The sun was beginning to cast deep orange and pink across the sky as Mista parked the car outside of a tall apartment complex. "Alright. Time to collect the last one, yes?"

Polnareff half-exited the turtle and handed Giorno a sheaf of papers. "I was able to find a little bit more on him. He's been in and out of correctional facilities for most of his life. When not in one of those, he's been in the hospital. He was just in there for a pretty major injury after a botched robbery. However, based on that paper Dio took in the first place, I was able to track down his medical information. He was discharged from a Miami hospital a few days ago, so he should be home."

"Has he ever been kept at Green Dolphin?" Dio asked.

Polnareff shook his head. "It doesn't seem like it. Oh, the real find was that I was able to get a picture of him."

"That is very helpful," Giorno replied.

"Oh, can I see?" Before Polnareff really had a chance to answer, Ungalo leaned over and looked down at the printout. He frowned. "Hey, I think I know that guy."

Giorno raised his eyebrows. Ungalo took the photo from Polnareff and brought it close to his face. "Holy shit, yeah. We went to the same school. He was two years ahead of me. I remember when he got pulled out of school for a long time for a robbery or something. Total delinquent. Sold me weed once. Weird guy, and I say that as a weird guy myself."

Rikiel peered at the photo over his shoulder. "Oh! I know him, too! I went to the Cleveland Clinic hospital in Vero Beach for a while because they had a neurologist that my uncle liked. That guy was in the waiting room once. We talked for a bit. Apparently he got sepsis as a teen and he still has problems from it." He frowned. "I agree with you, though. I got a weird vibe from him."

"The 'weird vibe' was probably the fact that you share a bloodline," Dio stated. "Your fates have been intertwined for longer than I expected, albeit in a rather mundane way."

Ungalo pursed his lips. "I guess that makes sense."

Mista poked at the GPS. "Vero Beach? Isn't that just north of Port St. Lucie?" He squinted at the screen. "Yeah, they're pretty close."

Dio felt a faint dread. If Donatello had been just outside of Port St. Lucie for appointments, then there was a good chance Pucci had already spoken with him. At least one of the printouts Dio had stolen had been new, but he didn't know how old the other fallen contents of the desk were. "Polnareff, where was the hospital on the original paper I gave you?"

Mista interrupted with a loud laugh. "Sorry, sorry. I looked to the left of Vero Beach and I found… Yeehaw Junction. What the fuck."

Polnareff allowed himself a pfft of amusement but he returned his attention to Dio. "The paper you gave me was from the Vero Beach hospital. The most recent update is from the Miami hospital."

Dio narrowed his eyes. "Polnareff, are you sure he was discharged? Is it possible that he was just transferred?"

"It is possible." Polnareff's expression grew serious. "Do you think that Pucci could have anticipated us coming here?"

"This is our last stop, so he's had more time to prepare." Dio looked out the window and stared at the apartment complex. "This could be a trap."

"Only one way to find out, right?" Mista grinned back at them. "I mean, not to be too confident, but we've got a pretty strong set of Stands here."

"Don't underestimate Pucci," Dio said, a stern defensiveness edging into his tone. Everyone but Polnareff shot him an odd look. He narrowed his eyes. "I know you think that the Stands we have faced so far have been easy to defeat. That was for a reason. Pucci wanted to know where we were, not to kill us."

"That officer seemed like he was out to kill us," Mista said with a frown.

"He was prepared to kill you ," Dio corrected. "You all understand that he can both give and take away Stands, correct? If you die, your Stand disappears with you. He was willing to kill you because Pucci has no use for your Stand."

"But he wants to steal ours," Ungalo said quietly. "That's what you said. That's why we have to stay away from him. If he gets our Stands he ends the world."

"Yes." Better to let them continue thinking that. "I think that Pucci may have already interacted with Donatello because of his proximity to that hospital. If that is the case, he may have convinced Donatello to work with him."

"The commands, right?" Mista asked. "He can write stuff into the discs. So, he could just be telling Donatello what to do."

Dio doubted it but he nodded. "It is possible."

