"The Stand Jolyne will be facing next," Pucci explained, "will take some care to beat. It is too late for me to call it back now. However, assisting Jolyne in defeating it will at least give her a good first impression of you."
"What is the Stand and what does it do?" Giorno asked.
"Atrocity Exhibition has a range of one half-mile in radius. It can turn metal into living flesh and create a protective structure around the user. The Stand itself is merely a microscopic cloud, so doing damage to the flesh will not damage the user. The best strategy to defeat it is to find the user, who will be at the very center of the area of effect." Pucci paused and idly flattened the fabric of his cassock. "As you might guess, the Stand can be very aggressive. It responds to emotions, especially feelings of regret." He glanced towards Dio. "You understand my concerns."
"I do," Dio replied. "And I am glad to inform you that they are baseless."
Pucci pursed his lips. Dio grinned and tapped a finger against his temple. "I don't regret anything, Enrico. I'm not going to change things because of shame. I have complete confidence in every action I have taken. I've even said it to myself: I set greater things into motion with my deeds. It is those past actions that have given me the ability to now go back and influence them. Of course, I'm still planning exactly how I'm going to go about it," he said with a sigh. "But the time will come. I am sure of it."
"I see." Pucci smiled faintly. "It will try to provoke you. I am sure that it will fail to do so." He turned his attention to Giorno and Hol. "It will not be safe to drive your van too close to the Stand's range. You will also have to contend with your own emotions if you face it." His smile grew a bit more sardonic. "It will be dangerous. I will pray for you, if you'd like."
"I'd 'preciate it," Hol grumbled.
As they prepared to leave, Dio set his hand upon Pucci's shoulder, his thumb coming to rest on the familiar star. "I will see you again," he said.
Pucci smiled. "You will."
Giorno slid into the passenger's seat and Mista turned the key in the ignition. Dio and Hol went to go into the back seats but with Rikiel and Ungalo already sitting there, there was not enough room to fit them all.
"Children, turtle," Dio said as he waved a hand dismissively.
"The turtle is kind of the Donatello containment zone right now," Rikiel mumbled.
"And I wanna talk to you," Ungalo insisted. "This might all be cleared up for you but you really kept us in the dark about what was going on."
Dio hummed lowly as if considering what they had said, but then he pointed at the turtle. "I don't care. In you go."
"I'll go in the turtle. Someone can have my seat," Giorno said. He pulled out his cell phone and opened the car door. "My associate is an early riser. He may be awake right now. I've been meaning to call him, anyway, and I'm sure Polnareff would appreciate joining the conversation."
Ungalo grabbed the turtle and held it up over his head. "No turtle for anybody! I'm trusting you right now pretty much just because Giorno said I should," he said to Dio. "I'm sure you had your reasons or whatever and I get that you like Pucci more than you like us. But could you just say something?"
Dio stared at him. His light and almost cheerful mood completely dissipated. "Hol," he stated, "remember the time you tried to kill me?"
That got Hol several strange looks from the others in the car. Hol gave Dio a look of oh sweet Jesus, don't drag me into this in return. "Uh. Yup. Why?"
"Do you remember why you thought you would be able to do so?" Dio asked.
"Um." He frowned. "I didn't know how your Stand worked."
"Precisely," Dio replied. "My Stand is my primary advantage above all others. I do not entrust just anyone with the knowledge of how it works. Now, Ungalo, what is on your hand right now?"
"Sticker," he muttered.
"And what does that sticker do?"
"Let me into the stopped time." Ungalo sighed and lowered the turtle.
"Correct," Dio hissed. "With one unfortunate exception, the stopped time is mine and mine alone. It is what enabled me to surpass all others. Now, at the risk of sounding trite, sharing the stopped time with you all," he said as he narrowed his eyes, "is a big deal for me. I am trusting you enough to let you into it. All I ask is that you trust me in return."
Ungalo frowned at the turtle. "Trust, sure. A little respect would be nice, though, too."
Rikiel winced. "Jeez, kid, don't push it," Hol whispered.
"Respect," Dio hissed, "is earned. None of you have done that yet." He paused. "Except Rikiel."
