Hol half-ran, half-walked out of the apartment in order to get back to the car first, startling Rikiel when he slipped past him to grab the handle of the car door. As soon as Mista unlocked the van he reached into the back and grabbed the turtle. "Car's stuffy as shit down here. I call dibs on the couch," he said quickly. He shot a look back at Dio, who only stared at him blankly. "You should join me, pal," Hol said through gritted teeth.
Dio didn't respond. Hol jabbed a finger against the lock mechanism. "Polnareff, open up."
Mista hauled the sleeping box around to the trunk. Giorno pulled open the driver's side door. Rikiel began to get into the back seat but he paused when he saw Hol and Dio just glaring at each other.
The metal plate slid open. Hol went into the turtle. Dio looked at the gem for a long moment before reaching out a bloodied hand and going in, as well.
Rikiel picked up the turtle and gave Giorno a concerned look. "Are we not gonna talk about how he was totally going to feed Hol to the box?"
Giorno turned the keys in the ignition. "Seems like they're going to talk about it on their own."
Ungalo popped out of the turtle and landed on the seat. "Okay, no more turtle time for me, I guess. Jeez."
Mista pulled the hatchback shut and went up to the passenger seat. "Off to Vero Beach, then?"
"Donatello wasn't here?" Ungalo asked with surprise.
"No," Giorno answered, his voice held steady. "He's with Pucci."
"Shit." Ungalo's face fell. "I mean… can Pucci still end the world with just one of us? If he only has Donatello, then it's fine, right?"
"You're okay with him killing Donatello?" Mista asked. He didn't sound judgmental, only curious.
Ungalo frowned and rubbed a hand against his face. "Ugh. Yes and no. Mostly no. I mean, I have myself to worry about too, y'know? And even though I guess I've met him before, I don't know the guy at all."
"I kind of feel the same way," Rikiel mumbled. "Even though he's my brother. If we just stay away from Pucci, we'll be fine right? And the world won't end. If we go after him Pucci could get us."
Giorno turned in his seat to look at them. "I understand your concerns. You both want to survive. More than that, you want to live on your own terms. I feel the same way."
Rikiel and Ungalo both looked surprised. "You do?" Ungalo asked.
He nodded gravely. "Yes. But if you want to survive, you have to understand the nature of your enemy." His expression grew more thoughtful. "I don't believe that Dio is telling us the whole truth about what Pucci's goals are."
"No duh," Rikiel replied. "He lost his shit at whatever papers were in that box. That was clearly some kind of message."
Giorno fell silent. He peered back at Ungalo and Rikiel and then he sighed. A small smile lightened his expression. "We are going to go to Vero Beach. If we don't, Pucci will continue to hunt you. If he is truly ruthless and dedicated to his goals, as Dio has said, then that is what he would do. If you are being hunted, you could survive, but you certainly wouldn't be living on your own terms anymore." He laughed. "And of course, I feel that I should rescue my brother, as well. But any action can have both selfish and altruistic motivations."
Ungalo furrowed his eyebrows and rested his chin on his palm. "Ah, damn. You're right. I gotta save my brother to save my own ass."
Giorno shrugged and grinned before returning his attention to the road and taking the car out of park. "That doesn't make it any less good of an action," he said lightly.
"But you weren't on the printouts," Rikiel realized. "Pucci might not even know you're here."
Giorno tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "This is true," he finally replied. "I could run away right now and face no consequences. Though, that would be quite selfish of me now that I know you two."
Ungalo frowned. "You're saying it would have been better for you if we hadn't met."
"Yes and no." Giorno glanced up at the rearview. "You know what I mean, don't you?"
"...Yeah." He huffed and crossed his arms. "I do. Sorry."
"I am glad that I met you," Giorno replied honestly. "I am only sorry that it happened under these circumstances. My selfless motivation is to help keep you both safe. My selfish motivation is that I am doing so merely because I wish to know more about my family." He smiled faintly. "It seems that any family I find myself in comes with its own share of dangers. I can accept that if it means I get to learn more about my place in this world."
"I want to know, too," Rikiel mumbled. "It's just that…"
"Dio kinda fuckin' sucks," Ungalo answered for him.
Giorno laughed. "Yes. But if he's here, I'd like to think that it's for a good reason. And while I would say he's a bit negligent, he hasn't threatened us outright. It would be nice to…" He trailed off, sighed, and then continued. "To understand him a bit more, I suppose. Plus," he said, and he waved his hand happily, "perhaps all of this might be my chance to finally become acquainted with the other side of the family. I've never had a good enough excuse before. I think his reappearance should suffice."
