Doppio woke from banging on his door. He shot upright, only to wince. God, his neck was killing him! Uh oh. It was stuck. He tugged fruitlessly at his hair, trying to right his neck. It was at a slight angle. The more he tugged, the greater the pain.

He groaned as the knocking got louder. He stood and realized he was naked. He was also in the bathroom. Last night came rushing back… the dreams, the memories, the scars. How had he not noticed the scars? He had washed himself countless times and yet it never came up.

"Doppio! I swear to god if this is what our partnership is going to be like, I'll shoot you myself."

"Ah! One second Mista! I'm not decent." Doppio scrambled to get dressed, trying to ignore the pain in his neck.

"Giorno would never have to know, 'I just found him dead, honest'. He trusts me way more than he trusts you anyway."

"Okay!" He was dismayed that he had to wear the same clothes as yesterday, but he hadn't been shopping.

"'Too bad we don't have Moody Blues,' I would say, 'if only someone hadn't-'"

Doppio threw the door open, rubbing his neck. "I get it Mista! I'm a fucking murderer but last time I checked, you killed a lot of my gang too!" He screamed.

Mista was staring at him in shock.

Shit. He shouldn't of said that. Doppio clapped both hands over his mouth. Feeling tears well in his eyes. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He spoke out of turn again and that meant he was going to get hurt. The priest was going to hurt him again and after he had tried so hard to- What? Who is-

"Say that again you piece of shit!" Mista grabbed his shirt and threw him backward.

Doppio stumbled and fell onto his back. Mista tripped over him a bit, but regained his balance and kicked him in the ribs.

"They weren't just my coworkers! They were my fucking friends, you asshole!" Another kick. Doppio curled into a ball. Please let it be over soon, please, please, please, he'd do anything, please-

"And if Giorno hadn't ordered it there'd be a bullet in your head, so-"

Suddenly Mista froze mid kick.

"What did you do?"

Doppio didn't move.

"Doppio, I thought you only had Epitaph. What the fuck is that?"

Doppio pried his eyes open only to stare at a rather large and concerning hole in the wall. He glanced up at Mista and seeing him distracted, he hurried away. At a safe distance from Mista, he peered at the hole.

"I, uh, I only have Epitaph, I didn't do that."

"Don't lie to me, I didn't do it."

"Well neither did I!" With a final tug at his neck and a sickening crack he could move his head again. Ow.

"Come on Doppio, we're a team now, don't lie to me."

He stared at him dumbly for a moment. "Didn't you just threaten to kill me?"

Mista snorted and folded his arms. "God, did you think I was serious about that?"

"Yes." Doppio said deadpan.

"Ok, well I was, and I'm sorry. The problem is how did you make that hole without me seeing it? It definitely wasn't here when I came in."

"I … suppose I might still have use of King Crimson's arms … maybe. You could have missed it because you were too busy trying to kick me?"

Mista thought it over. "I guess. Alright let's go." he turned and left.

"Wait! Where are we going?" Doppio grabbed his hair tie and keys and dashed after him.

Mista gestured with his hands in the air. "We're going after that Capo who's turned traitor."

"Yes, yes, I figured that out." Doppio struggled to follow Mista and braid his hair at the same time. "I meant a location."

"We're going to a little café near here to meet with our third member."

"Who's that?"

Mista groaned. "Do you even pay attention when people talk to you? Cannolo Murolo. He has a deck of cards that can collect information."

Doppio sighed but decided that wasn't worth commenting.

They made their way to a café that Doppio was too preoccupied with looking around to pay attention to the name. It was quaint and small, but extremely unassuming. Someone here was a stand user, their ally. He walked forward into the café only to get pulled back outside by Mista.

"You missed him, he's in the patio."

Doppio glanced toward where Mista was pointing at. Doppio stared. He was an middle aged man probably early thirties, and had a droopy hat and rather old fashioned clothes. When he glanced up to see both the boys staring, he waved them over urgently.

Doppio sat across from him.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Cannolo hissed, pulling at his hat as glanced around furtively.

"Um, looking for you?" Doppio asked.

"Yes, yes, but what's with all that pointing and staring! We'll draw attention to ourselves!"

Mista lounged in a chair, leaning over to not-so-discreetly whisper into Doppio's ear. "Yeah, Giorno warned me about this guy. He's a bit-"

Cannolo took out what looked like a plain deck of cards. He whispered to it before leaning back and sipping his coffee, eyes darting. The cards seemingly grew arms and legs, as they jumped from the table and began spreading out.

Mista cleared his throat, but continued. "Paranoid."

Doppio nodded nervously. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Murolo."

Cannolo nodded approvingly, before glancing at Mista. "At least one of you respects your elders."

Mista snorted. "First off we both outrank you and second… wait Doppio, when were you born?'

"Huh? Oh, uh…" he had to think quite a bit but at last he said. "Sometime in 1967, I think. July 4th.

Mista burst out laughing and pointed at Cannolo. "That means he's older than you, old man."

Cannolo shushed him quickly, only to be ignored.

"Oh, is that true?" Doppio frowned.

Between laughs, Mista gasped out. "He's 31, you're 32. You're his senior!"

Cannolo scowled. "Well he looks 19! And anyway, I bet he doesn't remember most of it. Now shut up!"

Doppio look startled, "Wait, what year is it?"

"2001." Cannolo started swatting at Mista, who continued to laugh.

"What!?" Doppio's hands clapped onto the side of his face. "I'm so old! Like some creepy crypt keeper!"

