Jojo's Bizarre Adventures: Golden Wind is the creation of Hirohiko Araki and the names of most OC stands and characters are the creation of vanillaprinces. Check their account on Tumblr today!

Vento Aureo SBR AU: Golden Blood

Chapter 3: Shadows of Evil

It was a rainy day… A very rainy day, thunder, lightning, unnecessary flooding, you name it. Me and my mom were just sitting in the living room, she was reading a book and I was just sitting by the window, watching the raindrops hit the glass pane. Not a lot of people would be out in this condition, sure we have had our fair share of blizzards before, but we have clothing to protect ourselves from the cold, not the wetness of a thunderstorm, God forbid anyone go out for a walk, that is tuberculosis city. Anyways, we were relaxed, nothing too crazy was happening… Until there was a knock at the door. My mom, being the caring person that she is pulled out her stand, [Cream Starter], a small spray bottle with an aerosol nozzle, used to produce flesh to cover up wounds, or to affect someone else's flesh, such as to suffocate them, to blind them.

In the right hands it is a dangerous thing to be on the other side of during a fight, and the only good, competent hands it COULD be in was my mom's.

"Who is that mama?" I asked her as she approached the door, her only response was to shush me before creaking the door open slightly.

"Excuse me, missus." There were 3 people outside the door, all drenched from the rain, the one who was talking was a mildly balding, short, fat man with a brown and grey beard reaching down to his belly button. "The rain is too heavy for us to keep moving forward, may we come in to take shelter until the rain subsides?"

My mom didn't respond immediately, she only squinted her eyes slightly, inspecting the appearance and mannerisms of each man who stood outside. I didn't get to see much of them at all actually, let alone their mannerisms so here's how she described them:

The Short Older Man looked he like was dizzy, swaying about forward and back, trying to maintain composure. Behind him was a titan of a man, 6'8 easily, with strong, broad shoulders, wearing a rusty brown suit, with a massive broom moustache hiding a majority of his mouth. He seemed on edge, looking around at the slightest sound, and being outside, surrounded by the sounds of the rain hitting the earth, he glanced around like a madman at war. The last man was skinny, sickly looking, he looked both 24 and 88 at the same time. His eyebags made up a majority of his face, and he looked like he walked with a habitual slouch.

My mom knew something was up with these fellas as she then shook her head.

"I am sorry gentlemen, there is barely enough room for me and my child, I am going to need you to find somewhere else to take shelter." She tried to close the door as fast as she could, that is, until the Big Broom Mustache Man wedged his massive fingers between the door and the frame.

"It's JUST you and your child… Is your husband not present?" The Old Man questioned.

"I don't have a husband…" My mom growled, readying [Cream Starter] for anything.

"Good…"

Suddenly the door slammed open with a loud bang, sending my mom, flying backwards, as the three men began to invade our house.

"GIO-JO RUN!" She screamed as she sprayed at the Big Man's face.

And like the obedient child I was, I did, I ran to the only place I could… upstairs. I watched from the top of the stairs as my mom struggled to push The Big Man back, while the other two ransacked our house.

"Find as much money as you can, kill the bitch and her kid while you're at it…" The Old Man said, waving a revolver in the air.

Mom's arm was caught as she tried to spray The Big Man a third time, dropping [Cream Starter] to the floor. The man chuckled as he began to wrench Mom's arms. However, my momma wasn't one to play by the rules, as she kneed the Big Man in the balls, knocking him down onto his knees before wrenching his neck as hard as she could. It worked pretty well as I heard a loud, ugly crack, before he fell to the floor.

She tried to pick up [Cream Starter], but was rushed by the Sickly Man, who had a knife on him. My Mom noticed this and turned around in an attempt to defend her neck; as she put up her arm The Sickly Man stabbed her in the forearm, passing perfectly between the Ulna and Radius.

"MOMMA!" I screamed, only to hear a loud bang, and sparks coming from the metal railing I clung on. The Old Man was shooting at me, and in my shock, I stumbled backwards and tumbled down the steel steps, definitely breaking some ribs.

"GIO-JO!" My mom roared out.

She grabbed the tip of the blade that was sticking out of her forearm, and like the goddamn badass she was, she pulled the blade the direction she was stabbed from, breaking it off of the handle and stabbing the Sickly Guy in the throat. Immediately she ran towards me to check the extent of my injuries, but another bang rang out, and her shoulder exploded in blood, knocking her off balance and landing hard on the floor. The Old Man went up to my mom, kicking her over, and pointed the revolver at her face, but as he pulled the trigger, it miraculously only clicked.

