It had been all of ten minutes since Mista left on a manhunt, leaving Giorno, Trish, and Bucciarati to keep an eye on Fugo, Narancia, and Abbacchio respectively. Trish kept the ice cube around Narancia's face, with Giorno doing the same to Fugo. However, Bucciarati just kept a stern eye on Abbacchio, having not even used a single ice cube on him. This did not go unnoticed by Giorno and Trish.
"Bucciarati, is there any reason why you haven't attempted to de-age Abbacchio?" Giorno questioned.
Bucciarati turned his attention to the blonde boy, stating "When our enemy is defeated, and Mista returns, then I'll heal Abbacchio."
Giorno opted to say nothing, leaving their conversation at that. But Trish, on the other hand, felt unsatisfied with Bucciarati's answer.
"So, you're saying that you'll just leave him to be geriatric, huh? What if he doesn't de-age once the guy doing this is dead? If we run out of ice before then, they may be geezers for the rest of their lives." She retorted.
Bucciarati sighed. "That's a gamble I'm willing to make." He muttered.
Giorno sighed to himself, seeing where this conversation was going. Trish was, reasonably, gob smacked. How could someone be so laissez faire about their teammate's lives?
"Do you even hear yourself, Bucciarati? What if that gamble doesn't pay off? That's why we need to work on the here and now! They're getting old, and we have a solution right before us!" She shouted, reaching into her glass and holding another piece of ice to Narancia's face as the boy's wrinkles disappearing.
Bucciarati turned to Trish, keeping his composure. "We need to focus on keeping ourselves from becoming like one of them. If Mista doesn't return, then it'll be one of us who has to go out and take care of our enemy." He flatly told Trish.
"So that's it, huh? You're willing to sacrifice your teammate's lives to save your own skin? Do you even realize how selfish that is?" Trish kept drilling into Bucciarati.
Bucciarati, unfazed, turned to Trish, and glared right at her. "Listen to me, Trish. If we don't take precautions, we will all end up with our heads on a pike. The path I see before me is the path with the least- no, the path with no casualties at all." He uttered to the pinkette.
Giorno took this time to speak up. "Trish, I get how you feel, but we really do need to keep ourselves safe. I have faith in Bucciarati being right on this." He said, hoping that Trish would understand where they were coming from.
Trish sighed, before slumping herself down into the left arm chair. She supposed that the two of them were right, opting to keep her water close to her. She shut her eyes for but a moment, before she heard a screeching voice.
"Bucciarati! Bucciarati!" It cried, Trish's eyes shooting open. She looked around the room, searching for the voice. She could see, in front of Bucciarati, was a small yellow figure, its head resembling that of a bullet.
"Number Six?" Bucciarati questioned, his face contorting in worry. Bucciarati's entire focus was on that of Number Six, not noticing Trish's confused looks.
"Mista's down and out. Three shots to the head, point blank. And there're two guys we gotta deal with." Number Six explained.
Bucciarati simply nodded. "Number Six, come with me." He told the stand, handing Number Six a piece of ice.
He then turned his attention to the two teens. "Giorno, Trish. Under any circumstances, do not leave this turtle." He directed, before turning directly to Giorno.
"If I fall, I entrust you to make sure that Trish gets to the boss." Bucciarati warned him, Giorno giving him a single nod.
"Very well then. Let's go, Number Six." Bucciarati announced, him and the lone Sex Pistol departing the turtle, leaving Giorno and Trish alone among the sleeping 'elders'.
Giorno turned to Trish, mildly curious. "So, you could see Number Six, right?" He questioned.
Trish nodded. "For a good while, I honestly thought you were lying about the whole stand thing. Just another smoke and mirrors trick. But seeing this now, and seeing that little guy, things are in a better perspective for me." She said.
"So, if you can see stands, then does that mean you…" Giorno trailed off, Trish understanding his implication.
"I can feel something in the back of my mind, but I just can't summon it. It feels like somethings blocking my ability to use it." Trish explained, Giorno simply nodding.
"It might be awhile before you fully awaken to your powers. I've had mine since I was a kid, but my physical stand didn't manifest until a few months ago." Giorno explained, and to demonstrate his point, he summoned his stand.
Trish eyed the stand over carefully, keeping an eye on the ladybug motifs. "Does it have a name?" She questioned.
"I call him Gold Experience." Giorno replied.
Trish cocked an eyebrow. "You a fan of Prince?" She asked.
Gioron chuckled. "Not exactly, no. The name just came to me when he manifested. I'm sure it'll be the same for you." He said.
"We'll see if I even awaken to it. We'll be meeting the boss in a day or so anyway." Trish replied, standing up, looking up outside the key, not seeing much from their current position.
Giorno sighed. "Then after that, we'll…" He paused, realizing that this would probably be the last time they would see each other.
Trish nodded. "I know." She simply said. The air around them seemed to be a bit heavy, neither of them knowing if it was a stand's attack or just the tension around them.
Trish turned her attention back to Giorno, attempting to break the tension in the room. "Hey, Giorno. When all of this is done, and life goes back to normal, do you wanna-"
"GRATEFUL DEAD!"
