Giorno and Hol retired to the turtle. Ungalo stretched out in the back, gave Dio a wary look, and then rolled onto his side, his face pressed close to the seat. He shifted uncomfortably a few times but eventually his breathing grew low and even.

Dio sat in the front passenger seat and stared out into the dimly-lit parking lot. There were a few scattered cars around, probably belonging to the graveyard shift workers. He peered out into the darkness and paid close attention to his intuition. It didn't feel like there was any danger approaching, so he turned his attention to the dashboard of the car. He pulled at the latch on the glove compartment and sorted through the papers. Reading the owner's manual wouldn't tell him the rules of the road but at least he would be a bit more knowledgeable about operating the van.

The first pale hints of the sun were appearing on the horizon when Giorno half-exited the turtle. He gently shoved Ungalo's shoulder. "Good morning. Turtle timeout is over. If you want to keep sleeping, you can go in."

Ungalo looked at him blearily, wiped his mouth on his arm, and then blinked at the turtle. Giorno fully left the gem and landed on the seat in a crouch. Ungalo frowned in confusion but reached out and disappeared.

Mista popped out a moment later and landed on the seat with a thud. He stretched out his arms and his shoulders popped. "Alright. I'll drive the first half then you can take the second." Tiny voices chattered and he frowned. "Sex Pistols want breakfast."

"A drive-through is probably our best option," Giorno answered. "Any preference?"

Mista held up his palm to his face and consulted his Stand. "They want a burrito."

"I'll look up some places on the GPS," Giorno replied, and he nodded at Dio. "Good morning."

For having read about Cairo, Giorno was always rather blasé about Dio's presence. Dio waved a languid hand in return. "Good morning."

"Would you prefer to sit in the back for this drive?" Giorno asked. "You'll get less sun that way."

What a considerate way to reclaim the shotgun seat. Dio nodded and swung the car door open.


They obtained a burrito breakfast, ate quickly inside the car, passed a few extras to Polnareff to distribute when Ungalo and Hol woke up, and then they were off once more. The GPS brought them to the outskirts of Orlando before turning them onto the turnpike at around 9 AM. There were other cars on the road, but the traffic wasn't awful. It became a slog outside of the city but once they headed out towards the nearby lake they were able to cruise along the long, straight road.

That was until a motorcycle went tearing past them in the left lane. Mista huffed and watched it zoom out ahead of them. "See, what's the point of me being good and following the speed limit when you have assholes like that around?"

The motorcycle slowed down. Giorno tilted his head and gave a small smile. "They must have heard you." His smile disappeared when the motorcycle veered into their lane and continued to decelerate.

"Whoa, whoa." Mista pumped the brakes, dropping the speed of the van and keeping ample space between them and the motorcycle. "The fuck? They drunk or something?"

"This early in the day? I suppose it's possible." Giorno frowned as the motorcycle sped up again. "Engine trouble?"

"It looks like it's working fine to me," Mista replied. When the motorcycle began weaving between the two lanes he sighed and slapped his hand against the horn. "Come on. Really?"

The latch on the turtle opened and Polnareff's head and shoulders appeared. "Are we driving on a winding road or something? These two are getting carsick. Didn't think that could happen inside the turtle, but…"

"Oh, Ungalo might need the kit," Giorno replied, but then he frowned in thought. "Wait, Hol isn't feeling well, either?"

"Nope." Polnareff paused and there was a loud thump from within the turtle. Polnareff winced. "I think he just fell over."

"Shit!" Mista slammed on the brakes. The motorcycle veered too sharply; it tipped over and the rider was sent skidding onto the berm. The tires squealed as the van stopped just before hitting into the fallen motorcycle.

"Pull over," Giorno said.

Mista turned the steering wheel. "Got it." He pressed the gas and the car lurched forward and to the left. He put his foot back on the brake and the van stopped in the middle of both lanes. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the steering wheel.

"Mista, did you intend to turn left instead of right?" Giorno asked.

He frowned. "I did not."

"Don't touch the steering wheel." Giorno thought for a moment, then began to reach out a hand. His arm smacked into the car door and he frowned. "Stand attack. I think our left and right are switched." He focused for a short while and his hand hit the door again.

Dio, who had been sitting in the center of the back seat, reached straight forward and shifted the car into reverse. "Is that what you were going for?"