"Ah, piece of shit!" He yelled out, as he opted to get on top of my mom and smash her face in with the handle of the gun. "That's alright, I can just beat you to death, AND THE BOY!"

Every time I try to go to bed, I can still hear the "crunch" of my mom's orbital bone as the Old Man hit her again, and again, ignoring my pleas to stop, ignoring as blood began gushing out violently.

"Stop…" I choked out, only to be met with another thwack.

"PLEASE STOP!" Thwack.

"S- STOP…" Thwack.

"I said… STOP!"

Fast Forward, back to the present day. After ABBA's and Bucciarati's confrontation of Giorno, after the gangsters find out the truth about Luca DiMaggio. They all sit outside a Café, and Giorno was telling the gangsters his life story as he healed the wounds he inflicted on them using [Golden Years] in the prior battle. Bucciarati wasn't as wounded as ABBA, at least not physically. Emotionally and mentally however, was a different story. Learning that one of your best friends was drugging people in secret can affect you in more ways than one, and Bucciarati was still reeling from the shock.

"What happened after?" ABBA asked, as they were the one who has the mental fortitude to respond to Giorno's story.

Giorno said nothing at first. Taking his hand off of ABBA's left arm, the area where Giorno bit them as a rottweiler, showing that the bite mark was gone. He only perused his lips before looking up at the smoggy Manhattan skies.

"To be honest… I don't know. I think I blacked out as I reached fury levels beyond human comprehension. But here is what my mom said…"

Although I was half blinded due to the blood in my eyes, I watched as you turned into a Utahraptor and bit the top of the Old Man's head off. Even after you did that, you didn't stop, you… either turned into a dog, or a wolf and began to maul the man's dead body until he was a bloody paste, before passing out, turning back into your normal human self, completely soaked in the Old Man's blood…

"Up until that point, I thought [Golden Years] could only turn nonliving things into living organisms and heal people. Now, I can morph into any animal I please… even an extinct Dinosaur, like a Utahraptor."

"Couldn't you have just turned into a bear and sideswiped the both of us into oblivion?" ABBA asked, earning a quirked eyebrow from Bucciarati.

"Yeah, I could have. But here is the thing… If I try to transform into any animal larger than a Utahraptor, my energy will get drained at a significantly faster rate. I have overdone it before; it is not a pretty sight when I do." Giorno explained.

"Yes, yes. But what the hell does any of this have to do with you hating drugs." Bucciarati asked, obviously losing patience with Giorno.

"Bruno!" ABBA angerly turned to Bucciarati who only furrowed his eyebrows at them.

"When I woke up, the Steel Foundation came to our house to clean up the mess that my mom and I made of the intruders. And one of the agents found a packet of cocaine in the Big Guy's pocket. Allegedly, those bastards were responsible for breaking and entering other houses, murdering the inhabitants, and ransacking their houses for money. To buy more drugs." Giorno grabbed a white towel and held it in a way that emulated the shape of a cocaine packet, extending it out to show the gangsters.

"My mother showed me the packet of cocaine and explained to me, 'Drugs were responsible for the actions committed by the men we killed today. Drugs are one of the forms that The Devil takes, infecting the mind and the body of anyone who uses it, turning them into lesser humans, the closest thing that we have to demons. If you do drugs, you will experience hell before you die.'" Giorno put the towel back on the table. "Ever since that day, I vowed to use my Stand to try my hardest to stop the flow of drugs going through the streets of Manhattan."

Giorno stood up to get a better look at the dirty streets of his neighborhood. "Mr. Bucciarati, was it?" Giorno turned around putting a hand on his chest flashing an open tooth smile at Bucciarati and ABBA. "I, Giorno Joestar, have a dream. A dream to rid Manhattan of the drugs that plague our great city. And seeing that we are both willing to kill to reach our goals, I need you to help me realize that dream. So, what do you say Mr. Bucciarati? Will you let me join-"

"No." Bucciarati bluntly cut him off before he can finish.

"And that is where I shut down that conversation." Bucciarati explained to a massive, fat man with a yellow and white three-piece suit.

