We're back with pre-series Cop Abba angst, so I hope you all enjoy some Bruno whump in this one.
Day 18: Tortured for Info, 'Hit them harder'
Abbacchio lowered his head tiredly into his hands for a moment before he picked up his pen again, dutifully filling out the rest of the forms and reports for the night.
He was exhausted. It seemed like it was over time every day the last couple weeks. He'd had the mercy to send his partner home an hour ago since he'd nearly been falling asleep in his cold coffee—and now Abbacchio wasn't much better off.
The main reason their work load had exploded was that most of the precinct was busy looking into the unexpected assassination of a local politician, which meant that anyone who wasn't needed on that case specifically was working double beats. The captain had claimed it could be considered a promotion since Abbacchio and his partner had been instrumental in bringing down a drug ring that had been plaguing the city for a long time—thanks to some information from an unexpected quarter. Abbacchio didn't really consider it a promotion since he'd done nothing but work and sleep for the last two weeks—one of those a lot more than the other—but hopefully they would find the culprit soon and things could go back to normal.
He pushed through the current report, rubbing his sticky eyes.
A commotion from the front of the precinct had him looking up curiously, grateful for any distraction.
"Found him lurking around the Conti house—probably trying to take out the man's family too, the bastard," a voice growled.
"Take him in for interrogation immediately," the captain's voice said. "If this is our man, this can't wait for morning."
Two of the homicide detectives made their way through the bullpen with a man held tightly between them. "Alright, scum, let's see if you have anything to sing about."
Abbacchio did a double-take as he saw the cuffed suspect. He looked rough, suit rumpled, face bruised and hair disheveled but Abbacchio could still recognize him.
It was the man he knew only as Bruno—the Mafiosi who had tended to his injuries after his men had jumped Abbacchio. The one who had given him the tip that had led to one of the precincts biggest arrests in months.
He realized he was staring as Bruno's head came up and caught his eye, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Come on." The detectives yanked him forward so hard he stumbled. Abbacchio watched them disappear down the hall, followed by the sound of a door shutting loudly.
Abbacchio felt cold inside. Could the man he had met actually be the one to kill the politician? Honestly, Abbacchio doubted it. Especially since Antonio Conti had been very against the drug trade, making plans to try and put more effort into taking it down. Abbacchio might have been concussed at the time, but he distinctly remembered Bruno's disgust at the mention of drugs and selling them. Something about this didn't add up.
Abbacchio also felt uneasy for some reason about Bruno being in there, after hours, with Battista and Romano. Those two had been lead on this case, and they were looking for promotion—through any means necessary. Abbacchio knew they were dirty—everyone in the precinct did, but of course no one could or would prove it—and they also didn't care about playing nice. If they decided they wanted to pin this on Bruno, then they would, no question. Abbacchio didn't know why that upset him so much, but it did. Maybe it was the fact that Bruno had been so honest with him, even though he hadn't needed to be.
He tried to concentrate on his reports, but found himself constantly looking down the hall. It really wasn't his problem, he tried to tell himself. What did he expect to do anyway?
"Abbacchio!"
The captain's voice startled him as he looked up from his final report, pen clutched tightly in his hand.
"Sir?"
"Since you're still here, take this to Romano and Battista in the interrogation room. Ask if they need anything. I'm heading out for the night."
So the captain was basically washing his hands of anything that happened in that interrogation room tonight. Abbacchio attempted to hide his disgust as he took the file folder that held the assassination case and nodded, standing up. "No problem. Goodnight, sir."
He made his way down the hall, planning to just drop off the file. It wasn't his problem, and he was sure Bruno would be able to wiggle his way out of this, or one of his superiors would pay someone off to get him out.
But as he stopped outside the door to knock, he heard the dull thuds of fists in flesh, and muffled grunts.
"Come on you little shit, we know you're part of Passione—Bucciarati, right? You're real popular around the city."