Ungalo blinked at him. "Other side of the family?"
Mista snorted. Giorno shook his head and smiled. "It's a long story," he replied, "and I don't think I'm the one with the right to tell it."
A few minutes prior, Hol landed in the turtle. Polnareff turned in his chair and quirked an eyebrow at him. Ungalo looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch.
Hol jabbed a thumb towards the ceiling. "Out, kid. I gotta have an adult conversation here."
Ungalo squinted. "I'm twenty-three."
"Whatever." He glared and pointed upward. "Out ya go."
Ungalo huffed, clambered off the couch, and stretched out his arms with a groan. Dio appeared in the turtle and Ungalo's eyes went wide at the blood splattered all over him. "What happened?" he asked, his voice wavering.
"Out!" Hol yelled. Ungalo jumped in surprise and quickly left the turtle.
The following silence stretched. Polnareff interlaced his fingers and let his hands rest in his lap. Hol sat on the couch, shook his head, and bounced his knee. Dio stood still and stared at nothing in particular.
Polnareff raised his eyebrows. "So… am I supposed to, like, counsel you guys now, or…?"
Dio crossed his arms and looked down at Hol. "I take it you're upset."
"No shit," Hol spat.
"Because I was going to sacrifice you to save my sons," Dio stated.
Hol rolled his eyes. "Don't phrase it like that, you asshole."
"Then I'm correct." Dio waved his hand dismissively. "I understand that it was a frightening experience, but thanks to Rikiel, you survived. Be grateful. You should be thanking him instead of being angry with me."
"You're not correct!" Hol clapped his hands onto his knees. "Listen, if you would have just been a jerk about it and said 'ha ha Hol, you can die because I just don't care about you compared to them', then that would have at least been normal," he explained. "I wouldn't have liked it, but I would get it. Acting like you were doing me a favor by throwing me in there is what has me angry. I don't live to be useful to you. That's… it's just not..." He trailed off and frowned as he stared at the floor. His leg bounced with nervous energy. "God, I wish I had some cigs."
Dio looked genuinely confused. Polnareff leaned forward with a curious expression. "What do you mean by that, Hol? I understand you, obviously, but I think he needs clarification."
"Remember when you took my blood and bitched at me about my diet?" Hol asked. "You said 'as your friend'. I thought you were just being a dick. Now I realize that you were being genuine and that makes me think that you're even more fucked up than I thought you were in Cairo."
Dio frowned at him but said nothing. Polnareff lifted a hand to his chin and looked pensive. "You called a few of the Cairo crew your friends," he said pensively. "You said it to Kakyoin. Surely it was just manipulation."
"I think most of it is manipulation," Hol muttered. He ran an uneasy hand over his face. "That's the other thing I'm confused about. Back in Cairo, you had the whole infallible god-king thing going on. But here I am now, on a road trip with your estranged kids, and you're acting like any old deadbeat dad that doesn't know what to do with himself at a family reunion. Hell, you asked me if I wanted to be a goddamn godparent. You're just..." He huffed and stared at the floor. "I just don't know if you're different or not now and it's drivin' me fuckin' nuts."
"Oh, is that your problem, Hol?" Dio sneered. "I haven't put you in your place enough? Would this all have been easier if I just used a flesh bud when I first saw you?" He leaned forward, looming over him. "Shall I act more like your idea of me for you? Tell me, Hol, what parts of Cairo would you like to bring back?"
Hol glared at him and crossed his arms tightly. Polnareff tilted his head and frowned. "You know that isn't what he meant."
Dio shot him a furious look. Polnareff only peered back at him coolly. "Dio, what is a friend to you?" he asked.
He narrowed his eyes. "You two seem awfully familiar now," he said to Hol while gesturing towards Polnareff. "What, have you been sitting in here and gossiping about me this whole trip?"
Polnareff leaned back in his chair and sighed. Hol slapped his hands against his face and made a noise of frustration. "You know what? Fuck this. It's your fault I'm stuck here. We'd still have that calendar if you wouldn't have had your catfight with Pucci. I've helped you clean up your messes for long enough." Hol faced Polnareff and took a deep breath. "I'm as good as dead now if we can't get to Pucci, so I don't care if Dio kills me for this. The World has a bunch of new powers now."
He took another deep inhale and shook his head. "When he first found those files that we gave you, Dio said we were going to find something from them and trade it to Pucci to get the abilities back. I thought he was talking about, I don't know, magical gems or something at first. Not these kids."