Giorno nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Mista pressed tentatively on the gas and the van went back into the right lane and continued to reverse until they were safely on the shoulder. He went to put the hazard lights on but his hand just slapped at the door window.

"It's not just our perception of left and right, but our intention, as well," Giorno explained. "Think to yourself that you're going to lift your left hand and touch the part of the dash closest to the door. That should bring you close to the hazard light button."

Mista furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Eventually, his right hand lifted and he pressed his hand against the center of the dashboard. He managed to press the button.

Giorno frowned thoughtfully. "That's why they're carsick. We were fine because we were traveling forward in a straight line. We didn't have the chance to notice that things had switched." He glanced down at Mista's legs. "The gas and the brake weren't confusing for you?"

"No, they were normal." Mista kicked out one foot experimentally. "I think my feet still have normal directions. But my hands are switched, and…" His head swung to the right. "Eugh. Okay, yeah. Looking left sends me the other way unless I only use my eyes." He pursed his lips. "I'm starting to feel carsick and we're not even moving."

"We'll need to find the user before we can drive again," Giorno stated.

"The rider might be the Stand user," Mista said. "It won't be safe to shoot them like this until I adjust to how different it is."

Giorno peered out the window and frowned. "They're unconscious, so I don't think that it is their Stand. But it's like…" He trailed off and his expression grew more confused. "There's something around them. A lot of things, actually, but they seem to be spreading out. Could two Stand users be attacking?"

"If more cars come, it is not going to be safe here," Dio added. When he glanced out at the prone motorcycle rider, he could feel some odd pull at his intuition, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He went to move to the left seat. He lurched to the right. He reached out to the center of the car and his hand hit against the door handle. "I'm going to find out what the range is," he said as he swung the door open. He had applied sunscreen earlier, so if he took the umbrella, he would have several minutes of safety under the Florida sun. He focused to account for the switched directions and he managed to grab the umbrella from the car floor.

Giorno figured out how to open his door, as well. "Mista, cover him. I don't think this Stand has other offensive capabilities, but the user could have a weapon. I'll check on the motorcycle rider and take the turtle with me. We should regroup on the other side of the safety rail. That will at least give us some protection if another car is affected."

Mista nodded in agreement and fumbled at the handle a few times before he was able to get out of the car. Dio stopped time and ran several meters down the road, checking at intervals to see if moving his left arm instead lifted his right. When time began again he was a good distance away from the car, but the effects of the Stand were still active. He turned carefully and looked at the inbound section of the turnpike past the central metal divider and narrow strip of grass.

He sighed to himself. A Port St. Lucie cop car had no business being parked west of Orlando. The vehicle had pulled off to the side of the road but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Pucci must have installed a Stand in one of the officers and sent him out after them.

Pucci knew that bullets wouldn't stop Dio. Would he allow (or instruct?) the officer to shoot one of his sons? Perhaps not. But Pucci would have no qualms about killing off someone like Hol or…

Mista lifted his revolver and swung it one way, then the other. "Giorno, do you sense anyone else?"

"There are a lot of animals in the wetlands past the road," he answered. "It's hard to tell anything beyond that." He crouched at the side of the motorcycle rider and put a hand on his shoulder. "He's just knocked out. A little scraped up, but nothing seems broken." He frowned in confusion. "The air around him feels cold." He carefully set the turtle in the grass before reaching towards the rider's helmet.

Dio peered out beyond the pavement. Was the Stand user camouflaged in some way? Were they taking aim right now? "Mista," he called out, and Mista turned to look at him but slapped a hand to his forehead when he went the wrong way. "Can you use your Stand defensively if someone tries to shoot you?"

"I can," he answered, "but they aren't too happy right now." Sex Pistols were floating uneasily, disoriented from the flipped directions. One was weeping while another kept muttering curses under its breath.

Giorno pulled the helmet from the rider's head. He stared down at a face that was familiar yet unfamiliar all at once. "Ah."

"So you're saying you're defenseless right now, Mista?" Dio asked loudly.

Mista glared at him. "What are you getting at?"