"What?" Rikiel sputtered.
Dio shrugged. "You tried to kill me. You were able to control your Stand because of it. I respect that."
"Oh, is that what it takes?" Giorno said lightly. He reached around Dio to take the turtle from Ungalo. "I'll have to keep it in mind."
Before Dio could say anything, Giorno punched the code into the cover and disappeared.
Within the turtle, Donatello was lying on the couch with his face pressed into the cushion. Polnareff was back at the computer but he gave Giorno a nod of recognition.
Giorno leaned against the desk and began the conversation in Italian. "What happened with Donatello?"
"Turns out Ungalo's Stand went out of control as a kid and led to Donatello going to juvie and apparently throwing off the trajectory of his whole life," Polnareff answered. "He isn't as angry now, but I don't recommend letting him near Ungalo any time soon."
Giorno tapped his fingers against the desk. "How unfortunate. When Dio said their fates were intertwined I don't think he meant that." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Fugo. There's a few things I want to set up before we go to the past. I do believe that our path will bring us back here eventually, but it is better to be careful." His expression grew softer and he gave Polnareff a small smile. "I'm also thinking of opening three positions up, nepotism be damned. Of course, it will be up to them as to if they decide to take it, and they will have to work hard. But they will be taken care of."
Polnareff grinned. "Of course."
Giorno tapped in a phone number and called. The tone beeped a few times but it was picked up. "Fugo," he said happily. "I do hope that I'm not waking you up."
"Been up for an hour," Fugo replied. "How's the Everglades?"
"That's not quite where I am," Giorno said.
"If I find out you guys did Disneyworld without me, I'm gonna be pissed," Fugo grumbled.
Giorno laughed. "Not there, either. Listen… you know our contingency plans better than anyone, and that includes me."
"That's an ominous thing to bring up," Fugo replied flatly.
"It is." Giorno's expression darkened and he paused. "Don't pull the trigger just yet, but… if you don't hear from us within a week, you know what to do."
The line was silent for a long while. "What the hell is going on?" Fugo asked.
"Family reunion," Giorno answered.
Another silence. "Fuck," Fugo said.
"It's going better than I thought, to be honest," Giorno said airily. "You might like my brothers. My father, not so much."
"Fuck," he repeated despondently. "I should have gone."
"No," Giorno replied. "Your job is to keep things under control. I know that you have what it takes to do so."
Fugo sighed and it sounded like static. "Well. Speaking of which. Bad news from Agnano. The new addition to their team seems to be rocking the boat."
"The old addition, more like. He's been in and out of that team since the nineties." Giorno leaned against the desk and glanced at Polnareff. "Surely he knows the consequences by now."
"Not an honorable track record, that's for sure," Polnareff muttered as he clicked through a spreadsheet.
Giorno placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned against it. "Make sure that our message to him is clear. He needs to make up his mind. If he keeps trying to jump back and forth he is going to be killed. I'm surprised the team hasn't reinforced that already."
"Seems that more than a few of them still miss the old boss," Fugo replied.
Polnareff snorted. "If they were still under the old boss they would all be dead," Giorno said. "I had hoped that they did not need to be reminded of that. I trust that you will find a way to jog their memory."
"Of course," Fugo replied. His tone grew softer. "I hope you'll call back within a week."
"So do I. Tell Trish I said hello if you get the chance."
"She's in Paris, last I heard. But I'm sure I can send over the hello. Any other information with that or no?"
"Hm." He frowned thoughtfully. "You can tell her I ran into my father, but emphasize that it is going well." He laughed but there was no humor in it. "All in all, she's had a worse go of it than I have."
"Right." Fugo sighed. "Just…" He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Well, later."
"Later," Giorno and Polnareff echoed. The call ended. Giorno glanced back at Donatello, who quickly turned away and looked entirely disinterested.
Giorno approached the couch and took a seat. Donatello glared at him. "I know how it feels when an accident appears unforgivable," Giorno began. "You have every right to be upset."
Donatello was silent. Giorno leaned back against the cushions and watched him carefully.