Polnareff was expressionless. Hol swiped a hand across his forehead and swallowed. "We were planning on handing the kids over to Pucci. We had to trade them to get back the rest of The World's abilities that he stole." He sighed, took off his hat, and ran a hand through his hair. "We need those abilities to go back in time. I got pulled here from 1999. Pucci just destroyed most, if not all, of the ability that allowed us to go back. So, now we're probably stuck."
Polnareff blinked at him, then slowly turned to look at Dio.
"There's more to it than that," Dio said quickly.
"I'm sure there is," he replied. "But I don't care. My duty is to protect Giorno, and if he wants me to, his brothers, as well."
"Polnareff, I need you to understand this. Giorno and his brothers will be perfectly safe the second my abilities are returned to me." Dio kept his expression open and honest. "Think about this logically. The ability that allowed us to travel through time was essentially a day-by-day calendar that spans over a century. I don't think it would be possible for him to destroy it completely just based on its sheer volume. He probably only destroyed," and at the thought his voice faltered, and he paused. "He probably only destroyed the spans of time relevant to his plans in order to prevent us from changing anything. Once I have the abilities back, I can take everyone to a safe year and we can make our way forward from there."
"You can't just assume that," Hol muttered. "There's too much that we don't know. This is all so muddled. And I don't think this is going to go as well as you think it will. We won't get any of those discs back unless you take them by force."
Dio narrowed his eyes and rage boiled at the back of his throat. "I know Pucci. I can convince him."
Hol scowled. "Yeah, that went so well last time."
"You do understand that actually stopping Pucci will almost certainly involve killing him," Polnareff said.
"We can't kill him," Dio snapped. "He's going to succeed no matter what we do."
"I didn't think you were such a defeatist," Polnareff replied.
"Tohth predicted it," Hol muttered. "That the world would end. It'll happen. I get that. But Boingo never said anything about Pucci. Hell, he never even showed me the actual prediction. What if Pucci isn't the one that ends the world?"
"That's absurd," Dio spat. "He's the only one that could do this. We can't kill him."
"He probably just destroyed the thing that would have saved you," Polnareff said thoughtfully. "You don't want to kill him?"
Dio leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "Don't get presumptuous, Polnareff. Yes, he has forced me to adjust my plans. But I refuse to believe—" that he destroyed the night I killed Jojo, he wanted to say, but the words were caught in his throat. He made a sound of frustration and waved his hand dismissively. "We know each other. He wouldn't do that to me."
"He just sent you a break-up letter with that box, you stupid bastard," Hol shouted. "He's done with you. We're just obstacles to him. You're not going to be able to convince him of anything. The only way we're getting out of this mess is if we kill him."
"You don't know him," Dio snarled. "Just because you're a coward who lives his life backed into a corner doesn't mean—"
"Oh, so now I'm a coward," Hol retorted. "You know, I might not know Pucci, but I do know you. And you're fucking delusional."
"Enough." Polnareff leaned forward and watched Dio closely. "The only thing I need to know now is what you're going to do if it does come down to killing Pucci. If that's what it takes not for the kids to survive, but for you to survive."
Dio growled in frustration. "That's a stupid question. We literally will not be able to kill him. He already has a hold on the fate of the world."
"As a wild hypothetical, then," Polnareff stated. "Would you?"
"Yes," Dio finally answered, "and he would understand why."
"Do you consider Pucci your friend?" Polnareff asked softly.
His nails dug into his palm as his fingers curled into fists. "Yes, Polnareff, I do, if you must know," Dio hissed. "And apparently, he is my only friend. He is the only person devoted to the same ideals as I am. But I am not so sentimental as to let that hold me back."
Polnareff sighed. "Here's our plan, then. You do whatever it takes to convince Pucci to give you the discs back. If your calendar still works, you take everyone to a safe year and we go from there. We run away from the end of the world. That's the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, the calendar no longer works. If that happens, we will have to try to kill Pucci." He swiveled the chair and pressed a button on the laptop.
"You're going to tell Giorno about all this?" Hol asked weakly.
"Something like that." The keyboard clattered. "He can choose to open this message, or he can leave it unread. It's up to him." He looked back at Dio and his expression softened. Dio felt ill. "Giorno just wants to understand you, you know. It sucks that to do so is such an awful ordeal."
