitting it but lying would only get him killed. "They betrayed the Boss. I don't know where they're going."
"I see." Doppio didn't look at all surprised by this news and Fugo knew that he had assumed correctly. This man knew everything, which meant the Boss had told him everything. The Boss, who he'd never even seen before- "You do know what happens to traitors, don't you, Fugo?"
"That's-"
"Or shall I elaborate for you?"
Fugo didn't like the glint in the man's eyes. "No, I… I know."
"Wonderful. You're a smart man, Fugo. I see Polpo had been right about that. A good head on your shoulders. This is an organization, and it's no place for the soft and weak-minded. You likely know what I'm about to tell you, yes?"
So it had come to that after all. He'd thought about it briefly, when the boat first started picking up speed. He knew their Stands, after all, knew them, how they thought, what they could do. It was the worst and best outcome.
"Tell the Boss I accept."
"You don't believe any… personal feelings will get in the way?" Judging by his voice, Doppio clearly thought he would. But then again, if the Boss thought the same, he likely wouldn't have been assigned the job.
"We are not in the wrong," Fugo murmured, half to himself, but Doppio seemed to take that as his answer and nodded firmly.
"You're right. To betray the Boss is to display a startling lack of honesty and commitment; it is a sign of the utmost disrespect and selfishness. You are doing what is right, Fugo. The Boss saved you. All of you."
That wasn't true. Bucciarati saved him, no one else. And no one had saved Bucciarati. Fugo had overheard him whispering to Abbacchio late at night when he thought everyone was sleeping, about how Passione was his only option. That, or the death of the one man he adored more than anything else.
"Tell the Boss I accept," Fugo repeated, not wanting to listen to Doppio sing the Boss's praise any longer. It made his decision waver further.
"Very well. Go to Grosseto and check into the Hotel San Lorenzo. We will get in contact with you once you've done this." Doppio shot him one last glance before adding, "Take this time to gather your thoughts."
Fugo nodded. That last thing sounded like it was actually coming from Doppio himself and not just information being relayed from the Boss. He didn't think he really needed to gather his thoughts though; it would just mean thinking about them more. And he didn't want to think about them. It hurt to.
As Fugo turned away, turned to leave, turned his back upon the people who were once his friends, he thought solemnly with mounting dread, 'This is my answer, Bucciarati.'