Bucciarati? That name did ring a bell, Abbacchio thought, though he hadn't put two-and-two together between the well-known Mafiosi and Bruno until now.
There was a muffled reply, followed by another dull, fleshy thud. "Conti was working directly against your boss, so just admit you took him down!"
"On the contrary, you have no idea what my boss does for business." Bruno's voice growled. "But, as it turns out, we're also looking for the man who killed him, so any information would be helpful."
The sound of a metallic clang followed by a sharp cry came from inside and Abbacchio winced, finally reaching out to knock.
"What?" Romano snapped from inside.
Abbacchio stepped in, holding up the folder as he closed the door behind him. Bruno was sitting half in the chair, his face currently shoved against the table, Battista's hand gripping a chuck of his hair.
Abbacchio swallowed hard. "Case file, from the captain," he said.
The two detectives stared at him for a second before Romano, who had been standing in the corner with his arms folded, came forward to take it.
Battista wrenched Bruno's head back up, leaving a smear of blood on the table. He'd already been badly beaten, blood dripping down his nose and one eye nearly swollen.
"You really think he's gonna talk if you beat the shit out of him?" Abbacchio asked blandly.
Battista sneered as he stepped away from the prisoner briefly. "You're too soft, Leone. Hardened criminals need a harder touch. Why don't you sit in, get some pointers?" He tossed a notebook his way. "Take notes for us while you're at it. That way we don't get any blood on the paper."
Abbacchio hesitated but picked up the notebook. It was probably best if someone else was in here tonight to give a witness statement if needed.
"Alright then, you criminal scum," Romano growled, stepping up to Bruno, hemming him in as the Mafiosi looked up balefully with one good eye—the other completely swollen shut. "Why were you skulking around Conti's house tonight? Did you want to console his window or something?"
"Would it really matter if I told you?" Bruno asked.
A fist buried itself into his stomach and he folded over before Battista grabbed his shoulder and pulled him upright again.
"I've had just about enough of you avoiding questions, you prick," Romano growled, reaching down to haul Bruno to his feet and slam him against the wall, hands twisting in his expensive suit. "A good man is dead—shot through the head. Even if you didn't do it, I know you know who did."
"Funny," Bruno said coldly. "Because I was going to say the same about you."
"What was that?" Romano snarled, shoving him harder against the wall as Bruno cringed.
"Only that my Capo and Conti were on rather good terms, and I'm also running an investigation on who killed him. So…" He smiled as pleasantly as he could with a split lip and blood running down his chin. "Would you care to exchange information or would you rather continue with this pointless beating? I won't make something up just to make you happy."
Abbacchio's jaw tightened as he watched the fury surge through Romano.
"You little shit," the detective snarled. He slammed his fist into Bruno's stomach before slamming his head down against his knee when the gangster folded. "You think you can back-talk us? We'll get the truth out of you if we have to beat on you all night!" He threw Bruno into the corner of the room and Battista started to kick him in the ribs and stomach as Bruno tried to curl up and protect himself.
"Enough!" Abbacchio finally snapped, stepping forward. "He didn't do it—beating him isn't going to make him tell you what you want to know."
Romano sneered at him, shoving him out of the way as he pulled his baton out. "Clearly you still have a lot to learn, Leone," he chuckled nastily. He nodded to Battista. "Get him up."
The other detective hauled Bruno back up and dropped him back into the chair. Romano hooked the baton under his chin and hauled his lolling head upright.
"Alright, pretty boy," Battista leaned in, patting Bruno's cheek roughly. "Let's try this again. Who killed Antonio Conti?"
"I don't know," Bruno growled and spat a gob of blood onto the ground.
Another fist to his abused stomach and Bruno folded with a wheezing cough before Romano hauled him back, the baton pressed firmly against his windpipe.
"Where were you on the day he was killed?"
Bruno just shook his head.
"Hit him harder," Romano snapped.
Battista pulled out his own baton and slammed it against Bruno's ribcage with an audible crack. Bruno let out a sharp cry.