"Of course he does. He's insufferable." Dio dug a nail into his temple in annoyance. "If you're planning to play psychologist with me I want no part of it. This is obnoxious. Do you think I am so stupid as to not realize that I have a different approach to life than everyone else? You are both wallowing in the insipid depths of human friendships and human plans. I moved beyond that for a reason and so did Pucci. If you can't understand that, then that is your problem." He lifted his hand and drove his fist against the metal cover. Polnareff only frowned at him.
"Let me out," Dio sneered. "I wish to have my son understand me. It's what he wants, isn't it? And you want what my son wants."
Polnareff narrowed his eyes. "You know, I'd tell you not to do anything stupid, but I kind of hope you do."
"Enough with the barely-veiled threats, Polnareff. I'm not going to do anything to harm your precious boss."
Polnareff let out a long sigh but the mechanism whirred and the lid slid open.
Dio landed on the seat with a thud. He held out the turtle to the startled Ungalo and Rikiel. "I am going to speak to Giorno and I don't want you interrupting. Go," he commanded.
Rikiel slapped his hand against the gem and disappeared. Ungalo huffed. "Out, in, out, in. Jeez." He entered the turtle and the metal slid back into place.
Giorno quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the rearview but said nothing. Mista let out a little whistle and looked out the window. Dio sat silent and fuming in the back seat.
"I received an email from Polnareff," Giorno finally said. "But I have my principles to follow. No texting and driving," he said, and he wagged a finger in a mock scolding. "I suppose I'll have to read it later."
Dio was still silent. Giorno tsked as the car in front of them made a turn without using their signal. "I was thinking," he eventually said. "I doubt we will want to stop to rest at all tonight. Better to go straight to Vero Beach. In our circumstances, I don't think we need to worry about the hospital's visiting hours. However, we will be getting there fairly late. Taking a short break for refreshments would be quite helpful. A coffee shop would be especially nice." He sighed wistfully. "I could go for a mocha. The caffeine would be good for all of us, yes? Plus most coffee shops here sell things like pastries or candies. We can restock on snacks for the van."
"You're trying to smooth this over," Dio said incredulously, "with food?"
Giorno smiled faintly. "Yes. I suppose."
Dio scowled, his sharp teeth biting at the inside of his lip. The car fell silent once more, the only noise being the sounds of traffic and the faint hum of the engine. Eventually, he spoke. "You remind me of him."
Giorno focused on the road. His gaze flitted to the side mirrors, then to the front window, and then finally to the rearview. "Jonathan Joestar, you mean," he finally replied.
Dio tapped a finger against his temple. "I'm surprised you know that name. You've done your research."
"Yes, I have." Giorno steadily braked as the car approached an intersection. "And that's precisely why I'm no longer on good terms with the Speedwagon Foundation. Well, that and a few other reasons." He frowned as the light turned green and the traffic advanced. "So, yes. I know of him. Is there a reason as to why you're bringing this up?"
"I mostly thought that the child of a human and a vampire would miscarry," Dio said blithely. "I suppose your survival is just another lucky side effect of having stolen his human body. That, and the fact that your mother decided to keep you." His finger steadily tapped at his temple. "I will never know why some of the women I fucked decided to carry their children to term. Sentimentality? Negligence? Stupidity? I suppose it doesn't matter, really, because here you are."
Giorno's jaw clenched. Mista twisted in his seat to glare back at Dio. "What the hell is your problem?"
"You're the oldest of my children," Dio continued. "It makes sense that you would be the most like him. You would have been conceived when I was the least enmeshed with his body."
"First of all, gross," Mista retorted. "Second of all, just shut the fuck up already."
"Would you like to know how I chose your mother?" Dio asked, his tone goading. "Was she awful? Did she regret having you?"
Giorno's tense silence was answer enough. Dio tilted his head and smirked. "That is precisely why I used her. From suffering grows strength. Do you understand me now?"
"Are you trying to provoke me?" Giorno asked quietly.
He leaned forward and grinned with bared teeth. "I don't care that you don't want to show me your Stand. I don't need to see it. I know that you're just like me."
Mista glared at him. Giorno kept his eyes on the road.
"In the apartment with the box, you were confident. You had a plan. You were about to do something that would have stopped it before Rikiel stepped in. You believed that you could prevent any harm," Dio said lowly. "Even I was acting rashly, but you were calm. That kind of confidence only comes from having a Stand that reflects a true inner strength. You've been rather unbothered by my presence for the entire trip for the same reason." He watched Giorno closely. "I was right. I chose your mother correctly."
"You are lashing out because you are hurt," Giorno replied. "What were those pages inside the box and why did they upset you so?"
