｢Mr. President｣
Venice

"Okay, so what I need you to do is get Coco Jumbo close to a gangster. Any would work, but preferably a non-Stand user. Everyone else here, you are to hold him down, constrain him, knock him out, whatever you can. Just make sure he can't leave Mr. President."

Sweetie, Matito, Fragi, and Amicio all took this in as Polnareff paced in his wheelchair.

"I still don't understand what you'll be doing." Amicio said.

Matito got out ｢Take On Me｣. "Oh. Ohhhhh, nice!" he complimented. Obviously he had read what Polnareff was going to do from his Stand. "Might I suggest telling the rest of the class, though?"

"Where's the fun in that? Now Sweetie, if you would."

"Wait! Can I come?" Polnareff asked.

"Come where?"

"To spy! I'm really good at it."

Polnareff's mouth formed a thin line. "Sorry, Sweetie, but you'll have to look out here."

Sweetie, the only one there that would be able to escape alive, was chosen as the person to move Coco Jumbo near an enemy. He stuck his hand up and appeared outside of the turtle in the cafeteria of Magistrale Accademia.

It didn't take long for Sweetie to find a guard. The place was practically crawling with them. He found one just outside where they were hiding out, and dropped a plate off a table to get his attention. He quickly retreated back into the turtle to avoid being seen.

The gangster – just hired muscle, not a Stand user as far as they knew – slowly stalked into the cafeteria. He thought all of the students had been sent home? He looked around, under the tables, and finally in the kitchen.

As he finished checking the kitchen, he scoffed and sent a 'false alarm' text to whoever he was reporting to.

However, before he could turn to leave, he saw a shadow in the corner.

"Agh!" he yelped, but the shadow moved before he could get a good look at it. He put a hand to his heart, gaining control of his breathing. "Come out! Show yourself."

All of a sudden, he felt something sharp poke at his neck. He froze, and slowly looked down to see a pirate hook pressed against his Adam's Apple.

"You seem like a strong fellow. I think it's time you took a nap."

Campiglia Marittima Train Station

The train station was quaint. There was a small island in between the service road next to the station and the main road, with a few box-shaped marble stools and potted trees dotted around the place. There were bikes locked to the bike stations and chain link fences from commuters who catch the train to Livorno or Pisa.

Viale had watched the video over and over again. They all had. And Shizuka said every Stand user she knew had watched it too.

So had the rest of the world.

They were unveiled. They were vulnerable. Governments would come after them, conspiracy groups would form, hell, they could make a religion out of this.

'I mean, I'm not a Stand user anymore. Does that make me safe?' he thought. No, that was a selfish way to think. All of his friends were Stand users. That wasn't fair.

"The goal hasn't changed," Giorno announced, still shaken, "We are still going to return to Venice. We are still going to save Esposito and– and Grace."

He stammered. He actually stammered. 'Holy shit,' Viale thought, 'I've never heard him stammer.'

Beneficci spoke up, "But they know we are coming. And everyone knows what we are! And, the Speedwagon Foundation is– is screwed! We've been covering this up from world governments for half a century now!"

"None of that matters," Giorno responded, "We all crossed that line back at Baratti. We all stood there and said we would fight. That has not changed."

"Easy for you to say. You have nothing to lose except what we're already fighting for!"

"Hey!" Shizuka shouted as she stood up from one of the marble seats, "We aren't gonna get anywhere if we are fighting like this. Last time I was in a team like this, we had a saying: 'either we all win, or we all die'."

"Sounds like a jolly team." Viale said.

"That's not the point. We're a team, not just six people on a train." She turned to Vuoto. "Remember when I told you about my nephew's worldwide expedition to save my sister?"

Vuoto blinked. "No…?"

"Oh, I swear I did. Anyway, they were called the Stardust Crusaders, and while that might sound like the name of a group of veteran soldiers that have seen many stand battles, the truth is for most of them it was the first time they were fighting with their Stands. Kakyoin, Jotaro, Dad– they all had never fought anyone before that. All they had was Avdol to teach them to fight, and later Polnareff."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that we are like them! You three," she pointed at the three students, "were all flying blind until Beneficci got here."

Viale and Giorno were about to object, but Sana spoke first. "So what, we're the modern version of these crusaders, or something?"

"Exactly! We're a team – we've got each other's backs. We are the modern crusaders."

…

"That's a pretty crappy name," Viale stated.

"It's a nice sentiment, though," Vuoto responded. Sana translated for Viale's benefit.

"Do people actually have team names in real life? Like, friend groups?"

"We were Team Bucciarati."

"Shut up, dad."

The train station speaker rang to life, announcing the incoming train to Pisa. They had gotten off at Campiglia Marittima after the video seeing another replacement train soon after. Viale was rather surprised that trains were still running, seeing that world-changing news was just delivered not an hour ago.

"So are we going?" Shizuka asked. Seeing no one move, she tried again, "We have the power to change the future. We can…"

Giorno caught her trailing off, "We must stand, because we might just be the only ones who can bring change.

