Doppio blearily stared at Mista as he finished his story, sparing a glance at Giorno, who looked just as tired and put out as he felt.
"You're right... that does sound bad." He admitted, trying to hold back a yawn.
"Hey dumbass wake up!" He snapped his fingers in Doppio's face, "We need to find this capo fast before he attacks Giorno again!"
He nodded empathetically. "Got it."
Giorno sighed. "Mista, I have Gold Experience Requiem, I'm sure it will be fine." He looked unimpressed.
Mista whipped around. "C'mon Giorno, a stand can't help you if you fall into the ocean or a tornado or… or… quicksand!"
Doppio rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "But if I'm not with Giorno, how will I protect him?"
Giorno gave him a look. "I told you I don't need-"
"-Trish." Interrupted Mista. "You're going to stay with Trish. No if, ands or buts."
Giorno looked faintly amused. "Who's the boss again?"
Mista ignored him. "C'mon, Trish has an apartment in town, we're going."
Giorno gave Doppio an apologetic look before following him.
"Oh~ we're going to have so much fun! Look who needs protecting now?" Trish giggled, standing in the doorway. Flowing nightgown around her, it was a wonder she was so awake. "Who knew we'd have our rolls reversed."
Giorno tilted his head in acknowledgement. "It's just temporary, Trish, I trust Mista and Doppio to end this quickly."
Doppio felt heat rush to his face and Mista scowled. "This is serious!"
Trish wrapped her arms around Giorno's neck. "I know," she rolled her eyes. "But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our time together! It's been forever since we saw each other!"
"It's been a month." Giorno chided.
Trish glanced at Doppio, who startled. "Well… you look more confident."
He stiffened. "I do?"
"Yeh, you haven't cried once."
He grimaces at the jab.
Giorno held onto Trish's arms as they encircled his neck. "It's a work in progress. I do what I can."
Mista frowns. "Look, hate to ditch you like this Trish, but we should probably get on the case while it's still hot."
Doppio wilts. "It's like 1am…"
Mista nods. "And that's why they won't be expecting us!" He waves and turns down the hall.
Doppio stiffened. Glancing between his assigned partner, boss and biological daughter before chasing after Mista, offering a wave as he leaves.
"Um… so-"
"Shut it, I'm not interested. There's a bar around here that Buccellati used to get intel from, we'll start there."
Doppio wordlessly follows as Mista storms forward. Taking two steps at a time before hurrying into the street, he weaves through alleyways until they come to a dive bar.
Mista stops abruptly and Doppio walks right into him.
"Sorr-"
Mista turns on his heel and stares. "Don't talk, don't randomly faint, don't do anything to fuck this up. Just let me handle this."
"Ok…"
Mista ducks inside wordlessly.
Doppio bites his lip before following.
Mista is already leaning against the bar, murmuring to the bartender with heads close. Doppio glances around and sits at a table with his back to the wall and a clear view of the door.
He scans the bar. Checkered flooring, with one wall lined with booze and a bar, a few tables on the other wall. It's mostly empty, but there are two men nursing beers at the bar and someone who looks to be passed out at a table.
Before he knew what he was doing, he stood up and walked toward the drunk. With a gentle nudge, he leans in.
"Hey, are you ok?"
The drunk man grumbles unintelligibly, blond hair stuck to his sweaty face. He stinks of alcohol, the boss barely ever let him indulge, so he doesn't know what kind.
"Do you need help getting home?"
The man grunts.
Doppio looks around helplessly. Surely the man was too drunk to get home alone. Perhaps he could find help...
"Oi, Dope-head! I've got a lead so-"
The drunk blearily raised his head to squint at Mista.
"Meess-da?" He slurred.
Mista's already annoyed expression blooms into fury.
"Oh you piece of shit!" Mista launched himself across the room to grab the man by the collar. His fist is pulled back, but before it connects-
"NO FIGHTING IN THE BAR!"
Doppio glanced backward. The bartender was holding a shotgun trained on the two.
"Ah! Yes sir!" Doppio straightens and turns to leave. When he notices Mista is still holding the drunk by the collar, he whispers. "Come… on!" He tugs on his shirt.
Mista begrudgingly allows himself to be led as he drags the drunk after them into the alley.
"Who is this guy?! I thought you told me not to make any trouble!"
Mista snorts and tosses the blonde against the bricks. "This is personal."
The man, or perhaps more accurately a boy, leans heavily against the wall.
"That's worse! How did Buccellati rein in you amatures!" Doppio groaned. "We need to focus on the mission!"
The blonde was staring at Mista, dumbstruck. "It is you. You're alive."
Mista yanked the man forward, slamming him against the wall. "Damn right I'm alive! No thanks to you!"
Doppio rubbed his face, wishing the Boss was still alive to tell him what to do. "Mista-"
"Shut it! This won't take long." He slammed his fist into the Blonde's face.
"Mista-"
Again.
"Stop-"
Again.
There was a boy. Young, 13 maybe, he was staring up at Doppio, fear in his eyes.
Thump.
His nose looked broken, his eye was swollen shut, tears poured down his face.
Thump.
Doppio needed to stop. The fight was won. He was being unnecessarily cruel, blood splattered around him.
Thump.
The boy lost consciousness. Doppio pulled his fist back to hit him again.
"STOP IT!"
Mista and the blond were thrown in opposite directions. The blond collapsed and Mista rolled to his feet.
