Giorno placed a hand against the railing of the hospital bed for support as he let the lingering fear wash over him, adrenaline souring in his tense muscles as he breathed in, then out. Gold Experience Requiem hovered closely at his side, its intense stare still focused upon Pucci. He focused on allowing the fight-or-flight feeling to dissipate; his expression grew calmer but his hand hurt with the white-knuckle hold he had on the metal rail.
The wind was knocked out of him as Ungalo threw an arm around him and squeezed. "Holy shit, dude. I thought you were a goner."
Rikiel put a tentative hand on Giorno's shoulder. "Donatello's out cold but I think he's okay. Are you alright?"
Giorno nodded and managed to smile. "Yes. This went… much better than I thought it would, to be honest." He gave Ungalo a pat on the back but then disentangled himself and approached Dio and Pucci. Pucci looked up at him, his expression not fearful but certainly alert; Giorno paused, nodded, and then held out a hand. Gold Experience Requiem was still standing at his side.
Pucci placed a hand in his and gave a firm handshake.
"You tricked Hol with the nurse, I assume," Giorno said, not yet letting go of Pucci's hand. "There was another man with him. What did you do to him?"
"He is not dead," Pucci replied. "His discs are right beside him. All you need to do is put them back in." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I am sorry that these are the circumstances in which we must meet. If I would have known you were here earlier, I would have reached out to you."
"I'm not an easy person to find," Giorno replied flatly. "I only happened to be here because a good friend of mine was looking for Jotaro Kujo."
"Ah." Pucci nodded. "I see. I suppose I should give you all a full explanation as to what is happening, but first, you should return the discs to your friend."
Dio stood and picked up Hol's disc from the bedside table. "And my additional discs?"
"Right above you, actually," Pucci replied as he glanced up at the ceiling. "Allow me."
Whitesnake launched upward and the ceiling tiles clattered. When it dropped down again, it had the three discs in its hands. It delicately inserted them back into Dio's forehead.
The World manifested. Dio unzipped the pack and pulled out the stickers. He handed the sheet to Giorno. "Choose one. It will allow you to enter the stopped time." Before Giorno could ask him any more questions he stalked off towards the hallway.
Giorno glanced over the sheet. He quirked an eyebrow and selected one with a ladybug that had chewed out the words Great Job! into a leaf. He passed the sheet along to Ungalo as he left the room, following after Dio.
"Uh, hey," Ungalo said, his expression trapped between fear and anger as he looked over at Pucci. "They seem real chill about this now but I'm still confused. You're not trying to kill us?"
"I'm not going to go out of my way to do so," Pucci replied. When Rikiel and Ungalo squinted at him he gave them a gentle smile. "I'm a very good friend of your father's. We simply had a misunderstanding."
Rikiel leaned forward and sighed. "That explains so much and so little at the same time."
"Weird guy, weird friends." Ungalo sniffed and looked down at the stickers. "Huh. Most improved, wow, super…" He laughed and held the sheet out to Rikiel. "You gotta take this one. It's got fish."
"I don't control normal fish, they're skyfish," he replied, but he pulled off a sticker that displayed a shoal of minnows over School is Fun! Ungalo pulled off a sticker with an opened comic book labeled Reading! and pressed it onto his hand.
In the hallway, Dio spotted Hol and Mista slumped on the ground with their discs scattered across the floor. He picked up Emperor's disc and then crouched at Hol's side. Hol had landed in an uncomfortable-looking heap; Dio shoved at his shoulder and he flopped onto his back. He set the Stand and memory discs against his forehead and they slipped back into his skull.
Hol blinked, focused his vision, and made a garbled noise of panic at Dio's vaguely smug face being the first thing he saw. He squinted and started to say something but Dio held up a silencing finger.
Dio pulled out the calendar and flipped through the pages. "Guess who can still access 1999."
"I'll be damned," Hol muttered.
"Well, most of 1999," Dio admitted. "It looks like it cuts off in August. But we left early in the summer, so it doesn't really matter."
"Is Pucci…?" Hol trailed off and watched Dio closely. When Dio only gave him a sharp grin in response he did not look reassured.
"We're on much better terms now," Dio answered. "Though he did say that he did not appreciate being shot. I suppose we are quite lucky that he had a grudge against you." He gestured over towards Mista. "He could have taken his memory disc, instead."
Hol furrowed his eyebrows. "What difference would that have made?"
Giorno hurried down the hallway and knelt at Mista's side. He gathered up the fallen discs and pressed them back into Mista's forehead.
Dio poked Hol's shoulder. "The kids are in the room and they have the stickers. Go get yourself a new one."