"Donatello's apartment is the second one on the left, yes?" Giorno asked. "I can sense someone inside."

The car fell silent. Dio focused on the building and listened to his intuition. For a while there was nothing. Then, so faint that he thought he may have been imagining it, he felt an instinctive pull. "He must be here," he muttered. But why was it so faint? If Pucci really had written instructions into his discs, would it weaken his identity enough to cause something like this?

"Ungalo, go in the turtle. Your Stand will not be suited to close-quarters combat. We should bring Hol out and have him help cover the group. Mista, you know what to do. Rikiel…" Giorno trailed off and gave him a serious stare. "I will not judge you if you choose to go into the turtle. A Stand battle with an experienced user can be terrifying. You know your own limits and it would be dangerous if you lost control of your Stand during a fight."

Rikiel thought it over for a few long moments. He nodded decisively. "I want to help."

Giorno returned the nod and then looked back out the window. "Okay. Let's go."


Dio approached the door to Donatello's apartment and prepared to break in but then he tilted his head and looked back at Rikiel thoughtfully, which caused Rikiel to immediately take a step back and cross his arms. Dio smirked. "I just realized that you haven't seen my Stand. Would you like to?"

Rikiel pursed his lips. "Sure?"

The World manifested and it stood menacingly for a moment before Dio stopped time. The World kicked the door in and the dented pieces floated to a halt a few feet into the apartment. Dio pushed the broken door to the ground so that it wouldn't make any noise by falling once time began again.

Time began again. The World stared blankly down at the broken door. Rikiel pointed at the Stand with wide eyes and a tentative frown. "What…"

"Like I told you, my Stand can stop time," Dio explained. "While limited to a close range, it also has the physical power to—"

"Er, no, I mean," Rikiel stammered, "why is it wearing that?"

Dio frowned and turned on his heel. The World was now facing him as if awaiting further instruction. He waved his hand and it turned away from him.

He hadn't needed The World's physical prowess for most of his time in Florida; stopping time had generally sufficed. The few times he had brought it forth, he supposed it had been facing towards him. Resting upon the back of The World's hips was a gray and gold bag emblazoned with a passport-stamp pattern. The top was unzipped but nothing was inside.

So that was where it had stored his new abilities.

Mista tilted his head. "Your Stand has a fanny pack?"

Giorno raised his eyebrows. Hol gulped.

Dio made himself look smug as he looked back at them. "What, you didn't know that you can accessorize your Stand? Try it sometime. It can be quite entertaining."

Mista gave him a look of bewilderment. "What? You can do that?"

"Of course." Dio waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, finding Donatello is a little bit more important, isn't it? Shall we go in?" The World faded away and he walked into the apartment. "Giorno, where's the person you sensed?"

"I can tell that they're in here, but not exactly where they are," Giorno replied. Mista strode ahead of him and drew his revolver. He cleared the corners of the room before nodding to Giorno. Giorno walked in; Rikiel and Hol followed closely behind him.

Dio closed his eyes and listened to his intuition. The ever-so-faint pull directed him towards a living room. An expensive-looking set of gaming consoles were pushed against the far wall, but there was no television. A leather couch separated the space from a cramped kitchen. A messy shelf was overstuffed with books. A large metal box sat ominously on a coffee table.

The box was mostly black and dull gray steel, but the hinges and corners were a soft, almost buttery-looking gold. The lid was open and the lock mechanism was separated, but it was easy to tell that when they were brought together they would look like a set of golden teeth.

"That looks like some Stand bullshit," Hol said as he gestured towards the box with Emperor. "This is a trap."

Dio stared at the box. "It is. But we're going to play along with it for now." He approached the box and looked inside. His lips twitched into a scowl. The box appeared to be full of blood.

"What's in there?" Mista asked.

"Blood," he answered. He pushed his hand against the surface and took in a small amount. Rikiel made a little noise of disgust.

This was what his instincts had been sensing: the faint-but-present recognition of his bloodline. "It has to be Donatello's," he stated, and he grimaced at an odd taste at the back of his throat. "And there's something… a painkiller of some kind." He dipped his hand in deeper and brushed against something thin and papery. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled it out of the container.

