Fugo emerged from the turtle to a gun pointed right in his face.

He jumped back, running into Abbacchio who had followed after him and nearly lost his balance if the man hadn't grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?!" Fugo exclaimed, Trish glaring him down from the other end of the pistol.

"It's alright," someone cut in before the girl could explain herself and Fugo glanced behind her to see Naranica-Giorno gesture to him and Ababcchio. "Fugo and Abbacchio both switched souls. I verified that before I joined you all."

"Shit!" Trish cursed, stuffing the gun back into her skirt.

"I assume you're Mista?" Fugo asked, the girl's green eyes flicking towards him as she nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "And Trish is in me."

"Stop saying it like that!" Mista's body shrieked from behind Trish and yup, that was definitely Trish in there alright.

Mista's hand flew to his ears, covering them as he whirled around to yell at the boy, "Stop screaming at me! It's true!"

"Be quiet." Giorno cut them both off and even though he was in Narancia's body, that icy glare that shut everyone up was still the same. "We don't have time for this. As I was saying, there is certainly someone inside Bucciarati's body but I have no idea who it is."

"But I don't get it; there was no one else around us, right?" Mista wondered, crossing his arms over his chest awkwardly, clearly not used to the fleshy sacs that now hung there.

"Isn't it the Boss?" Abbacchio said. "He's the only option."

"No," Trish replied. "I would sense him. He's nowhere near the Colosseum; I can't sense him anywhere. We don't know where he went."

"What if it's the person we were supposed to meet?" Fugo asked.

"There's no way to know for sure," Giorno replied. "We have to wait until Bucciarati wakes up to find out who he is."

As Giorno said that, Fugo felt Ababcchio stiffen beside him and although when he looked, the boy showed no trace of emotion in his body language, Fugo could still read his expression. It was, after all, his own face. And he knew that look.

The conversation he'd overheard flitted through his mind and Fugo quickly directed his attention back to Giorno, who was saying something about watching over the capo's body. Unease was creeping through him and this dread was unlike any other he'd felt before.

Fugo watched as Giorno froze from when he'd been speaking, eyes widening before he swung around to stare at a broken pillar behind him. Fugo was confused until he heard soft thumps coming from that direction. Judging by the halt in conversation, the others had picked it up too.

Coco Jumbo's head emerged from around the other side of the pillar, staring straight at the group as it said, "In short… the enemy's name is Diavolo, got it?"

There was a muffled cry of shock from his left, likely coming from Trish, as Giorno instantly jerked up to meet the turtle's gaze, Gold Experience flying out of Narancia's body to yank the key out of Coco Jumbo before the animal had even finished talking. Fugo held his breath, waiting for whoever was inside to come flying out, but it never happened.

"No! I'm not speaking from inside the turtle," it continued, taking a slow step towards them. "It's me. I am the one speaking."

This was so fucking weird.

"My name is Jean Pierre Polnareff."

Polnareff? Fugo thought he'd heard that name from somewhere before but he couldn't remember where. It wasn't a gang member, that much was certain. He'd memorized all the names of Passione members, whether he was supposed to know them or not.

"I was the one who arranged to meet you here at the Colosseum, but Diavolo backed me into a corner, and I could no longer fulfill my promise."

The turtle spoke slowly as it climbed further up the broken pillar to perch at the top of it, staring down at the group as it said, "My original body is already dead, over on the second floor. I had to use the arrow's power, and so I was able to switch spirits with the turtle!"

The arrow? Did it mean the Stand arrow? The one that Black Sabbath used? Did the man receive a Stand that did this? The arrow didn't do anything else, right?

"Who the hell is this guy?!" Mista yelled from beside Fugo. "Who's "Polnareff"?!"

The girl's voice was laced with frustration, and Fugo couldn't blame him. Things were only getting more confusing with each thing this turtle, Polnareff, said. Come on, he knew that name, think Fugo, think! Fuck, why has he stuck in Abbacchio?! The man's brain function was horrible!

