A/N The title's a reference to 'And then there were none' because the fic is kind of like that. This fic's been rewritten so many times that I finally decided to post it. The first draft was finished on Ivan's birthday. The second draft was done on Giulio's and finally, this'll be posted on Bernardo's. Happy Birthday Uncle Bernie!

It happened gradually. So slowly and discreetly that even Bernardo's seemingly endless spread of intelligence around Daivan was left unaware about it.

It only truly became apparent when the police suddenly began ignoring their generous bribes. More and more CR: 5 soldiers were being thrown in prison; less and less pardons were being issued, peaking at the time when Bernardo lost contact with the police chief.

Abruptly, the town was suddenly set abuzz with rumours of a new police chief. One that was fierce and spoke with empowering determination about his conviction to rid the town of its mafia scum.

The townspeople sat with their ears glued their radios, as if entranced by his speeches. They were tired of hearing endless news reports about innocent civilian casualties, tired of worrying that the next name to be solemnly read out would be a name they recognized.

The new police chief had the folks of Daivan practically eating out of his hand.

The one thing hinting at his absolute hypocrisy, however, was the head of a skull tattoo leering eerily from the skin at the collar of his prim and proper uniform.

It seems that they had underestimated just how far the GD had managed to dig their rotten claws into their town.

In the span of several weeks, the streets that were covered with filth and scum seemed even dirtier. The fences, signboards, storefronts and roadsides were practically overflowing with posters of the four captains and their capo, a hefty, seven digit reward advertised in bold numerals below.

It didn't take a genius to see how that large reward money made the people's teeth gnash in hunger.

-5-

Giulio is the first to go when, during a shootout with the police, he takes a bullet meant for Gian straight to the heart.

No matter how much of a killing machine the quiet lavender haired young man is, there's no way he could've survived such a fatal wound. However, it is with impressive effort that Giulio manages to take out more than half their pursuers before he collapses.

It's an unexpected and crushing loss for Gian, who has to be dragged kicking and screaming off of Giulio's cooling body by the combined efforts of Ivan and Luchino.

His strange fondness for the blond had always been Giulio's greatest weakness, and there's nothing Gian could've done to prevent the man from jumping in front of him and biting the bullet at the very last second.

At least he goes quickly and quietly whilst cradled in Gian's arms.

Gian still punches Ivan hard for pointing that out later.

-4-

Bernardo goes so quietly that Gian doesn't even notice until Luchino staggers into their temporary hideout, face a worrying ashen colour and alone.

"Bernardo's missing." He says grimly and both Ivan and Gian freeze. "The police caught us while we were trying to contact Councelor Cavalli. We were ambushed on the way back. Bernardo and I... We were chased apart and I haven't seen him since."

Ivan punches the thin walls of the cabin hard enough for the plaster to give way slightly under the force of his knuckles.

"Fucking bastards!" He spits, running a hand through his messy hair. "What about Gramps?"

Luchino shrugs glumly, lacking his usual flair.

"No answer, though I have no doubt that he's gone into hiding." Luchino sighs in defeat. "We can't blame him. He has the young lady Rosalia to think about."

Ivan is silent, simmering in his rage, but ultimately consoled by the fact that at the very least, Cavalli and Rosalia would be safe.

"We can't give up hope," Gian desperately pipes up. "We'll wait till morning, I'm sure Bernardo'll show up."

But when the next day's evening sun starts to set, staining the small cabin in blood red colours, it's evident that Bernardo's gone.

-3-

Daivan's no longer safe. That much is certain. The three of them steal a car and hurry their way to the border in a desperate attempt to flee town.

What greets them at the checkpoint is a police barricade and severe identity checks at each border. Luchino, who's driving, doesn't see it until they've drawn the police's attention.

With a curse, Luchino slams on the brakes and reverses jerkily, barking at Gian and Ivan to hold on.

The police pile into their cars and are annoyingly persistent in their town-wide chase. It's not until they hit a dead end that the police lets up on the heavy gunfire.

Huddled in the back seat with no where to run, the three men trade grim expressions as they desperately attempt to strategize their next move.

From somewhere ahead, the amplified voice of a police officer shouting into a megaphone is heard.

"Surrender now and we won't shoot."

Empty promises. The ominous 'click' of the safety being released guarantees that a hail of bullets will be upon them the second they show their faces.

"We've got no choice." Ivan's fear is palpable for the first time since Gian's met the man. "It's either we make a run for it or sit here like target practice and wait for our deaths."

Outmanned and outgunned, the odds do not look good but the three of them nod in silent agreement.

Ivan lifts his fingers, showing a three. It's their countdown and once Ivan's folded in all of his fingers, they are to jump out of the car and make a blind scramble to what is hopefully safety.

Except, Luchino doesn't run away with them.

He hops into the driver's seat and revs the engine noisily before ramming two tons of cold hard steel into a handful of shocked officers.