Doppio was hiding in his arms, cowering. He had no idea who that boy was, or why Mista was hitting him. What was-
Mista storms forward, shoving him against the alley wall. "I said it was personal, what are you doing?" His gun was in his hand. At least he wasn't aiming it at Doppio yet.
Doppio bit his lip. "I thought we had a job, but if you want to risk Giogio's life over personal grudges... be my guest."
Mista glowered. He glanced at the young man, who was puking, before putting his gun in his pants. "Let's go."
Doppio rubbed his eyes when he felt his stand activate. He saw his hand being stabbed.
It was by the door stand who had slashed his arm before.
"Oh shit."
He glanced around wildly, before realizing the blond was right in front of a door. He and Mista weren't close to any.
His body moved before his brain, running toward the blond when the door began to open. He wouldn't make it in time at this rate! The knife emerged first, followed by the arm of the stand, then the body.
Doppio grit his teeth. He wouldn't make it to disarm the stand, and it became clear how the knife would end up in his hand.
He closed his eyes and shoved his left hand forward. The knife pierced his palm. He flinched, instincts screaming that he needed to stop his forward momentum.
With a cold brutality, the stand ripped the knife out, swiping down in a cruel thrust. He disappeared behind the door.
Doppio collapsed, tripping over the blond, cradling his injured hand.
"What the fuck, Doppio!" Mista bolted forward.
"It's the door stand." He growled out, trying to ignore the pain, but also the tingling lightness in his chest.
"Shit." He points his gun at the door.
"Um-" the blonde began to speak
"Shut up, Fugo."
"Mista, I have an idea." The boy named Fugo said, hesitantly.
"I don't care, just-"
"Mista, we don't have a lot of options! You better hear him out unless you have a better idea than shooting it!" Doppio snapped.
Mista's face scrunched in disgust, but he nodded.
Fugo turned to Doppio, "You.. your stand can see the future. You have a stand that pre- predicted where it comes from, right? I mean, you were running towards me be- before the door even opened…"
"Yeah…" Doppio said trying to focus despite the pain.
"Ok," he nods, "I think- I think my stand can help."
A purple and white patch-work stand emerged. it's limbs and lips looked to be stitched together loosely. It drooled heavily as well.
"Don't panic… but if- if we don't get this perfect we could all die." Fugo laughed uncertainly, glancing around.
Doppio balked and Mista snorted.
"I don't trust that stand even when you're sober." Mista growled.
He stepped closer to the two uneasily. He leaned in and whispered, his breath stinking of alcohol. "W-we need to make them think we're off guard."
Doppio nodded. "My vision is 10 seconds in the future. I only see what happens, not how it happens."
Fugo nods, pushing himself to his feet. He makes his way past the door. Doppio gets up and follows.
"G- Get away from me, you freaks!" Fugo says loudly, stumbling and landing on his face right in front of the door.
Doppio bit the inside of his cheek. Acting wasn't his strong suit. "Hey, mister… I think you need some help home, please…"
Doppio was blanking. He made a habit to avoid bars and drunks.
He pulled Fugo up by his arm and steadied him. They walked down until almost the end of the alley when Epitaph activated.
Doppio watched as an arm whipped out from an alcove and stabbed toward Fugo's back.
Doppio glanced to his right and noticed a phone box. That counted as a door, didn't it? He braced himself and took the last few steps toward the phone box when he heard the click of the door. He swung Fugo around. Now Doppio's back was facing the phone box and Fugo was staring straight at the door. Doppio felt the knife pierce his skin. For a moment it was achingly cold, and then it burst into firey pain.
"Purple Haze!" Fugo yelled as a little pod on the stand's hand was shot out toward the door.
Doppio waited for the knife to be pulled out. Instead, there was no ripping of flesh, just the sound of the door closing.
Fugo looked horrified. "A-Are you ok, mister?"
Doppio groaned as he felt himself fall forward. He guessed it was the long night catching up to him. He was caught by his collar, and gently placed on the ground.
"W- Wait- Mista-" Fugo said panicking.
"That's why we needed you Fugo, people died! Abbachio, Bucheletti, even fucking Narancia! You could've been there! You could've helped. Why the fuck-"
Doppio groaned loudly.
"Narancia." Whispered Fugo.
"Mission!" Doppio yelled into the ground. Maybe it wasn't just tired he was feeling. It was dizzy too, and kinda like sleeping. His body was so heavy, and was it just him or was the night getting a lot colder.
He felt a hand lift up his wrist. He groaned in complaint of the pain.
"Shit, Mista, the knife went deep enough into his wrist, and his back too. I-I think he's losing a lot of blood…" he felt something tighten around his arm and he whined at the pain. "Do you-"
"Fine I get it."
Doppio felt himself be pulled upright, his right arm put over Mista's shoulder.
"Mista-"
"Shut it." He felt Mista turn.
He swung his head and it connected to Mista's with a thunk. "Mission!"
"Fine but if you die, don't blame me." He turned to Fugo. "What do you know about Macchiato Solo and his team?"
"Um, they asked me to join them… Th-they gave me a location, it's a town not far from here, I think." He heard rustling. "They probably tried to- to kill me because I declined."
"They gave me this address… in Pozzuoli."
Mista took it wordlessly.
"I wasn't going to go! I-"
"Thanks. Because of this, I won't drag your traitor ass back to Giorno. Enjoy your head start."
Doppio focused on putting one foot in front of the other. But his body was so heavy, he felt like he was going to faint.
"Mista!"
"..."
"I'm happy you're alive." Fugo called after them.
Doppio felt like he was falling for a very brief moment, before everything went to black.