There was a loud bang. Dio stopped time. The bullet ground to a halt a foot away from Mista's chest. Dio sprinted straight at him and managed to shove him out of the way just as time began again. He threw out his arm and pointed. "The Stand user is…" He paused, rolled his eyes, shifted his grip on the umbrella, and lifted his other arm to direct Mista towards the trajectory of the bullet. "That way."

"On it." Mista narrowed his eyes, carefully turned to face the direction Dio had pointed, and raised the revolver. "Not too smart of them to attack in a way where we can respond in a straight line. Then again, if they're new to their Stand because it was installed like you said, they probably don't know how to use it well." He fired twice and two of the Sex Pistols followed. "They aren't going to be able to ricochet in this state, but they can point out where the user is," he explained.

Dio used the umbrella to shield his eyes as he looked up the road. "Cars are coming. If they turn to look at us, they'll probably crash. I'm going to move the motorcycle off the road. On its own, the van shouldn't be too distracting."

Mista began walking towards the metal barrier. "Good plan. I'm going to keep tracking the user."

Giorno lifted his hand and held up a wallet. "Lucky us. We found another brother. This is Rikiel."

Mista made the mistake of turning to look. He shook his head and groaned. "What? How? I thought he was in Tallahassee."

"Maybe he was visiting Orlando." Giorno hooked an arm under Rikiel's shoulder and began to pull. Dio ducked down beside him and picked up the motorcycle. He tossed it into the grass on the other side of the barrier, where it landed with a loud crash. He grabbed Rikiel by the ankles and helped Giorno heave him over the metal. They both crouched down on the other side and Giorno pulled the turtle closer just in time. A few cars drove past but none were distracted by the van. They continued driving peacefully forward in a straight line.

Giorno went to stand, but Dio put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "Stay low. Don't get shot and don't let any drivers see you." Dio crawled further into the tall grass, not minding the marshy puddles getting muck onto his pants. He could hear Mista a few meters away doing the same thing, as well as Sex Pistols shouting somewhere in the distance.

Dio heard the crack of Mista's gun, then the slightly lower-pitched bang of whatever weapon the Stand user had. He stopped time and lunged forward.

The Stand user was a middle-aged officer with a handgun. His Stand was a greenish-gray camo-patterned shape that was draped over him like a bulky jacket with a hood. Dio flicked the bullets headed for Mista out of the way and then grabbed the Stand user by the neck, all while careful to keep the umbrella over his head.

Time began again. Mista had managed to get a good shot in. Dio could smell fresh, coppery blood seeping from the man's shoulder.

Dio dug a finger into the man's windpipe. "Turn off your ability."

The man swung up his gun and fired point-blank into Dio's chest. When Dio only rolled his eyes in response the man gave a wheezing shriek. His Stand faded away; right and left returned to their rightful (and leftful?) places.

Dio pulled the gun from the man's hand and held it out to Mista. "So, tell me. What exactly did Pucci tell you to do here? You managed to be a minor inconvenience, sure, but what were you supposed to do?" He began to walk back toward the road and shook the man by the neck. "Kill us off or just cause a scene?"

The man looked confused. "I don't—I don't know."

Oh, of course. If Pucci just put the instructions onto his disc, then the man was probably only barely aware of what he was doing. He probably didn't even know his Stand's name.

"Such an indiscriminate Stand power," Dio thought aloud. "Wielded by someone who will never have the chance to master its use. The same goes for the last one we encountered. Is he just trying to upset me?"

Ahead of them, Giorno put a hand on Rikiel's shoulder as he came back to consciousness with a groan. The lid on the turtle flipped off and Ungalo fell onto the grass. He was pale with nausea. "Oh, God. I'm so glad you pulled over. I'm gonna fuckin' barf up my burrito."

Dio had an idea. Everyone else got to enjoy their breakfast; why not him, too? He held up the struggling man and grinned. "Hey, Ungalo. You said that you didn't believe that I was a vampire, correct?" When Ungalo looked up at him, he jauntily lifted the umbrella and then swung it to the side.

Rikiel rubbed at his eyes with gloved hands. "What just happened?" He looked back at Giorno, who had blanched and was staring ahead in shock. "Who are you?" Rikiel turned to look at Dio and went wide-eyed. He screamed. "What the hell is that?"

