One for the Money (7c/?)
anonymous
April 18 2010, 20:06:34 UTC
"Lovino?" Alfred repeated. A heartbeat later, he swerved the truck across the lanes of the freeway to pull to a stop in the grassy median. "Romano?"
There was that name again, the one Alfred and Big Tony had called Lovino by in the restaurant.
"Yes, 'Romano'," Arthur confirmed shakily, feeling unnerved by Alfred's suddenly reckless driving.
Alfred was quiet, with a serious look on his face as he mulled over the new information about the faces in his file. "We're going back to Tony's," he finally announced, shifting the truck back into gear.
Arthur frowned. "Do you think that they..."
"Were the ones to steal your car and rob my bank?" Alfred supplied. "Yeah, they might be. It'll take us hours to get to the latest crime scene, but if Romano knows something, he's still close."
Arthur didn't have the chance to ask anything else. Alfred floored the gas pedal then to make a fast, sharp U-turn across the median, and it was all Arthur could do to hold on for dear life.
-- Three years ago, Lovino and Feliciano Vargas had visited Venice.
They had gone to Italy for their grandfather's funeral (while he'd still been alive, the man had insisted that he be interred in Italian soil), but afterwards Feliciano had insisted that they stay a while, to travel the country from the north to the south and back again.
When they'd arrived in Venice, it was just in time for carnival. The streets and waterways were packed with masked visitors in lavish costumes, but the crowds didn't bother the brothers; they stayed for the duration of carnival, attending Ash Wednesday Mass in Saint Mark's Basilica before turning south to head back to Rome, and then home.
While in Venice, they had bought masks.
It had been Feliciano's idea, in the beginning. He had wanted to bring the masks as souvenirs to his friends back home, and Lovino (despite his numerous protests and denials) had secretly wanted to do the same.
But right now, Lovino had a sinking feeling that he knew what his brother's friends (and his stupid little brother, but surely he'd been tricked) had ended up doing with the masks. He couldn't deny it, not when there was black and white and gold proof staring him in the face in the form of the photograph he held in two trembling hands and a mask that was even more ornate than the rest.
"Romano?" Antonio asked, concern evident in his voice.
But at least he could be certain whose fault it was.
"I am going to kill Ludwig," he stated.
Big Tony cheered. "About time!" he said, clapping Lovino on the shoulder. He slowly turned to look at the small, bald mafioso and could practically feel the color drain from his face.
Shit.
He had just come back from Confession. He had sworn upon his grandfather's grave to never get drawn into mafia business, or anything that even resembled it. And yet here he was, declaring an intention to kill someone (even if it was Feliciano's macho potato "friend") in front of Big Tony.
One for the Money (7d/?)
anonymous
April 18 2010, 20:07:45 UTC
Half an hour later, Alfred burst inside the Italian restaurant with Arthur at his heels.
"Tony!" Alfred shouted. A few of the patrons that had arrived in the time since their earlier departure looked up at the disturbance, but most quickly returned to their meals and conversation.
A meek-looking waiter nearby approaching them after a moment of hesitation. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Where's Tony?" Alfred asked urgently. He shook his head, and correctly, "No, where's Romano?"
Tony emerged from the kitchen after a minute, wiping his hands on a cook's apron. "Alfred? I didn't expect to see you back so soon."
Alfred rushed away from the waiter to Tony, seizing his friend by the shoulders. "Where's Romano? I need to talk to him right away."
Tony's expression was largely indecipherable, but Alfred was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of surprise, or maybe confusion in it. He really wasn't sure. "You just missed him," Tony answered. "He and his friends left not ten minutes ago."
"Friends?" Arthur asked. Alfred glanced back at him, their eyes meeting and a spark of understanding being shared. If Romano had been here with friends...
He looked back at Tony. "What friends, Tony?"
"Spic, Frenchy, and the Kraut," was Tony's answer. "I never caught their names."
Three friends of Romano's. It seemed too much to be a coincidence. "I've got to find them, Tony," Alfred said. "Where did they go?"
Tony was quiet for a moment. "You know Germania?"