"Oh, I get to pick mine this time?" he grumbled. He stood, dusted himself off, and stretched out his back with a series of loud pops as he strolled back to the room.
"Giorno!" Mista exclaimed once he was fully awake and aware. "Did you…?"
"Yes and no," Giorno replied with a smile. "It was exactly as I saw it, but… the outcome was not what I expected. And I am glad that you were not harmed."
"Giorno," Dio stated, and when Giorno looked up at him blankly his own expression grew similarly unreadable. "I understand why you wanted to keep your Stand a secret."
"I do not want an apology," Giorno stated.
"Don't presume. I wasn't going to give you one," Dio replied. "I just wanted to ask if your last name is really Giovanna."
Giorno blinked. "Giovanna, Shiobana. It changed when I immigrated. But yes."
A sharp smile twisted his expression. "Do people call you GioGio?"
Giorno didn't quite frown at him, but he certainly wasn't amused. Dio began to laugh. At first it was just a chuckle but it grew to the point where he had to wave his hand dismissively and begin walking away.
Mista propped himself up on his elbows. "The hell is he laughing about?"
"Nothing that we would find particularly funny," Giorno answered with a sigh.
"Hol," Pucci said with a slight nod as he entered the room.
"Enrico," he drawled distrustfully in return. He frowned and let out a sigh. "Sorry for shootin' ya."
Pucci tilted his head and hummed. "I suppose no apology is really necessary. If I were in your place, I would have aimed for the heart."
"Ha." He ran a hand over his forehead and felt an echo of the discs being removed. "I guess so. Don't think I would have lived if I killed ya, to be honest." He grinned, but he didn't look too happy. Pucci looked as if he were deliberating on saying something more, but he was interrupted.
"Do we give a sticker to him?" Ungalo asked as he poked at Donatello's prone body with his shoe.
"We probably should," Rikiel replied, but he held out the sticker sheet to Hol. "Which one do you want?"
He pursed his lips as he looked them over. "Well, might as well just pick Way to Go again, now that I actually got a way to go home."
Dio strode into the room and swung his arm towards the door. "Children, hallway. I'm going to have a private conversation."
"We're in our twenties," Ungalo grumbled.
He shrugged. "Spawn, hallway."
"I will give you whatever money it takes to have you never call us that again," Rikiel said with a grimace.
"Why do we have to leave?" Ungalo asked as he crossed his arms and planted his feet. "I want to know what's going on."
Dio managed to smile brightly and loom over them all at once. "I'm in a wonderful mood and I've just reunited with a friend of mine. I am going to speak with him. Privately. You two are going to take your brother Donatello out into the hall and see what our dear Giorno can do to heal him. Do you understand?"
"Yes," they both mumbled. Rikiel took Donatello's legs while Ungalo pulled at his arms.
Hol went to follow them. Dio held up a sharp-nailed finger. "No. You're staying."
"Yup," Hol said nervously as he watched the door to the room swing shut.
"You are familiar and yet unfamiliar," Pucci wondered aloud as he took a seat in the bedside chair and interlaced his fingers. "It will be nice to get to know you once more, Dio." He glanced at Hol inquisitively. "I am also curious as to how you have fared during this… ordeal, I suppose. About your time spent with them."
"Of course," Dio added, his eyes glinting as he watched Hol closely. "You've been speaking your mind a lot lately. You shouldn't stop now."
Hol broke into a cold sweat. "Uh," he replied.
"I'm not going to kill you for insulting me, Hol." His grin somehow grew sharper. "Kings kept jesters around for a reason, didn't they? At least they told the truth. Speak freely."
"Well," Hol said cautiously, "I've just been thinking."
"Oh, you can do that?" Dio asked, but there wasn't much malice in the jest. He leaned against the side of the hospital bed and tapped his nails against the metal rail.
"You are different, I think," Hol said quickly. "I mean, I ain't got much room to judge a man's ways. I'm sure I got kids I never met out there somewhere, and I can't bring myself to care all too much about them. I've killed plenty and I haven't really worried about which ones deserved it. But you've always had… an atmosphere. An air. Somethin' like that. It could convince anyone to do anything." He glanced at the door to the hall. "You're still kinda like that. But it doesn't seem so extreme. You're acting just a bit more…"
"Human?" Dio asked, and there was a dangerous lilt to his tone.
"Ish," Hol answered, and he waggled his hand uncertainly. "Not really. It's just that the things you do make more sense to me now."