The sun on his skin was agony, but their reactions were delightful. Dio smiled, flashing sharp teeth from beneath his burning skin, and then swung the umbrella back up to cover him. His grip on the man's neck tightened until his hand simply entered him. The man wailed as his blood was drained until he looked like a dried husk. Energized and fully healed, Dio tossed the desiccated corpse to the side.

Ungalo ducked his head into the tall grass and vomited. Rikiel began to hyperventilate. Giorno simply continued to stare at him.

Dio took a defensive tone and rolled his eyes. "What? That was hilarious."

Giorno looked past him and locked eyes with a tense Mista, who simply gave a concerned shrug.

"As you have so kindly reminded us, you are a two-hundred-or-so years old vampire, so I won't begrudge you your… odd sense of humor," Giorno finally said, and he glanced down at the panicking Rikiel. "However, he literally just met you."

Dio shrugged. "Easing into it obviously didn't work last time." He took a few strides forward, dropped to a crouch, and waved hello to Rikiel, who was now kicking his feet against the dirt in an attempt to crawl away. "Rikiel, is it? A pleasure to meet you. I'm your father."

Giorno frowned and gave Dio a look that clearly said you're not helping. He returned his attention to Rikiel. Before he could say anything, Rikiel shoved him away and staggered to his feet. His hand swept over his boot as he stood and he pulled something into his palm. He took a few uneasy steps back and brandished a small knife defensively. "Okay. Okay. What the hell is going on?" His gaze flitted around, never coming to rest as he tried to keep an eye on Dio, Mista, Giorno, and the still-ill Ungalo all at once.

When Giorno took a careful step towards him, he swiped the blade through the air. "Don't!"

Giorno was about to say something in return, but he looked down at his hand in confusion. He flexed his fingers uncertainly, and the joints moved stiffly.

"Calm down and don't do anything stupid." Mista held up his revolver. "Gun beats knife."

Dio frowned at him. "Vampire beats knife and gun."

Giorno held up a pale and somewhat mottled-looking hand to silence them, then looked up at Rikiel. "We aren't going to hurt you."

Rikiel shook his head wildly. "You just killed that guy!"

"And he would have killed you," Dio replied, "given the opportunity. We're here to help you."

Rikiel closed his eyes, then snapped them back open, then closed them again. He broke out into a cold sweat. Giorno looked deeply confused as Rikiel brought one hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes. "I can't—this is—oh no. Shit!" He dropped to a crouch and his breath was ragged and uneven. The knife was still tightly clutched in his hand.

"There's something alive," Giorno said. "Lots of it, but I can't tell what it is. You two, stay there," he said, pointing at Mista and Dio. "Don't scare him. Rikiel, can you hear me?" He stood and held up his hands with his palms facing out. The one hand was now purplish and bruised. "You don't have to say anything. Just nod."

Giorno waited for a few long moments. Rikiel had no response for him but his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"We could just knock him out again," Dio suggested.

Giorno frowned at him but returned his attention to Rikiel. "I've seen this sort of thing before," he said, his voice calm and steady. Rikiel was still struggling to breathe and he kept pressing at his face with his free hand. "I'm going to ask you to do something that might seem silly," Giorno said, "but it is very important. Can you tell me five things you can see?"

"I can't see, I can't see shit," Rikiel spat. "My eyes—"

"You can just imagine something, then. Pretend you are standing on the side of the road. What are five things you would be able to see?"

"Why?" Rikiel wiped sweat off of his forehead and scrunched his eyes shut. "I mean… I guess I would see the road. The grass. Trees. The safety divider. The sky? I don't know."

"No, that's a good answer. We can move on to the next one. What are four things you can feel? Things like the wind on your face or the warmth of the sun. See, there's two for you already."

"Uh." Rikiel furrowed his eyebrows. "The wind and the sun. The grass is wet. My neck hurts."

"Okay. You're doing well. What are three things you can hear?"

Rikiel fell silent as he listened. "Birds. Cars. My heart is loud in my ears."

"A beating heart is a living heart, isn't it?" Giorno said lightly. "How about two things you can smell?"

Rikiel snorted. "Grass. Shitty Florida water."

Giorno glanced at Mista. "Do you still have any of the candy I gave you?"

Mista rooted around in his pockets and threw over a slightly mushed cookie in a plastic wrapper. Giorno caught it and then carefully approached Rikiel. "The last step is to focus on one taste. Would you like to eat this?"

