Manhattan was very different from many of the streets of Italy Giorno was used to. Tons of cars whizzed by, the ionic yellow taxis everywhere. People laughed or chatted with one another as they walked by, Giorno trying to adjust to hearing English constantly rather than the comforts of Italian. Endless arrays of neutral-toned, sleek buildings masked the sky above. Hardly any buildings in Italy ever reached past five stories.
Yet here was Giorno standing, staring at the tall door of a condo on the 8th floor of a 20-floor building.
He glanced back down at the wallet he had opened in his hands. In it was an ID of himself, or rather the face of the Giorno of the current reality, captured with the usual serious expression Giorno knew himself to have. However, the expression was the only familiar bit of himself the stand-user could relate to. Ever since finding the wallet and smart phone he had in his pockets, Giorno caught his hands to be trembling ever so slightly. Thankful the Mafioso was used to having a smart phone, being it was only reason Giorno arrived at the address before him. He proceeded to fish out the small ring of keys he found alongside the wallet and phone and opened the door.
Golden Experience appeared behind Giorno as he peered into the home, protectively guarding his rear. Closing the front door, the blonde crossed from the foyer and into the rather lavishly designed living space. Deep wine-colored couches, dark metal and wood furniture and gold accented pieces were thoughtfully placed. A large black piano sat in a far corner, matching the equally dark curtains of the home. The walls were a warm brown color, much of the interior decorated with stunning art pieces and pots of various plants. Off further to his left lead into a dinning space, similarly designed. A large deep brown dining table sat in the middle with eight seats. The chandelier above, dazzling with its crystal-like design.
With the help of Golden Experience, the gangstar was relieved to find no one else was in the home. He passed further through into a small hallway, his left hand reaching for the first door he saw.
It was a study room; centered in the middle sat a large wooden desk, behind it three large windows adorned with thick, dark green curtains and a large traditional-styled office chair. To the right of the entrance, the entire wall was a built-in bookshelf, stacked with various books and binders. Opposite, the wall was decorated with pictures and various awards. Giorno stepped further within the room, engulfing the details. The same gold accents that marked the other rooms before were repeated, the office space just as lavish as the rest of the home; most notably the shine of a gold name plate engraved with the words, "DIO BRANDO". Brushing his fingertips against the edge of the desk, it hadn't occurred to Giorno that his father may had a career.
He studied the numerous certifications and diplomas that hung on the office's wall, his eyes capturing every word. Law, economics, business degrees, all held from English universities. The Dio of the reality Giorno knew, had been born between the years 1867 to 1868, was of British blood and had inhuman abilities; whatever reports he managed to dig up stated Dio was vampire. When Giorno thought back, he could remember how his mother would rest her chin upon her hand, dreamily stating how his father was incredible and charming but stated an allergy to the sun.
Moving away and towards the bookshelf, the blonde spotted a section with a couple of standard size picture frames. Golden Experience hoovered around, almost as though studying the photos itself. Giorno pulled one of the pictures down, his thumbs resting on both sides of the ladybug themed frame. In the photo was of Dio, Giorno assumed, mid-laugh as he held a wide-eyed, smiling blond-haired toddler. The knotting feeling enveloped his stomach again. Giorno quickly glanced back up, spotting another picture frame. He placed the ladybug one back and grabbed for the newly discovered one.
In it was an older photo, not vintage, but dating back to the 70s or 80s era. A beautiful, young Caucasian woman stared back; her brilliant blue eyes echoed a quiet sadness as a soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her long brown hair was worn down, curling at the ends over her dark purple dress. Something about the photo felt haunting, almost as though she felt lost. Carefully, Giorno set the frame back to its original spot and left the room, Golden Experience shutting the door.
Across the office, offset by a bit, was one more door. Giorno grabbed for the handle and pushed the door open.
A large black plush rug covered much of the ash-colored wood floor of the room. A queen-sized bed sat centered on the wall across alongside two matching nightstands while a dresser sat adjacent. Similarly like the rest of the home, various plants were placed about. Giorno mindlessly crossed over towards the already-made bed, reaching over to a large ladybug plushie. As childish as he felt, Giorno held the plushie against his chest, the action washing a strange sense of comfort over him. Instantly, Giorno knew the room belonged to the other Giorno, the very Giorno whose body he had woken up into.
The room was much more than Giorno ever had growing up; having been used to the more bland, empty and soulless aspects of his childhood. Still clutching the ladybug toy, Giorno couldn't help but notice the golden ladybug décor that topped his dresser. He internally sighed, rethinking the two Giornos had more in common than he had thought.
Before Giorno further could examine the room, he heard the click of the front door unlocking. Golden Experience quickly shut off the lights as its user ducked along the far side of the bed. Giorno steadied his breathing, picking up on the sound of something being set down on a hard surface. Soon enough the sound was followed by the tough soles of a singular pair of boots against wooden floors, gradually getting louder as they headed in direction of the bedroom. Fearing someone had been following him, Giorno gripped the carpet, ready to fight if need be, acknowledging Golden Experience, though no longer Requiem, was still a powerful attack stand.
The footsteps stopped before the bedroom's door, the gangstar now able to see a pair of brown boots, men's boots, as he peered underneath the bed's frame.
"MUDA!"
Giorno chose to act, Golden Experience swinging a heavy punch towards the intruder.
"Bloody 'ell!" the man cried out, his voice also with an English accent.
