Hours before Shizuka, Jotaro, or anyone else escaped from the high school dream-world, Agent Ripley shot up with a start. Her eyes darted around the room frantically as she tried to get a grasp on her surroundings. She was quite sweaty. That was the first thought to enter her mind. After that, she noticed that she was lying in a bed. The room seemed to be absolutely full of them. It took a moment, but she managed to calm herself down enough to get up.

Ripley hopped out of bed and stumbled for the door. Upon opening it, she saw the long hallway outside. Before she could investigate any further, she heard something strange. The sound of a heavy body landing in a bed filled the room. Ripley turned her head back and saw Joseph Joestar panting in the very bed she woke up in moments ago.

Joseph seemed to recover much faster than she did. After mere seconds he'd rolled out of bed and looked around cautiously. That's when his eyes met hers. His serious look calmed a bit, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Oh! It's you! Ripley, right? Sorry, I'm pretty bad with names. I'm sure you know, but I'm Joseph. We've never really had a moment to introduce ourselves."

She couldn't help but chuckle. Joseph was a very interesting man. In such a strange situation, he made a point to formally introduce himself?

"We've been pretty busy, Mr. Joestar. Seems like we're busy right now." She mumbled, looking around.

"Right! Sorry! Where the hell are we, anyway? I had this weird dream. Really weird, actually. I was a real estate agent in a tiny city. Nothing like New York. It didn't take long for things to stop making sense. Then I just kind of woke up."

"I had a dream like that too, actually. In fact, I woke up in that bed about a minute before you. Seems like we snapped out of it quickly."

"Do you think the others are still in there, then? Is this some sort of Stand attack?" Joseph inquired, lifting a few pillows and inspecting the room.

"We're definitely not in Naples anymore. This architecture isn't Italian. Neither is the interior design. We're in the United States, if I had to guess." Ripley rubbed her chin, utterly perplexed.

"Unless this is just the second layer of illusion. Keep your guard up." Joseph snapped his fingers, pointing at her. "We could still be under attack."

Ripley walked over to the room's light switch. "Give me a minute…"

She closed her eyes, resting a hand on the switch. The lights flickered, and her body began to emit an electric blue glow. After a moment, the room started to rumble, and a few of the lights above swung around. Joseph watched in fascination as the young woman did her thing. A moment later she pulled away.

"That's impossible." She mumbled.

"Shoot."

"Well." The agent turned to face Joseph, attempting to rationalize the new revelation. "I can tell the size of a building by tapping into its electric system. It's not exact, obviously, but I can get a good feel for how many rooms the wiring enters. I can also usually tell the type of building by the sheer potency of the electric currents A television station is easily differentiated from a convent. It looks like we're in some sort of hotel, but…" She opened the door, revealing the hallway. "This doesn't make any sense."

Joseph stepped closer, unable to understand her explanation. "What're you saying, Ripley?"

"The light fixtures are all attached to one another. The outlets are connected too. But there's no power source. Nothing is feeding this room's electricity. Not only that, but this room is completely isolated from the hallway. There isn't even any residual energy flow. It's like they're two separate buildings."

The large man placed a hand on the light switch. A moment later, Hermit Purple emerged from his glove, surging into the wires.

"You're right." He said in disbelief. "I need to check something."

He ran over to the television on the far side of the room. It was plugged in, so that was a start. It even turned on, despite the room having no source of power.

"Hermit Purple!" He shouted, gripping both sides of the screen. "Show me outside. Show me the entrance to this building!"

The screen flickered for a few seconds. A few different environments flashed across the screen, but none of them stayed for long. After cycling through about twenty different possible landscapes, the screen just went dark. It wasn't off. It was just black. There was nothing to show. Joseph let go of the screen, backing away with wide-eyes. He stood up straight once more, resting a hand over his mouth as he considered the possibilities.

"We're not anywhere." He finally muttered.

"Pardon?" Ripley rested a hand on her hip. "We've gotta be somewhere, Mr. Joestar."

"We're somewhere, but this somewhere is nowhere. The building isn't real, Ripley. We're not on our plane of reality."