He tensed as he recognized a blood-stained calendar page. It dropped from his hand and landed with a wet splat on the floor. He threw his hands back into the container and began pulling out page after page, a growl escaping from his throat as he dug through blood and paper until the container was empty. There were hundreds of torn-out calendar pages, most of them barely readable but clearly recognizable as part of his stolen Stand ability.

Pucci had no interest in going back and changing the past. He had no need to install the discs within himself. However, if he recognized that there was any chance of Dio getting the discs back, and if he still thought Dio would try to stop him…

He had installed it into Donatello, probably with a command to make him summon it, gave him sedatives to keep him from fighting back, and then he had torn most of the Stand apart. Hell, the blood in the container had probably been collected straight from the resulting injuries. Dio shouted in rage as he picked up the bloodied container and then slammed it against the table. He lifted it up and brought it crashing back down again. Blood spattered against the ground and his shoulders began to shake.

"What? What was all that?" Rikiel stammered. "What's happening?"

Giorno grabbed him by the shoulder. "Stay back." He glanced over at Mista, who nodded and kept his revolver in a steady grip. He looked over at Hol and was surprised to see that he was about to have a total breakdown, as well. The Emperor flickered uncertainly in his hand as he stared with wide eyes at the scattered calendar pages.

Dio threw the box against the wall. It crushed into the drywall and hung suspended for a moment until it slipped out of the crumbled material and fell to the floor. It landed with a thunk right on its lid and the box closed. The mouth-shaped lock came back together and the teeth clattered.

"I shouldn't be closed while empty," the box said. Centipede-like legs sprouted from its bottom and it rocked until it managed to right itself. "No cheating me of my meal." There was a loud creaking and the box doubled in size, the black metal sliding open in expanding segments.

"Keep away from it," Giorno commanded. He pulled Rikiel back and glanced warily at Dio, who was still struggling to control his rage.

"Want me to shoot it?" Mista took aim. "Don't know if I can kill a box but I can knock the hinges off or something."

"We don't know what it does yet," Giorno answered. "Just don't let it get near you."

Dio dove right at the box and dug his fingers into the lid in an attempt to pry it apart.

"Ouch," the box said.

"The user has to be in here, right? Didn't you sense it?" Hol asked Giorno, his voice high-pitched with panic. "If we kill the user, we shouldn't have a problem."

The box tried to say something but it was garbled as Dio tore at its lock with his nails.

Giorno kept his voice steady. "Dio. I know that this upset you, even if I don't understand why. But surely you can recognize that it isn't safe to—"

The box popped open and Dio attempted to tear the lid off the hinges. When he failed to do so, he grabbed it, pulled his arm back, and slammed the box into the floor.

How much had Pucci destroyed?

If he could no longer go back to the night he killed Jonathan…

He threw the box against the wall with a shout. The box landed on scuttling insectile feet and the lid fell closed. "Hey." The teeth-lock chattered. "I said don't close me while I'm empty." The box shivered, creaked, and doubled in size once more. When it had first been sitting on the table it had been roughly a gallon in volume. Now it was four. The golden teeth clacked.

Hol bolted forward and grabbed Dio before he could try to attack the box again. "Hey! I'm freakin' out too, you know? But Pucci wants you to be upset. Save that anger for when we see that bastard again."

Mista sent Sex Pistols out ahead of him as he stalked over towards the hallway. "Nobody touch the damn box. I'm gonna kill the user."

"I was trying to tell you," the box chattered. "I don't really care if you kill the guy who carried me here. In fact…"

Giorno held up a hand, his face taut with concern. "Mista. Whoever I sensed isn't here anymore."

"Yep, they should be long gone. Right out the window like how we got in." The insectile legs scuttled excitedly. "I don't really have a user. I'm a very special fully-independent Stand," it said proudly. "And I'm hungry."

The group watched it warily, but it didn't make any sudden moves.

"What are you hungry for?" Giorno asked.

It didn't answer. It just popped its lid open and waited expectantly.

"The couch," Giorno said. "Shove the pillows in. Just keep it from doing anything else."

