Because why would anything ever go Giorno's way? It took all of a single day for the team to be spotted. When Narancia returned from his shopping spree, he came back empty handed and with news that the enemy knew their location. While Narancia was berated by Fugo and Abbacchio, Giorno commended him, because that was probably the best-case scenario for the team if Narancia was spotted. This earned a gleeful smile from Narancia, and glares from Abbacchio and Fugo. Although the two were staring Giorno down with death in their eyes, Bucciarati put the three of them on the next mission assignment from the boss; to retrieve a key from Pompei. From there, Giorno had one hell of an afternoon. Witnessing Fugo vanish into thin air before them, to seeing the psychotic enigma that was Purple Haze. Getting pulled into a mirror was another 'fun' experience for Giorno. Once their enemy was liquified beyond recognition by Fugo's deranged stand, the trio returned to Bucciarati, to set out on the road once more and get to their next destination.
On the trip to the Napoli train station, Abbacchio inspected the inside of the key, seeing their new instructions; head to the 6th platform of the train station and take the earliest train to Venezia. Giorno, being the responsible driver he is, looked in his rearview mirror. Glancing back, he made sure there weren't any cars coming up or following them. His eyes then shifted in the mirror to the pinkette in the back. Something about Trish always caught Giorno's attention. This time, it was the dejected look in her eyes. To Giorno, Trish looked all alone, like she was scorned by the world itself. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. Giorno glanced back in the rearview mirror once more to see any incoming cars. When the lane next to him was clear, he flipped on his turn signal.
"Hold on, guys." Giorno called, sharply merging into the right lane.
All seemed good for a second, before Giorno heard Mista's war cry of fear. He glanced back in the rearview mirror, seeing Mista holding Fugo by the back of his collar, similar to holding a cat by the scruff of its neck. Practically tossing Fugo behind him, Mista began pleading with Trish.
"Please miss, you gotta forgive Fugo. He didn't mean to come off as an over-eager horndog." Mista's words tumbled out of his mouth.
Giorno, while focused on the road, looked mildly confused. What the hell happened back there?
Mista continued, pleading "I know it seems like we hit the brakes so my man here could peak at those jaunty jiggle sacks, but I give you my word that's NOT IT! Blame his weakness in the face of boobs!"
"Now shut up, would ya!" Fugo cried back, trying to defend himself. "I was bracing for impact, and you're making it sound like I was tryna cop a feel!"
Oh. So that's what happened. Giorno had a better picture of the situation. Looking at Trish, she seemed equally confused. She seemed to understand that it was an accident.
Mista sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "Just promise me whatever you do, please don't tell the Boss!" He cried to the pinkette.
Giorno had to give props to Mista. The blue capped teen's acting seemed quite good. If all went well, he might suggest taking up improv to Mista. And with that, the gang pressed on to Napoli's train station
Once at the station, Bucciarati and Giorno found their objective, right at platform 6; an unsuspecting turtle. The synapses in Bucciarati's brain were telling him to put they key in the key shaped dent in the turtle's shell. With that puzzle figured out, Bucciarati leapt onto the train, fearing that they were being followed. Bucciarati quickly crammed his team into the key, along with himself. Once inside the key, the team realized they were stacked to the brim with supplies. A couch, two arm chairs, and a wooden chair along the wall with the mini fridge, and a television set. With the turtle, whose name was Coco Jumbo, inside the cabin of the train, Team Bucciarati had little to fear.
The team got quite comfortable inside the key. Fugo and Abbacchio opted to lay down on the couch, deciding that they deserved a well-earned nap. Giorno, on the other hand, simply went to grab a drink of cold water. Mista and Narancia had their backs to the wall adjacent to the wooden chair. Bucciarati and Trish sat in the armchairs, both drinking from their own glasses of water. Giorno returned to his spot on the end of the couch, taking a sip of water, and placing it down onto the coffee table. Mista sighed and made his way to the fridge.