"I just…" Donatello trailed off and scowled. "Already talked about this with Polnareff, kind of. Pucci gave me all this shit about having to live up to Dio's legacy. Now I find out my life sucks because of dumb shit my brother did when he was a kid. And I'm stuck in a turtle or whatever this room is and I don't know what's going to go wrong next." He crossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I just want my life to be mine to live."
"I hope it doesn't sound trite when I say I feel the same way," Giorno responded. "We are who we are, despite what others may expect of us. Fate certainly seems to be wound around us but you can still choose things for yourself."
"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You seem like you got your life together already."
"I suppose I've done well for myself," Giorno mused, "but if Dio begins projecting on me any harder I'll have to shield my eyes." He held up a hand and splayed out his fingers repeatedly, pantomiming rays of light streaming from a bulb.
Donatello let out a noise of frustration and scratched a hand through his hair. "Pucci did the same shit to me. So goddamn annoying."
"I'm sure it was," Giorno replied. "But now you're with us. I hope that it will be a better experience for you."
He let out a sound that might have been a laugh. "The hell are you, Mr. Rogers? You're too damn nice, you know that? It's actually a little suspicious."
"Let's just say that my job is to manage people," Giorno stated. "I am very good at my job."
Donatello huffed and threw himself back against the couch. "I think you're the only one of us with a job."
"...I do not mean this as an insult, but all three of you seem like lonely people," Giorno said carefully. "Ungalo doesn't seem to interact with his mother's side of the family. Rikiel does, but he's left them without much thought. And you consider your own life to be cursed. I was the same way for a long time. I just had incredible luck in finding a support system. A new family, if you will."
"Big ol' Italian crime family, you mean," Donatello said with a faint smirk.
"How could you possibly have guessed," Giorno replied dryly.
He tapped his temple. "I know a little Italian. Thought it would impress chicks." He huffed. "Gotta say, I'm pretty rusty. Hearing 'brother' and 'taken care of' followed by a lot of 'kill' had me worried until I got a better handle on things."
Giorno grinned. "I bet." He grew more serious and he locked eyes with Donatello. "I don't much care for the constraints of heritage or even fate. I want us all to be able to live on our own terms. If you will let me help you with that, I would be glad to do so."
Donatello peered back at him for a few long moments, but then he shrugged. "I'll think about it."
"That's better than a no," Giorno replied with a smile.
"That does not look good," Hol muttered as he looked out the window.
It certainly did not. Yeehaw Junction was a small town just off the turnpike. A metal sign would have proudly claimed a population of 240 but it was currently covered in grayish, cancerous-looking flesh and pulsating.
"It's late, so most of the people here should just be sleeping. Hopefully, they will be unaffected by this," Giorno said with a frown.
Mista looked down at his revolver and huffed. "I won't be much help. I take my gun in and it'll turn into a spleen."
"You should stay out here and keep an eye on the circumference of the Stand's effect," Giorno replied. "That will tell us if the user moves. Ungalo and Rikiel, it will probably also be best if you remain here. Help Mista and make sure that the car does not enter the Stand's range. Also, keep an eye out for anyone that comes by. They could be a local or they could be Jolyne or one of her allies. In any case, help them."
"Could we feed this stuff to Rattle That Lock?" Ungalo asked.
Giorno frowned. "Possibly, but it's too unpredictable. We don't want it deciding to eat one of us instead."
"Will Donatello be joining us?" Dio asked.
"No," Giorno answered. "He isn't in the best physical state right now. Also, his Stand could technically generate a large amount of metal. If it contributed to the effect of this Stand, it would not be to our advantage."
"What is Donatello's Stand?" Rikiel asked.
"You should ask him," Giorno replied. "I believe he is more open to talking to you both, now."
"So you, Hol, and I are the only ones going in?" Dio said. "Grand."
"Do you have an actual reason to disagree with me or are you only doing so because it is my plan?" Giorno asked.