The sound of the metal door smashing off of its hinges sprung Giorno and Trish's fight or flight responses to life. Giorno summoned Gold Experience, stepping in front of Trish, acting as a pseudo shield.
"Stay behind me, you'll be safe." Giorno cautioned, his eyes trained on the foes before them.
Short blonde hair in a black coat, and a skin-colored carrot with a fishing rod stood before them, the carrot nearly jumping back in surprise.
"Wh-What the hell is that?!" The carrot cried, pointing right at Coco Jumbo in shock. He realized a moment later that it was, in fact, a turtle.
The blonde smirked, saying "We found her. It's Trish. And I can see the others too." The man's face slightly sagged. "With the exception of the donut duo, everyone else is at death's door."
Giorno and Trish tensed, getting ready to leap out and defy Bucciarati's order. The man on the outside smirked, proclaiming he'd age the turtle even more. Giorno looked to the man's stand, a white figure adorned with multiple eyes, missing its lower half of it's body, readying it's fist to punch the turtle.
"W-Wait a sec, Prosciutto!" The carrot cried, catching the attention of the blonde man. "Isn't there… one of them missing?"
Prosciutto seemed to go cold. How did one of them get out? Surely, they'd be aged beyond recognition if they were out of the turtle.
"It's Bucciarati, bro. Bucciarati's the one missing!" The carrot exclaimed, pointing right into the key.
"That doesn't matter, Pesci. Not once I've sent this turtle far beyond the gates of Hell." Prosciutto proclaimed.
Unbeknownst to the two men outside the turtle, Bucciarati was slowly emerging from a zipper on the ceiling of the train's cabin. This caught the attention of the two inside the turtle, both of them keeping a steady eye outside of Coco Jumbo.
"It just doesn't matter! Just get to work! GRATEFUL DEAD!" Prosciutto roared, readying his stand's fist again, before Bucciarati fully unzipped, revealing himself, sending Sticky Finger's fist flying right at the stand. Grateful Dead just barely blocked, catching both Prosciutto and Pesci off guard.
"He's attackin' from above!" Pesci eloquently pointed out.
Giorno and Trish watched the events unfold right before them. Bucciarati and Prosciutto were at a stalemate, while Pesci seemed to be a blundering mess. Grateful Dead reached to grasp onto Sticky Finger's outreached arm, with the latter quickly moving out of reach of the former. Two punches knocked Prosciutto off-kilter, as Sticky Fingers quickly exited the zipper, engaging in combat with Grateful Dead. Any punch that Grateful Dead tried to land completely missed, leaving Bucciarati's stand to effortlessly dodge each and every incoming punch from Grateful Dead. Sticky Fingers' fist shot forward, landing squarely on Prosciutto's chin, forming a zipper, and throwing Prosciutto of balance as he tried to withstand Sticky Fingers' assault.
Prosciutto called to Pesci, telling him to focus on the turtle, catching the attention of Bucciarati. He shot right out of the zipper, delivering a swift kick to the side of Pesci's head, knocking him out cold instantly. This action caused Bucciarati to be caught out in the open, with Prosciutto and Grateful Dead looming over him, the latter having the advantage over Bucciarati. However, Bucciarati effortlessly unzipped his own head, allowing Grateful Dead's fist to pass through the gap in his skull. Prosciutto stood shocked for a moment, leaving Bucciarati an open window to summon Sticky Fingers, with his stand's fist flying right into Prosciutto's gut, knocking him to the right side of the cabin with a thud. Prosciutto's breathing was shallow, as Bucciarati rose to full height.
"I will fulfil my mission and save my famiglia. If the only thing that's standing in my way is you, well then, victory is already well in hand." Bucciarati declared, before he felt the wrinkles on his face grow with much vigor.
Number Six cursed internally, realizing the ice was doing nothing to help Bucciarati. Prosciutto taunted Bucciarati, prompting Bucciarati to summon Sticky Fingers once more, launching a laughably slow assault on the blonde. Prosciutto smirked, catching the stand's fist mid-punch, knocking it to the floor. Giorno and Trish cringed, realizing Bucciarati was on the ropes, nearly at death's door. At that moment, however, Bucciarati went on about how he knew the risk of attacking Prosciutto.
"My mission must be completed, and I will protect my crew." Bucciarati uttered, keeping his glare at Prosciutto.
"Capos worth their salt must be prepared for both. That is the burden we all carry." He continued, grasping onto Prosciutto's arm with this own.
"Can you say the same?" Bucciarati's grip tightened on Prosciutto.
"Coz I'm rarin' to go."
Then, after a brief argument between the two men, the side of the train was unzipped by Sticky Fingers, allowing for Bucciarati and Prosciutto to fly right out the train.
"Shit, Bucciarati!" Giorno cried, ready to leap out of the turtle, only to be stopped by Trish's iron grip on his arm. Was her grip that strong, or was his arm that soft?
"Giorno, wait. Look over there." Trish called, pointing right outside the turtle. It was faint, but they could clearly see a hand still gripping onto the outside of the zipper.