"Let me just say this first…" the turtle continued. "I only did this because Diavolo left me with no choice. This strange phenomenon that's happening to all of you right now is a part of the arrow's power, the arrow I was supposed to give you. I'm desperately hanging onto my soul so I can tell you this."

"The arrow?" Fugo echoed in confusion.

"So you're saying this was caused by the arrow?" Giorno clarified for him, eyeing the turtle with obvious suspicion.

"To be more precise, it's because my Stand, Silver Chariot, took hold of the arrow," Polnareff explained.

"Wait!" Fugo exclaimed. "I thought that the arrow can only give Stands; if what you're saying is true, then this phenomenon means that it can only alter the spiritual manifestation of the recipient, but upon touching the Stand, does that mean it changes the very spirit itself?"

The turtle turned its gaze onto Fugo and he was shocked at how cold those eyes were.

"You… you must be Fugo then," it said. "I had heard you'd returned but… hmm. Interesting."

"What are you-"

"My body is already dead upstairs," Polnareff continued, ignoring Fugo's protests and leaving the boy seething. What, did this guy not think he was worth answering or something?! "The reason I was able to swap souls with this turtle and survive is because of that arrow."

Narancia darted away from the group, nimbly leaping up a battered stone wall with the kind of speed only he possessed. It was strange to see Giorno doing reconnaissance instead.

"There's definitely someone in the hallway on the second floor," Narancia confirmed. "There's a dead guy who's been knocked out of his wheelchair."

A wheelchair…? Fugo could feel the gears in his brain whirring as he tried to make the connection. Polnareff, a wheelchair, the Boss… they were all connected and he'd heard it from someone, when he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be…

Fugo heard the turtle exclaim, "It's only my body? Where is Diavolo?"

"Hey!" Mista interjected. "If everything you're saying is true, your Chariot can return us to normal, too, right?"

In theory, Fugo agreed that was true, but if the Stand itself had been touched by the arrow, and the arrow gave a person a Stand, then could it not do the opposite as well?

"No… I currently don't have the power to control Chariot or make it disappear," Polnareff said gravely, and that solidified it in Fugo's mind. "I don't even know where it is right now. Chariot has basically gone berserk."

"Your own Stand went berserk?" Trish cried indignantly, taking a step forward, scowling. "How irresponsible can you-"

"No," Giorno interrupted, and Fugo wondered if he was going to say that Fugo had been thinking but then said, "More importantly, what happened with the Boss?"

It wasn't what he'd expected, but it was still important. Giorno was right; he shouldn't be allowing himself to get distracted by these mysteries in front of him, no matter how much he wanted to unravel them.

"What happened to him?" Giorno's voice was getting increasingly louder as it began to sink in to the others that they truly had no idea where their enemy was. "Where is Diavolo right now?!"

"I don't know," Polnaredd said. "Diavolo was right in front of me, but he disappeared."

The turtle seemed to think about what it wanted to say for a second before proclaiming, "All of you, listen very carefully. The arrow is not your enemy, nor is it your friend! What I'm about to explain to you is hope! Such a trivial… trivial coincidence happened two years ago."

Two years… when Fugo had just been sent on his first solo mission… that pink-haired man he'd felt was familiar, Doppio… and everything fell into place.

"You're him," Fugo realized with a start, his head jerking up from where he'd been glowering at the ground in thought to stare imploringly at Polnareff. "You're the Frenchman the Boss killed."

Fugo heard gasps of surprise behind him but his gaze was fixed on the turtle, which narrowed its eyes as it said, "How do you know of that?"

"Two years ago," Fugo began. "I was sent to the coast of Salerno for an assassination. There was a man I encountered while hiding out in a Passione base there. He seemed to not know I was there, talking to someone on a phone. About a silver-haired man the Boss had personally killed himself after digging his nose into places he doesn't belong. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Wait, that alone isn't enough evidence," Giorno said. "There must be something else, Fugo. Whatever it is, you need to tell us."

"…The Speedwagon Foundation. That's it's name, right?"