"Are we even sure that the others are here? What if it's just us?"

Joseph seemed to be deep in thought. "That's a good question. Hermit Purple! Show me Shizuka!"

The vines burst from his hand and infiltrated the television once more. After flickering for a moment, the screen displayed Shizuka drifting in a black void. She seemed to be asleep. Marina was hovering beside her. And on the corner of the screen, it seemed like Jotaro's jacket sleeve could be seen. Hermit Purple retreated, and Joseph scowled.

"They're being kept somewhere. We need to find them."

"What if they appear in here like we did?" Ripley questioned.

"Are you willing to wait and see? Who knows if they were even caught up in the same trance? I can't just wait around and do nothing. Can you?"

The agent was clearly conflicted. "I think it's smarter to wait here. Let's give them thirty minutes, okay? The two of us showed up at almost the same time. Thirty minutes should be plenty of time for the others to catch up."

Joseph didn't look happy. After a moment, though, he nodded his head. "They say the best thing to do when you're lost is to stay in one place, right? We'll give it thirty minutes. But that's it."

Ripley nodded, walking over to a bed. She sat down, patting her legs anxiously. She might have won the argument, but that didn't set her at ease. Something was seriously messed up. A building suspended in some alternate reality? How the hell did they even end up in such a place? She had no memory of it. The last thing she remembered was going to bed at the academy. It was baffling that something this drastic could have happened under Giorno's watchful eye. That's when it hit her.

"Jean Pierre Polnareff." She mumbled to herself.

Joseph, ever familiar with that name, immediately turned his head. "Hmm?"

"Polnareff went missing, remember? He'd somehow disappeared. Even Giogio seemed concerned. It seems as if we've disappeared as well."

This certainly intrigued the man. He leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms and twisting one foot as he thought to himself. "Interesting. That means Giorno is probably looking for us as we speak. Oh heavens, we're counting on the son of Dio to rescue us?"

Ripley kicked her feet up on the bed, shrugging. "For the son of a guy as awful as Dio, he sure seems alright."

"That's precisely what he wants you to think. I'm a very good judge of character. Something about him gives me the creeps."

"Have you ever considered that your preconceived notions are responsible for that? No one should be judged just for being born, Mr. Joestar."

This halted the man for a moment. However, he wasn't ready to give up so easily. "What kind of upstanding citizen runs a gang, Ripley? He's basically the monarch of Italy. That doesn't unsettle you?"

She groaned. "Not to sound cliché, but that's such a privileged stance that I have trouble coming up with a counter-argument."

Joseph seemed shocked. "Privileged? Please, do tell."

"Gang violence has existed much longer than Giogio, hasn't it? We don't know much about his upbringing, but I can already guarantee that the absence of his father caused problems. Not to mention the state of crime in Naples while he was growing up. If the mafia was running Italy, maybe the only possible way to improve the country was to become the mafia. He did what he had to do. Now look at it. There's no drug abuse, murder rates are at an all-time-low for the country, and he has thousands of loyal followers. I'm sorry, Mr. Joestar, but you're not convincing me of malicious intent."

"You never met Dio. I can't expect you to understand." Joseph sighed.

"I've religiously read every single document about your battle in Egypt. I won't claim to understand your trauma, but don't condescend. I know enough. I think you're stuck in your ways because feeling what you've always felt is easier than changing."

"I'm sorry, but is there some sort of ulterior motive behind this questioning? It feels quite personal, if I'm being perfectly honest. We've never met before all this, have we?"

"No," Ripley replied sharply. "I just don't appreciate the way you've written Giogio off as some kind of thug. People shouldn't be judged by their background. They should only be judged by who they are now. "

The room was silent for a long while. Joseph just stared forward, tapping his foot slowly. "I'm sorry." He finally relented.

"You are?" She asked incredulously. "For?"

"It's too easy to get stuck in my own head. Sometimes I'm not even thinking about who I'm talking to. There's always more substance to any conversation than what's immediately apparent. So, I'm sorry. It's wrong to judge Giorno just because of his father."

Ripley felt a tiny grin tugging at her lips. "Don't try to turn this into a moment. You were wrong and I corrected you."

