Chapter Text
The man from Passione entered the room.
There were four people that Giorno could see present and he wondered if that fact bothered Mista. Judging by the flop sweat pouring out from under his hat and the enormous look of relief upon his arrival, he'd wager that it was on his mind. Then again, the state of Trish might be the cause of his concern as well.
The singer was facing the wall in a t-pose, arms out and legs straight. It would be strange enough to see her back to the door, but she was hovering slightly off the ground. "Is he here yet? I can't see anything."
"Yeah." Mista bared his teeth in a grin, relaxing slightly from his position against the side wall. "He's here."
Giorno said nothing, but looked around the room. Mista, Trish and two others. At the back wall, beside Trish, was a child, not yet 10 with black hair and possibly of asian descent. He couldn't tell if the child was a boy or a girl and paid the thought no mind. The clothing on the kid was meant for a teenager and all that kept their pants from falling down was a belt. They didn't look particularly happy and something felt off about their presence. Their back was to Trish's, still floating just a bit off the ground.
The other person in the room was a man, perhaps in his 30s or so. Giorno wasn't terribly good at discerning the age of individuals in the middle of the spectrum, but he was fairly spot-on with this guess. His hair was shaved clean and the top of his head was adorned with a red tattoo, covering most of his scalp. It was a Diamond. On each of his hands were two smaller, black tattoos of a club and spade on his right and left respectively. Giorno could guess where the heart was. His clothing was stylish, a well tailored Dolce & Gabbana suit that had slits going up both his forearms with neat stitches at the end to show the strange rings of fabric were intentional and not the result of damage. The pink undershirt was the same, so his skin was exposed. Beyond that, it was a fairly standard suit to go with the man's uncommon appearance. He sat at a small poker table, himself positioned as the dealer, with only one chair opposite.
"So. You're the famed boss of Passione, eh? Giorno Giovanna." His voice was akin to sandpaper on bare skin. Hissy, grainy, and as though his vocal chords needed to overcome some great friction to create his voice. "I'm so glad you could make it. After all, I've heard you're a busy man. Being the boss and what not."
Giorno leaned over, one hand on the back of the chair and the other on his cocked hip. He mustered his best glare and frowned just slightly. "You're right." He tried his best to make his voice like ice. "I am indeed a busy man. Bring me up to speed."
He hissed in what Giorno gathered was an attempt at a chuckle. It was not a sound his voice was meant to make. "Please refer to me as Marsala. My small associate is named Charisma. Her stand is called Back Again."
Giorno remained stonefaced, but glanced to the side of the small child and 'looked' for her stand. To her left floated a small ball-like shape, a bit like a porcupine, but elongated, similar to a ferret. It was cute and felt like it belonged at home on a saturday morning cartoon. "Why volunteer that information?"
"I have to. You need to understand the stakes." He let out that hissing laugh again. "I don't have a stand myself, but I'm very much aware of them. Little Charisma's stand, Back Again, has the unique property to lock things in space. Anything can have a portion of its mass completely and totally frozen in place. The effect does not seem to ever wear off. I'd wager that even if you killed Little Charisma, the effect would remain."
Giorno had already considered that and decided against it. The child was small enough that gentle coercion might do the trick. But later, after this man was taken care of. Charisma was far too small to have made her own decisions, but Marsala was old enough to pay for his. That being said, there was something he needed to check before continuing.
Emerging from within Giorno's body was a shimmering mass of golden light and wind. The pressure in the room was immediate and Mista's jaw nearly dropped. It'd had been years since he'd last seen it. Charisma made a small, weak and panicked shout, but Marsala did not move. Gold Experience's fist stopped just short of the man's nose. He didn't even blink.
"H-His stand..." Charisma squeaked.
"Oh? He's brought it out, then. Mr. Giovanna, I'd hoped we could remain civil about this." Marsala smiled, but thankfully did not 'laugh.'
Giorno dismissed the arm of Gold Experience. It was like the man had not noticed it even slightly. It was foolish to take his word for it, but he seemed to be telling the truth about not having a Stand. Otherwise, he'd have reacted in someway. Giorno glanced down at the poker table between them. "I was testing you. To make sure you were being truthful about not having a Stand."
"And?"
"I believe you." He lied.
"Good. Then we can begin the game. Please, have a seat."
"You misunderstand. I haven't agreed to anything yet. I'm just ready to hear you out. You have not explained any game yet, though I can gather that you'll let my associates go if I win. Is that about right?" Giorno kept his icy stare under control, projecting the image of the mob boss he had so carefully constructed.
"Ah... well, your friend..." Marsala cleared his throat. "Pardon me, 'associate' Mista is free to leave at any time. If he so wishes."
Giorno glanced at the wall to his right. Mista had not budged from the spot since he had entered. "Can you move?"
"Yeah. But I'm not going to." He was shaking slightly. Sitting still for too long tended to make him antsy. "That brat's stand. It can grab you when you expose your back. It's how she got Trish."
"I'm fine, by the way." Trish piped up. "Thanks for asking."
"Good." Giorno nodded softly, eyes on Marsala again. "Would you mind explaining her stand a bit more? It's rare for anyone to be so vocal on such matters and I'd like to take advantage of such an uncommon opportunity."
He regretted his words as they caused Marsala to laugh again. "Of course! Back Again has the main condition that the only part of the body or object that is frozen is the
back half. The rear." He smirked. "It sounds odd, but it's a stand that seems to be meant to punish cowards. If you run, it will freeze your backside and prevent it from advancing forward. The only way to escape it would be to tear yourself free of the rear of your body and that'd kill you in the process, obviously. No amount of surgery or healing by stand could fix the back end of your brain being permanantly hovering in mid air."
"I think it's gross how you keep saying 'rear' and 'behind.' You just like implying that my butt is stuck where it is. Weirdo." Trish grunted slightly.
"Unfortunately, since human mouths are on the front, any captives can't be kept quiet." He hissed.
Odd choice of words but Giorno shrugged it off. "And this effect is permanant until dismissed."
"As I said, even if you killed Charisma, Back Again would persist. I suppose you could get her down, if you didn't mind ripping off her legs, her ass, her back and lobotomizing her."
"Lobotomies are on the front of the brain." Trish chimed in again. "Not the back."
Marsala ignored her. "She tried escaping with her stand, you know. It didn't work. Back Again can't be defeated so easily. I'm told it's small and not at all imposing to look at and its power is very simple, but because of that, it cannot be countered. It simply is."
"Enough about the stand." He waved his palm off to the side. "You mentioned a game."
"Ah, yes! Yes, yes. I explained it to your friend Mista, but he declined to play. It's why he called you, actually." Marsala hissed out a chuckle and Giorno tried his best not to show how much that laugh irritated him. Marsala reached into his coat and retrieved a deck of playing cards. From the top, he set down the 4 of Hearts, the 4 of Clubs, the 4 of Diamonds and the 4 of Spades in a row. The color left Mista's face and it became clear to Giorno why he was needed. "We're going to play a game I like to call Around The World."