Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As a gust of wind blew her hair over her back, he reached up and felt it under his fingers. Their excursion at the beach had salted her hair and while it seemed dry and unclean, he only could appreciate its silky texture. Even in the darkness of night, her inky hair glistened in the moonlight contrasting greatly to his messy magenta locks. He had wanted to dye it before but her soothing words had convinced him otherwise. Even as the priest tried to convince him to cut it, he refused to comply. She liked it long too.

He had done many things for her actually. He stayed up past curfew. He jumped from a cliff. He danced drunkenly. All manners of sin and indulgence. He had done it all for her. Even now, as he patiently waited for her to unlock the door, he was about to do something he’d thought he’d never do.

Sex. Sex wasn’t his thing to say the very least. The priest had taught him to despise it from a young age and while he had grown past listening to the old man, he couldn’t help but retain those feelings. Sex was simply a process to reproduce. Nothing more, nothing less. And with that in mind, the thought of having kids was also disturbing. Having to feed and care for something utterly useless was simply a hassle and then in return for your hard work, they take your money and buy similarly useless junk. There were plenty of people who never had kids and were perfectly happy. Children weren’t the key to any happiness.

But Donatella had already convinced him to do a lot of things. If she could convince him to have sex, who was to say children weren’t the next step? Oh gosh. He hoped not.

As she finally turned the lock, her hair escaped his grasp as she walked into the small cottage. "Sweet! They forgot to chain it up like they usually do. We’re rather lucky tonight darling."

"Dona...Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Playing chicken? I didn’t know you were so scared," she laughed.

The blush lining his face only darkened. "I’m not scared. Just a little nervous."

The smile that graced her face was almost worth it. "Aw, don’t worry Solido...I’m just as nervous. This is my first time too after all." Her blush almost blended into her makeup.

"But you sounded so confident before. I thought you’d done it already."

"Who do you take me for?! I’m not just some girl who sleeps around," she huffed. "I want this to be special so I figured why not wait for the right guy..." She shifted under his gaze before skipping off to the bedroom. "So you coming or what?"

As he followed her into the bedroom, he discovered that the place was more decrepit than he initially thought. Cobwebs lined every corner while a faint layer of dust sealed off all the furniture. Dressers were lined with ruined antiques and broken vases while glass marred the floor around the boarded up windows. The only pieces of character were small star stickers lining the bed posts.

Following his gaze, she added, "I figured why not add a few things. When I manage to save up enough, I’m thinking of buying the place actually. Two bedrooms, a nice living room...Comfy isn’t it?"

"...I think it suits you."

"You calling me old, pretty boy?"

"Not in the slightest. But I must say..."

Leaping forward, he dived straight into the bed immediately creating a cloud of dust. Their hacking coughs soon turned into throughs of laughter before she joined him under the comfy sheets.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As he awoke, the few filtered rays of sunlight stung his eyes. He quickly moved to cover them but he paused in his movements as his arm was held down. Sleeping peacefully by his side, Donatella was still enthroned in her dreams. Her hair was just as dirty as it was yesterday but the appeal still stood. Even as she slept, she was beautiful. He could stare at her sleeping form until the end of time and even as they aged and turned to dust, he would’ve still held her in such regard. After all, she was the only one who even inspired butterflies to tickle his chest. As he reached to touch her hair with his unpinned arm, his thoughts were interrupted, however.

"Solido..." she whispered.

Even as the words escaped her mouth, she made no deliberate movements. She was still asleep. But that didn’t matter anymore. His mind was elsewhere.

Solido. Solido Naso. Curse that wretched name. He had given it to her on a whim. Mistrust had guided his actions to mask his identity and now, all he could feel was regret.

Last night, she had called out, "Solido! Solido!"

Not him. Not his name! But still! Still...He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t hate her. It was he who had given her that name after all. Even though Solido Naso never existed.

Yes. He was true name was Diavolo. A name he refused to give to anyone. Even those that did know it never called him that. The priest called him boy. The bullies called him brat. The people called him child. Only his mother called him that name and she would never again. He had made sure of that.

If someone had to call him Diavolo, he hoped it could’ve been Donatella but he already ruined that chance. Maybe. Maybe one day he could tell her his true name. Or maybe, Diavolo could just die. They had died before after all. Maybe, he could just become Solido Naso for the rest of his life. If he was with Donatella, maybe he wouldn’t mind it so much.

After all, Solido Naso didn’t exist. His name was Diavolo.

Chapter Text

He shouldn’t have come. If he had sent assassins instead, everything would’ve been much easier. He wouldn’t have to deal with this. The letter crumbled in his hand as he looked over the crib. It was still sleeping soundly. The babysitter must’ve attended to it earlier and maybe he should’ve left it that way.

He had killed her out of instinct. The job was supposed to be simple. Of course it wasn’t but it was supposed to be. Kill the person looking for him and leave without a trace. The police would find the body in a river and that would’ve been the end of it. No fingerprints. No witnesses. It had gone well up to that point. He had killed her instantly. There was silence. There were no movements. The job had been finished. The person looking for him was dead.

Though, not him per se. The name they were looking for was Solido Naso, who didn’t exist. He had made up that alias a long time ago and nowadays, he barely used it. But Solido Naso didn’t exist and anyone looking for him was a risk. For if they knew Solido Naso, even though he didn’t exist, they knew a part of him as well. A part he rather forget. So he had came to the house expecting a simple job and it was until it wasn’t.

There were no fingerprints. There were no witnesses. There was silence. There were no movements. Until there was. The photograph was his first clue and the letter was his second. It was her writing. It was her face. It was her silky hair draping over her shoulders in the still photograph he had taken all those years before.

Donatella. Donatella Una.

His breath hitched for no particular reason. His voice cracked but not out of any real emotion. His legs shacked despite his lack of fear. He felt like throwing up but there were no butterflies.

It had taken him a while to calm down and as he rested on the couch, he realized how foolish he had been. Who could it have been besides her? Solido Naso was a name he rarely gave out anymore. It had been used as an alias from his past. A past he rather forget but a past she had been a part of. She knew Solido Naso not Diavolo. No one knew Diavolo anymore.

She was looking for him but so what? Solido Naso didn’t exist. He had honestly overreacted if anything. Coming here to kill a random person just cause they knew the name Solido Naso. How stupid. But it wasn’t stupid. And it wasn’t some rando. It was his past. They were her. How could he simply ignore it?

Then there was the letter. He had found it on the table. 'To Solido,' it read. He gritted his teeth before calmly opening it.

'Solido, if you are reading this, I am sorry. It appears I can’t meet you in person just yet. You’re really hard to find you know. If you are really this good at hiding, why did you always suck at hide and seek?'(Cause I wanted you to find me.)'Anyway, I hope you’re doing well...Solido. I am sorry. While I would love to spill my feelings into this letter, I am unable to. What I want to tell you must be said in person but it seems you found me first. I’m sorry Solido, my love. Even now as space and time separate use, I will always love you. And it is out of that love that I must ask you to take care of her. To take care of the symbol of our love...I will find you and when we meet again, I will tell you the truth. Please Solido. Please. Forgive me.'

Water stains were scattered across the paper along with a faint mark of lipstick at the bottom. When they were younger, they used to pass letters to each other in secret. She had always marked her letters with lipstick. It was her. It was definitely her. But some of the words had been confusing. 'Take cafe of her.' 'Symbol of our love.' What the heck did that mean? He then remembered another writing quirk Donatella possessed.

Flipping over the letter, another message lined the paper. Though, it was much shorter than her previous P.S. ramblings.

'Her name is Trish by the way.'

His heart had frozen at the words. Trish. Donatella had often told him about her fantasies of having children. John if it was a boy and Trish if it was a girl. Trish. Trish. Oh he hoped not but his hopes were in vain. Knowing Donatella she wouldn’t-She was a romantic. He had left all those years before knowing it would break her heart. 'The right guy,' she had said. 'The right time.' Oh god, why did it have to be him.

But it wasn’t him. It was Solido Naso. Even if he didn’t exist...But maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe Donatella was the one who was lying. Maybe she had slept with another guy.

As he repeated the words in his head, he was far from convinced. Yeah, no. That wasn’t Donatella and it wasn’t like he was underestimating her either. Donatella simply wasn’t that type of person. But if only she had been...

It wasn’t difficult to find the nursery. The door had been left wide open and upon entering the room, its purpose was blatantly obvious. Baby toys of various types lined the floor and spilled out of the toy box. The walls were a baby blue and star stickers sporadically decorated the wall. He wondered momentarily why the walls weren’t pink but upon seeing the child, he could see why. The chances of it not being his grew slimmer.

Bright purple hair. It had bright purple hair but even now, he could see it fading into a familiar shade of pink. If only it had been like her hair. Dark and inky. At least then it wouldn’t be so obvious.

He wanted to smother it. He wanted to snap its neck and leave it for someone else to find. For her to find...Fine, he’d dump it in the river too but no, that was wrong.

'Symbol of our love.' What a joke. What a joke...

But what was stopping him from leaving. He could’ve just left it where he found it. Maybe, call the police so they could find it but nothing more, nothing less. From there, he could burn the letter, dump the body, and continue on like nothing was different.

She would still be looking for him, though. Donatella with her inky silky hair and her beautiful face. He knew she was still beautiful. She had to be. She always would be. Where was she anyway? She had left her child like it was nothing. Was she neglectful perhaps? No, that was wrong too. She had bothered caring for it up until now. Something must’ve changed but what.

Before he could think about it more, he was interrupted. Its eyes fluttered open and for a moment, it stared at him with a curious expression. He made the mistake of locking eyes with it. Immediately following his glare, its face morphed into the ugliest expression he had ever seen.

Tears flowed from its big eyes while its screech filled the room. "Wah! Wah!"

He instinctively backed away from the crib. "What the fuck-Stop crying!"

But it didn’t. "Wah! Wah! Wah!" it screamed.

As its voice bounced around the room, he slammed the door behind him and dived behind the couch. Grabbing the nearest pillows, he held his ears against their plush in an effort to spare himself. But it didn’t work.

Still the baby cried, "Wah! Wah! Wah! Wah!"

How could anyone stand this? How could Donatella stand this?! Was that the reason she left-?

"Wah! Wah! Wah!"

Fuck. He couldn’t even think without it whining. Why did he have to kill the stupid babysitter?!

As he stormed back into the room, the baby caught his gaze again and cried even louder. When he picked it up, it struggled against his grasp.

"What the fuck do you want?!"

"Wah! Wah! Wah!"

"Shut the hell up!" he screamed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What to do. What to do? What to do!

Milk. Babies liked milk, right? Racing to the kitchen, baby in hand, he swung the fridge open and immediately found a bottle. How lucky! As he lowered the bottle, the creature rudely swatted it away before crying once again.

"What-? You aren’t hungry? What the fuck do you want?!"

"Wah! Wah!"

Useless. Children were utterly useless. They couldn’t speak. They couldn’t think. All they did was eat, cry, and-Oh.

He sniffed the air. Nope. Not that.

As he sighed in relief, its crying only intensified. Maybe that’s what babies did. They sucked the youth out of their parents slowly killing them. At least, that’s what it felt like the little brat was doing. But still it cried. And cried. And cried. And cried...

What else could he draw from? What else could be the answer to this riddle?

He didn’t have much experience with babies. The priest had hated sex and with sex, he disliked children to an extent too. Sure, he had raised him but only in loose terms. He never comforted him. He never held him. He never called him by his real name except with scorn.

He had enjoyed it when the man went up in flames.

But he had seen children with their mothers. He remembered them being fed and he remembered them being kissed and hugged. The fathers did little but occasionally, he remembered a few holding their children and rocking them back and forth.

Hmm...

The motion had started off quick but he eventually settled on a snail's pace with it. Back and forth. Back and forth. As he rocked her, her cries eventually teetered out before silence regained its position. When her eyes met his again, a giggle fell from her lips followed quickly by a burp. He supposed babies could be quiet too.

But he was still unconvinced. This wasn’t the end of it. Not yet. Moving to the couch, he set her down next to him and for a while, they just stared at each other. His expression hardened into a scowl as hers remained neutral. After five minutes of just staring, she broke off into a fit of giggles before tumbling backwards. He quickly sat her up before leaning forward. He wasn’t doing this. No. He definitely wasn’t considering this. His grip tightened on the letter before loosening.

Opening it up again, he read its contents out loud. Maybe he was missing something. "Solido, if you are reading this, I am sorry. It appears I can’t meet you in person just yet. You’re really hard to find you know. If you are really this good at hiding, why did you always suck at hide and seek? Anyway, I hope you’re doing well...Solido. I am sorry. While I would love to spill my-"

Before he finished reading it, Trish crawled closer to him and enthusiastically pointed to letter. "Mama!"

With her chubby little arms, she reached for it like it was her favorite toy. Ignoring her pleas, he held the letter away from her.

"Mama..." she sniffed. "Mama!"

"No, wait, don’t-!"

But it was already too late. As Trish began bawling her eyes out, Diavolo collapsed into the cushions. Urgh, not this again. The brat wanted the letter, he knew that much, but he couldn’t just give it to her. Donatella had left it for him to read not for some baby to tear it to pieces or choke on it. But at this point, did it have any value to him either? It was a memento just as everything in the house was. A reminder to the past. A past he despised. As he looked upon his daughter (there was no point denying it at this point), she too was a remnant. The only difference between her and the letter was she was alive. Their main similarity came from the fact they both were from Donatella.

A letter. A baby. A corpse. A house. What more could she have left him? Where was she now?