The box jittered a bit and the lid swung closed, bringing the teeth back together. "Ew! No! I want real food." It paused and the legs wriggled. "Ha ha. Oops. Shouldn't close me while I'm empty." With a loud creak, it doubled in size, reaching roughly eight gallons. "Now I need a bigger meal."

"You dick!" Mista shouted. "That shouldn't count!"

"I don't make the rules," the box replied. The lid popped back open and it waited to be fed.

"The fridge," Giorno exclaimed.

Rikiel ran into the kitchen and checked inside. "How does he not have any food?" he cried. The inside of the fridge was bare except for a few jars of condiments.

"He's been in the hospital," Giorno replied. "Is there a pantry?"

Rikiel threw the cabinets open. "He has, like… two cans of beans and a box of crackers."

Giorno nodded decisively. "Better than nothing. Put them in the box."

The box made a weird groaning noise as it tried to talk with its lid-mouth wide open. Before it could close again, Mista dove forward and grabbed the lid. "I'm not going to let you close all the way," he stated. "Just say what you wanted to say as best as you can like this." He wedged a sports magazine from the coffee table against the hinges in order to hold it slightly open.

"I' can' be a sna'," the box huffed. "Ha' 'oo 'ill th' whole thin'."

Mista scowled at it. "What?"

"We have to fill the whole box," Giorno said. "I don't want to find out what happens if we can't. There has to be a restaurant around here. We can—"

The box pulled free of Mista's grip and shook the magazine from its hinges. The lid flopped shut. "Oh, there's also a time limit. You have ten more seconds to feed me something or I'll just get it for myself." It did a little jump. "Oops! Closed again."

Mista shouted and scrambled away as it doubled in size. The insectile legs strained as it expanded to sixteen gallons.

"Hey hey, now you have more time. Thirty seconds to feed me something. If you can't manage to do that, I'll choose a meal for myself." The box swung its lid open and swayed excitedly.

Mista glanced back at Giorno. "What do we do?"

He stared back at Mista. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it.

"No," Mista said. "We'll find something. We have to."

Hol was still doing his best to hold Dio down. Dio stared at the open box with a growing calm. As a vampire, he was all too familiar with the average volume of a human body.

He wouldn't be able to put Mista inside without turning Giorno against him. He couldn't let Giorno or Rikiel into the box because he still needed them to get to Pucci and retrieve whatever scraps remained of his new abilities.

Most of the pages around him were soggy and unreadable. If there was even the smallest chance that the first page remained intact…

He had to know.

"Hol," he said quietly, almost gently. "I respect your dedication." He lifted his hand and dug his fingers into Hol's forearm. "You have been very useful to me."

"What?" Hol went tense and tried to pull away from him.

"I am sorry that I may no longer be able to take you back home." He brought up his other hand and held Hol by the collar. "Surely you would be happy to be useful one last time."

The box's legs wriggled impatiently. Giorno lifted his hand.

Mista gave him a desperate look. "No! Boss! Non vale la pena rubare!"

The box scuttled forward, its lid-mouth yawning open as it ran straight for Giorno.

Dio hoisted Hol into the air and lunged towards the box. Mista shouted as Giorno dropped to a crouch and pressed his palm against the carpet on the floor. Hol yelped and tried to writhe out of Dio's grip as Dio threw him into the box.

The lid slammed shut before he could fall inside. Hol hit his back against the metal and shouted in pain. Giorno stared in shock as the golden teeth smacked together.

"Delicious," the box said. "Thank you!" It creaked and shrunk back down to its original size. Hol tumbled to the floor.

"Oh," Rikiel said quietly. "I'm glad that worked."

Everyone turned to look at him. He lifted his hand. "I used Sky High. I told all of them to go into the box." He frowned. "Well, almost all of them. It feels like there's one or two still floating around."

Giorno gave him a look of soft concern. "But without them, your Stand…"

Rikiel looked down at the ground and mumbled. "Yeah. I know." He sniffed, then laughed. "Maybe they'll reproduce over time or something. It's not a total loss." He held out his arm and focused. For a brief moment, his strength wavered and the limb dipped down. "See? There's a couple left."

