Ghiaccio said, uncharacteristically calm, "Besides avenging Sobel and Gerard, we can also seize control of the Boss's money! The inexhaustible drug routes—we'll become the new Boss."
Another silence ensued, and Illuso couldn't help but say, "Ghiaccio, are you dreaming? We don't even know who the Boss is, how could we possibly kill him? You're going against all of Italy!"
Johnson Joffrey glanced at Illuso, sighing inwardly, 'I know!'
"No," Prosciutto said calmly, "the Boss won't trust us at all. Things have happened one after another. I, Prosciutto, will no longer stay in this organization. Captain, instead of living a lifetime in fear, why not go for one big score? That is my, Prosciutto's, gangster rule!"
"Brother..." Pesci said, surprised.
"Pesci, make your own judgment," Prosciutto said with an elegant smile.
"You guys are impossible. If we're going to investigate the organization, we at least need a method, right?" Formaggio kicked the cat away, looking helpless, but he had clearly agreed.
"Di molto!" Melone licked his lips. "I knew U.S. boy wouldn't do anything good. But there's really no other way. I've been tolerating this organization for too long. It's time to let them see the strength of our team."
"Hey, have you all gone mad?" Illuso clapped his hands, exasperated. "Fine! I ask you! How are we going to do this! We don't even know if the Boss is human!"
"The Boss's hometown is in Sardinia."
"Think about it carefully, what has the organization done in Italy... What did you just say?!"
Johnson Joffrey took a deep breath and dropped another bombshell, "The Boss's hometown is in Sardinia."
"..."
"How do you know, Johnson?" Risotto reacted.
"I heard it from Polpo," Johnson said, his red eyes unwavering, "He let it slip when we were fighting."
"..."
Polpo was a high-ranking executive, practically ruling all of Southern Italy. While the Boss's whereabouts were supposedly unknown to everyone, if Polpo knew, it seemed plausible. Polpo, believing he would win, might have said something out of pique, which was normal.
But the most important thing was that the Assassination Team had nothing left to rely on. The reason they hadn't opposed the organization for so long wasn't because the organization was too powerful. Which of them didn't have hundreds of lives on their hands (except for Pesci)? They had long since put life and death out of their minds. The fundamental reason for not opposing was actually not knowing how to resist.
The Assassination Team's true rebellion would come two years later, when they tracked down Trish's location—it took them a full two years just to investigate Trish.
But now, Johnson's single sentence changed everything.
This was information.
Suddenly, as if from heaven to hell, all the members of the Assassination Team were speechless. After a long silence, until the air felt like it would freeze, Risotto finally spoke:
"Then, we will go to Sardinia to search for the Boss's traces! Departing in ten minutes!"
As soon as Risotto finished speaking, the team members began returning to their rooms to pack their belongings. Risotto looked at Johnson silently, "Why weren't you injured when you fought Polpo?"
Johnson frowned, recalling his arduous yet fascinating life in the crowded sewers, and couldn't help but feel a headache.
"I can draw energy from other objects to restore my own energy," Johnson said. "It provided enough energy for my wounds to heal, and I even mended my clothes in the process."
Risotto was stunned for a moment. Johnson continued, "I just discovered it myself."
"Good," Risotto smiled. "Use your ability well to protect yourself."
After everyone had gathered, they pushed open the large doors, officially taking their first step in betraying Passione.
Prosciutto lowered his emerald eyes, looked down at Johnson, and suddenly whispered in his ear:
"I always have a feeling that all of this was arranged by you. First, you made us betray the organization, and then you gave us information. Isn't this strange? Our every move seems to be driven by you."
Prosciutto's voice was barely audible, but it clearly reached Johnson's ears. However, Johnson tilted his head, showing a puzzled expression, as if to say, "What are you saying? I don't understand italian."
Prosciutto sneered, reached out and poked his chest, then leaned in and said, "Pesci is very afraid of you. Although he's a mama's boy, he's surprisingly sensitive and talented sometimes."
"Hey, Johnson, Prosciutto, what are you two doing? Going to get a room? Hurry up," Ghiaccio yelled.
"The bounty has been issued."
Bucciarati was silent for a long time before suddenly speaking. The restaurant owner brought four pieces of cake and smiled, nodding at Bucciarati.
Bucciarati returned the gesture and then said, "The Assassination Team has confirmed their defection."
Upon hearing this, even Narancia's hand, holding the cake, stiffened and hung in mid-air, as he stared at Bucciarati in astonishment.
"The organization's meaning is—whoever can kill Risotto will be the new capo!" Bucciarati closed his eyes and sighed.
Abbacchio's hand on the table tapped lightly, "What do we do now? All of Italy will be in chaos; all the gangs will mobilize to catch Risotto, even those like the Beruni in the north will take action!"
"Not only that, the south will be truly miserable," Fugo calmly analyzed. "Without Polpo's management, the entire south will fall into a disaster of fighting for territory, snatching money, routes, and businesses! The southern empire managed by the gangs will completely vanish, at least until the next capo appears."
Narancia looked at Abbacchio, then at Fugo, impressed but not fully understanding.
Bucciarati clasped his hands together and placed them to his mouth, contemplating for a long time, then suddenly stood up and walked to the window of the small restaurant. He looked out at the bustling pedestrians.
A child kicked a soccer ball into the air, and it fell back down. Several poor italian old women showed weary expressions, exchanging goods and money.
This was Italy, his homeland.
The calm surface revealed a true sorrow, because you didn't know the future of these people. An elderly old woman might have a child at home addicted to drugs, and the child kicking the soccer ball might completely lose his future due to the rampant spread of drugs.
He looked down at his hands, and that heartfelt sorrow spread.
So powerless, what could he change? He couldn't even stop the people in his territory from taking drugs. The nightmare of his childhood haunted this sensible child from a poor fishing village.
Several pigeons flew across the azure sky of Naples. This clear blue sky suddenly made him recall his dreams from when he was still in the small fishing village.
Bucciarati's furrowed brows suddenly relaxed. He clenched his fists, turned to the members of his team, and slowly spoke:
"Fugo, Abbacchio, Narancia."
"I want to become a capo."
Narancia stared blankly at Bucciarati. He stood with his back to the window, like an angel against the light, and the cake he had brought to his mouth stopped abruptly.
Narancia finally gave up on the cake and clapped his hands forcefully, "Bucciarati is going to become a capo!"
It was completely groundless, but Narancia was already convinced: Bucciarati was going to become a capo! He said he would, and he definitely would!
"Becoming a capo is good, of course," Fugo said, but then calmly analyzed, "But our team has too few members; our strength definitely can't compare to the powerful Assassination Team!"
"That's not true! Aerosmith is very strong! Even if it crashes, I'll make Bucciarati a capo!"
"Shut up, Narancia!" Fugo shouted helplessly, "Some things are hard to achieve even with the resolve to crash!"
Narancia was speechless.
"Even so, we still have to try," Abbacchio suddenly said. "Go figure out a way; doing nothing is the real failure."
"You're right," Bucciarati smiled. "I've already thought it through. We have too few members. Tomorrow, I've decided to go look for more companions!"