He knew he could find her. Passione's grip wasn’t as strong as it could be but it was already growing. His own scheming and investing ensured that. He was sure it wouldn’t be hard sending the right people at the right time. He could find her but then what? Would she answer his questions? Would she even want to see him again? She would. After all, she was already looking for him already but for what reason. What lead her to abandon her child, their so called 'Symbol of Love,' to look for him? It just didn’t make sense.

"Wah! Wah! Wah!"

Oh right. He had forgotten about that. Her simple cries had turned into a full on tantrum. With the strength within her, she thrashed against his leg and bit into his side. While her baby teeth were surprisingly sharp, her attacks did little to distract him but he couldn’t deny it was getting annoying.

"I can’t give you the letter."

"Mama!" she cried.

"I already told you, I can’t give you the letter!"

"Mama! Mama!"

"Donatella isn’t here right now!" he yelled.

As he recovered his breath, her tantrum finally stalled. Her movements slowed to a snail's pace and her aggressive tears become a steady drizzle.

"Mama..." she cooed.

Her energy was finally used up. As she settled against his leg, his hand hovered over her neck. A few seconds passed but as her quiet snores filled the room, he began gently stroking her hair. It felt like silk.

Chapter Text

This had been a mistake. As Diavolo looked over his mess of a kitchen, his daughter sat crossed arm on her high chair. When her stomach growled once again, her scowl turned into a pout before tears ran down her face. However, even as she softly cried, she received no pity from him. This situation was her fault after all.

He had brought everything a baby could possibly need. Food, diapers, toys, blankets, towels. Name it, he bought it. Partially out of paranoia and partially out of pride. If he was going to take care of this little thing then he would at least be fully prepared for the task. Diavolo wasn’t going to be some unprepared idiot who had a child on a whim. No. He would stand above all parents with his level of preparedness.

However, Trish had apparently not received the memo. When he initially brought her to his apartment, supplies in tow, she had been open to the new place. Inch by inch, her crawls brought her to unseen wonders and comfy furniture. She still needed his help to get on it but it was a work in progress. There were a few closed calls of course. Sharp corners needed to be baby proofed and cabinets locked. Trish's disinterest with outlets saved him that hassle but he soon discovered Trish was in the middle of her teething phase. He didn’t mind it, though. The furniture was already getting in years. When this passed, he’d just get new ones.

Yes. Things had been going great until he discovered Trish's habit. As he brought the spoon closer to her mouth, like a major league tennis player, she immediately swatted it away. Cut peaches soon joined peeled grapes on the tiled wall as Diavolo sighed in defeat. It hadn’t been just peaches and grapes. He had tried everything. Baby food, apples, bananas, cereal. Everything he brought to the table was immediately rejected. Swatted away with such unexpected force that came from a baby. A freaking baby!

A baby that was crying its face off because it was hungry but a baby who wouldn’t allow him to feed it. It just didn’t make sense.

"What do you want from me?" he sighed.

Of course, she only answered with indeterminable mumbling. From what he could tell, the only words she knew were mama, doll, and you. The latter was her favorite word to use when calling him.

'You!' she would shout like a queen summoning a servant. From there, he would begrudgingly remove himself from his work and attend to her simple needs. Of course, it usually took him an hour to actually accomplish what she wanted him to do, out of her own stubbornness. It wasn’t a smooth process to say the least.

Often times, he found himself suffering sleepless nights as he attended her needs. With his hours, it was a blessing being one's own boss.

Speaking of which, despite his own misgivings with Trish, Passione had grown exponentially over a few short months. From the few groups he controlled, the gang had managed to spread out across the whole of Italy. From money laundering to casinos, he was now the head of a huge criminal organization. And yet, Passione might’ve been growing too much. If it didn’t find stable funding soon, he was certain it would collapse under its own weight.

The money he had initially used to fund the organization was already running out. While it had been billions, it was already dwindling to millions. He often wondered if he should’ve sold the last arrow.

Ah, yes, the arrows. He had stolen them from an archeology site he had been working at. While he first mocked them as antiques, an interested buyer soon revealed their true purpose. If struck by the arrowhead, a person had the chance to develop a Stand. As she described it, a Stand was the physical manifestation of a person's spirit. He had originally though it was bullshit of course. How could a flimsy arrow give a person magical powers? And yet, he had only sold her five. As he twirled the arrow between his fingertips, he wondered if her words had been true. If he used the arrow on himself, would he be able to manifest a Stand?

He would. He was Diavolo after all. But he hadn’t if only because she had mentioned he could die too. Apparently, the arrow was picky with its targets and if the person wasn’t worthy, they would be dead within minutes. That was a risk he refused to take. He didn’t need to after all. And so he kept it. Sure, he could’ve given it to one of his more trusted Capos but if he wasn’t using it, no one would. If Stands were really as powerful as she said, he couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it. So for now, the arrow simply rested in a dresser in his bedroom far from any tiny prying hands. He wasn’t stupid after all.

Something still needed to be done, however. If Passione collapsed in on itself, there would be a power struggle and he was sure someone would come after him. Enemies were already surrounding him from all sides. Even Passione's members would’ve killed him if they had the chance. He kept his identity ambiguous for a reason.

When he started the organization, he did meet face to face with some of his underlings. Together, they built up Passione through the money he provided and the numbers they garnered. Eventually, when the gang was finally stable enough to function properly, he did what needed to be done. Unlike Caesar who flinched at the knives running into his back, Diavolo was the one to strike first. It was Brutus and his allies that collapsed onto the Curia's marble floor, not him. No. Instead, he rose to his proper place as emperor over the state. His commands, unquestionable. His power-

"You!" her cry permeated his thoughts.

A glare momentarily descended on the innocent child before it softened into one of confusion. He thought she had called out to him but instead her attention was elsewhere. Following her intense stare, he found himself looking at a cup of dirty silverware. As he twirled a plastic spoon in his hand, it finally clicked. A wry smile soon stretched across his face and as he settled the plastic utensils into the sink, he grabbed a clean metallic utensil.

As he acted out the part of a crashing air plane, he couldn’t help but say, "Silver spoon brat."

Chapter Text

The body laid at his feet already wrapped in simple linens. Blood seeped through the fabric and as he lifted it by the legs, he felt the squishy bruised flesh it came from. However, the sensation was hardly new and soon the body was sleeping with the fishes.

The deceased was one of Passione's own members but their snooping ensured their fate as a traitor. However, one wolf amongst the sheep practically ensured the presence of the pack. The traitor's group would have to be investigated but that could be in secret. The death of one lousy member barely mattered in the grand scheme of things after all. Their death could always be mocked up to a rival hit. It was a common enough thing within any gang.

As he shook the blood off his hands, he took one last look at the river bank before returning his attention to the wagon besides him. His expression morphed into one of disgust as he saw the scene before him. While he was sure he created a rather impenetrable barrier (a rather stiff pillow) between Trish and the body, it seemed as if he had been wrong. Disturbingly playful with the red substance, Trish had already stained her outfit and face from simply clapping her hands. Her joyful giggles were cut short as he moved her arms to her side and shook his head.

"No Trish."

"You!" she shouted, clearly upset at the disrespect shown to her. As she struggled to move her arms out of his grasp, he gently lifted her up and pulled the wagon behind him. What made him think bringing her along was a good idea again?

While lugging the body hadn’t been a hassle, the wagon and the weight of Trish in his arms steadily weighed down his mind. His usually poignant steps dragged against the ground and as his shoulders slouched, a yawn escaped his throat. Even Trish grew quieter and soon her restless struggle turned into dead weight.

Right...Trish had refused to go to sleep and he had a body to dispose of. One thing led to another and he figured, 'Hey why not kill two birds with one stone!" It had been a rather foolish thought.

But stupid as it might’ve been, it did somewhat work out. Trish was now falling asleep and the body had been disposed of. What he initially disregarded was his own tiredness. When they finally reached the car, his eyes could barely stay open. How was he going to drive like this? However, it wasn’t like it was much of hassle. It was still early in the morning and he knew if he paid enough attention, he could drive well enough. As he set Trish in her carseat, he slowly dragged himself into the front seat. However, when he reached for the wheel, his hands only met the dashboard. Looking to his right, the driver's seat taunted him. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The cold leather seat heated up as he leaned against it. Pulling his legs onto the seat, Diavolo curled in on himself and slowly accepted sleep's welcoming embrace. Even Trish's obnoxious whines became white noise along with the world around him.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The salty water stung his blisters as it rolled across the shore but all he could do was flinch. This was his punishment for being so weak. If he had just stood up to them, it wouldn’t have to be like this.

Naive. Childish. Foolish. Stupid. They always called him these and more. Behind his back and straight to his face. He came home plenty of times with bloodied bruises and small cuts. It had always hurt. Every time... But he couldn’t do anything to stop them either.

He could imagine it, though. They’d turn their backs to him after their fun and then he could have his turn. His nails weren’t particularly long but if he scratched at their face, maybe he could break some skin. When they shook him off, they’d be pissed of course. They were the type of people who had pride in their appearance. Good. He wanted them to pissed. He wanted them to cry as they punched him. As they fists shattered against his face from the force of their punches. He hoped it would scar. Maybe that’s what he needed. A tough appearance.

But no, that was wrong. It was better to keep silent.

'Be the bigger man,' his father would say.

Though, he couldn’t really call him that either. He was a priest so he couldn’t be his father, right? Even if he could appreciate the word play.

Heh.

Anyway, he needed to get home now. Waving goodbye to the ocean, he stumbled back across the bank before arriving at the place he had left his shoes. Of course, they weren’t actually there.

"Eh? Where’d they-"

"Hey idiot! Fetch!"

Like a bird, his shoes soared above him and straight into the ocean.

"Ah!" he yelled as he raced for his shoes.

While he searched the clouded ocean, their comments rang from the shoreline, "What a freaking idiot! How naive have you’ve got to be?"

"Yeah? Doesn’t he know by now that everyone hates him."

Their laughs stung him as much as the cold water. Where were they? Where were they! He had just gotten them too. After weeks of bargaining, father had finally allowed him to buy them.

'Don’t waste them,' he said. 'Keep your old ones just in case you lose them.'

He hadn’t of course. The old ones had holes in them and were smelly. That’s why he took off his shoes before going into the ocean but look where’d that got him. As another wave washed over him, he fell into the ocean soaking his clothes.

Dragging himself to the shore, he hugged his drooping sweater to his chest before collapsing onto the dryer part of the shore.

As he laid in the sand, the bullies encircled him and started chanting, "Cry baby! Cry baby! Cry baby!"

He wanted to say it was the salt water that was stinging his eyes, not tears, but at this point, he was uncertain. Cry baby...And they called him childish. He hated them. He hated them. He hated them.

He wanted to kill them but he couldn’t. That was wrong. It had to be. He could always imagine it but what did that do? It would never happen anyway. It was just the musings of a child. That was all. His simple thoughts and nothing more. That was the difference between him and them. They acted and he thought.

That was where his hopes lied as well. It didn’t matter what you thought or fantasized about. As long as you didn’t carry through with it, no one would know. God would forgive you. Thinking wasn’t doing after all. But they had acted. And by their actions, they were damned.

Damned to hell.

He could imagine it. Their screams as the eternal flames seared their flesh and evaporated their blood. Scars that would never heal. Cuts that bled forever. Helpless prayers that went to no one. He wanted to watch it. He wanted to do it. Carve their sins into their flesh as they cried in misery. Endless pain. Endless torture. Their own personal hell. His own personal paradise.

He could laugh just thinking about it.

Eventually, the bullies got bored with his silence and one by one, they left him until only one was left.

"What a fucking wuss," he chuckled. Taking one last pot shot, the boy kicked at his side only for his foot to be intercepted. "What-?"

Pulling the bully to the ground, he dug his knee into his stomach and pressed his hands into his neck.

"He wouldn’t mind, right? If I send one a little earlier."

As the boy cried out for help, he pressed harder into his neck. The skin was warm under his fingers and as he dug his nails deeper, he felt bone. However, his fun was soon over as he was pulled away from the bully. While the boy regained his breath, the full weight of his actions crashed into him. What did he do?! What did he do?! He had been wrong. So wrong. Even as the others restrained him, he struggled to break free from their grasps.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry!" he cried. "I didn’t mean to!"

He didn’t. He really didn’t. When they finally let go, he collapsed into the sand and curled into a ball. They were going to beat him up again. It would be fine, though. He deserved it this time. He had been wrong.

To his surprise, however, no kicks ever came.

"Fuck this," the bully said. "Let’s get out of here."

"But he attacked you. Shouldn’t we pay it back?"

"Who fucking cares? Let’s just get out of here..."

A set of footsteps started walking away from him although one presence still remained.

"Devil," he hissed before following after his friends.

He was finally alone.

The trip back home had been long and tedious. As he stumbled into the heavy church doors, he was still thinking of excuses to explain his missing shoes. He knew none of them would work but hopefully father would spare a bit of mercy. What he wasn’t expecting was a hug from a strange woman.

"My love! My love! We finally meet!" she yelled. Following her invasive hug, aggressive kisses started lining his face. As he pulled away from her grasp, she only hugged tighter. "Now, now! That’s not how you treat your mother! My baby! My precious boy!"

Mother?! What was she talking about?! He could feel his breath quicken. His chest heaving in pain. This was impossible! He didn’t-?

When did the room start spinning? When did everything start turning to black? What was happening? Who was he again?

Diavolo. His name was Diavolo, right?

But this wasn’t him. This was some-
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Dia! Dia!"

No! Get away! They were scratching at him now. They were so close. Too close.

'My love! My love! My love!' they screamed.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"Dia!"

They stood above him. Their arms were outstretched, waiting to embrace him, but not out of his own volition. They wanted to strangle him.

'My baby! My precious boy!' they coed.