"Guess bein' inside a turtle has its drawbacks. It's kinda muggy in here." Mista muttered aloud, grabbing out a can of soda.
"Hey, Narancia. You want a drink?" Mista called to the shorter boy.
Narancia didn't respond, the boy seemed to be drifting out of consciousness. This was something that caught Giorno's attention. From the short time he's been on Bucciarati's team, Narancia would immediately respond to being offered a drink.
"Hope you're okay with it being cold." Mista went on, before listing off everything in the fridge, from mineral water, to colas, to various fruit juices.
Mista poked his head out of the fridge, glancing at Narancia. "Hey, are listening to me at all?" Mista questioned.
Narancia turned his head to Mista, cupping his right ear in his hand. "Huh? Did'ja say something to me, Mista?" He asked, his voice partially strained.
Giorno, opting to take another sip of water, sat up, and glanced at Narancia, whose skin seemed duller than usual.
"I asked if you wanted something to drink." Mista called back, taking out a bottle of cola from the fridge. "Although you might want to take a nap. You look like you've seen better days there, man."
Mista's comment on Narancia caught the attention of Trish and Bucciarati, who now turned their attention to Narancia, who was hunched over like an old man.
"You can rest, and I'll keep an eye on the ceiling." Mista's tone softened, seeing Narancia in that state.
"Sounds like a plan. I'm starting to feel a little achy anyway. My back an' shoulders are killin' me!" Naranica called, sitting down on the wooden chair.
"If you could, get me something warm. Nothing too heavy, keep it light." Narancia said to Mista.
"Does your brain shut off when you're talking to people? I said we only have cold drinks!" Mista yelled back, hoping his message would finally get across to Narancia.
"Banana it is then." Narancia stated, reaching over to the coffee table for one of the bananas in the fruit bowl.
Narancia clutched onto the banana, like it was some kind of anchor. The seventeen-year-old boy sighed, glancing at the magazine. "Gardens like these help to sooth the soul. Your stress just melts away. Man, oh man. What I'd give to bask in that garden's warm sunshine just daydreaming, like the good old days." He stated wistfully, like he was reminiscing on a youth long gone. Narancia licked his index finger, and flipped a page, sighing with content. Mista, Bucciatati, Giorno, and Trish were all perturbed by Narancia's actions.
Mista grimaced. "Gross. Would ya cut that shit out? Nobody wants your nasty ass spit on the damn pages." He called to Narancia, closing the refrigerator's door.
"Huh? You're saying I did what now?" Narancia called, his voice even more strained than before.
"There's no way I'd do that. Y-you're crazy." Narancia went on, before coughing roughly into his fist. So roughly that gobs of blood stained his clenched fist. Mista caught a glimpse of something white hanging on by a thread dangling outside of Narancia's mouth.
Giorno quickly stood up and made his way to Narancia. "Narancia, I can heal you if you want." Giorno said to the boy.
Narancia didn't seem to notice Giorno's presence as he began pealing the banana. Giorno and Mista shared a glance, before the two of them focused their attention on Narancia.
"You're ah… droolin' pretty bad there, man. That's nasty. The hell is that?" Mista questioned, pointing to the dangling tooth. The tooth dangled even lower, before it was in full view of both Giorno and Mista, both of them recoiling.
Almost as if by magic, Narancia's hair began going a light gray by the tips. Giorno's eyes widened in shock. Upon closer inspection, Giorno could see prominent wrinkles across all of Narancia's body.
"I was craving this banana, but it's no good." Narancia wheezed, and another cough escaped the boy. Giorno glanced down, seeing the banana that yellow a few seconds ago was now a deep shade of brown.
"I mean just look at it. It's like an old stale piece a' beef jerky." Narancia muttered, not even realizing he was bleeding onto the banana.
Reasonably terrified out of his mind, Mista slowly made his way to Giorno and Narancia. The blue capped teen tried to laugh it off.