Alfred hadn't expected to hear that name, but he nodded. He knew Germania by reputation only; the Chief of Police had become famous (or perhaps infamous) for his countless clashes with Rome before the latter's death.
"They've gone to pay a visit to his grandson."
Alfred frowned. What did Germania's grandson...
"Which one?" Arthur asked. Alfred looked back at him, confused.
Tony, meanwhile, must not have heard Arthur. He first removed Alfred's hands from his shoulders, and then removed his apron. "If you're following them, I'm coming with you," he said. "I know the way."
"That'd be great!" Alfred said, beaming at his friend. Arthur was making some kind of sputtering noise, but Alfred was sure he was just choked up over what a great guy Tony was for his offer.
As Tony waved the waiter from before over and exchanged a few quiet words with him, Arthur hissed in Alfred's ear, "'Germania' Beilschmidt is Gilbert's grandfather."
Alfred looked at Arthur with wide eyes. Germania's grandson was one of their suspects? "Then you think they've gone to see Gilbert?"
"I don't know," Arthur answered. "He's got a younger brother; Ludwig, I believe. Lovino and his friends may have gone to see him."
Tony had finished speaking with the waiter, and now started for the door. "Let's go."
Alfred followed, unsure now whether he was really on the right track. Any grandson of Chief Germania surely wouldn't be robbing banks... right? He glanced at Arthur, who looked equally unsure, and sighed.
There would be plenty of time to figure things out on the road.
Notes: So I managed to get this next part out a lot faster this time! Hopefully the momentum will keep up until the end. In other news: finally, some answers have been given about the Venetian Robbers... or have they? Stay tuned, guys; there are only a couple of parts until the end!
Re: One for the Money (7d/?)
anonymous
March 19 2013, 00:16:27 UTC
Ok....that FUCKING Italian Big Tony REEEEAAALLLLYYY needs to fucking stop those racial slurs. Or maybe we should run through all the ethnic slurs for Italians, eh? Why don't we? Perhaps Antonio should've called the pathetic fool, "Dago, Laposta, Terrone, Geep, Calzone, Goombah, Grease Ball, Guinea Pig, I-Tie, Zip, etc" Need I go on?! Seriously...using those words is NOT funny or cool. And frankly makes me wanna see the fucker strung up by his intenstines like his shitty leader Mousoulinni. Unless you or your characters wanna be considered racists: QUIT IT. Seriously...this fic is otherwise pretty cool, but THAT just kills it. Completely.
There was that name again, the one Alfred and Big Tony had called Lovino by in the restaurant.
"Yes, 'Romano'," Arthur confirmed shakily, feeling unnerved by Alfred's suddenly reckless driving.
Alfred was quiet, with a serious look on his face as he mulled over the new information about the faces in his file. "We're going back to Tony's," he finally announced, shifting the truck back into gear.
Arthur frowned. "Do you think that they..."
"Were the ones to steal your car and rob my bank?" Alfred supplied. "Yeah, they might be. It'll take us hours to get to the latest crime scene, but if Romano knows something, he's still close."
Arthur didn't have the chance to ask anything else. Alfred floored the gas pedal then to make a fast, sharp U-turn across the median, and it was all Arthur could do to hold on for dear life.
--
Three years ago, Lovino and Feliciano Vargas had visited Venice.
They had gone to Italy for their grandfather's funeral (while he'd still been alive, the man had insisted that he be interred in Italian soil), but afterwards Feliciano had insisted that they stay a while, to travel the country from the north to the south and back again.
When they'd arrived in Venice, it was just in time for carnival. The streets and waterways were packed with masked visitors in lavish costumes, but the crowds didn't bother the brothers; they stayed for the duration of carnival, attending Ash Wednesday Mass in Saint Mark's Basilica before turning south to head back to Rome, and then home.
While in Venice, they had bought masks.
It had been Feliciano's idea, in the beginning. He had wanted to bring the masks as souvenirs to his friends back home, and Lovino (despite his numerous protests and denials) had secretly wanted to do the same.