The Fat Man was huge, to say the least, seemingly reaching 9 feet in height, causing Bucciarati and ABBA to need to crook their necks up due to the sheer size of the man. The fat man was Polpo, one of the many Lieutenants of Passione. Passione as a whole has the entirety of Manhattan under its thumb, with the Boss and Advisor/Secretary at the top, and the Lieutenants overseeing the districts of the Island, such as Hell's Kitchen, Madison Square, Washington Heights, Harlem. Polpo is in charge of the Little Italy district, with Bucciarati (and formerly Luca) at his right hand.

Polpo, ABBA and Bucciarati all wore a pair of black, circular lensed, Steampunk Sunglasses. These were no ordinary sunglasses, but it was Polpo's stand, [Midnight Rambler]. When wearing these glasses, you will be "transported" to a place that resembles the surface of the moon, surrounded by a beautiful, unaffected, pristine night sky that seemed to glow purple rather than a faint black, with billions of stars glistening above. [Midnight Rambler] is used as a psychic link between Polpo and those who are also wearing it. He usually has secret meetings in this realm, so no classified information would get leaked by eavesdroppers or spies.

"I told him to stay out of the Mob life, it is something that you can get into far too easily but getting out is impossible. He was understanding, but looking at the spark in his eyes, he is going to be insistent to join Passione anyway. I know this is not going to be the last conversation I am going to have with the Joestar."

The Fat Lieutenant stayed quiet for a second, digesting the words that were being spoken to him, digesting as fast as his brain would allow him, as all of his blood only rushed through his stomach. Finally, he downed an entire bottle of expensive red wine, throwing the now empty bottle to the side watching as it seemed to poof out of existence, sitting up straighter than he was a moment ago.

"Are you a pious man, Bucciarati?" Polpo asked in a deep, but soft voice. The words were ironic coming from the physical representation of Gluttony.

"I… Suppose I am, my father used to take me to church every Friday before War took him away from me…" Bucciarati responded, ABBA stayed quiet, as their beliefs are still in the air.

"'I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, 'My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.'' Isaiah 46:10" Don't you get déjà vu having these conversations with me, Bucciarati? I feel like this is the 4th time we have this talk." The Lieutenant chuckled. "You have a run in with a boy, they ask to join the organization, you say no, and then you report it to me."

Bucciarati looked at the floor. He's right. This keeps happening…

"Here is what I would like you to do: Go back to Mr. Joestar and introduce him to the others." Polpo requested causing Bucciarati to snap his neck up, giving himself whiplash.

"What?" Bucciarati wanted to yell at Polpo, telling him off on how reckless the idea was, he was trying to keep Giorno away from the gang life, not teach him to become one.

"Keep calm, Bucciarati. You, unlike most other people in this organization, do not try to turn young boys into mafiosos. You turn them into better men. I trust that if I give you Mr. Joestar, that he will be in good hands." Bucciarati tried to argue, but Polpo stopped him before he could. "This is not a matter of debate."

Suddenly, an echo-y knock on the door rang out in the [Midnight Rambler] dimension.

"Scuse for the interruption, Polpo, but I have the file for Giorno Joestar that you requ- What the hell is happening?" A high pitched, but still evidently masculine, disembodied voice echoed out.

Polpo looked around, before taking off [Midnight Rambler], causing him to disappear. ABBA and Bucciarati did the same, causing their visions to distort, before finding themselves in a big, albeit simpler room, with Polpo taking up about 50% of the space.

The entrance to the room was an oakwood door, occupied by a small man, with pink, slicked back hair, save for the large strand of hair that coiled slightly, covering the right half of his face. The man looked young, but gruff at the same time, with a certain devilish glint in his brown eye. He wore a dark purple knit turtleneck under a long, dirty pink trench coat with its collar popped out, its most defining feature is the butterfly lapel on the left side.

"Ah, Aceto! Mio amico, please come in." Polpo responded with a happy tone, before turning to Bucciarati and ABBA. "Bucciarati, I am sure you're acquainted with Aceto, the beautiful Lady Madonna's secretary and husband."

"Bruno Bucciarati, Loreta Abbachio…" Aceto nodded at them.

"Its… ABBA…" ABBA responded, offended at hearing their real name said out loud.

"Many apologies…" Aceto secretly rolled his eyes as he turned back to look at Polpo.

"What took you so long my boy?" The Fat Lieutenant asked as he grabbed the folder out of the Secretary's hands.

"The courier, who was supposed to bring this package originally was arrested, so I had to deliver this personally. Figlio di puttana got arrested for tax evasion? Not even we do that here." Aceto spat.