"Hey, don't you think Dale is acting funny?"

"Yeah… I saw him stretching a few minutes ago. What the hell is he stretching for?"

"He was always a bit of an odd one, wasn't he?"

Around the corner, Dale listened in. Dale, who was usually on patrol around the cafeteria. Dale, who was currently possessed by Jean-Pierre Polnareff.

After stewing in a turtle for around thirty years, Polnareff had discovered that ｢Chariot Requiem｣ hadn't left him completely. It had changed shapes somewhat, now boasting a pirate hook for a hand. The original ｢Silver Chariot｣ had found its way back into the Stand in the Stand's lighter colour. It still had that weird vinyl texture, being silver more than black, and it couldn't put itself back together like it once could.

Its name was ｢Heads Will Roll｣, and it allowed him to swap souls with anyone close enough to the turtle. It wasn't as fast as Silver Chariot or as chaotic as Chariot Requiem – it hit that nice middle-ground. And now, he was going to use it to spy the hell out of the enemy. Currently the real Dale's soul was trapped inside the turtle, unable to leave and otherwise being guarded by three (or four, including Coco Jumbo) other Stand users.

It seemed like this Dale fellow was a bit of an odd guy. That would help in the espionage. He would make use of Dale's reputation.

"Hey guys!" He called out to the two guards that were talking about him earlier, "I'm gonna take a whizz. Can you two take care of things here?"

They looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Yeah, sure Dale. Go "take a whizz. We get it."

Polnareff had no idea what that meant, and he didn't particularly want to think about it too much. Hopefully the reputation would let him slip away for even longer.

He had some idea of where he was going. He knew that Mercurio had taken over Esposito's office from what students were saying. He'd also seen a poorly disguised bodybag being moved from Viale's dorm window.

From where he was right now – outside the cafeteria – he had to go out in the open on the path to the school. He might as well explore the dorms in case he'd missed something.

"I noticed you're limping."

They were just about to step on the train when Giorno spoke to Viale. Giorno had been watching his son closely lately. Much more than he usually did.

"I used to be an adventurer like you, until I took a rat to the knee." Shizuka (and Vuoto, who Viale didn't hear) groaned. Giorno raised an eyebrow.

"I understand that Miss…"

"Rossi,"

"Miss Rossi is having trouble healing your leg." Sana shot him a look. "I could fix it."

"I'm good, thanks," Viale responded offhandedly. He moved up the stairs in the train and helped Sana up. She thanked him and disappeared into the train. "See? I'm perfectly capable."

"Gioviale–"

"Viale."

"Gioviale. I've been fighting for as long as I can remember– many years before you were born."

Viale rolled his eyes. He was facing inside the train. "Yeah, and you've been a father for… how long? Seventeen years? You're still horrible at it! And don't pretend calling my phone every day changed anything."

Giorno's eyes flared. "Don't speak to your father that way!" He walked up to Viale, up onto the train. Viale turned to face him, and before Giorno could reprimand him further, the look in his eye caught Giorno's throat.

Tired eyes. Eyes that bore the appearance of enduring an onslaught of life's trials too young. Those very eyes he encountered long ago, and they've haunted him daily. All that bravado, all that talk about a dream and resolve, yet every night, he'd look in the mirror and see those eyes. Near daily fights, often to the death. This was it – the life he'd fought so hard to save his son from.

Viale huffed. "What? Don't like what you see?"

"How… what happened to you?"

"You did, dad. You happened. Everything was just fine, when it was just me and mother, when you were off bribing politicians, or whatever it is you do."

"That's not…" he sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's not what I do…"

Polnareff had found the trapdoor in the janitor's closet. He almost missed it, with how grungy and dirty it was. But the dust pattern was different from the floor next to it. He got lucky, honestly. The ladder down to the cellar was wooden and very mossy. Why there was a cave underneath the student dorms, he would never understand.

Making his way deeper down, the air became fresh and cold in his lungs. There were stalactites and stalagmites dotted around the edges of the cave, with uneven ground suggesting there'd been more than what was seen, but they'd been cleared at some point.

He came to a turn and found a room of sorts. Well, it was more like a prison. Numerous bars in a U-shape around the room, with a few beds hanging from the wall and a privacy screen for what Polnareff assumed to be a toilet.

What was most interesting was the two people living here.

Grace Giovanna and Datore Esposito.

"Grace!" He could help but shout out. The woman in question snapped to attention, hearing her name from a guard.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want, Dale?"

'Why does everyone know Dale?!' he thought. 'What did he do?!'

"Well? Say something. I'll kick your ass again."

"W-what? No, I'm not Dale. I'm Polnareff! Jean-Pierre Polnareff."

Grace paused, ceasing her rambling to process what she just heard. "...Really now? Prove it," she demanded, "say something only Jean-Pierre would know."

He stared at her. "You watch too many movies… uh let's see. I'm a turtle?"

"That's too obvious."