Giorno watched him thoughtfully for a few moments, but then he frowned in realization and looked down at the carpet that was now much furrier than it had been when he first touched it. He pulled his hand away and quickly looked up at Dio.

Dio wasn't looking at him. He was instead staring at a very upset-looking Hol.

Hol's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and calm himself. He glared at Dio as he ran a hand across his forehead and adjusted his hat. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped just as Dio looked as if he were about to speak. "Don't say a goddamn thing." He staggered to his feet, still scowling and uneasy, and he walked over towards Giorno. "Donatello ain't here," he snapped. "If we're gonna help him, we have to face Pucci directly. Is that what you wanna do?"

"We have to, right?" Rikiel interjected. "We have to save him from the end of the world and all. And if that was his blood in there, he's hurt. We have to stop Pucci, right?"

Hol glanced back at Dio and was silent for a few long moments. He narrowed his eyes. "Yup," he finally replied. "We sure do."

"Then we find him," Giorno answered.

"We can't leave that thing here," Mista said, and he started going through drawers. "Hell, I say we take it with us and sic it on whoever attacks us next."

"I'm tired," the box said. "I need time to digest."

Mista found a nearly-finished roll of packing tape and ran back to the box. "I've never seen a totally independent Stand like this before. I mean, I've seen ones that do their own thing, but not ones that are just bound to a box."

"It can happen," Hol muttered. "Just don't let it open again."

"Way ahead of you." The tape made a loud, harsh noise as he pulled it off the roll and began to wrap the box. "Hey, box. You got a name?"

"I'm tired," it said again. The teeth chattered. "But yes. Rattle That Lock."

"That's your name? Sounds about right." Mista turned the box onto its side to finish wrapping the tape around, securing the lid safely closed. "You said someone carried you here. You know who told them to do that?"

"Of course," the box replied.

Mista waited and stared at the box for a few moments. When it didn't elaborate, he sighed. "Are you gonna tell me or…?"

"I'm tired," the box mumbled. "Big meal."

Mista slapped his hand against the lid. "Just tell us where Pucci is."

"Oh, sure. Cleveland Clinic Hospital, Vero Beach, Wing D, Room 404." The inside of the box grumbled and squeaked as it began to digest. "Can I sleep now?"

Mista frowned. As the box's teeth went still and it seemed to doze off, he looked back at Giorno with a fearful expression. "Okay. I've been trying really hard not to bring it up but this is just too much. Ungalo lived on the fourth floor of his apartment. We had the wrong address for Rikiel and it turned out he lived at a lot numbered 224. That's basically two fours. And now we have to go get Donatello from a room 404 on Wing D. That's the fourth letter of the alphabet. And finally," he said, and he counted off on his fingers. "Giorno. Ungalo. Rikiel. Donatello. That's four sons. I don't like this."

Giorno approached him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I understand. Your fears are justified. But this is…" He trailed off and glanced back at Dio, who was staring at the sleeping box with an unreadable expression. He returned his attention to Mista and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "This is unavoidable."

For a moment, Mista looked crestfallen, but he took a deep breath and steeled himself. "I'm with you," he said gravely.

Dio stood and wiped splattered blood from his face. He silently strode towards the broken door. Rikiel took a cautious step away from him as he walked past. Hol watched with narrowed eyes and a stern expression as Dio left the apartment.

Giorno and Mista shared a look before walking out after him, with Mista hauling the box along as he went. Rikiel glanced at Hol with fearful confusion before running to catch up with them.

Hol took a deep breath and he followed.


(AN: Several notes this time:

Mista's translated Italian he shouted to Giorno: Not worth stealing!

Rattle That Lock is from the David Gilmour song/album. (Let's go do it/ have it all our way/ go back to where we blew it/ and lose our heads along the way/ So long Sin, au revoir Chaos/ If there's a heaven, it can wait...)

The whole song/music video is also a big ol Paradise Lost extravaganza and that book certainly feels like a book Dio and Pucci would have geeked out about together.

As always, thank you so much for reading/commenting/etc! Yall remain The Best! )