But right now, Lovino had a sinking feeling that he knew what his brother's friends (and his stupid little brother, but surely he'd been tricked) had ended up doing with the masks. He couldn't deny it, not when there was black and white and gold proof staring him in the face in the form of the photograph he held in two trembling hands and a mask that was even more ornate than the rest.
"Romano?" Antonio asked, concern evident in his voice.
But at least he could be certain whose fault it was.
"I am going to kill Ludwig," he stated.
Big Tony cheered. "About time!" he said, clapping Lovino on the shoulder. He slowly turned to look at the small, bald mafioso and could practically feel the color drain from his face.
Shit.
He had just come back from Confession. He had sworn upon his grandfather's grave to never get drawn into mafia business, or anything that even resembled it. And yet here he was, declaring an intention to kill someone (even if it was Feliciano's macho potato "friend") in front of Big Tony.
He suddenly felt a little faint.
--
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"Tony!" Alfred shouted. A few of the patrons that had arrived in the time since their earlier departure looked up at the disturbance, but most quickly returned to their meals and conversation.
A meek-looking waiter nearby approaching them after a moment of hesitation. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Where's Tony?" Alfred asked urgently. He shook his head, and correctly, "No, where's Romano?"
Tony emerged from the kitchen after a minute, wiping his hands on a cook's apron. "Alfred? I didn't expect to see you back so soon."
Alfred rushed away from the waiter to Tony, seizing his friend by the shoulders. "Where's Romano? I need to talk to him right away."
Tony's expression was largely indecipherable, but Alfred was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of surprise, or maybe confusion in it. He really wasn't sure. "You just missed him," Tony answered. "He and his friends left not ten minutes ago."
"Friends?" Arthur asked. Alfred glanced back at him, their eyes meeting and a spark of understanding being shared. If Romano had been here with friends...
He looked back at Tony. "What friends, Tony?"
"Spic, Frenchy, and the Kraut," was Tony's answer. "I never caught their names."
Three friends of Romano's. It seemed too much to be a coincidence. "I've got to find them, Tony," Alfred said. "Where did they go?"
Tony was quiet for a moment. "You know Germania?"
Alfred hadn't expected to hear that name, but he nodded. He knew Germania by reputation only; the Chief of Police had become famous (or perhaps infamous) for his countless clashes with Rome before the latter's death.
"They've gone to pay a visit to his grandson."
Alfred frowned. What did Germania's grandson...
"Which one?" Arthur asked. Alfred looked back at him, confused.
Tony, meanwhile, must not have heard Arthur. He first removed Alfred's hands from his shoulders, and then removed his apron. "If you're following them, I'm coming with you," he said. "I know the way."
"That'd be great!" Alfred said, beaming at his friend. Arthur was making some kind of sputtering noise, but Alfred was sure he was just choked up over what a great guy Tony was for his offer.
As Tony waved the waiter from before over and exchanged a few quiet words with him, Arthur hissed in Alfred's ear, "'Germania' Beilschmidt is Gilbert's grandfather."
Alfred looked at Arthur with wide eyes. Germania's grandson was one of their suspects? "Then you think they've gone to see Gilbert?"
"I don't know," Arthur answered. "He's got a younger brother; Ludwig, I believe. Lovino and his friends may have gone to see him."
Tony had finished speaking with the waiter, and now started for the door. "Let's go."
Alfred followed, unsure now whether he was really on the right track. Any grandson of Chief Germania surely wouldn't be robbing banks... right? He glanced at Arthur, who looked equally unsure, and sighed.
There would be plenty of time to figure things out on the road.
Notes:
So I managed to get this next part out a lot faster this time! Hopefully the momentum will keep up until the end. In other news: finally, some answers have been given about the Venetian Robbers... or have they? Stay tuned, guys; there are only a couple of parts until the end!
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~staying tuned, brb getting popcorn~
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waz supposed to say:
brain dead right now (insert witty, creative comment that basically says you are full of win)
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I love it! The puzzle is finally coming together... sort of.
Captcha: lawgiver hands. Is it talking about Tex or Germania?
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