"My original Stand was Silver Chariot?"

"Everyone knows that."

"Ugh. Fine. I got licked in the ass by a pig in 1989."

"...okay yeah you're Polnareff." She stood up from the crate she was sitting on. "Hey, Esposito, wake up." She grabbed the pillow from under him, waking him up with a start. After seeing his agitated and confused reaction, she said, "Polnareff's here. We might have a way out."

"Actually, no, probably not," Polnareff interjected.

"That's Dale, Grace. Not Polnareff."

"He's Polnareff."

"I'm Polnareff. Stand bullshit."

"Sure, why not?"

"Listen," Polnareff tried to get back on topic, "I need to know what these guys are doing here. They can't just be in the school because they feel like it. They have to be here for a reason."

Esposito stood up and approached the bars, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "They need me. Me and Don Giovanna. That's why Grace is here." He turned to her. "We're bait."

Before Polnareff could ask what the hell that meant, he heard the trapdoor open from the other end of the cave. "Shit."

From around the corner, another guard walked escorting an older man.

"Luigi?" Esposito questioned in shock.

'Luigi' had his hands behind his back, staggering at the relatively faster pace of the younger guard. His face told all present that he did not mind being dragged down here.

"Hmph. So you know this man, Esposito." The guard stopped in front of the cell door, and Polnareff seriously considered stealing the keys for a moment, but the look in Esposito's eyes told him to wait. "Oh, you're here, Dale. I thought you were on kitchen duty."

"O-oh." Polnareff's heart rate spiked. "I– uh, was just…"

The guard's eyes turned suspicious, awaiting 'Dale's' answer.

"Hey… ice cream."

The two were locked in a stalemate, staring into each other's souls. Little did the guard know, it was not Dale's soul he was staring at. The guard leaned in closer, gave Polnareff another once-over, before sighing. "Yeah. You're Dale. Get back to work. There's no ice cream down here – you know that."

"Right!" Polnareff couldn't believe his luck. "I'll get going! Then!"

"Let me out."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"With a cherry on top?"

"No." Dale was really annoying, as Matito had recently found. He'd woken up 5 minutes earlier in the turtle and freaked out for a bit. When Fragi told him the jist of what happened, he'd calmed down. "How did you even join the gang? They're all way scarier than you."

"Nepotism."

"So you're the big boss' son?"

"Yeah."

"So what's stopping me…" Matito said slowly, "From holding you hostage and forcing your father to leave us alone?"

Whatever retort Dale was about to spit up, it died in his throat.

Matito stared at him for a few seconds, almost daring Dale to try something. After a tense moment, Matito smiled. "Nah, that's not my style." Dale breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd rather get some dirt on you and make your and your father's life a living hell."

Dale's eyes bugged as Matito summoned Take On Me and started reading. Dale couldn't help but think of the one time he'd been literally caught with his pants down on a raid. He'd gone to the toilet as soon as the rest of the gang he was with had tied up all of the hostages, and decided it was pretty safe to go to the toilet. It was at that moment where a lone escapee had burst into the bathroom, catching Dale with his pants around his ankles at the urinal.

"You… pull your pants all the way down at the urinal…?"

"NOOO! MY DEEPEST DARKEST SECRET!"

Mercurio was about to head home for the day. Mario could take care of things at the school tonight. It had been a long few days.

Mercurio had his fingers in a lot of pies, so he could measure the response of the revelation of Stands to the world. Governments were scrambling to figure out what to do with what is basically a new race of humans.

A group of tech-savvy people around the world had leaked the Stand forums online, making it easily accessible to any person. After governments found out about the forums they went mad with attempting to track down users.

The USA, with their fascination with freedom of speech and of the press, decided that Stand Users would have to register their supernatural status with the government, similar to owning a firearm, and they'd proposed a permit to use a Stand. Many countries, like Australia, Britain and Japan, did a similar thing, but were going to be on a constant watchlist.

Of course, in many of these places, people were upset. Upset at the whole situation – the fact that they had to reveal their status as a Stand user. Tens of thousands of posts online, not just on the forums, but on other social media platforms were organising a witch hunt for Mercurio. He predicted such a response, but because of his display of power in what people were calling 'The Standing', no one really wanted to go against him.

He sighed as he closed his virtual calendar and packed the rest of his things up in his briefcase. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and ｢ELO｣ stirred.

"Come out now and you won't be harmed."

No one responded. He summoned his Stand as a precaution, and it picked up a noise. A faraway noise, outside, and fast approaching. He looked out the window – the only one that wasn't shattered during his takeover – and managed to see a man flying towards him. That is, a man moving very fast and through the air, and it looked like he was riding something invisible.

In a split second, he recognised the sound he was hearing. It was a song, one that had lived in his and Esposito's childhood.

"BING BING MUZERVUCKER!"

He threw his Stand in front of him, and the man rammed into him at an astonishing speed, making a loud thud and carrying them both out the other window.

To Be Continued ===