There was too much. Too much. It kept following him. It kept chasing him. His past. It was always there, always watching. He wanted to- he needed to get rid of it. To erase-

"Dia!" Trish whined.

His eyelids fluttered open. It was just a dream. That was all it was.

Just a nightmare.

His hand dug into his chest. But it wasn’t just that. It had been him, hadn’t it? From a long time ago. From his past. He would’ve liked to leave it at that if he could but that wasn’t correct either.

It was him. There was no denying that but it wasn’t, somehow-?

"Dia!"

Huh? Since when-

"—Did you start saying that?"

She raised an eyebrow at that before pointing at him. "Dia!"

Dia? Did she mean—?

Diavolo.

When had she heard his name? He barely used it normally.

Huh?

He was oddly calm about this, wasn’t he? Well, he supposed there was a chance she’d grow out of it but even with her, he couldn’t risk it.

Solido Naso. Even though he hated the name, he would have to go through with it. Trish would know him as Solido Naso, not Diavolo. No one would know him as Diavolo and if they did, not for long.

"Dia!" she shouted.

"Solido," he corrected. "Not Dia."

Another confused expression. He would have to deal with that later.

Checking his watch, he reeled back in shock. It was four already? The last hour he remembered was three. Did he really sleep for an hour? While he hated lost time, the sleep managed to energize him enough where attempting to drive home wouldn’t be so difficult.

As he pulled out of the parking space, he gave her a small smile, "Thanks for waking me up..."

"Dia!" she laughed.

Later. He would deal with it later.

For now, he didn’t mind it, though.

Chapter Text

He felt like he was watching history in the making. Step by step, Trish made her way across the living room holding onto the nearby table. If she’d just let go, maybe she would finally do it. Even Trish seemed to understand the situation because as her steps quickened, her smile only grew. Step by step. Step by step. Step by—

The fall had been sudden. From being on top of the world, Trish soon herself face first into the carpet. He covered his ears expecting an ear piercing screech but instead, she simply sat up and started crawling away.

Before he could return his attention to his tax returns (ha, yeah right), Trish called out, "Dia!"

He frowned and corrected, "Solido."

"Dia!" she shouted all the more determined.

He rolled his eyes before standing and picking her up. Her intentions were clear as they stood in front of the kitchen.

"Food!" She pointed at the fridge. As he opened it, her green eyes focused on the peaches before a point confirmed it. "Peach!"

"Yes, I can see that."

However, when he reached for them, she pointed instead to the apples. "Apple!"

From there, she went on a tangent of pointing to foods and saying their names. He figured she was just showing off.

"Milk! Grape! Carrot! Cheese!" Suddenly changing her focus to him, she pointed and said, "Dia!"

"So—Li—Do. Solido."

"Dia!"

A sigh masked his annoyance as he slammed the fridge closed.

Though, slightly taken aback by the sudden movement, Trish recovered quickly and pointed to the fridge again, "Apple!"

"Are you serious this time cause I’m not going through that again."

"Apple," she stammered.

"Good."

Moments later, as Trish played with her food, Diavolo's thoughts drifted to that of Donatella. How long had it been since he found Trish? It had been a several months since he came across that house but nothing had surfaced about her. If there was anything, he would’ve heard immediately.

It was shortly after he "adopted" Trish that he hired a private investigator to find her. Trusting someone in Passione with the task, even with one of his aliases, was just an unnecessary risk that he didn’t need to take. Hiring someone outside the organization was something he could accept and when all was said and done, assassinating them would be easier. But regardless of any talent or intel, the investigator had still come up with nothing. Like a ghost, Donatella disappeared from his life as quickly as she came. Even though, it was slightly his fault. Maybe, he shouldn’t have left so abruptly all those years ago. Maybe, he could’ve dumped her in person or something. Although, not running away after setting a fire would’ve just been stupid.

He thought back to the last time he saw her. They were walking along the beach and observing the seagulls fly over the water. He told her of his aspirations to became a sailor, a lie of course but a simple one. She told him of her dream to become a model and to travel the world. He wondered when she discovered he was gone. He wondered when she found out she was pregnant.

That her dreams could never come true.

"Dia!" Trish shouted breaking him away from his thoughts once again. It appeared as if she was finally done with her food. Good. He’d been tired of waiting.

Picking her up from her chair, he lugged her back to the living room and placed her amongst her toys.

"Don’t go crazy now, ok?"

He turned to return to his work but something tugged at his pant's leg. Trish stared at him with the wide eyes he had grown to know.

Pointing to the door, Trish spoke a new word, "Out." As he went to step away, her grip tightened. "Out!" she shouted.

"No." He gently taped her with his foot. "We went out before. Remember the body?"

"Out!" His forehead beaded with sweat as he stepped closer to the couch. Trish held onto his pant's leg even as he slowly dragged her against the carpet. "Out!"

Kneeling down, Diavolo did his best to pry her grip off. Every time he loosened one finger from the fabric, another one soon returned to its place. He was getting no where fast. Luckily for him, a pair of scissors rested on the table and after a quick snip, he was finally free.

As Trish held the piece of fabric in her hands, he stood proud above her, "Not today, Trish. We are not going out."

However, his moment of triumph barely lasted for a second as . "Out..." she sobbed. "Out!"

Her cries soon echoed through the room while her tears stained the carpet. Diavolo held a pillow to his ears trying to drive out the noise. No, he didn’t need to do this. He was the boss of Passione. The most powerful man in all of Italy! He didn’t need to listen to the whines of a baby. Despite the pillow, however, Trish's cries filled his head to the point where they came from every direction. He wanted to flee but one could really flee their own mind.

It wasn’t that bad, right? It was just one day in the town. The walk didn’t even have to last that long. It could be one short trip around the park. She was a baby so there wasn’t much she could do anyway.

But they would see his face. See his identity. What if someone was investigating him already? If he stepped out now, they would know it was him. He’d be killed immediately and he couldn’t have that. He didn’t erase his past only to be assassinated or run over by a stupid driver. He couldn’t. He needed to say no.

"No Trish. We are not going out! And that's final."

Trish only increased her pitch in response. He tried to imagine the silence. He tried to imagine the apartment clean and empty of baby toys. He tried to imagine the fridge stuffed with frozen food. That was why he brought everything when he found Trish. If he could maximize the time he avoided the outside world, he’d be able to focus on important things. He didn’t like going out so he wasn’t going to.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As the stroller went over another bump, Trish laughed in joy before her attention immediately shifted somewhere else. At least someone was enjoying the walk.

Meanwhile, Diavolo was lost in the throes of paranoia flooding his mind. They were there, he knew they were. Watching him. Always watching him. A chill ran up his back as a car sped past them. Was that them? Did they know him? His pace came to match his thoughts until they were briskly walking along the sidewalk.

As the stroller picked up speed, Trish waved her arms in the air. Noticing her laugher, his grip tightened on the stroller as he pushed it faster. He needed to stop this quickly. One walk around the park. That was all he needed to do. That was all she wanted. As he turned the corner to head back to the apartment, he came across a horrifying scene.

A group of teenagers were walking towards him. From their gaudy outfits and devil-may-care grins, he figured they were gangsters. Something he didn’t want to see right now. It didn’t matter if they were afflicted with Passione or not, they were dangerous. He didn’t have any weapon on him despite his previous concerns. If only he had brought his gun then he could take care of them. He had a good enough aim. Just a bullet between the eyes and nothing else. Trish might’ve been startled by the loud sound but she had seen a body before so maybe she wouldn’t mind that.

As he planned a triple homicide, the teenagers caught Trish's gaze.

One immediately squealed, "Ah! She’s so cute!"

"Dude, image please..."

"Come on man. Look at her pink tuff of hair. Even you can’t deny that’s adorable."

Trish giggled at the compliment, knowing it was meant for her.

"Ah! She likes me..." His attention momentarily turned to Diavolo. "Your daughter is adorable sir."

Slightly taken aback, Diavolo replied, "Thank you..?"

"No problem. Have a good day."

Just as quickly as they appeared, they passed by him. As the last one went around him, he couldn’t help but smell a pungent smell coming from their clothing. Trish's face wrinkled at the smell before she sneezed. She had noticed it too then.

He couldn’t exactly place the exact type but he knew they had been taking drugs. Smaller details confirmed his suspicions. Long sleeves in the summer. Baggy eyes in the afternoon. The smell was just the final nail in the coffin.

How disgusting.

Anyone who took drugs was inherently weak. Their deaths simply meant the streets were cleaner from their terrible persons. Of course, Passione was working to eventually acquire the trade. "Cleaning" the streets was good PR for the organization and when they capitalized on it, it'd be just as profitable. After all, he didn’t mind selling drugs to the cretins. He hated them all the same.

Turning to his daughter, he met her curious gaze. "Are you okay if we go home now?"

She smiled before nodding her head. It seemed as if she had enough of the outside world as well. At least for now. Diavolo knew she would eventually want to go out again and when that happened, he’d probably be just as paranoid. However, she was only a baby right now so it made sense why he had to go with her. Of course, even when she got older, he would still need to watch after her. Maybe he could hire a babysitter but that thought was quickly turned down. Donatella might’ve gotten away with paying Trish's old babysitter in advance but he never left his place in the first place. Having a babysitter or simply a maid, would mean someone in his apartment which wasn’t acceptable. The only person he’d ever trust with his things was himself.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

After their little outside excursion, he and Trish returned to the apartment and mindlessly continued their work into the night. Trish with her stuffed animals and he with Passione.

While he disliked interacting with, well, anyone, his position as the boss forced him into some conversations. Though, none of the people he ever spoke with knew he was actually the boss. In their minds, he was a simple messenger in the "boss's" grand web of communication. This allowed him to excuse most of their off hand comments as simple pride. Of course, they’d been a few would be usurpers who thought they could take advantage of such an expansive system. Simply claiming to be the boss was easy enough. But from the few insurrections he had seen, they all ended in failure. Simply calling oneself the boss didn’t garner all the power that came with it. In fact, it turned out to be incredibly dangerous. So far, everyone who claimed to being the boss was assassinated along with the rest of their colleagues. From there, he would simply remind everyone he still existed and life would continue on as normal.

The conversation he was having now was pleasant enough at least. Just a simple messenger informing another messenger.

"Did you get all that Pericolo? If you want to be taken seriously, arrive at five o’clock sharp."

"Yes, sir. I will do exactly that. Thank you."

As the other man hung up the phone, Diavolo sighed in relief. That had been tiring. If he had to say anything about the man, Pericolo was very formal, though, perhaps that was to be expected. Before joining Passione, the man had been involved in several gangs and mobs throughout his life. While he avoided trouble most of the time, his last job before Passione landed him in an enormous amount of debt. He had insisted on buying it and after doing just that, he forgave it just as easily. From there, Pericolo swore loyalty to him and had been very helpful early on. There was a part of him that suspected Pericolo knew his true identity but the man held his tongue at least. If he ever did get an idea, he’d handle it.

Taking his attention, Trish yawned before flopping onto the floor. He held in his laugh before picking her up. As he carried her to her room, she pointed towards his bedroom.

"You can’t be serious...You’ve slept in your crib perfectly fine before." She only answered with a glare which he replied to with his own. Eventually, he figured his patience was wearing thin from the lack of sleep and he wouldn’t be able to win this silent argument. "Fine."

Of course, there were still a few things he needed to do. After leaving Trish on the bed, he turned off the lights and grabbed her currently favorite toy and blanket. When he returned to the bedroom, she was already sound asleep. They really could be quiet sometimes...

As the toy and blanket joined her side, he shuffled his own blankets to his side and laid on them uncovered. His greens eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he stared at the ceiling. For a moment, he imagined Donatella laying besides him. The sand clinger to their hair as the waves passed over them. They had no place to call their own but the beach always seemed to satisfy their needs. The stars, their nightlight and the sea, their white noise. He remembered the warmth of her hand and her soft lips against his own. He had once despised the ocean but with her, it was beautiful. It was theirs. And when the sun rose over the horizon, they shared that memory together.

It was now that he looked to their daughter. 'Symbol of Love.' He laughed. Always the romantic...
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Wah! Wah!"

Trish cries woke him from his slumber. As he wiped tears from his eyes, his attention immediately shifted towards the living room. The lights were on.

His mind raced for an explanation but as soft unfamiliar footsteps approached, instinct took over. Diving for the door, he held it down against the weight of the intruder. As the intruder struggled to open the door, Diavolo struggled with reality.

This wasn’t really happening, right? Were his nightmares finally coming true? Had someone finally found out about his identity? But that wasn’t possible. He had destroyed it. Every last part of his past went up in flames along with that suffocating town. The embers danced in the air to the beat of their screams. Was it the priest or his mother who called out into the night? The priest. It had to be the priest. But it had burned. Everything was gone.

But it wasn’t. One of the embers was crying on his bed right now. Shit. He couldn’t die here but how were they going to get out of this. The intruder obviously didn’t have a gun but they probably didn’t come in unarmed. He wasn’t bad at hand to hand combat but if they had a knife, he might’ve not gotten a chance to use it. There was also the matter of Trish. An armed struggle in an enclosed room wasn’t very safe either. If she got injured, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

There must be a way to end it in an instant. If he had that power, neither he or Trish would be at risk. If only such a power existed...

The dresser. The arrow. Stands. It was worth a shot! Still pressing against the door, Diavolo did his best to reach for the dresser. However, the handle barely escaped his grasp and as the intruder forced themselves against the door, he had to return his weight to it. Maybe if he...Leaning as far back as he could, he wretched the drawer open with his foot. As it fell onto the ground, the arrow landed at the base of the bed, far out of his reach. Great. As the intruder rammed against the door, Diavolo could only curse. Even if he got the arrow, he still needed to stab himself with it. If he left the door, however, he’d just get stabbed with a knife instead. Luck was not on his side today.