Dio narrowed his eyes and went to say something but Hol swung the car door open. "Let's not pitter-patter here. We got a Joestar to rescue, right?" He snorted. "That's not something I ever really thought I would say." The Emperor twirled in his hand as he strode forward. "And it ain't often that I get to work with two other people to bring somethin' down. Hell, I'd say we're unstoppableeeuugh." He made a high-pitched noise of panic and hopped backward. His belt buckle and a few buttons fell to the ground and squirmed, moving inchworm-like away from him as they transformed.
Giorno rooted through his pockets. "Phone, spare change, pen. Belts. Leave any metal in the car. I have some road flares in the trunk for light, since taking flashlights would not work. Just be sure not to stare at the flame directly."
"I have night vision," Dio stated. "I will lead the way."
"Where the hell are they going?" Hol muttered as he watched the transformed clumps wriggle down the road.
"Pucci said it would build something to protect the user, yes?" Giorno asked as he searched through the trunk of the car. "Perhaps we can follow them right to it. Here," he said as he tossed a roll of twine to Hol. "Since your belt broke. Keep it with you. I may also be able to use it to heal us if the need arises."
Once they were prepared, Giorno threw a few spare quarters into the Stand's range. They transformed, wobbled uncertainly for a moment, and then began squirming their way down the road. The group followed, Dio watching the little clumps closely while Giorno and Hol followed a few paces behind, Giorno holding the road flare out and away from himself.
There were odd smears on the road, rusty and dark, followed by piles of debris. "Cars," Giorno guessed. "The cushions and non-metal parts were left behind."
"This is spooky," Hol griped. Giorno couldn't help but nod in agreement.
They came upon a broad intersection. At the far corner was a small wooden building emblazoned with Desert Inn Motel and Good Food Bar, but the metal fixtures such as the flagpole were slumped and squirming. The recessed space beneath the wooden awning was thick with the transformed metal flesh, but the front door was open. The transformed quarters rolled inside and disappeared into the darkness.
"Gonna take a wild guess and say the user is holed up in there," Hol grumbled.
"Jolyne must be in there, too," Giorno added.
Dio strode through the doorway and peered at the dark interior. The reception area was overrun with stringy meat. A hand-painted sign directed them to the bar and restaurant portion of the building, but the entranceway was overtaken by a thick wall of flesh. Some items from the reception desk were trapped inside: wooden pencils, scattered receipts, and an entire potted plant jutted haphazardly out into the air. One portion of the wall was outlined as if it were a door. Several chunked-out portions looked as if they were imitating deadbolts. A yellowed plastic phone emerged where the handle would have been.
"Where the hell does Pucci find these things?" Hol muttered as he stared at the door.
"He's been collecting Stands for years," Dio replied. "I am curious as to what the original user of this one was like."
The phone rang, high-pitched and annoying. Giorno frowned at it.
"He said it would provoke us or something, right?" Hol asked. "It bothers you about regrets. I know how bad it sounds, but…" He grimaced. "I really want to answer that damn phone."
"That might be the only way to open the door," Giorno replied. "The phone is the handle. If you answer it, it might open. Just keep your emotions under control. I'm sure that whatever it has to say isn't going to be pleasant."
"I'll answer it," Dio insisted, but Hol had already made his move. He picked up the phone. It made an awful sucking noise as it was removed from the wall. He held it up a few inches away from his ear and the spiral cord swung idly. A tinny voice rattled out of the speaker and he grimaced. "The hell? Nena?" he exclaimed. The voice warbled. "Oh, Jesus, you heard that?" Hol whispered as he blanched.
"Hol, it's not a real call, it's just the Stand," Dio said.
Hol wasn't paying attention to him. He swiped a hand across his forehead. "Yeah, um, it was pretty hypocritical of me, usin' you like that," he admitted with a pained scowl. "And after all this… I guess I do regret it."
The voice on the phone careened into a deafening shriek and the phone bashed into Hol's head. He yelped and the meat on the wall began to twitch. Hol fell to the ground in a heap. A sharp metal spike emerged from the wall and began to slash downward. The phone rang again.
Dio stopped time. Giorno dashed to Hol's side and pulled him away from the wall. Time began again and the spike lashed out wildly, but they were safely out of its reach. However, Giorno was close enough to hear the voice on the fallen phone. The low voice garbled and he frowned.