Joseph just rested his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his face. It seemed as if he completely left the weight of the previous topic behind. "So. You and Marina." He said in a factual tone.

The agent's cheeks heated up a bit, but she kept her composure. "I have absolutely no idea what you're referring to."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, calm down. I think it's nice. Really nice. A time to be alive, that's for sure."

"Elaborate." She leaned back a bit, raising a brow.

"Things haven't ever been easy for people like us. I just think it's nice that your generation seems to have a brighter future. What was once confined to shameful secretive locker rooms can air on primetime television."

"People like us? So you're…"

"Flamingly, yes. I never make a big deal out of it, though. I've just always appreciated both sexes for their own unique qualities. It never seemed too important. The love of my life is a beautiful woman. I had it easy. Things would have been harder if I fell for a man."

"I guess things are better now. Y'know, better than the fifties." She smirked.

"Oh, you don't even know the half of it. Let me tell you, it's been fascinating to watch societal norms shift so much. I couldn't have asked for a more revolutionary time to be alive. Things aren't perfect by any means. You kids have a lot of work to do. It's just nice every now and then to look at how far we've come. I was in my forties when colored water fountains went away. My forties. But now there's a black president! It's…" He chuckled a bit. "It's pretty amazing. I had a really good friend named Smoky Brown. Maybe you've heard of him?"

"Of course. You knew him?"

"Knew him? We got into some serious shit together. The kind of thing that bonds you for life. He opened my eyes to a lot of things. I miss him an awful lot."

"Did you help him with his career?"

"No." He shook his head. "He wasn't having any of it. I wanted to fund his campaign for governor. I tried. He didn't want anything to do with it though. He told me that he was going to raise the money on his own. Small donations from people who really believed in him. Sure, I threw five dollars in, but I knew that's all I could get away with." He snickered.

"Wow. I guess it didn't really hit me how…" She trailed off a bit.

"How old I am?" Joseph laughed. "I've seen a lot, that's for sure. You wouldn't guess from my handsome face at the moment. I look like a beautiful baby."

"I wouldn't go that far. You still look like an adult."

"Maybe to a baby I do." He joked. "It's nice being able to fight again. I can't imagine sitting this one out."

The room got a little tense after that. Ripley looked down, feeling a little awkward about what she wanted to ask next.

"You." She sighed. "You do know this isn't permanent, right? The entire reason Blondie wants the feather is to make it permanent. As it stands, the Hamon in your body is slowly killing Santana's DNA. Eventually the age-reversal will wear off."

The man only nodded.

"Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I've read your medical file, Mr. Joestar. I-"

"Easy, easy." Joseph raised a dismissive hand. "We were having such a nice conversation. No need to drag it down with that. I'll be fine. I always am." He gave her a big grin. "Luck and a smile, that's all you need."

The agent wasn't convinced. However, she decided to honor his wishes and drop the subject. Hell, what did she even know? This is the very man that defeated Kars. He survived a lethal confrontation with Dio. He raised an invisible baby in his eighties. Maybe there really wasn't anything Joseph Joestar couldn't accomplish with a little bit of luck. It was a nice thought, to be sure. If it was true, maybe they all had a chance of surviving their war with Blondie.

Maybe…

It was an ordinary morning in Naples. Sheila E. was sleeping on a hammock overlooking the beautiful city. It hung from a few poles on the academy's roof. Giorno had it set up for her when he assigned her to watch over the Joestar party. To be perfectly honest, Sheila would sleep on a bed of hot coals if Giorno asked her to. She wouldn't even question it. If he requested something, there had to be a reason. She'd determined nearly ten years ago that Giorno Giovanna was the purest man on God's green Earth.

When her sister was murdered by unruly gangsters, Sheila E. was hellbent on getting revenge. However, it seemed that Pannacotta Fugo and Giorno Giovanna beat her too it. Along with the late Leone Abbachio, they defeated her sister's killer. Not only that, but Giorno promised her that his death was worse than anything she could even imagine. Purple Haze's disease spread through his entire body almost instantly. A slew of infections, boils, cysts, and internal hemorrhaging completely destroyed his body from the inside out. She could remember Giorno's words well. They were practically etched into her brain.