Rikiel opened his eyes and looked surprised for a moment but then looked up at Giorno warily. Giorno gently tossed the plastic package and it landed on the grass at Rikiel's feet. "Do you feel any better?" he asked.

"I guess." He blinked at the cookie but tentatively picked it up and tore off the plastic wrapping.

"Whatever living things were swarming you have dispersed somewhat, but they're still here," Giorno explained as Rikiel bit into the cookie. "I think they are drawn to you because of your Stand. If you feel calm enough to try, I want you to focus on yourself. Think of your inner strength. It might feel weak right now, but if you focus on it, you can bring it forth."

"That's not..." Rikiel hunched his shoulders and frowned. "I don't..."

"No more of that," Giorno interrupted, his voice stern. "This is something that I cannot help you with." When Rikiel still looked upset, his tone grew calmer. "You have to do this for yourself. If you are strong enough to get this far, you are strong enough to do this, too."

Rikiel closed his eyes, but this time it looked like he did it of his own volition. Something small and green appeared on his hand.

He opened his eyes. "Ew, a bug." Before Giorno could say anything, he slapped his own hand. His head wrenched to the side and he cried out.

"Don't hit your own Stand, dumbass," Mista managed to say through his laughter. "Just keep focusing on it."

"My Stand? My inner strength looks like a little bug?" Rikiel lifted his hand and peered at it. "That's so goddamn lame."

"The power of your Stand is entirely dependent upon how you use it," Dio stated as he began to walk toward Rikiel. Giorno shot him a look of warning but Dio ignored it. "We were able to kill that man because he did not know how to utilize his Stand to the fullest."

"There are some sort of living organisms following you," Giorno explained as he watched Dio warily. "I think that your Stand might be communicating with them subconsciously. Now you need to do it consciously."

"And quickly," Dio said with a smirk as he approached the increasingly more concerned-looking Rikiel.

Rikiel glanced at Giorno, then at Dio. He frowned fearfully but when Dio came to a stop directly in front of him his expression grew serious. When Dio leaned over him, he lifted his hand.

Something frigid passed around Dio so quickly that he couldn't even catch a glimpse of what it was. He felt the surface of his skin that had been slightly warmed by the sun and the muggy Florida air grow frosty.

Dio pursed his lips and nodded. "On anyone else, that would have been a killing blow. Well done." He took a few courteous steps back and smiled at Giorno. "Whatever it is, it can steal body heat. I just don't have much heat to steal."

Rikiel backed away from him but nearly tripped over his motorcycle. He looked down at it and his mouth fell open. "No! She's so broken!" He clapped his hands to his forehead. "This sucks so much!"

"Come with us," Giorno replied, and he nodded towards the van.

Rikiel frowned and knit his eyebrows together in concern. "I don't… I can't ride in a car. It isn't safe."

"Oh!" Mista raised his hand. "If you're worried about the four tires, we always keep a spare. That makes five tires. So the car still has good luck."

Rikiel was befuddled. "Huh? I mean, it's just… I always get sick."

"Carsick?" Mista asked.

A bleary Ungalo crawled out of the grass and wiped off his mouth. "Okay. Vampire real. Got it. I feel way better now."

Rikiel glanced at him and frowned. "No, I mean like, how just now I was…" Before Giorno could reply to him, he held up a hand. "I get that it was my Stand making me really sick. But I would always get anxious in the first place and that was what set it off. I rode the motorcycle because the wind seemed to help me feel better. That, and motorcycles are safer than cars, anyway," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Giorno frowned. "I understand that having those organisms around would be harder to deal with in an enclosed space, but why do you think that a motorcycle is safer than a car?"

"It's simple, isn't it? I remember reading a statistic somewhere." He frowned in thought. "Maybe in seventh grade? I don't know. More car crash victims go to hospitals than motorcycle crash victims. That means motorcycles are safer."

"Dude. That's because motorcycle crash victims just go to the morgue," Mista replied.

Rikiel squinted at him. "What? No. That doesn't make sense."

"Are you sure you are not mistaken about what you read?" Giorno asked carefully. "Was there perhaps further explanation of the statistic?"

"No, no, I remember what I read," Rikiel replied, but he stared at the ground with growing confusion. "Riding in the car is more dangerous."

"Florabama education at its finest," Ungalo muttered.