"That's enough! He didn't do it!" Abbacchio snapped, finally throwing the unused notebook down on the table.
"And why are you so certain?" Battista demanded. "Why defend a criminal?"
"I'm defending justice," Abbacchio replied and winced at how stupid that sounded. He pushed on with the only thing that had sprung into his mind. "He couldn't have shot Conti because when the assassination happened, Bucciarati was with me."
Everyone, including Bruno looked at him in silent shock after the words left his mouth, and Abbacchio wasn't far off.
"Excuse me?" Romano demanded. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Abbacchio swallowed and continued. "He's been working as my informant. He helped me on that drug ring bust. He was supposed to pass me more info that day but the news of the assassination came in and we both had to leave."
"Is that so?" Romano sneered. He grabbed Bruno's chin and pointed at Abbacchio. "You're passing info to this guy?"
"Yes, I am," Bruno said firmly.
"Why the hell didn't you mention that then?" Battista asked.
Bruno smirked. "I didn't think he'd appreciate it. Cops are usually pretty possessive of their informants especially when they give good information. And I can't really let it be going around that I work with the police."
Romano finally released him and strode over to Abbacchio, grabbing his shoulder as he shoved him out of the room. "A word."
As soon as the door closed, Romano pushed Abbacchio back against the wall with his arm across his chest. "What the hell are you playing at, Abbacchio?"
Abbacchio forced his gaze to be steady. "I'm not playing at anything. I can't provide physical proof he didn't do it, but you'll have to take me at my word. If you doubt my story, check that photo from the drug ring bust. It probably still has his prints on it." He knew Romano wasn't about to do actual police work, and as the man backed down he realized he was right.
The detective sneered. "Fine then, but watch yourself, Leone," he shoved Abbacchio more firmly against the wall for a second, leaning in threateningly. "Next time you try to weasel your way into someone else's investigation it might not go so well for you. Do yourself a favor and look the other way."
Abbacchio stared at him firmly. "So, tell me, Romano, if I hadn't walked in there tonight, would you have pinned the assassination on an innocent man?"
"You're a stupid little shit," Romano growled. "He's not innocent. He's killed dozens of men. What does it matter if the thing he gets put away for isn't exactly what he did? It all evens out in the end—on the scale of justice. If you want to get in bed with criminal scum, be my guest, but remember that it has consequences, Leone. Just like everything else."
He pulled away and opened the door to the interrogation room again, waving Abbacchio inside. "Seems you're free to go, Bucciarati," he snapped as Battista glowered at Abbacchio. Romano pushed him forward. "He's your informant, get him back to where he needs to go."
Abbacchio wasn't sure for a moment whether this was a trap or not, but he stepped in and grabbed Bruno's arm, hauling him out of the chair. "Come on," he said.
Bruno staggered, but kept up as much as possible. Abbacchio went quicker than he probably should, but he wanted to get out of there before the detectives decided to change their minds, or tried to follow them.
He felt better once they were outside in open air. "Let me get those cuffs," he said.
The comment was followed by the clatter of the cuffs falling to the ground and Abbacchio watched in surprise as Bruno pulled his hands forward with a wince, rubbing his wrists. "Your co-workers could put my own men to shame, officer," he said, voice slightly slurred and nasally from the split lip and blood-clogged nose.
Abbacchio winced, digging his keys out of his pocket and motioning to his car. "Sorry about that."
He unlocked the car, and Bruno slumped gratefully into the passenger seat, cringing.
"Do you need the hospital?" he asked hesitantly.
Bruno laughed. "No. I've had worse. Fugo can patch me up."
"You have broken ribs!"
"I've had worse," he insisted.
Abbacchio furrowed his brow, but started the car and began driving in the direction he knew Bruno's apartment was.
They were silent for a few minutes until Bruno said. "You lied for me back there, Officer Abbacchio. I have to admit, I'm rather impressed."