Dio stared at him for a moment before lying back and stretching out over the hospital bed with a dramatic sigh. "Of course some of my powerful vampiric allure is gone. There's nary a spare moment for beauty sleep. I'm in crisis." His head lolled over the far side of the cushion and he peered up at an upside-down view of Pucci, who was looking down at him with soft amusement.
"I was also kinda thinking," Hol continued, talking just to cover up his spiking nerves. Seeing Dio make a joke that wasn't at the expense of an arbitrary victim was strange new ground to tread. "About who else could have come. Like if it woulda been someone that had really drunk the Cairo Kool-Aid."
Dio squinted at him. "What does that mean?"
"I think the history of the People's Temple is a topic for another time," Pucci replied.
"I do know about that, actually," Dio said with a frown. "But what do you mean by 'who else'?"
"I mean, I guess I'm the only one Boingo would've called. But I certainly found myself thinkin' 'why me?' during this trip. Wonderin' about if it were like, Vanilla, or somebody like that," Hol stated. "Not me."
"Well, first of all, Vanilla is twice dead," Dio replied flatly. He fell silent for a few moments and when he spoke again his tone was more thoughtful. "Vanilla also never would have said no to me." He lifted himself up to sit upon the bed properly and he gave Hol an intense stare. "The advantage of living your life backed into a corner is that you will start to bite back, consequences be damned. When I first said I admired that about you I meant it. I was correct. Your perspective was very useful to me."
"Well, gee." Hol sarcastically doffed his hat. "Glad my gripin' could help."
Giorno gave Rikiel and Ungalo a perplexed look as they dragged the unconscious Donatello down the hallway. "We got kicked out," Rikiel explained. "They're talking things over. Dio told us to tell you to heal him."
"Not a great idea to do all this in the hallway," Mista replied. "Take him over to the supply closet."
It was a walk-in but it was still cramped as they all crammed into the small space. Giorno crouched beside Donatello and watched as he breathed. "I don't think he quite understands how I heal things," he said. "Anyway, he's not in terrible shape."
"Didn't he lose a lot of blood with the whole box thing?" Rikiel asked.
"I thought so, but…" Giorno trailed off and pursed his lips. "I don't really see any new injuries."
"He said he was tired," Ungalo added. "Is he just sleeping?"
Rikiel gave him an incredulous look. "After we dragged him down the hallway?"
Donatello groaned and turned his head, his forehead and cheek squishing against the tile. "Ugh. Shut up. My head is fucking killing me."
"Donatello, isn't it?" Giorno placed a reaffirming hand on his back. "Welcome back. What do you remember from before you passed out?"
"Fucking priest tried to kill me," he grumbled. "My so-called father was gonna let him."
"Ah." Giorno glanced up at Mista. "Perhaps it would be best if we took him to the turtle. He is a little dehydrated but I don't think there's much the hospital was actually doing for him at this point." He returned his attention to Donatello, who had rolled onto his side and was itching at the crook of his arm where the IV had been torn out. "Understand that Dio was prepared to try to save you at the last second," he lied. "It's just his way. Preventing harm at the final moment possible."
"Bullshit," Donatello grumbled.
"Perhaps," Giorno replied. His tone grew colder. "You saw the other version of him, correct?"
He glared down at the tile floor as if it had wronged him. "Yeah."
"For now, play nice. That version of him is our primary threat. Not the priest, and not the Dio we know." He fell silent and waited for Donatello to make eye contact. When he finally looked up with a scowl, Giorno continued. "We don't know his motivations, but I think I can safely assume that we are in danger for as long as he exists. As much as we may dislike it, staying with our version of Dio is our safest bet. He managed to defuse this situation. Let's hope he has the fortitude to do it again if the need arises."
"He did admit to some personal things in there to get Pucci to chill out," Ungalo mused. "Not that I really got most of it, but still."
"There's a wide gulf between admitting something and actually doing something about it," Giorno replied.
"Confess to the crime, still do the time," Mista quipped.
Giorno stood, fished out the keys to the van, and handed them to Rikiel. "It might be best to go back to the van. Get some rest if you can. I think we'll be meeting the other side of the family very soon." When Ungalo looked as if he were about to interject, Giorno held up his phone. "You won't miss out on any explanations. If I get back in the room with them I will record it."
Rikiel, Ungalo, and Donatello sat in uncomfortable silence within the turtle. Polnareff was working on the computer but he couldn't help but listen in on their stumbling attempts at conversation.
"So, uh, how did you end up in the hospital?" Rikiel asked. "I know they said something about a robbery. Were you robbed or were you doing the robbing?"
Donatello crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch cushion. "I'm not answering that."