But it hadn’t abandoned him entirely. While Trish had been first upset at the loud noises, she had managed to calm down considerably. Now, her full attention laid on the golden arrow. She didn’t know it was an arrow. She didn’t even know it granted powers to whoever it stabbed. Right now, it just looked interesting. Luckily, Diavolo managed to notice this.

"Hey, Trish," he stammered. "Mind getting that for me. I need it right now."

She pointed curiously to the arrow. "Dia?"

As another loud sound came from the door, Diavolo replied, "Yes, Dia. Dia needs the arrow, right now."

"Dia!" she coed. As she slowly stepped off the bed, he waited with baited breath as she cruised to the arrow. Picking it up from the ground, she stared at it for a second before stepping towards him. Step by step. Step by step. Step by step.

Instead of crashing onto the floor, Trish safely gave the arrow to him. A smile of questionable geniality appeared on his face before he carefully turned her around.

"Good job. Wait for Dia over there, okay?"

She nodded before walking back over to the bed. As she safely reached the edge of the bed, he held the arrow to his hand. It was better now than never. While he had only meant to slightly cut himself with the arrowhead, as he brought the arrow closer to his hand, it suddenly dug into his palm. He would’ve cried out in pain but seeing Trish's worried expression steeled his nerves. No this was fine. Perfectly fine.

What wasn’t fine was the room spinning. As the blood seeped from his palm, he wondered if the nausea he was feeling was coming from the sight of it. But that didn’t make sense either. He had disposed of plenty of bodies before and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been injured. So why did everything feel so awful?

As the nausea overcame him, the intruder finally managed to shove the door open. Falling onto the floor, Diavolo could only see his attacker bringing a knife down on him. In slow motion...Why was it in slow motion? Now that he noticed it, everything seemed strange. The world around him seemed dark and as the attacker moved, the world captured each frame of movement. Standing up from the ground, Diavolo observed the strange occurrence with a sense of curiosity. What was happening?

"King Crimson." As the name appeared in his mind, everything around him made sense. He couldn’t exactly put it to words but he understood. It just worked. As the Stand appeared by his side, another name came to mind, although this time much more muddled, "Epitaph."

For a moment, he felt something else. A pull at his side. A slight ringing sound. He’d deal with that later. Right now, he had a body to deal with.

Erasing the time before him, Diavolo ran King Crimson's fist straight through the intruder's side. As the man's intestines spewed from his wound, Diavolo grabbed the knife from his hand and tossed it the side before kicking them to the ground.

"Who sent you?! Why are you here?!"

The man only spewed more blood before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Kicking the body aside, Diavolo spat on it before attending the shaking Trish. He gently picked her up before rocking her back and forth.

"It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you." He brushed through her hair affectionately. "You did good. First steps. Dia's very impressed."

"Dia?" she sobbed.

"Yes, Dia's here. I’ve got you. My little princess..."

Chapter Text

After covering the body with a blanket, Diavolo returned to the living room where he had left Trish. Despite his previous assurances, tears were still leaking from her eyes and her mumblings had grown quieter. As he came closer, she cowered in fear and hugged her stuffed animal close to her chest.

"Trish-"

"Mama!" she cried. "Mama..."

His breath caught in his throat. Trish hadn’t said that word since she arrived at the apartment. It made sense, of course. It had been a while since she saw Donatella in person or even in a photograph. He still had them despite his instincts telling him to burn them.

"Uh...Wait here for a moment. I’ll be right back."

The bedroom was just as he left it although the body smelt somewhat worse. Digging through the mostly intact dresser, Diavolo fished out a small photo album and looked inside it. Most of the photographs depicted places they had visited together. He was out of frame each time but that was by design. The pictures that featured Donatella were mostly unfocused as well but there were some that were quite clear. As he ran his fingers along the frame of one, he figured it would have to do.

Before he returned to the living room, he picked up the arrow and placed it in the drawer.

"Later..." he whispered before slamming it shut.

As he entered the room, Trish's cries intensified.

He only smiled at her before revealing the photograph. "Look what I’ve got." A peace offering.

Her eyes instantly widened at the sight of it. "Mama."

Trish reached for it but soon found her short arms weren’t enough. Steeling her nerves, she slowly stood up and walked forward. Just as she reached the picture, she fell forward right into his arms. Instead of whining about his presence, her focus was entirely on the photograph.

"Mama..."

"Yes." He smiled. "That’s your mama..." As she retained her focus, he moved them over to the couch before leaning against it. A thought graced his face before he voiced it, "Want me to tell you a story about this one..."

Trish glanced at him before returning to her photograph. He took that as a yes. Fine then. With that he would begin...
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"So Solido...Is it true you really want to become a sailor?" Her giggles proved a lack of seriousness.

"Yes, Donatella. As I have told you before, I am going to become a sailor," he lied through false teeth. Thought, he supposed it was better than becoming a priest.

"Well, I’m sure you’ll be great at it." She smiled. "I can just imagine it. Solid Naso, captain of the ship, sailing through the Mediterranean visiting lands well known while wearing a purple sweater."

His eyes narrowed. "What about my sweater?"

"Don’t worry, dear. It looks terrific on you." Now both of them were liars. "Besides, it’s soft like you."

She kissed him on the cheek before running forward. Although initially startled, he soon chased after her. Despite her head start, her heels began to drag in the sand and he was soon upon her. Or the sake of dramatic flare, he leapt forward as if to pounce on her. However, a quick side step soon landed him simply in the sand.

"You missed."

As he stood up, a change came over his face and for a moment, she was frightened. Her instincts told her to flee but even as he approached, she remained frozen in place. He was...He was...

The kiss was returned on her forehead. "There. Now we’re even."

Giggles erupted from her chest, though, she couldn’t tell if it was out of nerves or genuine laughter. While initially confused, he soon joined in her musings. Between a fit of giggles, she stole a glance at his expression. Yes, it wasn’t nerves at all. Not at all...

Soon once again, they were walking along the beach.

As he gaze wandered to the camera she held, she gave an assuring smile, "Don’t worry. It’s just one little pic. I just found this really good spot and-"

"I know, Dona. Don’t worry, you look good anywhere."

She hit him on the shoulder. "Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Solido Naso."

Lucky him then.

"Ah! Look, it’s over there!"

This time as she ran forward, no kisses were stolen and he followed at a steady pace behind her. Their destination was a small monument lined with flowers a fair distance away from a nearby house. After handing him the camera, she leaned over the monument.

"Nice, right? Don’t I look super photogenic?"

"Fishing for compliments?" He grinned.

"Says the sailor." She replied with one of her own before shifting to the left. "Can you take the picture already? Getting kinda uncomfortable here..."

"Oh, sorry."

Snap.

Racing over to him, she took the camera and pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you. Now, how about we-"

"Actually, Dona, I think I have something else to do..."

His gaze was elsewhere. There was a car parked along the road lining the cliffs. While she couldn’t make out the people within it, she was certain they were watching them. Soon afterward, the car continued along the road. As she looked towards him, his expression was unreadable.

"Okay but tomorrow, I can have you all to myself, right?"

He laughed dryly. "Yep. I promise." His gaze remained the same, however...
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Trish's snores soon reached his ears as he finished the story. How lucky.

He didn’t have to tell her about how he sewed his mother's mouth shut. He didn’t have to tell her of how the pick embedded itself in the priest. He didn’t have to tell her about the fire. He didn’t have to tell her how he enjoyed the flames rising over the horizon.

Yes. It had been a long day indeed. After carrying her to the nursery, Diavolo gently placed her in her crib before quietly closing the door behind him.

The photograph was still within her tiny grasp and there it would remain.

Chapter Text

The flames ate at the image of her face before their embers died in the air above him. For the short time they lived, they danced in the wind encircling each other like a flock of birds. He wondered if they would meet her in the heavens rejoined and whole once again. Would she be upset at him for burning them? They were their memories after all. The ones they shared together. In his mind, that was how they would remain. Theirs and theirs alone.

If she ever asked about her, perhaps he would reconsider. But not now and maybe, never.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Her curious eyes reflected his own but he would’ve preferred to be blinded by the sun at this point. Tourist. Definitely a tourist.

"Hello? Whatcha doing here? Isn’t it uncomfortable to sleep like that?"

Urgh. Her voice was annoying too.

He sighed. "I’m perfectly fine here, I’ll have you know."

It was meant to sound snarky. Most tourists left after they got some lip from the supposed "welcoming" locals. They were only welcoming to get into their wallets. Anyone who didn’t know that was just an idiot.

But the sun did not return and the tourist remained. "But what about your hair?"

"What about my hair." He didn’t sound it out like a question. It wasn’t like he wanted an answer after all.

She answered anyway, "It’s so pretty. I would dye for a color like that!" She laughed at her own joke and for a moment, he fell for it too. "Your laugh's pretty nice too."

A smile. She had won it through her charm. She would win more where that came from.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The body was at the bottom of the sea by the next night. The man had turned out to be a simple robber. He wasn’t connected to Passione or any gangs. It was probably supposed to be a simple job. Nothing more and nothing less.

Diavolo was never going to be a simple job. The thief was lucky the death was swift. If he had it his way, he would’ve preferred if King Crimson had the ability to stop time. At least then he would’ve had all the time he needed to torture the fucker. He’d start with the eyes or maybe the toes. Slicing each part off, one by one. Passione might’ve had its own torture department, small as it was, but he would’ve preferred to do it himself. The bastard had been lucky indeed.

There was also the matter with Trish. She had witnessed it all and while he believed she didn’t fully understand it, she had become different. Her constant baby chatter and demanding exclamations had almost ceased entirely. She spoke softly now and with less energy. With time, he knew she would forget. They always forget this age. For now, he would help her with whatever she needed. Like any good parent...

It was a quiet night not unlike the one before. They decided to watch a movie if just to make it a little less quiet.

Trish was watching Sleeping Beauty and as the Once Upon a Dream song played, she was completely entranced. He honestly never got the appeal of princess movies but then again, they were made for children so what did he know. Not much apparently because just as he thought that, Trish hopped onto the floor and began copying the characters' movements. However, unlike Aurora, she lacked a partner. Each balanced sway and beat became a stumble before it finally collapsed into a fall. Still, Trish got up again but this time her gaze rested on him. In the past, he would’ve doubted her intentions but now, he knew. She was completely serious.

He sighed but stood up just as quickly. "I lead, got that?"

She nodded enthusiastically before taking his hand. What she didn’t expect was to be lifted in the air. He would dance, sure but he wasn’t going to strain his back. In the end, instead of a graceful waltz, Diavolo awkwardly swayed back and forth cradling Trish all the while. When the song finally ended, he placed Trish gently on the ground before falling back into his chair. His eyes drifted to the ceiling in an effort to avoid her glare.

It could’ve been worse.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Sorry-! Didn’t mean to do that—Are you sure you-? Pardon-!" After stepping her foot for the fifth time, she finally pulled him away from the crowd.

A pout lined her face. On anyone else it would’ve looked ugly. "I thought you said you knew how to dance?!"

He flinched at her shout. "I do, just not like that."

At Mass, you mostly just swayed.

'It was supposed to calm the children,' the priest said. 'To keep them distracted.'

Donatella clearly didn’t know that. "Ah, Solido...You don't know how to dance. You don’t know how to sing. What did you do for fun before?"

He considered his words carefully before answering, "Not much before I met you."

Her cheeks flushed a brighter pink. "Ah, don’t be so sappy, you idiot..." The blush still failed to disappear, though. "Well, maybe we just haven’t cracked the code yet. Tell me Solido...How are you with alcohol?"

He would’ve made another joke about mass but that was pushing it. "Inexperienced."

"Not for long."

Her grin showed her true intentions.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As she hopped off the chair, he couldn’t help but ask, "How was it?"

"Good," she replied.

Trish had finally gotten into the habit of conversing instead of just demanding. Reading books and watching movies had helped considerably but he was also making the effort to talk to her more. A grueling effort indeed.

As he reunited the clean plate with the rest of the dishes, the phone rang obnoxiously from the living room. Leaving the spoons on the counter, Diavolo calmly went to get the phone.

"Hello, what do you want." It wasn’t a request.

"Is this the residence of Solido Naso?"

His heart raced as he replied, "Yes, what did you find?"

Where was she? What had she been doing? Why did she leave? Did she want to talk? Why was she looking for him? Was she okay? Was she doing well? How was her health? Did she miss-?

"Terminal Cancer. She died on the twenty-fourth of March this year. Her last words were reported to be-"

The words died on their lips or perhaps, it was the line that did. He wasn’t sure.

There were no questions to be asked. There was nothing to be done. Nothing at all. His breath hitched for no particular reason. His voice cracked but not out of any real emotion. His legs shacked despite his lack of fear. He felt like throwing up but there were no butterflies. But as tears fell from his eyes, he couldn’t find an excuse.

Donatella Una was dead.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Adrenaline filled his lungs as he raced forward. The grass rose with his leap while the wind pushed him forward into the skies above him. As he fell towards the water below, he expected to hear laughter trailing behind him. However, his ears were met with a piercing screech.

How unexpected.

— — —

The stars shined brightly in the night sky above him but suddenly, their brilliance was replaced with one even brighter.

Her scowl spelt her true feelings, however. "What were you thinking?!" she yelled.

"I jumped, remember? You were right by the way. It was kinda fun."

"I don’t care if it was 'fun!' You could’ve died..." His face was no longer stained with just ocean water.

Rising to his feet, he took her hands and gently kissed them. "I’m sorry I made you worry Dona...I promise I will never do that again."