"No, I do not regret cutting you out of my life," Giorno replied. "And I don't think you were too upset about it, either."
The wall grew calm. One deadbolt on the door slid open with a thunk. "My stepfather," Giorno explained.
Dio approached the phone and crouched at Giorno's side. "I understand. For each thing we admit to not regretting, one lock on the door opens. Allow me."
"I don't think you are the safest option here," Giorno replied. "The Stand is just making you want to answer it. I can feel it, too. But if you hear Jonathan Joestar—"
"I stand behind every decision I have made, including that one," Dio said, his tone commanding. "Especially now. I will prove it." He pulled the phone from Giorno's hands and lifted it to his ear.
"My son," a familiar voice said. "I forgive you for killing me."
"You're going to have to narrow it down," Dio replied with a sigh.
"I always wanted you to be a part of the family," George continued. "For you to have a safe environment in which to excel. I was so proud of you."
Dio rolled his eyes and tapped his nails against the plastic casing of the phone. "I could never respect you. You were too stupid to notice what was happening beneath your own roof. To let you die for your son was practically a gift. It was the first thing I ever saw you do that actually meant something. I do not regret killing you."
The phone buzzed atonally. Another deadbolt opened.
"Dio?" A kind voice. Familiar.
Well, that was to be expected. Dio huffed. "Jojo. I don't regret killing you because how else would I then be able to save you? We shall both live. You will see. There is no regret."
The phone rattled. Another bolt clunked.
"Dio, smart boy," a voice slurred. "Too damn smart."
"Don't make me laugh," Dio replied. "No regrets there at all."
The audio buzzed and warped. Two deadbolt slots remained.
"Via Dolorosa." A woman's voice, soft and light, followed by a faint humming. "Rhinoceros beetle."
He was as still as a statue. Giorno watched him closely. "Dio…?"
"I didn't kill you," he said lowly. "If this is trying to imply that—"
"I know you killed your father," the voice said. "It's okay."
The plastic creaked in his tight grip.
"I only wondered," the voice continued softly, "how different things might have been if you had done so earlier. If perhaps it would have saved me. I would have forgiven you." The sound of a loving sigh. "You know that I always forgive."
His teeth were bared. His fingers tore into the carpet.
"Dio, give me the phone," Giorno said quietly.
The phone shattered to pieces in his hand but he could still hear the sound. "You were right. It needed done," the voice said. "But do you regret not doing so earlier?"
"You were so stupid," he said, his voice trapped between a snarl and a whine. "Why were you so kind to him? To everyone? That was what killed you. The world could spare no room for someone like you."
Giorno scrambled to pick up the fallen pieces of plastic and wiring.
"Dio, dear," the voice said gently. "That doesn't answer my question."
"Yes? Hello?" Giorno pressed the mess of phone parts to the side of his head. "Hello, mother. No, I don't regret going no-contact with you. Yes, the checks are from me. If I see you again, it will be on my own terms. Goodbye." The next lock slid open. Only one remained.
"Give it back," Dio hissed. "I wasn't done."
"No." Giorno's tone was like steel. "Just remember. It isn't a real call. It's manipulating you."
"She has to know," Dio continued, his voice deepening into a growl. "I never had the chance to tell her how much I hated her for it. Give me the phone."
"I will not," Giorno replied.
Dio glared at him coldly, every muscle tensed as if prepared to snap into violence at any moment. Giorno knew that he was now being seen as no more than an obstacle. He kept the broken phone at his ear.
"Giorno." A voice far too familiar; the real owner was kneeling right beside him. "You're so desperate for independence yet your blood is the only reason you can live your life as you please. Your blood is also what brought you to me. How long did you think your freedom would last? How long do you think I will let you last? Tell me, do you regret meeting me?"
"No," Giorno answered flatly. "Meeting you allowed me to meet my brothers."
"I'm not asking you about your brothers, GioGio."
He locked eyes with the real Dio, who was still trembling with rage. "No," Giorno answered.
"Oh?" the voice asked, lowering to a dangerous purr. "Is that really so?"