"In the moment Illuso died, I could see regret on his face. He regretted every moment of his entire life. But most of all, he regretted being born at all. If he'd never been born, he wouldn't have to experience that pain."

Those words brought the young girl more comfort than they should have. She was only thirteen at the time, but she'd seen and done more than a hardened soldier. Purple Haze delivered justice to Illuso with more efficiency and brutality than her Voodoo Child ever could. Because of that, she owed a debt to Pannacotta Fugo as well. He was a little more aloof than Giogio, though. Sheila E. was fairly sure that he cared about her, but it was impossible to ever be certain with a man like Fugo.

She let out a tired groan, stretching her legs as the sun rose over the Naples skyline. It was time to check on the Joestars. She'd gotten her three hours of sleep. Anything more and she'd feel like a zombie. The tired woman rolled out of her makeshift hammock and yawned once again. Sure, babysitting Giogio's allies wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but she'd never turn a mission down. A part of her hoped someone would throw a punch just to make the job a little more interesting.

As Sheila E. walked through the silent academy wing, she whistled quietly to herself. Amber beams pierced the curtains of the long corridor, illuminating dust particles as they drifted through the air. After a short walk, she arrived at the common area. Nobody seemed to be awake yet. The woman shrugged apathetically, plopping herself onto the couch. She'd give everyone some more time to rest. As long as they didn't cause any problems, they could sleep all day.

Time drew on, and Sheila E. still hadn't heard a peep from any of the Joestar party. After about thirty minutes, she grew a little curious. The previous morning, Jotaro had been up for coffee before sunrise. Something didn't feel right. The watch-woman's nose twitched a bit. Giving into her sense of smell, Sheila rolled onto the floor. She followed her instincts over toward one of the bedrooms. That's when her eyes widened. She opened the door, fully prepared to be proven wrong. However, she was dead-on.

The bedroom was empty.

Sheila E. frantically ran to another door, forcing it open with little regard. Once again, completely vacant. Something wasn't right. Everyone was accounted for when she did her final check of the night. The young woman bolted across the common room and tried another door. No luck. The Joestar party was gone.

She got her cell phone out and hastily dialed the number of Giorno's current burner-phone. They were instructed to only call that phone during extreme emergencies. If anybody got the number, it would be bad news. She knew this qualified as an emergency, so she dialed with confidence. After a single ring, she heard a soothing voice.

"Sheila." Giogio asked with a faint hint of urgency. "What's wrong?"

"T-The Joestars. They're gone. All of them are gone! I don't know why, and I have no idea where!" She stammered incoherently for a moment after.

"Understood. Stay there." Is all he said.

When the going got tough, Giorno was a man of few words. Phrases like "are you sure" weren't in his vocabulary. He trusted his elites with one-hundred-percent certainty. That spirit was the only reason he could become the leader of Passione in the first place. He handled things, plain and simple.

Sheila E. paced around the common room for about fifteen minutes. She'd heard nothing from anybody. That was to be expected. Giorno was likely investigating things. Sheila would be informed when there was something she could contribute to the cause. After another ten minutes of aimless pacing, she sat down on the couch with a sigh.

A moment later, the door swung open with enough force that it slammed into the wall. Pannacotta Fugo entered, eyes narrowing when he saw Sheila E.

"You're here, good. We're leaving."

Sheila was up a second later. She hurried over to the door. Fugo wasted no time, turning around and leading her down the hallway.

"What's the situation?" She asked as they hurried down the academy stairs.

"An elite meeting." Is all Fugo said.

Oh. That wasn't good at all. Giorno would regularly have his friends over for wine and company. It was rarely called a meeting, though. Whenever there was a Passione Elite Meeting, things were seriously going wrong. She saw Fugo's car parked on the sidewalk outside. Tire marks indicated that he'd peeled right off the road and parked as close to the front steps as possible.