She laughed dryly, "You sure about that Solido? Don’t make false promises..."

Meeting her gaze, he smiled. "Not to you Dona...Not to you."

Her scowl softened into a frown before melting into a smile. "Aw Solido...I love you."

"I love you too Dona."

Leaning into each other's embraces, they shared a kiss and in that moment, the world was theirs...

Chapter Text

King Crimson was a very curious Stand or at least, he thought it was. He didn’t have much experience with Stands after all despite the old lady's description of them. Looking at the tv, he noticed that a rather long commercial was planning.

"King Crimson!" he shouted and in an instant, the show had returned. Maybe it wasn’t the most proficient use of the Stand but he found it pretty funny. Trish's fit of giggles showed she did too. If only to distract her, he had used King Crimson a couple times to levitate her toys around the room. He had tried doing it with her food but that just made her upset.

Yes, King Crimson was a very interesting Stand and despite its expression remaining an irritated scowl, it was very helpful in babysitting Trish. However, King Crimson was also technically a two part Stand. First there was King Crimson and then there was Epitaph. Epitaph was the part of King Crimson that allowed him to look ahead into those ten seconds. If it wasn’t there, he wouldn’t know what he was skipping with King Crimson. Both parts worked in tandem with the other and without one or the other, the Stand's main gimmick wouldn’t work. What confused him was why they were separate in the first place. Why did King Crimson exist as both Epitaph and King Crimson?

A Stand represents the user's spirit. If King Crimson was split, what did that mean about him? He knew exactly what it meant. He had know it for a long time but he’d just forgotten about it. It was him but not him. They were the same but they weren’t.

Diavolo was Diavolo. Diavolo was Solido Naso. Diavolo was all the aliases he had ever created.

But Diavolo wasn’t him. Well, not entirely...

And as he stood in front of the door leading into his apartment, it wasn’t really him standing at the door. As his unkept purple hair came over their face, Diavolo wanted to shove it aside. Why didn’t he just tie it like they used to? It was much more simpler than keeping it in a fancy braid. In the next second, he forgave him though. Their hair was much shorter then he supposed. Maybe it was about time they cut it actually. Heck, Trish's hair had grown exponentially within the last month too. Maybe a trip to the barber or something, wasn’t a bad idea.

Before he could set any date, his counterpart began repeating his orders out loud. Diavolo could only wince at the terrible display of secrecy.

"'Go to apartment 302 and proceed to enter with the keys I have given you.'" After fumbling with the keys for a moment, he continued, "'Your next assignment will be waiting for you there. This place will be your cover from now on.' Sweet, my own apartment! The Boss is so cool!"

After dropping the keys two more times, Doppio finally unlocked the door and stumbled into the apartment. Their eyes instantly locked and for a good solid minute, Trish and Doppio simple stared at one another. Diavolo had originally expected Trish to cry when Doppio first entered the apartment but he didn’t mind the change.

"Ah, hello there...Sorry but did your parents enter the wrong apartment? I’m pretty sure the boss said this one was mine. Do you know where your parents are?"

Diavolo figuratively rolled his eyes. She was only a kid, you freaking idiot.

Despite his own thoughts, though, Trish softly replied, "No. Dia left."

"Dia? Do you mean diamond, maybe?"

"No, Dia."

"Huh? Well, I’m not sure what we can do then...Hey, maybe I can hang out here while we wait for your parents. Then when they get back, we can sort this whole issue out. How’s that sound?"

She nodded enthusiastically before playing with the blocks in front of her. After closing the door (he forgot to lock it), Doppio sat on the floor next to her and picked up a stuffed pink leopard.

He stared at it intently. "Interesting color choice..."

"I like it." She smiled. "It’s like Dia. His hair is spotted."

"And what? Is it pink too?"

"Yep. Like mine."

"That’s weird." Said the teen with the same exact hair color. "Hey, uh, what’s your name?"

"Trish."

"Cool, my name's Doppio. It’s nice to meet you miss."

She nodded before stacking more blocks. As they sat in silence, Diavolo wondered if he should’ve taught Trish the dangers about stranger. Though, perhaps it was luck that delayed that lesson. He was sure Doppio would’ve been scared off by the two year old.

However, by now, they had wasted enough time. Maybe he should’ve been more clear about his instructions.

A piercing headache emerged from the back of his mind and for a moment, Doppio could only hold his head in pain.

"Uh...Hey Trish...Do you know where the ice is?"

"In the kitchen."

"Thank you."

As he stood up, his nerves stabbed into his side while his pulse raced against the sudden movement. Even though he was just sitting on the floor, it felt like he had ran a ten kilometer race. Stumbling into the kitchen, Doppio barely caught the counter top before dropping onto the floor. As he rose from the ground, his demeanor had changed and as he took off his sweater, his appearance went along with it. Grabbing the nearest pencil, Diavolo added a few more orders to the notebook before sitting down. Maybe, they could finally proceed...

Opening his eyes, Doppio wiped the drool from his mouth before looking at the notebook in front him. As he opened it, his eyes lit up. There were new orders.

Once again, he began to read them out loud, "'Doppio. It seems as if I wasn’t clear the first time. This apartment is simply a part of the grander scheme of things. While you work under me in Passione, you will also be looking after Trish...'" (There were some scratched out lines.) "'...Una as her babysitter. The idea being is that no one will suspect you of anything since it would appear you are simply caring for a child. As I have said before, she is your cover. Whatever you do, do not mention Passione in front of her. If you do, I will know and there will be consequences. Consider protecting her as one of you top priorities. Turn the next page, to read your next instruction...'"

His grip dug into the notebook as he reached the last line. Was he serious? Had he misread something? Looking back over the words, nothing had changed. His eyes hadn’t been playing with him. The Boss...The great Boss of Passione wanted him to take care of a kid as cover...

Brilliant. The Boss was a freaking genius! A baby! A freaking baby?! It was the perfect cover! Who would expect such a brilliant plan. No one except the Boss, of course! As Doppio sang his praises for his brilliant Boss, Diavolo wondered if there was a way to turn the volume down in his own mind.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Please."

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Pretty please!"

He huffed, "Fine but don’t tell anyone."

"Yay!" she cheered. As another box of cookies landed in the shopping cart, Diavolo thought back on the events leading up to this point. After reading his revised orders, Doppio had informed Trish of his role as her babysitter. While she was initially confused, she quickly accepted the proposal. From there, Doppio quickly read the next step, thankful not out loud, which had lead them here. Okay, so it wasn’t as chaotic as he said it was but it was still weird.

Why did Trish warm up so quickly to Doppio? They were complete strangers until an hour ago. Now, she was pressuring him into buying her a bunch of junk food and sweets. Did she suspect something? Trish was his daughter after all...Or maybe, Doppio was just that easy to boss around. He’d have to make sure to watch that behavior.

But maybe that was what irritated him. Doppio was the complete opposite of him. He was weak, naive, cowardly, and meek. If it wasn’t for him guiding him, Doppio would’ve been a bumbling idiot. What made this even worse was that his behavior was familiar. He could still remembered the days he used to cower at the sight of others. How he once accepted their abuse without lifting a finger. It had been hell but through his own perseverance, he managed to come on top of it. Doppio's existence seemed based on a time before this transition. He was him or more so, his past self. In a way, Doppio represented everything he hated about that time. It would’ve been simpler if he just left him where he found him...

"And...Done!" Doppio happily check off the last grocery before swiveling the car around. "Let’s go to the checkout line!"

Trish cheered from the cart as they sped off towards the entrance. As they waited in line, Doppio looked over the next order on the list.

"'Drop off groceries and Trish and then head to the Botanical Gardens to complete exchange.'"

Doppio thought back to the briefcase the Boss had ordered him to bring. Was that what was going to be exchanged? For a moment, he wondered what it could be. Passione was rich so money was always an option.

However, as he repeated the orders, something didn’t make sense, "Drop off groceries and Trish? But the park's on our drive there! Why not do both at the same time?" Oh no. "Hey, Trish. Mind if we make a stop before we head back to the apartment?"

Please say no Trish. "Sure."

Shit.

He needed to switch back. Hadn’t Doppio been listening?! He specifically said not to involve Trish with Passione! What red flags did he fail to set up? Where had he gone wrong?!

By the time they exited the store, Diavolo was weighing the pros and cons of taking over right there. Maybe Doppio could trip on the door to justify the sudden spell. Unfortunately, before he could put any plan into motion, they were already at the car. Did King Crimson cut through time without him noticing? Maybe, he could switch when Doppio entered the car. If he fell forward, he’d fall into the cushions and if he fell backwards, he could handle the concrete. But it appeared as if the fates had felt pity for his counterpart, because just before he could create a suitable headache, a car pulled into the spot next to them. Falling over in front of the car would’ve spelled much worse than a few scrapes. Perhaps when he was-Oh no. That would’ve been even worse. At the park then? If Doppio didn’t get pulled over for being underaged, that would be his best bet. Alas, they made it to the park safely. Though, he supposed that was a good thing in hindsight.

As Doppio stepped out of the car, he felt like he was drowning. Water flooded his mind from all sides and despite its muted serenity, the waves above him were still crashing down. He needed air but the salty water kept him from opening his eyes. Up was down. Down was up. He had lost all sense of direction. For a moment, the ocean seemed welcoming. Despite the pressure, despite the confusion, sinking seemed almost appealing. It was like falling asleep and maybe by the time he woke up, someone would’ve fished him out by then.

It would’ve taken one more second. He could feel his senses returning to him, one by one. The ocean had been the right choice after all. It represented a lot of things about their childhood. A place of torment. A place of peace. Though, perhaps Diavolo saw more of the latter in his lifetime but that was ok. He didn’t mind sharing some things with Doppio. However, before control was complete transferred, they were interrupted.

"Dopey? Are you ok?"

Oh no. He had forgotten the reason he was doing this in the first place. If he passed out now, how would Trish react? As he gained control of one of their eyes, he looked back at her. She was out of his line of sight by an inch but that didn’t mean she’d remain oblivious. If she heard him fall that would be enough to get her panicked. He wasn’t even going to imagine how’d she'd react when "Dia" suddenly replaced "Dopey."

And really? Dopey? He knew he shouldn’t have let her see Snow White. As soon as the thought entered his mind, his grip on reality loosened. Oh shit-!

He was on the shore. The dark night sky stretched above him while an endless sea laid beneath it. As the tides passed over his feet, he could feel it pull at his heels. As he stepped away from it, he only sunk deeper into sand. The steady tide had become a roaring wave and as it overran him, reality suddenly returned.

Doppio shook the sand from his ears before standing straight. What just happened? Wasn’t he just-?

"Dopey?"

As soon as she spoke, any questions coming forward were immediately silenced. Thank goodness.

"Hey, Trish! Sorry about that." He opened the car door. "I just zoned out for a moment."

"Okay..."

"Okay indeed!"

His smile was contagious and soon, they were walking happily through the park with briefcase in hand. As they got a ways into one trail, Doppio finally consulted his notebook.

"'...head to the Botanical Gardens to complete exchange. The man you are looking for is disguised as a janitor. The code word is Achilles...' Janitor? What’s a janitor doing in a park?"

"What's a janitor?"

"Um, it’s a person who cleans up messes...Don’t become one, alright?" he stammered.

"Why not?" she inquired.

"Uh, because...because there are cooler things you can be. Like a sailor. Sailors are pretty cool!"

"What’s a sailor?"

A blank look appeared on his face before Diavolo rescinded the memory. "Ah, they sail around the world and stuff...Look, sailors are better than janitors." The form of an apron appeared in the corner of his eye. "Hey, we can just ask one which is better. Let’s go!"

Before he raced off after the poor janitor, he had enough courtesy to carry Trish along with him. Hearing the teen's loud footsteps, the "janitor" turned to face them. Though, he did raise an eyebrow at the sight of them.

"Hello sir...We’d just like to ask you one...one small little thing..." As he finally caught his breath, he continued, "Which is better, sailors or janitors?"

"Hmm..." The man considered his words carefully as they waited in anticipation. "That’s a tough question to answer...How about heroes? Aren’t those better than both?"

Get-!

"Maybe but sailors are still cool..."

The-!

"I like being a princess," Trish commented.

Freaking-!

"I guess princesses can be neat."

Hint!

Despite being unable to hear Diavolo's string of curses, something clicked within Doppio a second after.

"Achilles!" he shouted to the heavens. After gently placing Trish down, Doppio shoved the briefcase into Pericolo's face. "The Boss said to give this to you."

Pericolo carefully took the case and replied, "You didn’t even wait for me to confirm the code word..."

"Was I supposed to?" He kicked the ground nervously.

"Yes but don’t worry. I won’t say a word."

"But you should report these things to the Boss! What if it becomes something threatening?!"

Pericolo cooly replied, "Should I tell him then? About the mishap?" Fear struck Doppio's face before Pericolo's chuckle softened it. "Don’t worry. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. This can be our secret."

His smile returned to his face. "Right, secret! Trish, it's a secret, got it?"

"What’s a secret?"

"Secret!"

The janitor huffed, "Young man...I’ve been informed that our communications will be necessary in the future. While you do not have to give me your name, I am Pericolo. It was nice meeting you." With that, the janitor left their presence with briefcase in hand.

After watching him leave, Doppio and Trish made their way back to the car talking about sailors and princesses.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Stabbing into the salad in front of him, Diavolo met her gaze. "So...What do you think of Doppio?"

"Dopey," she corrected.

"Doppio..."

"He’s cool."

"Good...He’s going to be working here for a while."

"Okay. Dia, where you’d go?"

He coughed from the pepper stinging his throat. Only the pepper. "...I had work. In fact, I may be out more often. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be here when you need me." She nodded but as her eyes fell to the table, he could tell she hadn’t finished yet.