"You don't need an explanation," Giorno said with a dismissive sigh. "Only an answer. And the answer is no." He dropped the broken phone pieces to the floor.
The final deadbolt slid away and the door popped open. The phone fell silent.
Dio's hands clamped onto his shoulders, his nails sharp and harsh. Giorno instinctively pulled away from him and he felt a painful scrape.
"You are unbearable," Dio growled. "You inherited the worst of us both. What are you planning? Do you believe that patricide runs in the family? Do you think it is your turn to carry on the tradition?" He laughed and it was empty and cold. "Do you really think that I would allow that?"
"I do not," Giorno answered. "Let go of me."
"Answer me."
"I am trying to help you," Giorno stated, his expression held carefully calm. "But my patience is not infinite. Let go of me."
Hol rolled over and groaned. The tension broke. "Oh, Nena, I'm sorry. You were really ugly as sin but I shouldn't a' been mean to you."
Dio dropped his hands to his sides. Giorno felt the slight chill of air on blood. He lifted a hand to his shoulder to check the damage; it felt like the scrapes had only broken the surface of his skin. "We have to find Jolyne," Giorno said quietly. "This is something that we will talk about later." He got to his feet and pulled out another road flare. The nearly-blinding light sputtered and grew steady. As he pulled the thick door open wider the room filled with the sounds of combat.
The ceiling of the restaurant had collapsed, letting in the moonlight. The transformed lumps of former cars had congealed into a central dome, presumably to create a protective shell for the user. Scattered structures wavered between sharp metal and lurching meat. One toppled over and crashed against the ground. A shining white string had wrapped around the base and pulled through, slicing it apart.
"Listen, I don't give a single fuck about what you have to say," a voice said. "None of that matters to me right now. All I care about is finding you and then beating the absolute shit out of you."
A body zipped from one side of the room to the other and strings glinted in the light. More of the aggressive pillars fell before they could congeal into walls and doors. A few phones clattered to the ground.
"I hope you're afraid," the voice continued. "I bet you're pissing yourself in there right now. You better know that you have really, truly…"
She dropped down and landed on the central structure in a crouch. She pulled her arms close to her chest, drawing the strings tight. They pulled at the broken wooden beams of the ceiling. A bleating plastic phone was held in place as she tilted her head against her shoulder.
"Pissed me off!" she finally shouted, and she pulled at the strings with a grunt. The broken beams came loose and fell towards the dome like javelins. They pierced into it and after a long moment, the Stand deactivated. Piles of de-transformed metal clattered to the ground, loose hubcaps and wires and scrap tumbling loudly.
Jolyne slid down the pile of smashed cars and landed on the wooden floor. She caught sight of the bright road flare and wiped a streak of blood from her face. She squinted over towards the junk-covered entranceway in confusion, but anger and adrenaline kept her expression sharp.
Giorno opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Hol gave a smile that was more like a grimace and held up a hand as if to wave. Dio took a step back and wondered if he was experiencing the same instinctive reaction a cobra would have when it spotted a mongoose.
"It just doesn't end, does it?" Jolyne asked as she took a step towards them. She tilted her head and her neck popped. "Three is a bit much, though. Doesn't really matter. You aren't going to stop me."
"We're here to help," Giorno finally managed to say.
"Huh?" She paused, halfway through pressing a fist against her palm to crack the knuckles. "Damn, really?"
"Totally," Hol squeaked. He cleared his throat and his tone dropped back to normal. "We're gonna take you to your dad."
At that her expression went soft with surprise. "What? He's awake?" Her eyes went wide. "Wait, do any of you know how to heal?" She pointed off towards a far corner of the room, where metal had piled up against the wall. "My friend is in bad shape. I can stitch her up but I think she needs more."
"I can," Giorno replied.
Jolyne grinned. "Good. Come on. We can do icebreakers later." She dashed off towards the pile of scrap. Giorno hesitated for a split second but then followed her.
(as always, thank you for reading!
atrocity exhibition is named after the danny brown album. literally no lyrical relevance to the plot at all but it's one of my favorite albums and i do what i want.)
