Fugo supposed the ruins of Rusellae were as beautiful and mysterious as the stories of them were. History quite obviously lay within each block of stone that was overgrown with weaving ivy and cracked with weathering age. Bucciarati had always wanted to visit.
But he wasn't here to sightsee, and as he strode past the Etruscan ruins without so much as a moment of appreciation, Fugo tried to avoid thinking about anything that wasn't the mission or what little he knew of it.
They were approaching one of the few enclosed structures in the ruins, a building that sat on a hill overlooking one of the dirt roads that led to the site. The view was hidden by brambles and trees, secluding the area and surely making it perfect to take care of whoever the target was. As they neared the top of the stairs that wrapped around the hill, Fugo saw a man waiting near the opening that once held a doorway to the single four-walled structure at the peak.
He recognized him, Fugo realized, a wiry middle-aged capo that controlled things in the comune of Piombino who owed Bucciarati a favor. Months ago, his daughter had run away to Napoli after learning what her padre did in the mafia, making her a liability. Before the Boss could find out, the capo, Fillippo was his name, had gone to Bucciarati.
Fugo distinctly remembered the distasteful grimace on Bucciarati's face when Fillippo had plead his case to the then-soldato of Napoli. If the Boss learned that the girl had fled and that Fillippo was trying to save her, he would kill them both. If Bucciarati's squad got involved, they'd be killed as well.
But Bucciarati was too much of a bleeding heart, and Fugo had said as much as they searched the city for the missing girl. The only response he'd gotten was a soft smile and the quiet words of, "What is just is not always right."
Fugo wondered if he was getting any closer to understanding what Bucciarati had meant by that.
In the end, they'd found her, hiding out by the docks with her boyfriend in an attempt to sneak aboard a carrier barge and embark for Sicilia. Fugo didn't know what he'd said to her, but Bucciarati had convinced her to go back to her father and listen to what he had to say before making her decision. At least that way, if she chose to flee, she'd know the dangers that would come with that and knowing what she knew.
Fillippo had gotten in contact three days later and explained to them that his daughter had simply been 'confused' and that 'all misunderstandings were put to bed.' Fugo wasn't sure what he'd done, but he knew the man's Stand had something to do with memories. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know either.
Bucciarati had been enraged by the implication that Fillippo would have used his Stand on an innocent civilian, much less his own daughter, but Fugo thought that meant he had the true heart of a gangster. Cold and unfeeling.
Even so, Fillippo had promised Bucciarati a favor and the capo had accepted. He wasn't one to waste chances like that, and had held onto that favor like he did the many others that people owed him. Fugo hadn't seen the man since- until now.
"Signor Martino," Fillippo nodded, glancing behind him to see Fugo, and his dark eyes widened in surprise. So Fugo hadn't been expected. "Signor Fugo." He sounded wary, concerned about something, but Fugo didn't know enough about what was going on to tell what, although it was unsettling.
"Have you done as we asked?" Castagna questioned and Fillippo turned to him, fair skin turning an even lighter pallor as he nodded fervently.
"Of course, Signor Martino! Anything for the Boss." Fugo could tell that last part was added purely to appease Castagna. "I've followed your instructions, please, leave Marcella out of this."
Marcella. That was his daughter's name.
"But of course," Castagna agreed coolly. "No harm shall come to her. What did you tell them?"
"Exactly what you asked me to," the man explained hastily. "That I caught word on his rebellion and have vital information and to meet me at Rusellae at half-past three today. And to consider my favor repaid."
It took everything Fugo had to restrain Haze, who was bursting to leap out of him and destroy. It was his own anger, Fugo recognized, at knowing that this man whom Bucciarati had helped at the risk of his life, had betrayed him without a second thought. Fugo was no fool; he could tell exactly what was going on. The only thing he didn't know was how the Boss had known about the favor Fillippo owed Bucciarati.
"Is that why you're here, Signor Fugo?" So they hadn't told him everything; of course they hadn't. The news that Fugo had remained behind must have been kept quiet, to use him as a weapon. 'Just like how Polpo had initially wanted to use my Stand,' he thought vaguely, 'Until Bucciarati stopped him.'
Fugo wasn't sure what to say to that but he clearly didn't need to say anything as Castagna's hand whipped out to wrap tightly around Filippo's face, fingers digging into his skin until scarlet beads drew out from the fingertips as terror shifted across the old man's face.
"What have I said about questions," Castagna growled, indigo eyes flashing in rage as what looked like dirt swirled up around his feet. Fillippo tried to say something but all that came out through Castagna's fingers was unintelligible garbling tinged with fear. "I can't hear you, speak up or remain silent."
When he let go of the man, Fillippo staggered to his knees and looked up at the two of them, jaw clenched tightly as his eyes began to fill with horror. He clawed at his face, fingers curling around his lips to pry them apart, pulling so hard that blood began to pool where his fingernails dug into the soft flesh, but nothing happened, and Fugo realized that he wasn't speaking because he couldn't.
"I see. You have made your choice," Castagna hissed coldly and reached out to yank Fugo over towards him. A hard object was pressed into his hands and, as Castagna moved to curl his arms around Fugo's shoulders and stare over his head at the terrified capo before them, the blond felt the familiar trigger of a gun.
"'Tis only right for you to mete out his sins." Castagna's hushed words were like ice through Fugo's veins, the feeling of those rough lips brushing against his ear sending a shiver down his spine. "A traitor to thine caporegime is a traitor to thee; though both, traitors be."
Tanned hands tightened around Fugo's shoulders the longer he hesitated until they were digging harshly into the bone, and even then, he held back.
"He may have betrayed him," Fugo murmured as he finally lowered the gun, averting his gaze to the ground as he continued, "but so have I. What right do I have? None."
A sharp intake of breath behind him and then a loud BANG! rang out next to ear, sending Fugo stumbling a step back from the sound. The old man pitched backwards from the force of the blow, landing in an unrefined heap of splayed limbs as blood spilled from the hole onto the ground beneath him.
"How blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake," Castagna murmured as he pulled back to blow the smoke off the gun, "because the kingdom from Heaven belongs to them. Matthew 5:10."
Fugo watched as the old man twitched once, twice, then stilled. The growing scarlet puddle began to slow as it seeped into the dirt and stained the grass, a pristine hole placed between two sightless brown eyes.
"May thou find peace with thine daughter in Heaven. Liberalo dal male, Amen."
"I thought you said his daughter would be safe," Fugo said numbly.
"No further harm may come if she has already left this Earth." So they never had any intention of letting either of the two live from the start. Fugo assumed that the rest of Filippo's family was likely dead as well, and that maybe that was a blessing in a way.
"Come, Signor Fugo, come sit with me." Castagna had taken a seat upon the stone wall, stepping on the dead body with a sickening crunch like it was nothing more than shit beneath his ugly wood-heeled boot. "We have time before the hour. Let us talk."
Wanting to do nothing more than not do that, Fugo swallowed thickly and stepped over the man who had just died for no reason other than Bucciarati's sins.