"Hey Dia...Can you do that trick again?" Oh. That’s what she wanted. He smiled before summoning King Crimson. Grabbing the closest spoon in front of him, King Crimson held it above the table. Her face lit up immediately. "So cool..."

"Thank you..."

The praise was inevitable of course. It was a rather good trick.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

King Crimson was King Crimson and Epitaph was a part of King Crimson.

Diavolo was Diavolo and Doppio was Doppio. If he wanted to, Diavolo was sure he could get rid of Doppio quite easily. Maybe not kill him but repress him. When he did that, Doppio wouldn’t be Doppio, not entirely.

It would’ve been so easy. He knew it was. He had done it before after all. When he met Donatella, there was no Doppio. When he started the fire, there was no Doppio. When he met Trish, there was no Doppio. It was only when he gained his Stand did something show up again. Even then, it wasn’t Doppio. Not yet. Not entirely.

He really should’ve hated Doppio. He should’ve despised him for all he represented. He was his past, figuratively and literally. He should’ve hated him but from the moment they "met," a familiar feeling came up. A sort of responsibility.

So, Diavolo was Diavolo and Doppio, his cute precious double, was Doppio.

Chapter Text

It had been two months since he started working in Passione and about three weeks since he met Trish. To his surprise, Trish wasn’t temperamental at all. She never seemed to whine or cry. She wasn’t even that picky which had been a godsend with his awful cooking. Whoever raised her did a fantastic job.

But this had raised another question. Where were her parents? He hadn’t seen any photos of them or any photos at all. You’d think there would be at least one family photo but no, there wasn’t. The place was actually rather empty besides Trish's room and toys. All the furniture was worn and uncared for. He couldn’t recall the amount of times he woke up with an aching back.

He would’ve liked to explore the apartment more but the Boss always had something for him to do. Clean the apartment, take out the trash, take Trish for a walk, get groceries, dump the body in the closet into the nearby river, pay the electric bill...So most of them were just chores but they were still important. If he ignored the Boss's orders based on a whim, the trust they shared would’ve been broken. He couldn’t risk that! The Boss had already done so much for him. Betraying him would’ve just been disrespectful.

—Doppio didn’t think about when the Boss helped him. Nor did he recall exactly how. It wasn’t important anyway.—

Yes, it would’ve been very disrespectful and Vinegar Doppio wasn’t going to be that. Yet, the traitorous thought still crossed his mind. Something was up, he knew that much and Trish's parents were somehow involved. If things turned out to be suspicious, the Boss could be in danger so it was his responsibility to get to the bottom of it. If only he had more free time!

As he dusted off the last empty shelf, he fell onto the couch. It was only ten o’clock and yet, he was already exhausted. Despite getting a full nights sleep, his eyes refused to stay open and his breath had already begun to quicken. Just chores. They were just simple chores...

"Doppio..." she pulled at his sleeve.

"Yes Trish? What is it?" he droned. Did she want more food? He had already made eggs.

Sparing him from conversation, she placed the notebook on his head before walking away. Oh right, the next orders. As he opened the notebook, he gaped at the sight of it. All along the edges of the paper were colorful doodles of various animals and flowers. She had managed to avoid drawing over the orders but the sight was still terrible. The notebook wasn’t supposed to be a coloring book, it was what the Boss gave him orders through. Why the heck would she do this?!

Before any notion of anger entered his head, a sense of serenity fell on him. It was just a notebook. The Boss probably wouldn’t mind if she scribbled in it and besides, the doodles looked kinda cool too.

Anyway, the next orders read...'Take Trish outside.'

As the stroller came into his line of sight, he figured she must’ve read the orders ahead of him. "Ah, thank you Trish. Anywhere you want to go in particular?"

"Can we go to that one park?"

"The Botanical Gardens?"

She gave a curt nod. Well, at least now they had a destination.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As Trish looked over the nearby flowers, Doppio's attention was drawn to the insects that flocked amongst them. There was a variety of insects buzzing around but the struggle of one particular bee within the clutches of a spiderweb interested him. Its wings flapped tirelessly against its stringy prison while its panicked calls drew the attention of others within its colony. However, instead of assisting the helpless insect, the rest of the hive drew away from its position. The owner of the web finally appeared from the folds of a nearby flower and after feeling the waves coming from its home, it steadily approached its victim.

However, before the spider could enjoy its feast, the flower on which one of the strings was attached to was unceremoniously ripped from the ground. As the web drifted from its perch, the bee managed to struggle free while the spider fell onto a nearby leaf.

"Here you go sweety. You wanted the pink one, right?" the mother coed like a pigeon.

The brat swatted her hand away before pointing towards another flower. "I wanted a orange one! Pink is a lame color," he whined.

"Oh sorry sweety! I’ll get you a yellow one right away."

As she reached for another flower, Doppio instinctively swatted her hand away. "You’re not supposed to pick those."

"It’s just a lousy flower. Who cares if someone picks one."

Just as she reached for another flower, she soon found herself on the ground bleeding from her nose. Her first suspect was the teenager but even his expression spelled a confusion. Had it not been him then?

In fact, as if their argument didn’t even happen, the teen picked up the flower she had dropped and offered it to her. "I think you dropped this miss."

Her immediate thought was revenge. Even if he wasn’t the one who pushed her, his words had already been disrespectful to a point. A simple kick in the leg should’ve sent him tumbling towards the stupid flower bed in an instant. However, before she could put her plan into motion, the teen's eyes seemed to shift. Replacing the once blank brown eyes, green accented ones appeared in their place. Fear gripped her heart as she gazed into them.

"Mommy?" her son called out still pointing towards the stupid yellow flowers.

She bit back a curse before standing up and grabbing her brat's hand. "We're going home."

As she pulled him away from the flowers, he whined, "But mommy, what about the-"

She yanked him forward again and even as he struggled against her grasp, she kept walking. Trish watched the scene unfold with curiosity while Doppio replanted the displaced flower with ease. The spider from before was already reconstructing its old web as well. They both watched the spider for a while before heading further down the walkway.

The park lived up to its name quite well. Alongside the usual petaled flower, various cactuses were grouped together while name-tags distinguishing them. Palm trees of differing sizes were also scattered along the park and between titled walkways, long grasses streamed from the ground. Lily pads and lotus flowers laid gently on a pond's surface while koi fish swam underneath them.

Before Trish could pet one of them, Doppio lifted her into the air. "Don’t touch the fish Trish."

She tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Uh...They might not like it." Her stare did little calm his nerves. "Well, think of it like this. Humans have hair and fish have scales. You don’t like having your hair pulled so maybe the fish don’t like it when their scales are touched."

Her eyes seemed to light up. "Oh. I didn’t now that."

After placing her gently on the ground, he patted her head. "Well, now you do."

A unknown laugh came from behind him. "How cute." A women watched them from the opposite side of the pond. Her hair was tied into a braid but the curled strands peaking from the end of it suggested a wavy pattern instead. She was wearing a long dress and her high heels hung limply from her raised feet.

Her description passed easily from his mind. He didn’t recognize her.

As she moved her hand across the water, the fish instinctively scattered. "I remembered what I told my sister when I was younger." She stifled a laugh. "She used to believe everything I said too."

"Sis-Ah! No, I’m just Trish's babysitter," he corrected.

"Really? You two look so alike! Well, you could’ve had me fooled." The confusion that lined his face compelled her to continue. "Is it really that unbelievable? I mean have you looked in a mirror. Besides the eyes, I could say with some certainty you two are definitely related."

Her words only came off as gibberish to him. What was she talking about? How could they possibly look alike? It made no sense...Besides her words, a headache had also begun to form during their conversation. He felt like he was swimming alongside a giant swarm of fish. However, instead of a passive force, the swarm ran against him and suffocated him with their presence alone.

Not taking the hint, the women continued to rant, "How stupid do you have to be to not notice the similar-"

"Sorry miss but can you go away?" Trish's subtle glare discounted the politeness of her words.

As the woman raised an eyebrow, the swarm began to swim away. "Well, I don’t think..." The childish scowl only deepened. "Okay. Uh, it was nice meeting you two."

Her quiet curses followed her as she went but Trish's glare had already disappeared. However, she soon found herself in the air again as Doppio lifted her up.

"Uh, thanks Trish...Hey, do you want ice cream? I won’t tell your parents we're going out for sweets or anything."

"Yes," she stammered. It was a good enough reward.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

After taking another bite of the ice cream, Doppio held his head in pain. "Brain freeze!"

As he suffered from his seventh brain freeze, Trish mindlessly ate her ice cream with little trouble. Cursing his lack of pacing, Doppio recklessly took another bite of his mint chocolate chip only to reel back in pain moments later. By the twentieth time, it wasn’t worth it and he unceremoniously dropped the unfinished dessert into the trash. As he returned to the table, he could only wait for his charge to finish her dessert.

At the very least, it gave him time to think. The park had been a very weird experience. The woman, rude as she was, had brought up an interesting point. Not the fact he and Trish looked related, that was just a coincidence. It had to be...No. It wasn’t that at all. It was more about why he was her babysitter. How did Trish relate to Passione? She couldn’t be some random kid after all. The Boss made him her caretaker for a reason and there had to be a reason. The Boss had a plan for everything so even one measly detail had a purpose behind it. Maybe, it had to do with Trish's parents. If they were somehow connected to Passione, it would make sense how the Boss knew about Trish but that just brought up another question.

Where were they? Even as members of Passione, they should’ve at least had some free time to spend time with their daughter. However, the lack of photographs and other personal belongings suggested otherwise. The apartment wasn’t a home where a family lived, it was an impersonal safe house. Before he even showed up, Trish was already there so someone had to have been taking care of her and the apartment. Was that someone her parent or another babysitter? If it was the latter, what happened to them?!

In the end, it just seemed strange to him. And suspicious. Definitely suspicious. And if something was suspicious, that meant things were dangerous and if things were dangerous, that could mean the Boss was in danger. While he couldn’t say exactly why it would be dangerous for the Boss, his mind skimmed over that detail and focused simply on the danger. He needed to protect the Boss at all costs!

But in the end, it was all a simple hunch. The Boss trusted him. He knew that but even the Boss wouldn’t accept simple hunches. He needed proof, something substantial.

Unfortunately, his mind only drew blanks and the puzzle pieces he collected wouldn’t fit together. Oh, if only the Boss was here. He would know what to do...

His eyes fluttered open. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. The Boss was there. He was always there. Reaching into the unused stroller, Doppio pulled out the notebook and opened it. As he skimmed over the simple orders, he did his best to imagine the Boss speaking to him.

'Doppio, my cute Doppio...Can’t you see the truth. It is all laid out for you already. You only need to take it for yourself. Think Doppio. Think.'

Okay! He would think. He would solve the riddle. For the Boss!

Once again, his mind raced for answers. Trish. She was definitely related to the case but in what way. Her parents. They were important but how? Their identity. Who were they? Why did they leave Trish? How were they connected to the Boss? Why were they so suspicious? If he was going to solve this riddle, he had to find out who they were first! But he didn’t know anything about them. He had no face to go off of, no name...

But that was a lie wasn’t it. Yes. Once again the Boss came through!

Turning to the first page, he read over the first clue the Boss had left him, 'While you work under me in Passione, you will also be looking after Trish Una as her babysitter.'

Una! Her last name was Una! And if Trish's last name was Una so were her parents.

When Trish finished her ice cream, Doppio jumped from his seat and ran to the door, stroller and notebook in tow. "Let’s go Trish! We have no time to lose!"

As she followed him out the door, Trish could only wonder how could someone be so excited for vacuuming.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The door swung open and slammed against the wall. As he ran into the apartment, Trish quietly entered the living room and went to her room. After making sure she was out of earshot, Doppio rushed to the phone stumbling over nearby furniture as he went. The phone number was already in the back of his mind, an investigator the Boss had informed him about a while ago, as he grabbed the phone. However, before he could dial the number, the phone suddenly started to ring or at least, another phone was.

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Setting the phone down, Doppio combed over the living room in search for the hidden phone.

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Gosh darn it. Where was it? Where was it?!

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

It was coming from somewhere else then? As he made his way into the hallway, the sound grew louder. Closer. Closer. It must’ve been coming from Trish's room but why would she have a phone?

As he entered the doorway, Trish's glare settled on him before she held out the phone.

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

"You want this, right?"

"Oh thanks Trish. I’ll return it in a moment."

Accepting the phone, Doppio walked to his bedroom before answering it.

Beep.

"Hello? This is Doppio."

"Doppio. What are you doing?"

The receiver squeaked. It was the Boss! "Boss, is that you?!"

"Yes, Doppio. It is me. Now, tell me, what is concerning you."

"Uh, well..." he stammered. "Nothing much?"

"Doppio, do not lie to me."

While his tone didn’t change, Doppio sensed the Boss was definitely displeased. "It’s just a hunch Boss! It’s nothing important-" his voice quivered. "At all."

"Doppio. As my advisor, I am willing to hear you out. Any hunch you have is of great concern to me so please. Tell me."

"..."

"Doppio."

"Fucking...Fine!" Before spilling the beans, Doppio jumped onto the bed and rolled over. "So, I was just wondering who Trish's parents are? I mean, is there a reason why they’re gone or something? I’m just worried about what’s going on here. It’s just kinda bizarre, you know?" Silence. Doppio could feel himself sinking deeper into the cushions as it continued. "Boss?"

"I understand Doppio. Your concerns are perfectly justified. If you would like, I can explain the situation to you."

"Really?"

"Yes, my Doppio. I will explain anything..."