"Speedwagon?" Fugo heard Giorno mutter as Polnareff stared at them before nodding briefly.

"It seems you have information but now is not the time," the turtle said. "However, once this is over…"

Fugo got the message. Maybe digging into that database wasn't such a good idea after all… and how did Giorno know of it?

"This event," Polnareff said, "All occurred shortly after that incident you overheard, Fugo. After I was incapacitated by Diavolo, I somehow managed to survive and hid in a small farming village."

As Polnareff began to explain what he'd witnessed when his Sand was accidentally pricked by the arrow, Fugo focused more on what had occurred with the Stand rather than with the effects it had. Theoretically, if each Stand had its own power, then a Stand pricked by the arrow would likely have a different power as well. Therefore, it was pure luck that Polnareff had learned of what new power it would grant to Silver Chariot and was able to use it against Diavolo; if, for example, Haze was stuck with the arrow, its effect would likely be starkly different than switching souls.

His original theory that perhaps the Stand took on a mind of its own when pricked with the arrow simply didn't have enough evidence; just because Polnareff couldn't control Chariot didn't mean that the Stand was a fully conscious being now. And what did Chariot want with the arrow? Why had it kept it instead of moving on once it had changed form?

"I realized," Polnareff was saying, "that if someone who had enough power were to use the arrow, they would have the power to control the minds of all living creatures! But I currently don't have that power. And that's why I waited… for someone like you who was searching for Diavolo's true identity. Though, in the end, Diavolo was able to outdo me."

Fugo wasn't sure that was entirely true though; if Polnareff hadn't given the arrow to Chariot, surely the Boss wouldn't have wasted the chance to kill the man once and for all? In which case, the group would never have learned the Boss' true identity and they likely would have been left as lambs to the slaughter at the mercy of the Boss, still shrouded in mystery.

"So this controlling minds thing…" Mista said, the confusion evident in his tone. "Do you mean the thing going on right now? It's just swapping souls?"

"No," Polnareff answered. "Remember when I said that this was just a part of its power? I can't control it, so I wasn't able to see its potential beyond that. But it definitely exists!"

Wait, then that means Fugo's theory may be right after all; if Chariot was not a complete evolution, but merely a portion of it, then perhaps its form and powers developed before the mind did. Of course, the opposite could be true as well now: Polnareff simply lost control because he wasn't strong enough to be recognized as Chariot's master. If that was the case, what were the parameters such abilities were based on? Pure, raw physical strength, or could it be mental fortitude or strength of spirit, of drive? This was just giving Fugo more questions. There was only one way to answer them, and that was to-

"Go retrieve the arrow!" Polnareff commanded, voice filled with conviction. "Stop Chariot before the Boss can and reclaim the arrow! The only way to defeat King Crimson is for you to use the arrow to its full potential!"

"So in order to take back the arrow," Giorno asked, narrowing his eyes. "You're telling us to kill Chariot. Am I assuming too much?"

Fugo wasn't sure if that was true; if Chariot was its own entity, then perhaps the link between the lives of the Stand and the wielder had been severed as well.

It sounded like he would find that out as well when Polnareff replied, "That's fine. Once you take the arrow, Chariot will be destroyed regardless. Besides, I've already been finished off. There's one other unbelievable and important thing I need to tell you. Are you the girl called Trish?"

Trish's dark eyes widened in surprise before she said, "Yes, though I currently have hairy knuckles…"

"I see…" Fugo watched as the turtle shifted its head to stare at Bucciarati's body, still lying motionless on the ground. The longer it took whoever was in the capo to wake, the worse Fugo felt about Bucciarati's situation.

"The boss is a duo," Polnareff said when he turned back to the group, shocked gasps echoing around Fugo as the man continued. "There was a kid who was somehow able to transform into you and trick Bucciarati. Diavolo and this kid were like a well-coordinated team."

"What? B-But how?" Trish stammered. She'd always only ever said that she could sense one person and it had always been when they all had known the Boss was somewhere nearby. It didn't make sense, Fugo though; was there someone pulling strings behind the scenes or something?