They got into the car and swerved onto the road. After about fifteen minutes they arrived at Giorno's manor. It was a lovely home on top of the highest hill in Naples. The courtyard was filled with trimmed hedges, fountains and statues. Fugo parked the car with much more respect this time. Once it stopped, they quickly hurried inside.

Sheila E. and Fugo were the final arrivals. Giorno was sitting in his favorite chair, hands folded in his lap as he considered the situation. His closest allies and confidants were circled all around him. When the final two members entered, he lifted his head.

"Ah, perfect." He said in a low, calculated voice. "Now we can begin."

Everyone was tense. None of them feared Giorno, but they all carried a deep respect of his power. When the young man was agitated, the room had a suffocating energy. This was one of those times. The boss snapped his fingers, pointing toward D'amicio, the chief of Naples's police force.

"Have your officers found anything yet?"

"No, Giogio. I had them searching security footage all night. Nobody saw anything suspicious."

Sheila E. was perplexed. "All night? They've been missing for half an hour."

"Polnareff went missing last night." Fugo explained.

Giorno nodded. "We're treating his absence and the disappearance of the Joestars as one case. Neither of them had any reason to leave. We have to assume they were taken."

"Taken?" She questioned. "What kind of manpower would that require? Some of those Joestars are total beefcakes. How the hell do you take them?"

"A stand like Mr. President could get the job done. That still doesn't explain how the enemy captured them." Giorno rubbed his index fingers together. "Jotaro Kujo's Star Platinum is a fearsome beast. From what I've been told by the Speedwagon Foundation over the years, it's the fastest and strongest combat Stand on record. Not only that, but it has a passive ability as well. It can protect Kujo even when he's not aware of a threat. The only other Stand capable of doing such a thing is my Gold Experience Requiem, but I don't have that all the time. I just can't explain how someone could kidnap Kujo, even if he was asleep."

"Gio, we shouldn't waste our time with questions like that. It happened. Now we need to fix it." Fugo interjected, always the one to keep his boss on target.

"It still worries me, but you're right." Giorno surrendered with a sigh. "Mista, go with D'acimo. The two of you are to round up a search party. Wear a uniform, Mista. Don't make any waves. You're only allowed to act if your party encounters a Stand. If that happens, you're in charge."

"Of course, Giogio." Mista nodded.

Without another word, the gunslinger and the chief left the room. Giorno's eyes drifted to Fugo and Sheila E.

"You two." He pointed two fingers at the pair. "Polnareff was last seen at the library. Fugo spent the night investigating, but he didn't find anything. Sheila, use your Voodoo Child and see what there is to see."

"Of course, Gio." She nodded.

"Is that all, Boss?" Fugo asked, straightening his tie a bit. He was clearly exhausted from a sleepless night.

Giorno folded one leg over another, pondering for a moment. "Try not to get killed. Or captured. I can't deny that everyone who has gone missing so far is a Stand User. It's troubling. Keep your guards up. If something could swipe Kujo from his bed, it can get you too."

"Of course. What will you be doing?" Fugo looked out the window, seeing two black cars pulling into the estate.

"In any other circumstance, I'd have my boots on the ground with you. Polnareff is an important asset and a cherished friend. However, my meeting with Madam Dolly is tomorrow. I need to get to France."

"You're still going to that? Gio, please reconsider. All of your elites are focusing on this investigation. You plan on going alone?" Fugo's eyes widened, and he took a step forward. "Let me go with you, please."

Giorno simply raised his hand dismissively. "Fugo, I need you to lead this." The blonde man stood, walking over to his subordinate.

The boss was below average height, standing only at five-foot-six. When he stood close to Fugo, their difference in stature was pronounced. Pannacotta Fugo was a tall, slim man. Giorno, meanwhile, was smaller with more defined muscle definition.

"You're the boss while I'm gone. Find Polnareff. Find the Joestars. Keep everyone safe." Giorno instructed, resting a hand on Fugo's shoulder.

The strawberry blonde was in disbelief. Sure, he considered himself to be Gio's top advisor. Over the years he had reformed his relationship with the friends he once abandoned. It was hard to imagine a time when he didn't have total faith in his boss. Still, there was always a small inkling of doubt among the elites. It felt like everyone was waiting for him to cower away once again. Normally if Giorno ever had to leave the country, he would leave Polnareff in charge. Fugo had no idea he'd be next in line.