Their conversation seemed to last hours...As he listened to the Boss's explanation, everything seemed to click. Trish's parents. The Boss. Trish herself. Yes, there was a reason for everything. The Boss had planned everything out since the beginning. It should’ve been obvious even to an idiot like him! Truly, the Boss was great at everything.

Once everything was sorted out, the Boss finished, "...Do you understand now, Doppio?"

"Yes Boss! Everything makes sense now! Thank you."

"It is fine Doppio. It was my fault in the first place. I will be sure to keep you informed more often."

"Don’t worry Boss. I’ll do my best to be more attentive too!"

He quietly chuckled, "I’m sure you will be...Now, Doppio. As a reward for your hard work, you may take a break. Don’t worry about vacuuming the house."

"Really Boss?!"

"Really."

A break. A real break. He felt like crying tears joy. He could watch tv for a while or he could take a bath. It didn’t matter. It was his break. He could do whatever he wanted and right now, taking nap seemed pretty pleasant.

As slumber came over his eyes, he grabbed the pillow and hugged it. "Thanks Boss..."

"You’re welcome..."

Beep. As the lined died, he finally fell to sleep. After a few minutes, Trish silently entered the room. After taking the "phone," Doppio usually left the apartment for the day. When he hadn’t left, she had grown suspicious but it appeared as if he had just fallen asleep.

After grabbing the stuffed leopard from his hand, she gently closed the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Their goodbyes at the airport seemed like a final farewell but within a few months of the final battle, he saw them much sooner than he expected to. The Speedwagon foundation had seized most of the belongings from the mansion and after returning stolen property to their former owners, their gazes turned to the more peculiar objects. His status as a Stand User gave him sway when it came to certain things but when he arrived that summer day at the Japanese branch, he had no idea what he was in for.

They brought out a safe first. He had to watch them go through five mechanisms to open it and by the time they were done, another safe was brought out to replace the discarded one. From the safe, they brought out a small box which could only be opened by a specific key that was designed to be impossible to replicate. When he finally saw the contents of the box, he had laughed. All this security for the sake of two arrows. They were pretty to look at, sure, but nothing seemed special about them. After the Joseph's explanation, though, he had a different view.

The original discoverer of the arrows had thought the same way about them. They were believed to have picked up the arrows recklessly and as a result, one of the arrows pierced them. Their body was found soon afterwards.

DIO was not a natural born Stand User. From the stories Joseph heard from the founder of the Speedwagon Foundation, the man was simply a vampire. There were no signs he had the ability to stop time. The arrows were the answer to this mystery and from the witness statements of former enemies, there weren’t just two.

The Italian peninsula had been suffering from an increase in criminal activity and as he discovered, the presence of Stand Users. In his heart, he knew it had something to do with the arrows.

Polnareff understood where they were heading and he had no objections. Hermit Purple provided his first clue and with an arrow by his side for safekeeping, he made his way to a little island off the coast of Italy.

The trail began in a prison and then to a Church before it ended up in ashes. The suffering, the passion, of one man created a wind to follow. He had his destination.

Chapter Text

Doppio looked over his work with a slanted smile on his face. Plated before him were his best efforts at making breakfast: runny eggs, burnt toast, and raw pancakes. As Trish poked her egg with a fork, he immediately lifted the plate away and emptied its contents into the trash can. The rest of the dishes soon joined their counterpart before being replaced with a tossed together bowl of fruit. It was better than nothing. Luckily, Trish seemed to agree with that front and began eating quietly. His smile perked up as his last minute success. While she enjoyed breakfast, Doppio quickly flipped through the notebook for his next orders. When he finally laid his eyes upon it, his eyes widened and a serious expression appeared soon after.

"Hey, Trish, I might not be able to make lunch today...Some business matters have popped up."

Between bites, she asked, "Can’t do it on the phone?"

He shook his head. "Fraid not but I’m sure I can handle it quickly. I’ll be back before you know it." His words held confidence but her expression suggested disbelief. Though, it wasn’t like he noticed. "And then, you’ll be able to enjoy my cooking once more."

She stifled a laugh before refocusing on her food.

Getting ready from there was a breeze. As he stood in front of the door, he checked off the items he would be needing: his wallet, the notebook, and a baseball bat. While he wasn’t a fan of the sport, he at least knew how to swing the thing. After checking a second time, he opened the door with a hop in his step. However, before he took that first step, Trish appeared from the hallway with the notebook in hand.

"Do you need this?"

Doppio held his head in embarrassment. "Yeah...Uh, just toss it here—Ow!" Before the notebook reached the ground, he managed to snatch it midair. "Thanks Trish. See you later."

Just as the door closed behind him, she called out, "Have a good day Dopey!"

Once again, his face flushed. Why of all the nicknames did she have to give him that one? When did they even see Snow White in the first place? The thought soon disappeared from his mind as he reviewed the notebook's orders. He had a job to do after all.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

They were just as the Boss described. A group of five men in their twenties all sporting jerseys who tended to hang out in alleyways. In any other circumstance, they would’ve just seemed like an average group of college students. However, their appearances were but a disguise to their true intentions.

They were drug dealers.

Which would’ve been fine if they worked under Passione but they didn’t so...he had to deal with them. Though, it wasn’t like he cared either. There needed to be an example every now and then and if he needed to fulfill that quota, a few swings wouldn’t be that difficult.

As he entered the alley, their eyes narrowed onto his wallet. A few seconds later, both of the exits were blocked off and their supposed leader was glaring down at him. Following that, the leader would probably try to say something normal but in an intimidating tone.

"Hello there. Do you need directions-"

As the bat slammed into the side of the leader's skull, Doppio hoped his next targets wouldn’t be so predictable. While their leader ate brick and lost most of his brain cells, the lackeys could only stare in horror before he swung at their heads too. He managed to get in another head swing before compromising for the gut as one of them tried to dodge. His next swing missed but before his target could retaliate, he managed to land a right hook with King Crimson straight into his chest. As the Stand disappeared, the man fell forward as blood spewed from his mouth and entrails from his stomach.

Diavolo felt himself smiling at his counterpart's accomplishment. Doppio had already used King Crimson's powers before but each use varied in success. Sometimes the summons came easy but most of the time, Doppio would completely forget the Stand existed. Of course, whenever he did succeed, it was always entertaining to watch the carnage that followed. Three down, two to go. Unfortunately, by the third hit, the last two had managed to recover their senses. To his surprise, however, they made no effort to flea. The strange figure that appeared by one of their sides said enough. He cursed under their breath. Stand Users. They were fucking Stand Users.

As Doppio slipped away from the forefront of their mind, Diavolo took over for them. Doppio wouldn’t be handling any Stand Users any time soon. If his enemies sensed anything different about him, they didn’t show it and simply charged at him. Fools, the lot of them. Epitaph would spell their doom out for him.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The taste of iron filled his mouth but he welcomed it as a distraction. He could feel it burning through his flesh. His own stomach acid or what he believed it to be. They must’ve severed some part of it when they slashed through his side. The knife had dug deep and even now, he could feel its teeth ripping through him. Kind Crimson retaliated just as quickly but the damage was still done. The only thing keeping him together was his dumb purple sweater and even that was slipping through his fingers. Doppio would be upset. He really liked this sweater.

Doppio. He hadn’t thought about doing that. They had already made it to one of their many safe houses and he was already so tired...Maybe, he could handle it. If just for a little while.

He knew it was pointless. Switching back and forth did nothing for them. They shared the same body after all. His wounds wouldn’t magically disappear when Doppio appeared and nor would Doppio's. But maybe, if Doppio just took it—and only for a little while—, he’d be able to recover enough to deal with their wounds. He just need some time...

As Doppio took over, Diavolo felt the pain slip away from him. It was like he just pushed off his blankets. It was still there but just away from him. From his mind. Yes, he’d deal with it later but right now, he just needed to relax...

But he couldn’t relax. Something was still wrong with them. He wasn’t meant to just accept it. He was supposed to fight it. No, fix it. That’s what he always did. He fixed things for them. Not Doppio.

Doppio, for his part, had taken things quite well. Blood was still gushing from their side and still soaking their sweater but he hadn’t panicked.

As he spoke, Diavolo quickly figured out the problem. "Uh...Well, I guess I must’ve spilt something?" He was delusional. Great.

Their breath quickened as another stream of blood came from their mouth. They grew lighter by the second as blood seeped from the wound but their mind shared the same sensation. Diavolo knew that and while he couldn’t feel it, he could see the facts as they were.

As his glazed eyes passed over the wound, Doppio only saw a stained sweater. "Did I try to cook something again? Maybe it’s ketchup?"

It wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t! Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he just say it? Didn’t they have enough excuses already?! Diavolo wanted to scream. He would do it. He wasn’t afraid to. One simple switch would be all he needed. He’d take over and scream for the both of them. They both wanted to so why couldn’t he!

But they didn’t share in their pain. Doppio ignored it and right now, Diavolo couldn’t feel it. Nothing could be done about that.

"Was I trying to make lunch then?" His laugh sprayed blood on the floor. "Hopefully Trish had something besides fruit..."

Wait. Trish? Oh shit! Who would feed Trish? She might be able to make sandwiches but that couldn’t sustain a child. How would she survive without him?

Before he too became a rambling mess, Diavolo quickly paused in his thoughts. They didn’t need this right now. As he resumed control, the pain from before welcomed him. His legs buckled under him and as he caught himself from falling, his side maintained its momentum. Blood spewed forth from their side and he could feel the word darken simultaneously.

They were probably going to die here. He could imagine them finding their body. Blood loss from a knife wound on their side. That would be as much as they got of course. If they tried to identify him, they would be in for a surprise at least. Five? Ten? Twenty? How many identities would they find before they drew their own conclusions. It might take a while for his own operatives to figure out what happened. When they finally did, he wondered how Passione would split up afterwards. Heck, someone may claim to have been the Boss the whole time. Maybe, it would work out for them.

But part of that was a lie. There was someone who did know them even though they refused to say his name correctly.

Finally, the weight of their eyelids overcame their will to see.

Five.

Four.

He couldn’t help but count away the seconds to his demise. It felt necessary at this point.

Three.

Two.

One.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Ten seconds had felt like hours. As he wiped his hands on his sweater, he figured whatever the enemy Stand was would remain a mystery. Though, from what he did see, it was able to create very realistic delusions. Whatever Epitaph had showed him proved as much. Of course, after he erased it, he didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

After dumping the bodies into the dumpster, Diavolo remained as he was. There were certain precautions he needed to fulfill before any switching could occur.

When he entered the apartment, Trish raised an eyebrow at his presence but remained silent. The lunch he made was adequate at the very least.

In the evenings, when they were watching movies, he wondered if Trish cared for his presence. He didn’t talk much and he definitely wasn’t as enthusiastic as Doppio when it came to many things. Diavolo wasn’t the priest but he wasn’t much better either. But whenever she said their peculiar nicknames, she always held the same enthusiasm for each. Did she know?..Probably not but maybe a part of her did.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside the door once again. It was around twelve o’clock and the weather was sunny. After all, they had to be some consistency between the two of them.

Chapter Text

Out of all the gangs in Italy, one stood out amongst them all. Passione seemed to have a monopoly on all manner of vice within the peninsula from gambling to smuggling. His first contact with its members ended in disaster. While investigating a drug ring, he managed to come across some of the smugglers during a stakeout. Three out of the five turned out to be Stand Users. As the fight began his hope for success dwindled considerably but his experience managed to save him. If he hadn’t fled, they surely would’ve killed him.

He was pretty sure they would’ve come after him too but their bodies were soon discovered a few days later. From the wounds on their bodies, maybe they weren’t from Passione after all. However, regardless of where they were from, their presence told him enough. Stand Users attract Stand Users after all and when they’re all concentrated in criminal activities, violence is bound to occur.

Which was why the Stand arrows had to be found.

Luckily for him, Passione's creation coincided well with the Stand User's appearances. Whoever sold the arrows to Enya was definitely in Italy and from his investigation in Sardinia, the name Diavolo came to mind.

But a name wasn’t enough to find the man. No one could cut off their past so smoothly. DIO couldn’t do that even after a hundred years passed. There was more to the past than a fire and the arrows. There had to be.

Passione was a gang but its widespread influence left it with some insecurities. There had to be someone besides the Boss who knew what was going on. All he needed to do was find them.

Chapter Text

After the fire, Diavolo didn’t really stay in one place for a very long time. He moved around without a care in the world for a while until he started Passione but his location still varied. It needed to. If he stayed in one place for too long, who knew what type of people would track him down and murder him. He had accepted this as his reality. Running an organization like Passione was inherently risky and his identity soon became his most preserved secret. No one would find him. No one would know him. Every part of his past would be annihilated before it could ever harm him.

That was how it was supposed to be but life found a way to be unpredictable. The apartment wasn’t home. It was just one of the many safe houses he had in the city and one of hundreds he had in Italy. It wasn’t very roomy and the neighborhood wasn’t particularly good. Heck, a robber broke in that one time. He ultimately determined it wasn’t necessary to leave then but there wasn’t a real reason to stay either. Technically, he wasn’t even the person renting it. Tazzo Vuoto had been renting the place since the year 1986 and with his consistent paying schedule, the landlord never visited. Which was a good thing because they didn’t exist. Of course, no one besides him knew that so using the apartment's address wasn’t necessarily dangerous.

But it still felt wrong. Everything about this felt wrong. The paperwork in front of him stood as a contradiction to his life philosophy. Diavolo didn’t want to exist anywhere besides his own mind. It was a name that would pass from history but a presence that would engulf the world. That would remain the case here but the paperwork still needed to be signed by someone. Maybe he could homeschool Trish. She had practically disappeared off the face of the earth as well so it wouldn’t have been difficult bypassing the system. But weren’t those just excuses? Besides, he didn’t have a rather foolproof education either. The priest might’ve stressed education but he hardly practiced it. Homeschooling wasn’t really an option then and the idea of a private tutor was just as ridiculous.