He could see Pesci freaking out, once he came to. He saw the zipper slowly closing, causing those in the turtle and Pesci to freak out even more. All at once, the zipper closed and Pesci screamed, summoning his stand and launching it at what he assumed to be Prosciutto. Pesci exited the cabin, holding onto his stand for dear life, leaving the turtle alone. But the turtle itself followed Pesci out of the room. Giorno and Trish waited with bated breath, to see if Bucciarati had survived or perished. Giorno glanced over to the others passed out on the couch, and watched in shock as, all at once, their age had begun to revert. Trish noticed too, breathing a sigh of relief. Bucciarati seemed to be correct about the aging reverting once the stand was eliminated.
But one should not celebrate too soon.
As if the stand was waiting for them to de-age, everyone inside the turtle began rapidly aging again. Giorno and Trish cursed to themselves, realizing that Prosciutto was, somehow, still alive. The teens glances at themselves, both of them aging back to where they were before. Looking back outside, Pesci seemed to change completely. He didn't seem scared anymore. Rather, he had the cold dead stare of a killer, one that had witnessed countless acts of bloodshed without any remorse for their victims. What could cause someone's personality to change so rapidly over a few moments? But that façade seemed to drop, once he became overridden with panic. In an act of desperation, Pesci grabbed the turtle and stuffed it into his inner coat's pocket. He quickly pulled the e-brake on the train and ran outside.
Within the turtle, however, Giorno and Trish were once more in the dark, waiting for something to happen. Outside, they could hear the faint voice of Bucciarati and Number Six, thankful that their allies were still alive. After a few seconds, however, their relief was cut short, as Trish was ripped out of the turtle.
"TRISH!" Giorno cried, trying to grab onto her leg, but she was gone before he could act.
Trish sat on the outside, baffled, uttering "Giorno, what-"
"Take her and run leave now, and I'll let her keep her life." Pesci coughed behind her.
Trish turned around, looking up at the man that had ripped her out of Coco Jumbo, seeing his neck had been completely broken, leaving Pesci to choke on his own blood. Trish crawled backwards at breakneck speeds towards Bucciarati. The two watched as Pesci pulled out the turtle from his coat, Number Six pointing it out to Bucciarati.
"I ain't got much time left, but the least I could do is give you a parting gift. The gift of knowing you failed you famiglia. Now watch as I crush this thing beyond recognition!" Pesci proclaimed to Bucciarati.
"Shit, the rest of the group'll be smashed to death!" Number Six shouted. Trish's breath was becoming heavier every passing moment, cursing at herself for feeling useless.
However, Bucciarati was unfazed. "You know," He began "I admired that glint in your eyes. There was an unrelenting nobility to them. You don't see that very often."
Bucciarati's glare settled onto Pesci's eyes. "Pity, it's vanished. Now you're nothing but a disgraced swine." He stated to the man before him.
Pesci was unsurprised. "Am I now? I disagree. The only one's falling from grace are your friends in this damn turt-"
His declaration was cut short by a golden fist ramming into the side of Pesci's head. Pesci stumbled back, slower than usual. Bucciarati smirked, reminding himself to thank Giorno by the end of this. Sticky Fingers' arm shot forwards, grabbing onto Pesci and pulled him towards Bucciarati and Trish, stopping mere inches away from Bucciarati's face.
"I can tell you've lived life as the eternal screwup. Don't change on my account." Bucciarati said, yanking the turtle out of Pesci's hands, giving it to Trish, and launching Pesci in the air. As the man began his descent, Sticky Fingers wasted no time in launching a barrage of punches at Pesci.
"ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI! ARI!" Sticky Fingers roared, as Pesci's entire body was unzipped, piece by piece.
"Arrivederci."
Pesci's lifeless bits were fell unceremoniously into the river, as Bucciarati gave a two-finger salute to the man. After that, he and Number Six went to check on Prosciutto's corpse, leaving Trish to herself. That didn't last long as Giorno soon left the turtle, checking around their immediate area. Then he focused his attention on Trish, who was humming softly to herself, like she was trying to calm herself. Giorno then looked where her hand laid, and he was mildly terrified at what he saw.
"There's something I need to ask." Trish interjected. "Will you be willing to cooperate?"
Bucciarati turned his attention from Prosciutto's corpse to the two teens. "I know I've been lenient with you two, but we don't have the authorization to do so. You know our mission is to only safeguard your life." He coldly told her.
Trish, unfazed by Bucciarati's answer, shot back "You will answer my questions. Tell me, just who am I, really?" A light pink aura surrounded her entire body.
"What the hell is this?" She questioned, pointing down to the giant hand shaped dent in the earth. "How did it get on the ground? Why are these bizarre marks appearing near my feet?"
Bucciarati stiffened, akin to Giorno, both men reasonably terrified.
"How has a father I've never met turned me into a walking target?!" Trish shouted, her voice on the verge of breaking.
"ANSWER ME!"
Giorno could only imaging the one thing that was going through Bucciarati's mind; this confirmed that the boss' daughter is a stand user.
A/N: Hey, hey. Just as a heads up, I may or may not be able to upload a new chapter next week. Just as a fair warning to anyone expecting a new chapter posted by next week, as exams are coming up for me.