Abbacchio gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Don't read into it," he growled.
"Why did you do it?"
Abbacchio sighed. "Because Romano and Battista would have pinned it on you no matter what you said. They had already decided you would be the assassin as soon as they hauled you into the precinct. I'm not a fan of perverted justice."
"But how are you so sure I didn't do it?" Bruno asked.
Abbacchio glanced over at him. "I like to think I'm a good judge of character," he muttered. "And I know you and your capo are actively working to take out the drug dealers in the city. You would hardly take down a man who was doing the same."
"Well, you certainly have more critical thinking skills than your coworkers," Bruno said wryly, wrapping an arm around his abused middle, shifting in the seat with a wince. "You're right, though. I was sent out to look for the possible culprit. Which is what led me to the police. But it seems that it wasn't your people either."
Abbacchio turned to stare at him. "Wait, what? Are you saying you got taken in on purpose?"
"I wouldn't go that far, but I didn't want to miss the opportunity," He winced. "Admittedly, I wasn't expecting such a thorough welcome. But my plan worked out just as well. I figured it was time to make good on that favor and you came through just as I knew you would."
Abbacchio's eyes blew wide in sudden horror. "What? You set me up?!"
"Hardly! I would have gotten out of there one way or another, you just made it slightly easier on me." Bruno smirked. "Besides, that drug bust moved you up, didn't it? Consider this a thank you—we're even now."
Abbacchio gritted his teeth, but in reality, he couldn't really be mad. Bruno did have a point.
The gangster slumped against the seat silently for the rest of the drive, face wan and lined with pain. Abbacchio realized just how bad he was probably hurting and tried to get to the apartment as quickly as possible.
Bruno roused as they pulled up. "So you did remember. I should be more careful."
Abbacchio grunted as Bruno opened his door, making to get out. He almost made it before he doubled over with a soft cry, slamming a hand onto the hood of the car to steady himself.
Abbacchio was out of the car and around it to help him in a second. "Here, it will take you all night to get up there like this."
Bruno looked at him with a wary but grateful expression, and slung his arm around Abbacchio's shoulders as the police officer helped him up the stairs to his apartment.
He fumbled in his pocket and swore. "Seem to have forgotten my key."
He knocked instead and the door was opened seconds later by the blond teen Abbacchio remembered from before.
His eyes flicked over the scene, taking it in in only a second before his eyes blew wide in panic. "Holy shit! Bucciarati! What the hell did you do?" the last was directed at Abbacchio, but Bruno held up a hand.
"It wasn't him, Fugo. Please be civil, I'd like to lay down without you two trying to kill each other."
Abbacchio helped him inside and to the couch where Fugo instantly started to fuss as Bucciarati laid flat with a groan.
"Are you sure you don't need medical help?" Abbacchio asked.
"I'll be fine," Bruno replied wearily, scrunching up his face as Fugo began prodding bruises, swearing under his breath. Bruno's eyes opened briefly. "Thank you, Officer Abbacchio. I appreciate your dedication to justice. I hope we can work together again."
Abbacchio pursed his lips. "That might not be the best idea."
"Oh, I don't know, I thought I made a good informant," Bruno replied with a smirk before he hissed as Fugo found his cracked ribs with a new flurry of expletives. "If you ever need to know anything, or have anything to pass on, you know where to find me."
"Yeah. Look, lay low for a while, okay? I may not be around the next time."
"Oh don't worry about me, I rarely get caught unless I want to be," Bruno said. "Goodnight."
Abbacchio left the apartment and headed silently back to his car. He stopped and stared up at the sky for a long moment, wondering what the hell he was doing with his life. This is not where he was supposed to be. Lying to his co-workers, working with gangsters.
But what happened when those outside the law operated with more justice than those who claimed to uphold it? Was what he had done really in the wrong when it came down to it?
Abbacchio was too tired to dwell on it anymore tonight. He wanted to get home and collapse in bed and hope none of this came back to bite him in the ass.