Rikiel sniffed, looked away, and idly tapped his fingers against his knees. Eventually, Donatello spoke again. "But if you really want to know why I was in the hospital, we have to go pretty far back."
Ungalo, who had been so bored he was close to falling asleep, blinked back into wakefulness and paid attention. Rikiel leaned forward and watched Donatello attentively.
"It all started when I was thirteen," Donatello began. "I was about to run away from home. My stepdad was a real piece of shit and I was tired of my mom putting up with him. But as I was running, a pair of shoes fell from the sky as if dropped by God himself. So of course I was like, great, cool, free shoes from the sky. I'm running away from home and I have nothing to my name. I'll keep them. Then, I get arrested because it turns out they belonged to some baseball player that was gonna auction them off to raise money for disabled children. The judge was like, what kind of piece of shit steals from disabled children? Of course they didn't believe that they just fell from the damn sky. So I got sent to juvie—"
"Hold on," Rikiel said with a frown. "Isn't that the plot to Holes?"
Ungalo went pale.
"What," Donatello growled.
"You know, the book. Louis Sachar. It got a Newberry. That's the gold sticker that tells you it's a good book," Rikiel explained.
"Oh, God," Ungalo muttered.
"Stanley Yelnats has a pair of shoes fall on his head from the sky and everyone thinks he stole them so he gets sent to juvie and he has to dig holes for a living." Rikiel squinted at Donatello. "Are you just bullshitting me? You're making this up, right? That didn't happen to you. That's the plot of a kid's book. I had to read it in like, sixth grade."
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Donatello said brusquely.
Ungalo pressed back against the couch as if he could escape into the cushions. Donatello glared at him. "What are you freaking out for?"
Rikiel watched Ungalo with confused concern but then he clapped his hands over his mouth and made a muffled noise of panic.
Donatello's hands tightened into fists. "What? What the fuck is wrong with you two?"
"We were in the same school," Ungalo just barely managed to say. "I remember reading that book. I wanted Zero to be my friend so I drew the characters but I left it on too long and it got weird but I didn't think that they—"
Donatello lunged forward and grabbed Ungalo by the collar. "What the fuck are you saying? Left what on too long?"
"His Stand," Rikiel blurted out.
Ungalo shot him a panicked look.
"What does your Stand do?" Donatello asked, nearly yelling. He twisted his hands in Ungalo's shirt to get a better grip.
"Pucci explained it," Rikiel answered weakly.
"I wasn't fucking paying attention!" Donatello retorted. "What does it do?"
Ungalo tried to shove him away. "Get the hell off me."
Donatello took a deep inhale and let it out as a long, strained exhale. He released his grip on Ungalo and took a step back. "Just tell me what your Stand does. I promise I won't be mad."
Ungalo watched him dubiously but he swallowed and began to speak. "I think I made the character real and then it chose you and gave you its fate. By the time I got it to stop it was too late. It was a complete accident."
"Oh, is that all?" Donatello replied, his tone dangerously light. "Huh."
Ungalo winced.
"You know, it's kinda funny," Donatello continued. "Our Stands are kinda similar. Want to see what mine does?"
"Nope," Ungalo replied as he began to sweat.
"Too fuckin' bad," Donatello snarled. He grabbed a small table and began bashing it against the floor. "The second I hit dirt your life is ruined, you piece of shit. It's only fair I get revenge for you ruining mine, huh?"
Polnareff finally intervened. "We're inside a turtle, you idiot. You aren't going to reach dirt if that is what your Stand needs."
Donatello threw the small table against the floor, where it clattered and rolled over. "Fine. I'll just beat the shit out of you in person."
Ungalo shrieked and kicked at Donatello as he advanced. "Rikiel, knock him out or something! Help!"
"I've only got two skyfish!" he cried.
Donatello drove a fist into the side of Ungalo's head. Ungalo yelped in shock but then he frowned. He easily caught Donatello's fist with his hand after he tried to hit him again. "You're weak as shit, dude. Did you forget you were in the hospital doing nothing for months?"
Donatello drove a foot into Ungalo's gut with a shout. Ungalo coughed and rolled off of the couch in order to avoid the next attack.
"Stop!" Rikiel yelped. He pointed at Donatello, who stumbled and smacked his head off the surface of the fallen table. Donatello swore and clapped a hand to his forehead.
Polnareff's tone was stern enough for Donatello to put his rage on pause. "Rikiel, Ungalo, out of the turtle. Donatello, stay." He sighed as the metal cover slid off the entrance to the room. "It seems like playing therapist really has entered my job description."
Giorno knocked on the door to the hospital room. Hol pulled the door open and glanced back at Dio, who gave a begrudging nod.