"Of course, Gio. I'll get it done."

The boss patted his friend's shoulder twice, smiling. "Don't worry about me. Dolly doesn't want me dead. And if Shizuka's story is true, she has a lot to answer for. I plan to confiscate the foundation's arrows for the time being. If anything goes wrong, I'll call."

"Be safe." Fugo nodded.

"Now go, both of you. Stay in touch with Mista. If anybody finds anything, you team up. Do not go after this enemy on your own. Safety in numbers." Giorno returned to his seat, folding his hands once more. "Arrivederci."

"Right." Fugo and Sheila E. said simultaneously.

Thirty minutes passed rather quickly. Ripley and Joseph were growing restless in the mysterious hotel room. After the allotted time had expired, Joseph stood up. He flexed his arms a bit, stretching with a small groan.

"And that's our time. It doesn't seem like the gang's showing up anytime soon. We need to move." He said confidently.

"I don't like it, but a deal's a deal. We'll find them." Ripley sighed, dusting herself off and standing up. "What's our plan?"

Joseph ventured over to the door. "Well, we should just start walking. Something has to be out there."

He swung the door open. The man's astute eyes immediately noticed something was wrong. He raised a brow, lifting a hand to his chin. "Say…" He mumbled. "This isn't right."

The agent followed close behind him. Granted, she couldn't see past his monolithic frame. "What's the problem?"

Joseph walked out of the room curiously. "This wallpaper. It's different, isn't it? The design isn't the same as before."

Ripley raised a brow, exiting the room and running a hand along the wall. "I didn't really pay attention. You really think it looks different?"

"Step one to survival is to always pay attention, even to the little things. Missing a single detail could mean death. I've trained myself to notice things most people wouldn't. It's why I'm still here." He said with a grave tone. "Information is the most important resource on the planet, Ripley. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. People kill for it every day. They die for it every day. The more you have, the more dangerous you. In turn, the more valuable you become to others."

She felt like she was being lectured by an ancient martial artist. Still, the agent simply it nodded her head. "Let's say the wallpaper is different. The implications are severe."

"I agree." Joseph mumbled, looking down the hall. "The most likely scenario is that we're in a different hallway than before. Sure, paper-swapping goblins might be possible, but it seems a little far-fetched."

"So the doors don't always lead to the same place? That could explain why their wiring isn't connected. Every room is like an isolated block constantly shifting around, connecting to other blocks in a large maze." Ripley suggested.

Joseph turned to look at the smaller woman, raising a brow. "Say, what's that in your pocket?"

She seemed confused. "Pocket? I don't have anything in my-" She stopped mid-sentence when her fingers felt something rectangular. She pulled it out quickly, analyzing it.

It was a room key, the same kind you've have at any hotel. "Hotel California." She read out loud, turning it so Joseph could see.

He took it from her hand carefully, inspecting it up close. "It seems like this isn't some small-fry trap. This place seems intricate. I wonder what'll happen if we use it on one of these doors."

They didn't get the chance, however. Ripely was standing quite close to an old painting on the wall. It was nice enough, and something you'd expect to see hanging in a hotel hallway. Neither of them paid it any mind at all. That is, until the subject matter of the painting emerged from it. Joseph watched in disbelief as the man in the painting sprang out. It happened too fast, too unexpectedly. He didn't have time to react.

The mysterious man sprang into action, grabbing Ripley from behind and pulling her against him. He lifted a knife up to her throat, pressing the blade against her skin. She was shocked beyond belief, but didn't panic. The agent just stood perfectly still, lifting her chin a bit and raising her hands slowly in surrender.

"Holy shit!" Joseph shouted, taking a step back.

The man was obscured by a long black cloak, the hood of which covered his face. "Give me all your credits, or the bitch dies."

"Credits!? What the hell are you talking about?" Joseph questioned.

"DON'T play dumb with me, pretty boy. Hand them over right now!" The enemy growled sharply.

