Running down the streets near the building where the battle went down was like running through some sorta apocalyptic shit.

Giorno was just about to leave the safety of the alleyway when Mista had popped out again and the blond had nearly bashed his brains in with a hunk of stone before realizing it was Mista standing behind him. After checking that the area seemed clear again (and after yelling at Mista for a minute straight about not sneaking up on him like that), they'd headed down the road towards the Colosseum.

It was only a few blocks away, a straight shot down the street, but the effects of the mold were still evident. It had only spread about half a kilometer, Mista noticed, based on the street signs and side roads they passed, but all the unfortunate victims caught in the attack were everywhere.

Half-formed bodies laid lifelessly on the sidewalks, their remaining limbs dissolved into piles of green goop that sorta reminded Mista of pistachio pudding. There were lumps of the mold that Mista assumed had to have been a person before but were now nothing more than rotting meat. He wondered what would happen when the mold dissolved, if it ever would, how Cioccolata's Stand worked was beyond him but clearly the mold wasn't gone. Either Cioccolata wasn't dead or his Stand's ability didn't fade.

Maybe that was sort of a mercy. If the mold vanished and those people were just left with gaping sores, open wounds, and missing limbs and torsos…

Maybe being mold was better than that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Giorno staring straight ahead, likely trying to not look at all the people they were just running past. Giorno could help them, Mista realized, but it would delay their arrival at the Colosseum God knows how long. Not to mention that the blond wouldn't be able to explain it at all. So of course Giorno wasn't looking at them; he could try to pretend they weren't there that way.

Maybe Mista should do that too. They were making him feel kinda sick.

The road was surprisingly empty the closer to the Colosseum they got which was strange but Mista figured it had something to do with the whole mold-sprouting-out-of-people's-bodies thing. It kind of put a damper on tourism. It was also late at this point, probably after midnight judging by how long it took them to travel to Rome from the coast.

Giorno flicked up his hand and waved his fingers towards the edge of the street, directing Mista's attention to a gated park across the street from them, the Colosseum looming behind it with a street nearly empty of cars separating them.

They quickly made their way across the crosswalk to crouch down behind the brick wall, just out of sight of the Colosseum, likely so Giorno could figure out what to do next. They hadn't seen Bucciarati anywhere and Mista had a bad feeling in his gut about it so he chose to avoid making any comments about it at all. Anything he said, Giorno would already know.

"I don't see anyone…" Giorno murmured softly, so quiet that Mista wondered if maybe that was meant for himself.

"Yeah. Kinda weird," he decided to say anyway.

The blond glanced at him before saying, "I wouldn't know. I've never been to Roma before now. I assume it's busy?"

"Like ya wouldn't believe," Mista agreed. "I'll bring you sometime. After this."

Giorno smiled at him but Mista could tell he was distracted and figured that he'd just make good on that promise later, even if Giorno didn't remember him saying so. The blond's mouth was moving but it was silent and his eyes were flicking back and forth across the ruins of the Colosseum to the empty path before them.

"We're going to the Colosseum," he instructed and Mista was taken aback.

"But what about-"

"We can't wait for him any longer," Giorno interrupted. "Bucciarati will come. I'm sure of it. But right now, we must find that man. It's far too important to abandon the mission and search for Bucciarati now."

Mista was more concerned about how the others would react, but if they didn't know, then they couldn't really be mad, right?

"You go left, I'll go right," Giorno hissed. "Search the outside first; look for anything out of place or strange, anything that doesn't look quite right. It could be a clue. And stay on your guard; we don't know when we might be attacked."

Mista nodded and the pair split, rushing from the cover of the bricks to cross the street in the dark of night, avoiding the street lights that illuminated the vacant road. Passing the stoplight, they vaulted the fence surrounding the Colosseum and Giorno veered right while Mista headed a little to the left. It wouldn't do them any good to truly split up.