"Real funny there, Narancia. You had me goin' there for a minute. Good on ya, Narancia. Don't scare me like that." Mista chuckled in a scared manor, pointing his finger at Narancia.
"It almost looks like that think comin' out of your mouth is a real tooth." Mista jested, glancing up at Giorno. Mista continued, complementing Narancia on the elaborate prank, before Giorno interjected.
"M-Mista, I'm afraid that is a real tooth." Giorno said, both of them sharing a glance. They cast their gaze back upon Narancia, who now had a full head of gray hair, and even more wrinkles crawling along his body.
"Didja say something, Giorno? Could ya speak louder?" Narancia glanced up, and Giorno finally got a glimpse of Narancia's face. His eyes were sunken in, and his cheeks caved inwards. Giorno stumbled back in horror. Narancia went on and on, shouting incoherently.
What the hell happened to Narancia?
Was it an enemy?
How did they find them?
How could they find them?
These questions raced through Giorno's mind like a computer trying to decode an algorithm. Giorno stepped back, glancing at the couch where Fugo and Abbacchio laid. Their bodies looked similar to Narancia's, lifeless and old. Giorno looked himself over, and realized that, while his skin did look dull, he wasn't wrinkly like Narancia. Although not to the same degree as the other three, Giorno realized that Bucciarati, Mista, and Trish were all aging slowly. After Narancia looked in a mirror and saw that he was an old man, he promptly passed out from the shock, while Mista propped him up onto the couch. The four that were still awake tried to collect their thoughts.
"It would seem we're under attack." Bucciarati, as calmly as he could, stated.
"The question is, from where?" Giorno muttered, ready to summon Gold Experience at any moment.
Mista slammed his fists down on the table in frustration. "Dammit! How the hell are we supposed to figure this out while half of our guys are down an' out? We don't even know where they're comin' from!" He shouted.
"Mista, calm down. Screaming isn't going to help. We need to think about this rationally." Bucciarati consoled the gunman.
Giorno cast his gaze upon his glass of ice water. With thoughts running through his head, he looked to where Trish and Bucciarati were sat, seeing that they too had glasses of ice water.
"I've got it. It's body temperature! Those with a lower body temperature age slower than ones with warmer bodies." Giorno exclaimed, earning a nod from Bucciarati.
"That would explain why you, Trish, and I seem to be aging slowest. And Mista was by the fridge, which cooled him off." Bucciarati stated aloud.
"Then how come I'm aging the slowest out of all of us?" Trish spoke up.
"In biology, I learned that women's bodies tend to be colder than men's bodies. It could be that they knew what they were searching for, and are indiscriminately attacking everyone on this train." Giorno said, earning fearful looks from everyone else awake.
Proving his theory of cooler bodies aging slower, he picked out a piece of ice from his glass, and placed it near Narancia's left eye. Almost instantly, the boy's eye returned to a bright purple gleam. Mista practically whooped with joy at Giorno's theory in practice.
"Alright then! Let's get to reanimating these corpses!" Mista cheered, reaching into the fridge's ice tray.
"Mista, wait!" Bucciarati cried to the gunman. "We need to ration the ice!"
Mista's gleeful expression turned downtrodden when he saw only two pieces of ice in the tray.
"We need to be careful, even if we've already figured out our enemies' ability. One of us should find our guy, while the rest of us keep an eye on our teammates." Giorno warned.
"He's right. Mista, you're on hunting duty. Take the ice with you and take down the stand user by any means necessary." Bucciarati instructed the blue capped teen, earning a smirk out of Mista.
"This'll be no problem for me. My Sex Pistols'll find our enemy and put em' six feet under." Mista proudly boasted.
"Just get out there quickly. Our bodies are aging at blinding speeds." Bucciarati warned, feeling the wrinkles under his eyes growing by the second.
With a simple nod, Mista exited the turtle with the two ice cubes, leaving Giorno, Trish and Bucciarati on body-watching duties.