"We're new here. Care to explain what a credit is?" Ripley asked in a low, dry tone.

The man responded with a swift punch to Ripley's stomach. She recoiled a bit, cutting her neck a bit on the impossibly sharp knife.

"Shut the fuck up! I need them. You don't understand. I need them right now! So hand them over, or I'll find someone who will!"

A cold expression came over Agent Ripley's face. She seemed to be done entertaining the stranger's antics. Her eyes began to glow a bright electric blue. A moment later, the cloaked man screamed in agony. His body twitched, convulsing randomly as the electricity invaded his body.

"You know that the human body is quite the conductor of electricity?" She asked casually, stepping away from the man. She swiped the knife from his hand, looking at it. "Almost as much as metal." Her body began to discharge potent static blasts of energy once more. With little remorse, she stabbed the man in the stomach. Another shockwave invaded the man, causing him to fall onto the carpet helplessly.

His body trembled, one of his eyes twitching every second or two. Ripley scoffed, wiping the blood from her neck and checking to see if it was bad.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Joestar." She mumbled apathetically.

Joseph watched in amazement, a big smile on his face. "My god! You sure don't mess around, do you?"

"I'm just lucky that he got so close. Dumbass thought he could just pull a knife on someone in a place like this?"

"We've got to keep our eyes peeled for more Stand Users. I'm getting a bad feeling about this place." Joseph peered over his shoulder cautiously. "We might not get so lucky the next time."

"Then let's get moving. We've got to find the others."

Fugo and Sheila E. arrived at the library shortly after their meeting with Giorno. It had been cleared out the night before. Yellow police tape blocked off the staircase. Of course, the two gangsters ignored such a thing. As they walked inside, the stench of blood immediately struck their noses.

"Why would someone take Mr. Polnareff?" Sheila E. questioned as they approached the crime scene.

"He's important to Gio. It could be for ransom." Fugo suggested, but he didn't sound too convinced.

"We'd have gotten a note by now. And there's no way these people are holding the Joestars for ransom. I can't even think of a way to contain that many Stand Users."

"You kill them." He shrugged. "That's the only way."

Sheila's eyes darted over to Fugo. She made a sound of irritation. "You think they're dead, then?"

"Either they're dead, or they've already escaped. I can't think of a way to keep them restrained either."

"That's why you're Giogio's logic-guy. You have absolutely no imagination."

They arrived at the back corner of the library. Blood stained the walls and carpet. Sheila E. squatted down, sniffing it.

"Who was this?" She questioned.

"A newbie. Polnareff wanted to do some reading, so he had a new recruit take him here. I don't even think the guy had a Stand. Poor bastard."

Sheila nodded her head, standing up. "I don't smell the turtle. Seems like it wasn't killed here. That's a good sign."

"Maybe the enemy wanted to utilize Mr. President. It's a useful Stand, after all." Fugo suggested.

"How would anyone know about Mr. President? This feels like an accident. The blood spatter indicated a passionate murder. Heat of the moment. The killer was clearly enjoying it." She muttered.

Fugo tensed up. Sheila E. was too busy investigating the blood to notice, though. He felt a presence in the library. It was subtle, but definitely real. The building was supposed to be empty. It was an active crime scene, after all. He had to assume whoever was in the building was an enemy. The intent to kill filled the room. It was potent. Someone dangerous was close by.

"Sheila, can you smell anybody close by?" He whispered.

She looked up at him curiously. "What? I'm not a damn dog, Fugo." She said sharply, completely missing the irony of the statement.

She was born with an exceptional sense of smell. During her childhood, Sheila would always romp around the woods like a wolf. She used that time with nature to train her heightened sense even more. The young girl would often attempt to track things with her eyes closed, relying entirely on scent to locate creatures and objects. Still, her nose was only human. It had nothing to do with her Stand. She couldn't just sense people with it. Sure, her Stand resembled an animal, but that was more caused by her feral nature than anything else.

"Shut up for a second." He groaned, deeming her as useless for the time being.

Footsteps could be heard from the upper level of the library. This time, both of them heard them clearly. Sheila sprang to her feet silently, knowing exactly how to move like a predator.