He'd never really been much for those old historical sites that so many peoples seemed to love visiting, tourists and Italians alike, but he had to admit, the structure was pretty damn impressive. If only he didn't have to search the damn thing; if this guy wasn't gonna reveal himself to them, then it was gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack and they were fucked.

After searching what felt like the billionth stone pillar he'd seen and finding absolutely nothing except holes and the occasional spiderweb, Mista was finding it hard to stay motivated. When he glanced over, Giorno was a couple meters away meticulously searching what seemed like every centimeter of the place and if he didn't like the guy so darn much, he'd think him a tryhard. What the fuck were they supposed to be looking for anyways; a fucking note saying 'Go Here'? If only.

Mista ran his hand up the next pillar, feeling the cool rugged surface beneath his fingers with nothing out of place and sighed.

The next second, a prickle shot down his spine and he shivered involuntarily. He was being watched. And that wasn't all, he knew this feeling. Had felt it before. On the coast of Sardegna when the boat drove away.

He glanced over his shoulder in what he hoped seemed casual and scanned the street. Nothing but the occasional car speeding by, even under the streetlights, there wasn't even a glimpse of a person anywhere in sight.

Maybe he was too on edge? But…

Mista felt Giorno's eyes on his back as he turned and started heading towards the street as slowly as he could without seeming weird. Better to just act like maybe he's going to look at something over at the edge of the plaza if someone really was watching them. He made sure to glance around at the street and the Colosseum, scanning again for any possible hint of a person. None of the cars had stopped, so that couldn't possibly have been it. He wouldn't have felt that just from a glance out of a moving car.

The guardrail of the street was only a few meters away when he heard Giorno shouting and immediately spun back around.

Giorno was yelling something unintelligible as Mista raced back towards them and he saw that Trish was standing next to him now.

"Trish!" he cried when he saw the terrified look on the girl's face. "What's wrong?!"

She looked up at him, a sheen of sweat across her brow evident in the moonlight, goosebumps along her pale arms, and just shook her head frantically.

"Trish?!" That was Fugo's voice and a second later the blond appeared next to the three, his features twisted into a scowl. "What were you thinking?!" he hissed, grabbing the girl's shoulder and pulling her towards Coco Jumbo. "Get back inside!"

"No, he's here!" Trish cried, yanking her arm out of Fugo's grip and clenching her hands into fists.

"What?!"

"She feels the Boss," Giorno said grimly, resting his hand on Fugo's shoulder to draw his attention and raising a finger to his lips. Be quiet, he was reminding them all. Especially if the Boss was nearby.

"He's nearby?" Mista hissed, feeling his heart start to speed up just at the idea of being near that guy. "Does he know we're headed for the Colosseum?!"

"Why else would he be here," Fugo growled, jerking his head back from where he'd turn to survey their surroundings to look at Trish. "Trish! Can you find his position?"

"H-he came out of nowhere." She was knelt on the ground with her head in her hands and was shivering uncontrollably. "Somewhere nearby! I don't know where he is, but he's moving!"

"Dammit!" Mista cursed, yanking out his pistol as he ducked behind the stone pillar to ready himself for a fight. "The Colosseum is too big! About 500 meters-"

"More than that," Fugo interrupted. "You're only thinking about the outside of it. What about all the space inside? It may be off limits but when has that stopped someone? The man we're meeting said he'd find us… but now we don't know where to go!"

"Shit… shit!" Mista slammed his fist against the pillar, a small rain of dust showering down around him. "What the fuck do we do?!"

"For now, we need to get inside!" Giorno said, gesturing to the entrance behind them. "We'll be more protected in a walled-off area!"

"Giorno's right," Fugo agreed. "If we can at least get out of the open, that will be something. We need as many advantages as we can get. And Trish, you'll have to stay out here. You're the only one who might be able to point us in the right direction."

"I know." Trish seemed worried and was still sweating but there was determination shimmering in her green eyes and she looked strangely excited. Likely because she was actually getting to help, Mista figured.