Gian turns in time to see Luchino grinning impishly from the driver's seat, winking and blowing one final kiss to him before his body is riddled with thousands of bullet holes.

-2-

It's just Gian and Ivan now. The two have put aside petty rivalry and work as best they can to survive.

It's been a wild week, to say the least, and Gian, who's never been too good with pressure, is cracking under the immense stress of survival. Despite how he may seem, Ivan isn't completely dense. He knows this paranoia better than Gian does.

Still, it's a miracle that they've managed to survive this long, especially when the whole of Daivan's crawling with coppers and civilians alike just waiting to claim that reward money hanging over their heads. But there's only so long that they can bear to impose on the generosity of the abbesses'.

So it was decided. The two would leave their temporary shelter in St. Rita's abbey, sneak back into the family's weapon storage, gather a few long range weapons and do their best to escape this death trap of a town.

The plan was supposed to be straightforward. Grab and go. It was truly an idiot proof plan.

Perhaps it was complacency that led them into being spotted by a few kids playing by the river.

Now, barricaded in a spare room of the weapons storage, the police shouting threats at them from behind the door, they seemed well and truly screwed. Ivan lets a colorful vocabulary spew forth from his mouth like a broken dam, cursing those blabbermouth boys to hell and back.

"They have us surrounded, what do we do?" Gian hisses desperately.

"The fuck if I know!" Ivan shrieks back, "Shut up, I'm trying to think!"

He throws his gaze wildly around the room, pewter grey eyes grazing past useless pieces of furniture, abandoned crates and used ticket stubs before landing on a leather suitcase resting inconspicuously in a corner. He lugs it over, throwing an occasional glance at the makeshift barricade they've assembles.

"Get in the trunk." Ivan orders, ignoring Gian's confusion. "Just do what I fucking say and get in the trunk!"

"Ivan, what are you-" He doesn't get a chance to finish the questions as Ivan delivers a swift blow to the back of his neck, effectively silencing him as he collapses like a deadweight into Ivan's arms. Hurriedly, Ivan hefts Gian's unconscious form into the trunk and carves a few air holes into the thick leather before tucking it back under the table, safely out of sight.

"Alright Lucky Dog, time to show your stuff." Ivan growls, stepping away as the barricade on the door comes apart.

-1-

Plastered on every possible wall surface across Daivan is an endless sea of white posters. The same walls that had once held pictures of the rest of the captains have been replaced with Gian's and only Gian's face.

Town square's large billboard advertises triumphantly the faces of the four captains, a large ugly cross marring their handsome features as they had been slowly wiped out over the course of the past few weeks. This time, however, the bottom of Gian's poster reads 'Wanted: Alive'.

It makes his lips curl in disgust. They plan to hang him in public. On the outside, it's a farce to appease the citizens of Daivan and a warning towards those intent on joining the mafia. On the inside, it's a show of dominance against the CR:5. We've captured your king, checkmate.

With a deep inhale, Gian finishes his cigarette in one puff before dropping the butt to the ground and crushing it under the sole of his shoe.

His destination is the police station. The gears in Gian's mind turn. If they want a show, he'll be more than happy to oblige.

The streets are heavy with the putrid smell of gossip.

Giancarlo Bourbon del Monte, Capo of the CR:5, has turned himself in. His execution will take place at noon in the town square.

A crowd has already gathered in anticipation.

At noon on the dot, all the rumours were proved right. The young Capo del Monte is marched into the square, flanked by two uniformed police officers, towards the gallows that had been hastily put together for the occasion.

Despite its shoddy workmanship, it still stands, menacing and towering. The executioner is already standing at the platform, impatiently tapping away at the lever that will end Gian's life.

The priest reads out his sins and offers prayers to the Lord to show mercy upon Gian's misguided soul. The blond isn't paying attention. Instead, he's glaring straight at the new police chief, who's smirking triumphantly at him from his front row seat.

'I win, Capo del Monte.'

The priest ends his spiel and Gian's glare turns into a curious smile.

'Not so fast.'

He aims to steady kicks at the crotches of the two policemen flanking him and they keel over instantly in pain as Gian turns to face a crowd of faces twisted in outrage.

His grin stretches upon his mirthful features as he sticks out his tongue and flips off the crowd. In his other hand, he flourishes a switch that he had produced from his pocket as if it were a magic wand.

"Ladies and gents," he croons into the switch as if it were a mic. "I'm so terribly honored that you took time out of your busy schedule to come to my party."

His gaze flickers to the four explosives he had wired around the square, in honor of the four captains who gave their lives to protect him.

His grin sinks for a moment before he returns his gaze to the audience and fingers the switch. "But the real festivities have yet to come, so don't fall asleep just yet, you'll enjoy this one."

And for a second, Giancarlo Bourbon del Monte is on top of the world.

"Eat my dust, fuckers!" he cackles, pushing the switch in his hand.

The square is engulfed in flame and wreckage as Gian disappears into the inferno.

-0-