"We should call Mista." She whispered.

Fugo raised a single finger to silence her. "We were talking at full volume. He knows we're here. That doesn't mean he knows where we are. We need to move."

"Gio said-"

"Gio left me in charge. Calling Mista is a mistake. What if we lose him? No. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to walk out into the center of the room and look for clues. I'll stay behind and wait."

"I'm the bait?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, just checking." She shrugged, walking away from her temporary boss.

Fugo was admittedly worried about a fight. His Purple Haze Distortion had been acting up recently. Eight years ago, he began a journey of enlightenment. Giorno had tasked him with improving himself as a whole. The boss had a theory that Purple Haze's rabid, uncontrollable nature was a reflection of Fugo's mental state. Because of that, the man had spent the better part of a decade attending therapy sessions, reading philosophy books, and learning meditation. Still, his Purple Haze Distortion remained toxic and volatile. Lately, it had gotten even worse. He could barely control his Stand even for a matter of seconds. The last time he got into a fight, he nearly died. If he was going to take on this opponent, it needed to be fast and deadly.

Sheila E. meandered over toward the children's section of the large library. Her Voodoo Child could unearth shameful things someone thought or said in any given area. She had to admit, her morbid curiosity had her wondering about what Voodoo Child would discover in such an innocent environment.

The animal-like Stand emerged from behind her. She took a deep breath, staring at the book shelf.

"Erierierierierieri!" She chanted, punting the shelf relentlessly.

Multiple pairs of feminine lips appeared on the battered wood. They spoke secrets that remained unheard for years. Sheila E. had the ability to comprehend every sentence at once. To most, it would be unintelligible garbled up nonsense. However, Sheila heard hundreds of sentences in an instant. Some were shameful, some were embarrassing. Others made her stomach turn. If she had to pick the worst thing she heard from the lips, it was probably a man's confession about pleasuring himself onto children's books for fun.

The young woman rolled her eyes, wondering when her loud display would catch the attention of their enemy. Her nose twitched a bit. She could feel it. Someone was definitely getting close. A profound murderous lust was emitting from someone nearby. It felt very similar to the presence of Purple Haze Distortion, but she'd never admit that to Fugo.

Sheila E. continued playing dumb, picking up a book and flipping through it absentmindedly. Still, nothing. She was beginning to grow restless, deciding to wander over toward the computers instead. She shook the computer's mouse to wake it up, sitting down in front of it. The woman kept a careful eye on the screen, hoping to see the reflection of her enemy. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be seen.

Once the computer fully woke up, Sheila E. found that it was already in use. An internet explorer tab was open to some website she'd never seen before. It seemed rather strange. She scrolled through the page, hardly understanding any of the jargon within. That's when something caught her eye. A little notification bubble appeared on the bottom left-side of the screen.

Upload complete.

Someone had been using this computer very recently. What did they upload? Could it have been the enemy? She quickly double clicked the bubble. Another page loaded. There, she was greeted by a large list of folders. They all seemed to be names.

Clancy. Delaney, Rubin, Anderson… The list went on.

She found the "recent uploads" tab and clicked it. A moment later, her hand froze. She felt her jaw lock up, and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"W-What!?" She stood up, kicking the chair back.

On the screen in front of her was the latest upload. It was a simple gif, but carried a grave implication. The gif was of Pannacotta Fugo pounding his fists against the screen, silently screaming at the top of his lungs. The file was listed as " " and was listed as thirty-seven gigabytes.

Sheila E. quickly turned to look for her friend. "Fugo!?" She shouted.

No response.

"Fugo, talk to me! I don't care if he hears! Where the hell are you?"

She expected to be reprimanded. She hoped to hear Fugo's irritated voice scolding her about breaking his cover. However, she heard nothing. Her eyes darted back to the computer screen. The digital Fugo had given up on punching the screen. Instead, he seemed to be looking around whatever room he was in for another way out. Once his eyes met Sheila's, he ran back up to the screen.

Fugo was in the computer, and he could see her. He was trying to communicate.

"What in the hell is happening?" She stared back at him.

To be Continued...