"I'll inform Narancia and Abbacchio about the situation," Fugo said as he stepped back towards the turtle. "Meanwhile, try to get inside. Maybe upstairs, if you can. Somewhere that you can see the Boss but he won't be able to see you. Once you've found a good vantage point, we'll reconvene."

Mista exchanged a glance with Giorno before they both nodded in acknowledgement. Trish straightened back up and looked towards the street, and Mista couldn't help but notice. The street… could that be what he'd felt? Was that who was watching him? And since it was the same, did that mean the Boss was the one on the coast of Sardegna too? If he was… if he was, did that mean Abbacchio was attacked by the Boss himself? Mista had assumed it was a guard again, since everyone they'd fought so far had been from the Boss' personal squad but if it had been the Boss trying to clean up his own loose ends…

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The Boss had never seemed like the type to only have others do his dirty work; you couldn't be a mafia boss without being willing to bloody your own hands. That, and the fact that the Boss had always had a problem with trusting his men, never wanted to show his face, only issued commands and never revealed himself…

But that could also mean that it really was a private guard. And if that was the case, then the Boss wasn't who had been watching them. But Trish had seemed like he had come from the street before moving and that gaze had had more bloodlust than Mista had ever felt in his life.

Shit, he didn't know, it didn't matter anyways. He could talk to the others about it later but not right now. Right now, he had shit to do.

"And…" Fugo had paused with his back turned to them, something Mista had only ever seen him do when he felt embarrassed. "I- just… be careful. I don't want anymore deaths."

Normally, Mista would give the guy shit for showing that he actually cared about someone other than Bucciarati and Narancia sometimes but now, he just felt bad. So Fugo didn't know about Bucciarati. Well, he himself wasn't supposed to know either, Mista supposed. Fuck, things had to work out. They always did. His luck had never failed him; surely it wouldn't now.

"We will," Mista murmured softly, patting the blond on the back. He felt Fugo's shoulder relax just the slightest bit under his touch before the boy warped back into the turtle.

Giorno motioned for Mista and Trish to follow him and the three took off into the Colosseum, the archway looming above them as they entered the shadowy corridor. It was near pitch black inside the hall, the stone structure blocking out the moon and casting dark shadows on the interior of the Colosseum.

Mista had never been inside it before, only passing the exterior those few times mob work took him to Roma, but he imagined it would be a lot grander during the day. Right now, it just felt ominous. Bleak.

They exited the archway a few seconds later, Giorno turning right to search for a staircase with Trish following closely behind him and Mista bringing up the rear, covering their backs as closely as he could. The blond had taken a step onto the stairs as Mista turned back to look at the two in front of him and then froze.

"How did this happen?" Giorno hissed and Mista frowned. What did he-

"We're too late!" the blond continued, his teeth clenched tightly. "The man waiting for us at the Colosseum… had already entered the Boss' range!"

Mista had been watching the stairs right after Giorno said they were too late, gun at the ready for whatever the blond meant, when he heard Giorno say that and swivelled back around to stare at the blond in shock.

"Time… has started to skip again."

Mista never noticed the time skipping earlier, even though he believed Giorno. Maybe he'd just been too dense to really realize without something incredibly obvious staring him in the face.

"Just like in Venizia…" Giorno trailed off and Mista slowly looked back at the stairs behind them. The stairs he didn't remember climbing up at all. "All of a sudden, we've already climbed up the stairs…"

"This is-"

"Trish!" Mista cut her off. No point in explaining this to her; she'd been unconscious the other time it'd happened. "Where is the Boss?!"

The pink-haired girl jerked back from the stone wall like it had burned her and turned her gaze upwards.

"I-I'm not sure," she stammered. "I think it's…"

Trish squeezed her eyes shut, a look of focus furrowing her brow as Mista and Giorno waited for her response.

Her eyes flew open and she pointed to the right of where they'd come up the stairs, along the right side of the stone floor that lined the central atrium that lay in the middle of the Colosseum.

"That way!" she insisted, breaking into a run that left the two boys racing after her.