Immediately, Giorno pulled back his stand, forcing it to fade back to him. The "intruder", looking no older than being in his 30s, had blocked Golden Experience's punch with an odd, claw-like hand. Without a second's doubt, Giorno knew he was facing a fellow stand user. However, it wasn't the fact the man was a stand user that astonished him-
"Giorno Brando! Have lost your fuckin' mind!" the blonde-haired man spoke, sounding partially angry but more bewildered. "You done nearly knocked me out!"
Once more Giorno's throat cease to make a response; he just stood, gawking at the man before him.
"You feeling alright?
The man's hand morphed back to normal from its claw-like appearance as he cautiously walked over towards the gangstar. Giorno just froze, cold sweats once again dotting the back of his neck. The older blonde was strikingly handsome, his hair a similar shade of blonde to Giorno's own and his eyes were also an uncanny bright blue color.
"Dio?" Giorno finally managed to weakly gasp out.
The man rose a brow in slight amusement, "You're definitely not feeling well at all. I know you been having trouble sleeping as of late-" Giorno just stood, his eyes locked with the man's own. Unconsciously he flinched as the older blonde, placed a hand over his forehead. "-your forehead is burning up," the man paused, worry masking onto his face as he peered down at the teen. "Giorno. It's me, Diego".
The teen brain failed to register the name.
"Diego Brando? Your uncle?" the man spoke, continuing his last statement.
Giorno figured his eyes must have singled a shift as he watched Diego force a small grin.
"What's going on? The nurses said you had left in a hurry. I thought I told you to wait for me," Diego stated, crossing his arms as he huffed a sigh.
Giorno knew he had to say something, just enough not to raise any suspicion.
"I wasn't feeling well, woke up from a weird dream," the teen half-lied softly, once more hearing the English accent to his newly acquired voice
"You couldn't have waited for me? You scared me, especially with not answering your damn phone!" Diego grumbled before pulling Giorno into a side hug and placing hand on top of his nephew's hair, giving playful jostle to the teen's locks. The younger felt his face flush from the sudden embrace. "It's fine," the older blonde continued. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I know it's not easy for you to see your dad in such a state. You're making yourself sick. Last thing I need is my nephew falling on me. Jesus, you feel sweaty!"
Giorno opened his mouth to say something, but Diego hastily pulled him by his arm outside the room. They passed the office and dining and went into the kitchen, that sat open spaced from the living room. Diego wasted no time in commanding Giorno to sit at the large white marble island while he began to dig through a grocery bag on the counter.
"Here," a small container slid in Giorno's direction. "I know how much you love chocolate pudding. Your dad always had me make sure there's a stockpile for you," Diego smirked as proceeded to open a pudding cup for himself.
"Thank you," Giorno replied, dumbfounded.
A water bottle was slid in the teen's direction a second later, Diego taking a seat next to Giorno.
"You can't expect your fever to get better unless you get some water."
Giorno simply nodded his head as he went on to eat his pudding. They both sat in silence with just the kitchen light on, the city lights illuminating the night sky outside the windows. The constant knotting feeling kept the gangstar from enjoying his favorite snack; though it shouldn't be a surprise Giorno Brando would love chocolate pudding as much as Giorno Giovanna. Diego was slowly eating, skimming through his phone. Giorno kept his best from looking over too often but knowing Dio Brando had a brother completely stunned him. From what he understood, Dio of his reality was an only child. From seeing Diego's face, Giorno figured Diego was the younger of the two brothers.
Moments went by before Diego spoke up again.
"I also brought some sandwiches, figuring pudding isn't exactly a full dinner."
The teen glanced over as Diego reached over to the shopping bag, pulling out two sandwiches before placing one in front of the gangstar. The older nudged Giorno with his elbow, "Eat up".
More moments of silence passed between them, allowing the younger to try to process his thoughts. Diego hair was messy mullet, like Giorno's own hair and to the picture of Dio he always kept in his original wallet. He wore a teal half-sleeve shirt, adorning a diamond cross pattern, and beige khaki joggers. His frame was lean and muscular, though smaller than what Giorno seen in comparison to Dio. Of course, Diego was still taller than Giorno, but only by two or three inches. The younger knew...his uncle would have much of the answers he was searching for. Was Diego similar to Dio? Giorno mentally shook himself at his own childish excitement. Multiple problems were presenting themselves to the now ex-Don. By some bizarre mannerism, Giorno Giovanna slipped into the body of another Giorno, of another dimension.
Had he no access to Giorno Brando's consciousness? There had to be some way to uncover how and why he woke up in a different Giorno's body. From the corner of his eye, he peeked at Diego as the man continue to munch on his meatball sub. The two of them spoke with obvious British accents, so it was clear, Giorno was able to tap into the procedural memories of the body he inhabited. Despite this, no episodic memory was appearing; only those of his former reality.
Was this permanent? Being another Giorno? What happened to his old body-
"He'll wake up."
Blinking, Giorno turned towards his newly discovered uncle, masking his sudden surprise.
"Pardon?"
"Your dad's too much of an asshole to let anything take him down."
Giorno must had a look to his face as he scrunched up his brows. Diego soften his scowl in response as he turned his gaze away, his eyes focused elsewhere.
"He never lets anything get in his way. None of us do," the older met Giorno's eyes with an intensity that felt all too familiar. The woman's sad gaze flashed into teen's mind, a somber tone gripping at his core.
"So don't dare let this get to you!"
Diego stood up, grabbing his trash as he proceeded to clean up for the two. Giorno just simply nodded, accepting now he had more questions than answers than ever before.