Mista snorted in between laughs. "I know, right?"

Cannolo sighed. "Speaking of birthdays it's Giorno's today."

Mista balked. "Oh shit, really? Damn, ok, I'll get him something today."

The older man groaned and tugged his hat down. "Can we please focus!?"

Doppio put his face in his hands. Jesus, the last year he remembered relatively clearly was 1987. After that, the years blurred together. He'd stop caring about the date, living one day to the next. He didn't even remember the last time he celebrated his birthday.

He felt something tug on his leg. When he looked down, he spotted the queen of spades, waving at him.

He scooped her up and refocused his gaze at Cannolo.

"She's taken a liking to you, huh? Well be careful. She's bad luck, that one. If you're playing Hearts, of course."

Doppio glanced at her, before nodding.

"Now let's get down to business. This is what I know. There are 4 operatives. They-"

"I'm sorry, what!?" Mista yelled.

Doppio flinched. Oh god the priest was mad. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He had to hide, or leave, he had to-

"I knew you would be like this, Mista-" Cannolo started.

"I'm sorry, I'm out. 3 people on a team is bad enough, but 4 enemies? We're fucked! Absolutely screwed! We're all gonna die, Jesus fuck…" Mista continued to hiss explosives while Cannolo argued.

Father, please,

"Mista, it's just a number-"

Father I didn't. I wouldn't hurt anyone, honest

He stood up. "Well that number has followed me as a curse my entire life-"

I'm sorry Father, I'll do anything, I'm sorry, please, just don't-

He stood up "Mista, this is a mission, if you would just-"

I won't do it again, I promise. Just please, please don't-

"And I'm telling you that-"

hurt me anymore.

Doppio realized he couldn't breathe. Well, he was breathing in the sense that there was air going in and out of his lungs. but his chest hurt and it felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen. A stand. This had to be a stand. Taking all the oxygen away, or making it not absorb into his bloodstream. Was it Risotto again? He tried gasping, bringing big mouthful of air into him, but it wasn't enough. Why hadn't anyone else noticed? How could Mista and the other man keep arguing like that? Why hadn't Epitaph warned him?

The world went far away. He tried to move his hand to reach for it, but all his limbs felt so heavy. He was so tired. Was he dying? Was he going to be with the boss? Was he-

"What the fuck, dude?"

Doppio groaned.

"Hey! Wake up!"

He opened his eyes to stare at Mista's stupid hat. What even was that? Was it supposed to be a beanie? He supposed blue and orange were complimentary colours, so partial credit. But he, even in a million years, would never call it fashionable.

"Doppio, what the fuck! You fucking passed out out of nowhere!" Mista griped.

He sighed and pushed himself up. "I don't know, my memories are coming back from, I don't know but.." he shook his head. "They're coming harder and faster. I think I used to know a priest? And he did some bad things to me I guess?"

"That's all very, very interesting." Mista drawled with sarcasm, "But what does that have to do with you dropping like a brick in the middle of a café?"

"I… I felt like I couldn't breathe, and the more I tried to breathe the worst it got, like there wasn't enough air..."

Cannolo sat down beside him. Doppio jumped, he hadn't realized he was there. "It's alright, son, I know what happened."

Both boys turned to stare at him.

"You do?" They said in unison.

Murolo wrinkled his nose, like there was a bad smell. "My sister, she…well, my sister was a prostitute. Not by choice, cause the boss used drugs and intimidation to keep the workers in check. I eventually got high enough to get her out and get her to a therapist. She used to have these things called panic attacks. She said they felt like she couldn't breathe, lot like you. I can teach you a few tricks."

Doppio shifted. "Used to? So… she doesn't have them anymore? She's ok?" The Queen of spades crawled on Doppio's knee and jumped up and down.

Murolo scowled and tugged at his hat. "She doesn't have them anymore. She's… she's in a better place."

Mista gawked. "You mean she's dead? How'd she die?"

Doppio flinched at his bluntness.

"She commited suicide. 10 years, 4 months and 5 days ago." Murolo picked up about half the deck that was gathered at his feet and began to shuffle, quickly waterfalling and reverse waterfalling. "But who's counting."

Doppio looked at the ground. Well, the floor. It was old carpeting, with lazy green vines on it. His head shot up and he glanced around. Doors were on either side of the hall with space enough for two people to walk side by side at most. They were in his hotel, he was pretty sure. He flinched. If the boss was here, he was sure he would get scolded for lack of observation.

Murolo glanced at Doppio. "The Queen of spades again, huh? Y'know, that was Allie's favourite card. She always tried to shoot the moon. No matter how hard it was, she thought it was funny. She'd be the first person to literally shoot for the moon."

Neither of the young men looked at him. "Well, I suppose I should jump to the Intel, huh? The first guy is named Nicola Armani. A quieter guy, he's the most isolated of the group, slightly outcast. His stand is long range. The next two work in conjunction. The users are twins, Gwen and Stefano Vanga. Honestly I haven't seen them apart, not even in the bathroom, so I wouldn't be surprised if their stands worked together. The last is Macchiato Solo. He's the Capo and he's fierce, he's definitely got a single minded focus. His stand is short range, but that's all I know."

"Wait, how are they twins if one is a boy and one is a girl?" Mista asked.

Murolo blinked. "Not identical you dolt, fraternal twins!"

Mista began to protest his intelligence. When Doppio felt Epitaph activated.

He saw his arm slashed open wide.

Shit.