"Yes, yes, how evil of him…" Polpo mockingly stated before opening up the folder and began laughing at the contents. "Well now… This boy likes to get himself into trouble. He has stolen from the same grocery store 14 times in a span of 22 days! Running from the cops, jumping some teens one Christmas after one of them allegedly called his mother a 'Bitch.' He has never been caught for any of these crimes as he's so damn good at running away from the police and disappearing, and the price on his head was always paid off by a certain Steel Foundation."

ABBA and Bucciarati were surprised that there was no mention of murder in that folder, not even an allegation. Was Luca the first time he has ever murdered? Or was he so good at killing using [Golden Years] that he was never pinned to any… The thought of it was terrifying, but Bucciarati decided to put that thought aside.

"Thank you for this Aceto, send Lady Madonna my regards." Polpo gleamed, smacking him on the back.

"I will, Polpo!" He responded with equal appreciation, but as he turned to leave, he looked at ABBA and Bucciarati with his one, visible eye.

At that moment, a chill went down both of the gangster's spines. The look was a far cry from his previous joy from being around Polpo, no, it was one of pure malice, no sense of humanity behind the look. Aceto left the room, Bucciarati and ABBA were about to put on [Midnight Rambler] again before being stopped as Polpo started speaking again.

"No need to put on my [Midnight Rambler] again, I already gave you an order. Bucciarati, tomorrow, in the morning, Joestar Residence. You know what to do next." Polpo said, dismissing the two gangsters by waving them off.

ABBA and Bucciarati walked out of the building which housed Polpo's office. As dusk began to loom on the city, the two walked to their home, Bucciarati trapped in deep thought. ABBA was clinging onto Bucciarati's arm, and they noticed that Bucciarati had a conflicted look on his face, squeezing his arm a bit to get his attention.

"Are you actually going to do it?" ABBA asked, stooping a bit lower to get closer to Bucciarati's face.

"I have to… And I am more than willing to honor Polpo's request… But I can't shake the feeling that something bad will happen when I do…"

Later that night, at around 3:03 AM, Polpo was still awake, in his office, doing some paperwork, calculating the gang's earnings within his district, wearing a pair of bifocal lenses to help with his sight. Until he heard the sound of his office door opening, catching the Lieutenant's attention.

"Oh? It's you… What do you need at this hour… Uh…? What the hell?" His face warped to one of confusion and fear as he saw a figure grow in front of him.

The figure suddenly punched Polpo's chin so hard that the entirety of his face and the top of his head exploded into red mist, caking the walls behind him in his own brain matter. The figure soon pulled out a double barrel shotgun, firing both of the shells into the blood splatter, watching as Polpo slumped over onto his table, blood dripping onto the floor like a demonic waterfall.

The shotgun was found by his body by the time security went to investigate the noise, they found primer residue on the Lieutenant's hands, indicating that he had shot himself, his death was immediately ruled as a suicide.

The Next Day

Bucciarati knocked on the front door of the Joestar residence, after a few seconds of waiting, Lucy Steele opened the door, looking up at the gangster. She gasped.

"Hello ma'am, is Giorno pres-"

"You again? What do you want with him this time?" Lucy yelled at Bucciarati, confused, and worried for Giorno. Until Giorno came behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay Aunt Lucy, nothing bad is going to happen. I trust him…" Giorno smiled at Lucy, trying to put her at ease. Bucciarati grinned slightly at learning that he earned the trust of the kid he was ordered to assassinate just the previous day.

After Giorno and Bucciarati silently walk down the streets for a bit, Giorno decided to ask Bucciarati a question.

"So… Have you finally reconsidered me joining?" Giorno asked, with a cocky look on his face.

"NOPE! Not even for a second…" Bucciarati insisted.

"Okay…" Giorno blinked a few times. "So then where are you taking me? Another ambush?" Giorno asked, face darkening.

"No… I was ordered by my caporegime to introduce you to other people like you. Other boys I turned away from the Organization because they were far too young, far too in over their heads for their own good. And just like you they are willing kill to see drugs get off the streets of Manhattan once and for all." Bucciarati explained to the attentively listening Giorno. "Oh, and as a heads up, they're all stand users…"

End of Chapter 3

(The following are my ideas, and not previously mentioned by vanillaprinces)

[Midnight Rambler]: Polpo's stand; named after The Rolling Stone's 1969 song of the same name.

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