"But that's impossible," Giorno protested, and Fugo had to agree with him. "The boss trusts no one. That's how he kept his identity secret for so long."

"I'm not sure what happened either, but there was definitely a mysterious kid," Polnareff insisted. "If it wasn't for that kid, there's no way I'd have let Diavolo get that close to me."

There was no reason for Polnareff to lie about this, Fugo knew that, but the true mystery was in how this 'duo' operated. There were too many possibilities but this fact created so many inconsistencies as well that Fugo could barely believe it.

"Two… so the Boss is a duo?" Giorno muttered, half to himself, and Fugo wondered if the boy was thinking the same thing as him. "What's…"

"Giorno!" Narancia's firm voice cut through the group, the serious tone only used during battle evident in the boy's voice. He was looking through Aerosmith's radar, eyes fixed likely on a glowing green dot as he proclaimed, "Something's moving! Nine o'clock. Uno signal."

Narancia was silent for a few seconds before he cried, "It's a person! There's a person heading in from the gate on the right!"

As Giorno began instructing the group with hand signals, heavy silence immediately filling the ruins of the Colosseum, Fugo knew it could really only be one of two people. Either this was Bucciarati, coming to help them, or…

He followed Abbacchio as the pair ducked behind a large outcropping of rubble, eyes fixed on the gate Narancia had mentioned. Fugo couldn't see anything, appearing as a blur of gray and brown objects far off in the distance. While it had been bad in the turtle, the darkness made the problem a million times first. However, when he closed his eyes and focused, there was indeed the sound of footsteps.

"H-He's… that face!" Fugo heard Trish exclaim in horror and he knew what that meant. Even though he couldn't see well right now, he'd memorized the features imprinted in the stele so that the man's face would be forever engraved in his mind.

"The Boss… no, Diavolo!" Trish finished just as Fugo was able to make out a figure. It was still too far away to see the features clearly, but that hair… it was pink. He'd seen that shade of pink before, and not just on Trish's head.

"Oh my God…" he murmured in shock, realizing that it had to have been the Boss himself that he'd spoken to all those days ago along the canals of Venizia.

"Narancia," Giorno was instructing, "get Aerosmith behind him-"

"Giorno, wait!" That was Polnareff's voice. "The left! Look to the left, in the shadows!"

Fugo looked as well, peering into the darkness only to see pitch black staring back at him. He bit his lip in anger, feeling a hand on his wrist and glanced back to see Abbacchio staring at him, half-pityingly, half-apologetic.

"It's a Stand," Abbacchio whispered. "Dark silvery gray, looks kind of like a soldier or something. No face that I can see of, but it's holding the arrow."

"So there it is!" Polnareff said. "That's my Stand, which the arrow evolved… Chariot Requiem!"

Requiem? What an interesting choice of names- but this wasn't the time for that.

"He's- th-this isn't good!" Giorno cried frantically. "Diavolo was looking for Chariot! He's trying to get the arrow!"

Wait, if that was true, and if they all switched souls, why would the Boss' have remained within his body? It didn't make sense unless Chariot had a certain radius, but Polnareff had said that Diavolo was right there with him when Chariot had evolved.

Fugo heard the telltale sound of warping that meant Gold Experience had been called out and was about to stop Giorno when Polnareff beat him to it.

"Wait Giorno! Don't attack just yet!"

The figure running down the hall hadn't halted in the slightest but as everyone's attention was drawn back to the pink-haired man, the sound of a zipper echoed through the stone hallway and a blue and white figure emerged out of him.

Fugo would know that sound, that appearance, anywhere, even if it was just simple shapes and not in focus. There was no way he could mistake it.

"That Stand!" Trish cried in shock.

"It's Sticky Fingers!" Giorno's voice confirmed it for Fugo and he felt relief course through him.

"Th-that's Bucciarati!" Narancia yelled, his voice full of hope. "It's Bucciarati's soul!"