Rikiel glared at him. "Don't remind me. I dropped out of that shit."

Ungalo wheezed with laughter. "Oh my God. How does saying that help your case?"

"I recognize that you have your concerns, but unless you want to walk several miles in the Floridian heat, you should join us in the van," Giorno stated.

He crossed his arms and considered it for a few moments. "You seem okay, but…" Rikiel pursed his lips at him and then gave Dio a dubious glance. "What about this freak of nature?"

Dio only grinned in response. Giorno gave a small nod. "That freak of nature is, in fact, your father. I am your half-brother, as is he," he said as he pointed to Ungalo. "The man over there is Mista. No relation, but he is an excellent ally to have." He frowned. "I guess Hol is still sick in the turtle. You can meet him later. Same with the consigliere."

Rikiel thought it over for a few more moments, but eventually, he gave a decisive nod. "Okay."

"Good." Giorno glanced over at Mista and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I need to get some things out of the trunk, but everyone can get settled into the car now, yes?"

"Yeah. I'll keep driving. We need to figure out where to go from here." Mista holstered his revolver and gestured towards the van. "You can sit in the back and talk to us or you can check out the inside of the turtle. Your choice."

"Um, I'll sit in the back," Rikiel answered. Giorno went over to the hatchback and opened it with one hand. Mista hopped into the driver's seat. Ungalo carried the turtle and slid into the back while Rikiel tentatively followed him.

Dio crept up behind Giorno. He was sorting through the first aid supplies with one hand while holding the other close to his chest. He glanced back over his shoulder and Dio froze.

"Could you do me a huge favor?" Giorno asked lightly. "I think I left the antiseptic in the passenger seat. It should be in the little pocket on the door. Could you get it for me?"

"What did he do to you?" Dio asked, and he nodded towards the mottled hand Giorno was cradling against himself.

"Nothing too bad," Giorno answered. "I think my circulation is just slightly blocked so it looks much worse than it is." He rooted through the storage container and Dio saw a faint glint of metal. Giorno looked back at him. "The antiseptic, please."

"Sure." Dio ambled up to the passenger door and opened it. There was nothing in the door except for some granola bars. He ducked inside the van and peered under the seat and into the space beneath the dashboard, but there was no antiseptic there, either. Mista gave him a quizzical look but Dio ignored him.

Dio took a step back and looked towards the trunk. He saw something suspiciously hand-shaped go flying off into the wetlands on the side of the road. He approached the back of the van and Giorno glanced at him as he was wrapping a cloth bandage around his wrist.

"Oh, sorry. I found it," Giorno said with a smile as he held up a small bottle. "I forgot I put it in the other container."

"That looks much better now," Dio said as he peered at Giorno's hand. The skin looked normal, not mottled with purple and yellow.

"Yes." Giorno finished wrapping the bandage. "Just had to get the blood flowing again."

"Littering will get you fined, you know," Dio said flatly. "What did you just throw away?"

"Throw away?" Giorno asked innocently. "A bird did just fly past. Is that what you saw?"

Dio stared at him for a few moments. A grin slowly grew on his face and he clapped a hand onto Giorno's shoulder. "Of course it was a bird. How silly of me to think otherwise."

Giorno's expression was held carefully blank. Dio laughed as he squeezed his shoulder and then went to open the back door of the van. "I suppose I should get out of the sun. Wouldn't want any more of me to melt off and attract more birds. It's such an ordeal for me to heal back up, you know. But I can actually heal others if I'm careful about it." He tapped his nails against the door handle. "Let me know and I'll give you a hand next time. Then again, if you can just find a hand for yourself on your own, you don't really need my help." He shot Giorno one last grin before pulling open the door and getting into the van.

Giorno didn't respond. He tidied up the first aid and pulled the hatchback shut.


(AN: I have Decided on some Stand names

Boiling pigeon: Hail Mary Mallon (as previously mentioned, in reference to Dollywood (happy to be on the food chain at all...) which in itself is a reference to Pigeon by Cannibal Ox)

Left and right switched cop: Operation Doomsday (which is by MF DOOM (remember all caps when you spell the man's name!))

Dio's new Stand abilities currently held by Pucci: still not named! we'll get 'em back and find out someday!

As always, thanks for reading! :D)