"Do you know where specifically or is he just in that direction?" Giorno asked as the pair drew up alongside Trish to flank her.

"I just know he's this way," Trish answered, her green eyes fixed on the line of columns to the right. "I wish I could feel more but…"

"Nah, this is great," Mista said, false bravado and all. "You're a huge help, Trish. Givin' us a leg up! We can find the Boss before he finds us and beat the shit out of him!"

Trish didn't reply but Mista could see her mouth twist up in the faintest hint of a proud grin. He knew she'd wanted to do more this whole time and he was happy for her now that she got to do shit. He couldn't imagine having to do nothin' at all while everyone else fought for you, like some kinda damsel. In Mista's opinion, Giorno's looks would fit the damsel role better than all of them. Even Trish. His personality though? He'd go stir-crazy in under a minute.

"Tell me if you see anything," Giorno spoke up. "Both of you. We don't know how many men the Boss may have here. Any sign of life and you tell me."

"Shouldn't we attack?" Trish asked. "They might get away if we stop to tell you."

"We don't know if the man we're to meet might still turn up," Giorno explained. "And if we attacked him, he could very well decide to rescind the information. Or worse, you would kill him before he could tell us anything."

Mista nodded in agreement with what Giorno was saying when Trish glanced at him and the girl nodded in response. At least she was listening to them this time.

Mista wasn't sure how long they were running along the side of the Colosseum (and Fugo was right, this place was huge) before he heard Trish's sharp gasp and her shrill cry of, "Look! Over there!"

She was pointing to their left, to an area they'd been running past that held a large set of flattened stairs that led further down into the Colosseum. It took him a moment to see what she was pointing at in the darkness, and he still hadn't found it when Trish cried out again.

"Bucciarati's alive!" Her voice was high-pitched and wrought with worry as she started rushing towards the fallen body that Mista was just now able to notice, half hidden behind a chunk of stone wall. "But he looks like he's badly injured!"

Mista was running after them and chanced a glance at Giorno. The blond's face was stoney and unreadable and Mista wondered if he was doing that for show. For reassurance.

The capo was lying on the ground like he was trying to hoist himself up to his feet, leaning heavily on his hands with his head bowed towards the ground. Mista couldn't see any blood or injuries on the man; he just looked tired. Exhausted even. But that could easily be false, there might be some sort of wound they couldn't see or… or it could be what Mista feared it was.

How many days had it been now if that was true? Three? How long could a body move…

Giorno took the lead as Mista quickly shook his head and shouted out, "Bucciarati!"

"Be careful!" Trish cried as they neared their fallen capo, halting in their tracks to scan the area for any sign of the man. "The Boss is somewhere nearby!"

There was nothing that Mista could see except gray stone and dark sky but if Trish said she felt the Boss nearby, then he had to be just out of sight. Hiding somewhere. Watching them. C'mon, this was what he was best at, Mista knew he was dense as hell but he was aware of way more shit than most people; just part of the deal that came with being a gunner by trade. If any of them could spot the Boss, it was him.

Before he could even get a chance to really look though, he heard Giorno call out, "M-Mista!"

The gunman turned back to look at Giorno, saw Bucciarati lying flat on the ground, and felt his own legs buckle beneath his body. What? Had Giorno not healed something? Had the Boss attacked? But no, he remembered falling so time hadn't skipped.

"Something's wrong," Giorno was saying but his voice seemed far away and Mista's dark eyes drifted up to look at the blond before he pitched forward the rest of the way onto the cold ground, barely managing to cushion his fall with his arms first.

Mista's limbs felt like bags of bricks and it felt like his brain was slowing down as well. It wasn't normal for his eyelids to weigh over a ton but he could feel them closing all on their own. He rolled onto his side, trying to push himself back up because Giorno was still talking but the blond's voice was fragmented and stilted.

It was a monumental effort but Mista managed to open his eyes one last time to see Giorno fall to the ground as well.

His last conscious thought was that he wished he'd been able to catch him.