"Donatello is not injured," Giorno stated, "which is odd."
"The box," Dio said with a frown. "Was that not his blood?"
Pucci nodded slowly. "I can see why that would be confusing." He rolled up his sleeve to show bandages wrapped around his arm and then leaned forward and pulled at the collar of his shirt. He revealed a wine-red star-shaped birthmark.
Hol rubbed at his forehead in confusion. "How in the goddamn are you a Joestar?"
Dio belted out a triumphant laugh and hopped off the bed. "So that was what I recognized." He stood at Pucci's side and peered down at the birthmark with a wide grin. "You used my bone."
"Indeed," Pucci replied. "Would you believe that it all began as a plant? I was fascinated that it chose to receive its first meal as a combination of the blood of dead sinners and sunlight energy."
Dio's smile nearly became a scowl. "How fitting." He tilted his head in thought. "There was also enough sedative in the blood to put a man in a coma."
"Ah. Rattle That Lock can be feisty. I hoped that it would at least remain calm as it was delivered to you."
"Couldn't you have just written a note or something?" Hol groaned. "Damn thing almost ate me."
Pucci merely smiled.
"You mentioned Jolyne," Giorno said.
"Yes. I have been fighting a war on two fronts," Pucci explained. "It was necessary for me to take Jotaro Kujo's memory disc in order to reach this point. After your… death in Cairo, Jotaro obtained your diary, read it, and then destroyed it," he said to Dio.
Dio pursed his lips. "The dead are afforded no privacy, I suppose."
"I was able to read it through his memories. Of course, taking his discs did not put me on good terms with his daughter." He paused. "Neither did framing her for murder and using her as bait, but that is beside the point."
"So that is why Jotaro is in a coma," Giorno said.
Pucci nodded. "Was in a coma. Jolyne reobtained his discs. He is probably recovering now. Who is your friend that is looking for him?"
"Jean Pierre Polnareff," Giorno answered.
"Fascinating." Pucci crossed his legs and leaned back. "There were rumors that the user of Silver Chariot had died. Johngalli A practically celebrated it."
"Oh, he is dead," Dio replied. "He just had the absurd tenacity to remain as a ghost. Now he is my son's..." He waved a hand at Giorno as he searched for the word. "Computer errand boy."
"Consigliere," Giorno answered flatly. "Where is Jolyne now and what are we intending to do with her?"
"Certainly not kill her, if that's what you're worried about," Dio replied. When Pucci gave him a curious look he smirked. "Tell me, is she just as insufferably unstoppable as Jotaro?"
"Perhaps even more so," Pucci stated. "When the obstacles are insurmountable, she finds her own path."
"Of course. I'd expect nothing less," Dio replied, his voice wry. "Let's take her with us."
"What, back to 1999?" Hol stammered.
"Are you sure that's safe?" Giorno added.
"Safer than letting her continue here," Dio replied blithely. "I have every confidence that Pucci could defeat her eventually. However, I'd prefer to have her alive. And I'm sure she'd be elated to reunite with her father. It's just that they'll be seeing each other in a time that they didn't expect."
Giorno furrowed his eyebrows. "If you cause a paradox…"
Dio glared at him imperiously. "There's only one way to find out if my new abilities will allow me to change the past and that's to actually attempt to do so. This is a suitable first test. It will work." He returned his attention to Pucci and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Where is she now?"
Pucci began to respond, but he paused and a smile tugged at his lips. "I was originally planning to test your sons' abilities by having them face her. Obviously, you forced me to change my plans. I believe that Jolyne can sense where I am, but I was able to waylay her west towards Kissimmee with the last few Stands I installed." He glanced at Hol. "You may enjoy this. My best guess as to her current location is… well, Yeehaw Junction."
Hol snorted and dragged his hands over his face. "Great. More road trip."
Dio pulled out the calendar and flipped to the final page. The mass of overprinted dates was still there. Pucci glanced over at it and nodded. "That one was quite stubborn," he said. "It may be completely unremovable."
"I hate to leave you so soon, but from your perspective, we will be back in a few days." Dio flipped the calendar shut and it faded away. "Jolyne will no longer hinder you."
Pucci stood and clasped his hands over Dio's own. "I appreciate no longer having to do this alone." His expression was open and almost kind as he glanced towards Giorno and Hol. "I hope that you believe me when I say that I do look forward to seeing you again as allies instead of enemies. It is much more favorable to have supportive witnesses as I obtain Heaven than to be bothered by those who only hope to stop me."
Hol itched at where his forehead met his hat and struggled at a smile. Giorno did not look enthused but he at least had the grace to nod.