Dio scowled and returned to tapping his temple in annoyance. "Just read the damn email. I'm not explaining myself again."
Giorno shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I'd rather hear it from you, father."
The pressure against his temple became more insistent. "You have that birthmark, don't you? Rikiel and Ungalo probably do, too. You're all resplendent with your Joestar blood." His nails were harsh against his skin. "I remember the last time I got my hands on Joestar blood."
Mista gestured at him with his revolver. "I don't like what you're implying."
"Like it, don't like it, you're an inconsequential lapdog," Dio snapped. "Oh, you two and your boss. You're just falling over yourself to protect him. Can't you recognize that you're just in the thrall of his heritage?"
Mista inhaled sharply and was fully prepared to go on a tirade but Giorno raised his hand. "I understand what you're saying," Giorno said calmly. "I don't mean your threats. Or your insults. I mean beyond that."
Dio let out a low and irritated growl.
"It's because I can recognize myself in you," Giorno continued. "I, too, have had my moments where I wish to make enemies of everyone around me. Moments where I believe that there is nothing else left for me but to do harm. It was a mindset that I held for a very long time." He fell silent and simply drove for a moment, and then he laughed. "But then I grew up. I found my own family to support me, and for me to support them in turn." He glanced up at the rearview and the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. "Neither of us are the type to give up easily, I suppose. We find our own ways through things, for better or for worse."
"Stop assuming that you know how I think," Dio snarled. "You can't read me. I'm two hundred years older than you. Probably more. The human brain was never meant to last that long and I've irrevocably changed it with the stone mask. I've utterly rejected my humanity. There is nothing for you to recognize in me except for the accident of your genetics."
"So you're admitting that your brain is fuckin' busted," Mista grumbled, but Giorno shook his head at him.
"You were upset, you lashed out, and now you are growing defensive," Giorno stated. "It seems like a fairly human chain of reactions to me. What comes next? I don't take you to be the type to back down or apologize." His tone was still light, but there was a painfully familiar steel behind his words. "Is the next step more insults, or will you follow through with the physical threats? Which action would you prefer to stoop to?"
Dio glowered. The muscles in his hands twitched. His nail dragged against his skin. "Be quiet."
"I suppose I am glad that you singled me out. I'd rather you take your anger out on me than either of them," Giorno said with a shrug. "Tell me, was it only because I reminded you of Jonathan or was it also because I remind you of yourself?"
Dio leaned forward between the front seats, everything about his posture screaming danger. Mista pressed his revolver against Dio's head but then drew back with disgust while still keeping a careful aim on him.
"Stop presuming to know my motivations," Dio hissed. His fingers were curled into claws as he dug at the side of his own head. A bit of blood pattered onto the center console.
"You're only hurting yourself here," Giorno replied. When Dio looked as if he were about to start shouting, Giorno merely glanced at him and tapped a finger against his temple.
Dio pulled his hand away and looked down. His fingers were slick with blood.
"Oh! There's a coffee shop!" Giorno exclaimed. As he peered at the storefront, he gave a slight pout and drove past. "Ah, it's closed."
Dio leaned back and shot a glare at Mista, who was still keeping a steady aim on him. "This is unbearable," he muttered mostly to himself.
"Then leave," Mista replied. "We don't need you to get Pucci."
"No, he should stay," Giorno said. When Mista shot him a quizzical look he shrugged. "Rikiel and Ungalo weren't a part of this conversation. He still has the chance to make a better impression on them."
"That's a little too optimistic, even for you," Mista grumbled as he put away his revolver. "You really shouldn't expect anything from him."
"I don't, but he's proven me wrong once," Giorno replied. Mista frowned at him and even Dio looked a little confused. "Just now, with the gun to his head, even though being shot wouldn't do much to him, he let the argument end," Giorno explained. "My point is that he didn't go on to attack me or insult me. He merely sat back down."
Mista squinted at him. "He did insult you. He just said you were unbearable."
Giorno tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "No, he said that the situation was unbearable. That's different."
Dio scowled and leaned his chin against his bloodied palm. "Fine. You're unbearable."
"Ah, that's weak compared to before," he said as he waved a hand dismissively. "You've let the argument drop, and rightfully so. You realized that it was useless. I consider that a step in the right direction."
Dio closed his eyes and let out a long, annoyed sigh.
Meanwhile, in the turtle, Hol flopped back onto the couch. "Phew. I am amazed that I am still alive right now."
Polnareff frowned and idly swiveled his chair, his expression pensive. "Indeed."