Someone still needed to sign the paperwork and it wasn’t going to be him.

"Dia, what are you looking at?"

"Paperwork, Trish. You wouldn’t find it very interesting."

Despite his words, she stared intently at the paper. He could at least say with some certainty that her vocabulary had expanded since their first meeting. She still never bothered calling him by his full name, though.

"Sch-ool," she sounded it out. "School. Am I going to school?"

"Well, nothing’s decided-"

"School! I’m going to school!" Her eyes lit up with an unfamiliar joy. "Yay!"

As she ran around the room, his focus returned to the paper. Several boxes remained unchecked. Each one asked for impossible things: names, addresses, documents. He could give several but none of them sounded right. No one cared for Tazzo Vuoto or Solido Naso, but they were him all the same. Giving one felt like compromising the other.

There had to be a way to get around this. He just needed to figure out how.

"Trish, I might need to leave the apartment for a while." The paperwork silently crumbled in his hand as he walked to the door. "Doppio should arrive within an hour. Think you’ll be fine alone until then?.

If she noticed the paper, Trish made no comment on it. "Yeah, I’ll be fine." However, before he could escape, a surprise hug sprung at him. He intercepted it with grace. Epitaph was proven useful once again. "Have a good day."

"I will." He awkwardly patted her head. "Just don’t give Doppio a headache, okay?"

She smiled before adding, "Dopey."

He rolled his eyes. Still with those silly nicknames...While he left the apartment to avoid his problems, there was something he needed to do. As Doppio of course. He hadn’t been seen in public for a while now.

"Can you repeat that Boss? I’m just kinda confused by what you mean."

The pay phone's line was still replaying instructions as he replied, "It is fine Doppio. I was just wondering how you would go about signing paperwork?" Silence permeated on both their ends. He worded that really weirdly, didn’t he?

Working with what he got, Doppio replied, "Well, I would be honest? Maybe? I guess it depends on what I’m signing. Is there something going on, Boss? I mean I know how you are with your identity-"

"Everything's fine Doppio," he lied. "Don’t worry about it."

"...Okay Boss." That had hurt. While even Doppio didn’t know his real name, their real name technically, there was some sort of trust between them. Doppio didn’t question orders but a part of him still cared to a fault. It didn’t really matter, though. "Is there anything you need me to do, Boss? I’m always here if you need me."

Diavolo felt like laughing. He had no idea..."No, there’s nothing at the moment. Just head to the apartment and take care of Trish like always."

"Hey, that’s something! Oh and don’t worry. Trish is always well behaved so everything will work at well..." His words faltered at the end. Why did he say that again?

The Boss interrupted his thoughts, "Doppio, I’m hanging up now."

"Okay Boss. Have a good-"

Beep and the line was dead. Hopefully the Boss got the message. Doppio sighed. The Boss sounded more stressed than usual which was saying a lot given his job. He probably needed some time to relax or a vacation, but knowing the Boss that wouldn’t happen. If it was dangerous in Italy, the rest of the world wouldn’t be spared from the Boss's paranoid eyes. He should probably leave it at that for now.

While he traveled through the city everyday, it still took him thirty minutes to find the apartment again. As he stumbled into the apartment, Trish waved at him before returning to her toys. Her expression was neutral but there was a sullen look in her eyes.

"Is there anything wrong Trish?"

"No," she replied curtly.

"Okay...Do you want to do anything today? The Boss didn’t specify any chores so there’s not much else to do." He had yet to check the notebook but he figured he could postpone things for a while.

"Nope. I’m fine here."

He sighed. At least, he could get a head start on those chores. Though, the all important notebook was nowhere to be seen. He was sure he left it on the table last time he was here. Maybe, he left it in the kitchen. Stumbling through the living room, Doppio caught on all manner of furniture before making it safely to the hallway.

The counter was still cluttered with dishes and glasses from the day's breakfast. His brows furrowed at the sight of it before his expression returned to normal. After piling the dishes in the sink, he combed over the kitchen for the notebook. Several checks later, he determined the notebook was definitely not there.

"Maybe someone moved it?"

He said someone despite there only being one option. He supposed she might’ve seen where he misplaced it.

"Hey, Trish. Did you see the notebook anywhere? I think I accidentally-? What are you writing on?" As he looked over her shoulder, she quickly hid the paper from his view. It didn’t look like the notebook at least.

After looking between the phone and him, Trish whispered, "If I show you what it is, do you promise not to tell Dia?"

Doppio blanked at the name. Dia. Dia? That was a name, right? She wasn’t just mispronouncing the word diamond.

He would’ve thought on it longer if she didn’t interrupt, "You have to promise Dopey."

"Okay, I promise." Promise what exactly?

Seemingly satisfied with the iffy replay, Trish continued, "Okay, here."

After smoothing out the piece of paper, she laid it on the table and moved over to give him a better view of it. His heart quickened at the sight of it, though, he couldn’t figure out why. It was just some paperwork for registering into a school. He had passed by the establishment a couple of times during his missions. Of course, it always tended to be at night but that was always the best time to get rid of bodies.

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" His failure to reply spurred her to continue, "Can you help me fill it out?"

"Oh, sure," he spoke with confidence despite his own poor penmanship. The look on her face was worth it, though.

Despite the task appearing to be small, filling out the document took up most of the day. Some of the lines were easy to write in like the names and address but for others he simply lacked the information. Immunizations, birth certificates, proof of custody. He ended up making up half the stuff, though, he didn’t tell her that. If he did, he was sure she would’ve forced him to actually find everything. With Passione's resources, Doppio might’ve been actually able to do it but only if the Boss allowed him. Of course, he already promised not to tell him so it wasn’t like he could ask either.

After the document was filled in, Trish neatly folded it and placed it on the table. "When he gets back, I’ll show it to him. I’m sure Dia will be happy we filled it out for him."

"I’m sure he will be...Hey, Trish. Have you seen a notebook anywhere?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah, in Dia's bedroom."

"Oh thanks!" Now, he could finally start on those chores. Trish watched him leave the living room and when he returned, she noticed his eyes were off. Like they were before...

"I just got a call from...the Boss! I might be gone for tonight. Think you’ll be fine?"

She knew it was a formality at this point or at least, a part of her did. "Yeah, I’ll be fine."

"Great!" His usual enthusiasm was lacking. "See you later..."

He left without another word but returned soon after. As he entered the apartment, his eyes fell upon the document without any prompting.

"Did you and Doppio work on it?" he asked despite knowing the answer.

"Yep. We finished it in a single day." Her words were laced with a naive confidence.

It spurred a small smile from him, regardless. "Impressive. I’ll be sure to send it in when I get the chance."

He’d have to do it over again but they didn’t need to know it.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Despite his failings, Doppio had brought up a good point. Using the resources of Passione, registering Trish for school could be a hitch. Of course, a problem arose when it came to the subject matter. Passione was an organization but like any organization, it was run by people and people talked. Using a influential gang's resources to send a child to kindergarten was inherently suspicious. There was bound to be a few raised eyebrows and if any of those eyes focused too intently, problems were bound to arise. Which meant it had to be a tight nit affair.

Luckily for him, there was another person who knew about Trish besides himself and Doppio. They had only met once, however.

It was once his voice but it still felt weird using it.

Diavolo cleared his throat before continuing, "These orders come straight from the Boss, Pericolo. Treat them with the utmost seriousness."

"As you wish, sir. Is there anything you would like to add?"

"No."

After confirming the line was dead, Pericolo quickly dialed in another number. The Boss specified the less people involved in the operation, the better. While he didn’t like the man very much, Pericolo figured he was the best person for gain the necessary forgeries.

It took two more dials before the man answered, "Yes, who may I ask is speaking?"

"Mr. Murolo, these orders are of the utmost importance. I trust you will listen well." It wasn’t a question.

The man's laugh echoed through the phone, "Sure. I will gladly listen."

This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

He would’ve liked to think he was being inconspicuous with his research into Passione but apparently he was worst than he thought. A single phone call managed to prove this at least.

"Hello Monsieur Polnareff. I presume your search has proved fruitless so far, correct?"

"May I ask what you are referring to?"

"No need to play dumb or as you would call it stupide. You know very well what we are about to discuss."

"...Give me a minute."

"I’ll give you thirty seconds. I’m not really one for wasting time."

Placing the man on hold, he considered his options carefully. This wasn’t a surprise in hindsight. While the scope of Passione was still unknown to him, they had enough eyes and ears to figure out something was going on. The few political assassinations that popped up had to come from somewhere and the name Passione was sparsely mentioned afterwards.

So they knew he was after them but they hadn’t sent anyone yet. This was a phone call and from what he heard, they weren’t known for their threats. Only their silences.

As his thirty seconds ran out, he picked up the phone again, "Fine. I’m open to conversation but would you mind if it get a glass of wine first. I feel like I would need it for whatever’s about to go down."

"As I’ve already told you, I’m a man who values time. There is no need for any of that. This isn’t going to last that long after all and I would prefer if you didn’t forget any of it."

Polnareff leaned back into his chair and summoned Silver Chariot to his side. This phone call could turn out to be a distraction.

"I'm all ears."

"Très bon! Very good! As I have told you, this will be very short. In fact it is only a name." He could feel his shoulders tense. A name. If this stranger knew his intentions, could this name be the man he has been searching for..."Trish Una. Do with that what you will."

A woman then? But he swore the prison talked about a baby boy. Had his lead been wrong the whole time? No, that couldn’t have been right. His curiosity needed to be sated.

"Is that it? How did you even come across-"

"Monsieur! So many questions, so little time. I’m sure you can already guess my responsibilities within Passione so you should know better than to ask away. Though, maybe that would actually be the perfect reason...Eh, who cares. I’m only giving you anything, monsieur, because I see potential in this relationship. Be thankful I even bothered calling you."

"But why? Why would you betray your own organization?"

"...I never trusted anyone, good or bad. I never felt guilty for betraying them. I never distinguished between right and wrong. I never understood the difference between God and the Devil." He paused. "I’ve been using your mother tongue throughout this conversation. I know many languages but there is one that I feel with answer your question easily. In espanol, the words 'but why' is translated as 'por que.' Similarly the word 'because' is 'porque.' So when you say, 'Por que.', I reply the same, 'Porque.'...Heh, heh. It has been a pleasure. Good bye."

And with that, he was alone.

He knew better than to trust the stranger. They were a part of Passione and that supported an inherent distrust. But by calling him, the man was putting themselves in danger. There was no reason why he did it. He had proven as much with his last words. In the end, if the lead went nowhere he would be in the same place he was at the beginning.

There was no harm in following it.

Chapter Text

When did his life stop making sense. Was it when he met his mother or when the priest discovered her under the floorboards? Was it after the town erupted in flames or when he found the arrows? Maybe it was when he found Trish. Yeah, that was probably it. Before, he would’ve never allowed anyone who knew his real name to live. A bed six feet under was suitable for them, not a crib. Though, she had outgrown it a while ago.

Yes. There were many things Trish had brought into his life. Stuffed animals, toy trains, cartoons. From there it only escalated. Maybe that was why he didn’t notice it. How a life he would’ve preferred to be isolated forever within webs of telephones and computers slowly shifted to one of a worried parent. Sure, he was still involved in Passione but he expected that would be his only connection to the outside world. Now he was using said connection to get his daughter into school. Which only turned out to be just as stressful as everything else.

"...Backpack, check. Pencils, check. Crayons, check. Lunch, check...Knife, check..." He hadn’t taught her how to use one yet but one couldn’t be too sure. It was hidden well enough that no one would’ve noticed it anyway.

After running though the list for the fifteenth time, Diavolo finally turned his attention to the final pieces of the puzzle. Earlier that night, he had written an extensive list full of instructions for Doppio to follow which he ultimately tossed in the trash. After making another list and revising and reworking it twenty times, he shredded it. Ultimately, he settled for a map which would be disposed of when Doppio returned home after walking Trish to school. After all, they only needed to walk between the apartment and the school once. They would drive to school for the rest of the year and hopefully, for the rest of her schooling. This was just in case he wasn’t able to pick her up. Just in case...

"Dia, what are you doing?" her voice strained his ears. How was she talking so loudly?

"Go to bed Trish, Dia's working."

He could feel her pull at his sleeve but his eyes remained on the map. He had to make sure everything was correct...

"Go to bed Dia. The light's annoying," she whined.

"Your room's down the hallway Trish. Just close the door and you’ll be fine."

"Dia."

He erased a line on the map and replaced the route. It would be safer if they went that way instead.

"Dia?"

But maybe it would be more scenic if they went the other way. Trish might remember it more...

"Dia!"

He buried his face into his hands. "What is it Trish?"

"Go. To. Bed." She demanded. "I’m sleepy. You’re sleepy. Go to bed."

"...Fine," he hissed. As he tried to collect his supplies, Trish held his arm down.

"No."

Fine. It’s not like this wasn’t important or anything. It was just school. Just stupid school.

He allowed her to drag him to his room and after making sure he wasn’t going to sneak back to the living room, she finally left and returned to her own room. Not before slamming the door behind her, though. As the darkness of the room petered out into familiar shapes, Diavolo settled for acceptance. He would finish his preparations tomorrow. The map was fine. There wasn’t anything else he could do for them now. Tomorrow, everything would be Trish and Doppio's responsibility. He would only act if anything happened and nothing was going to. Even with Doppio's abysmal luck, his plan was foolproof.

Nothing bad could possibly happen. Nothing. At. All.

His assurances fell on deaf ears, however. He was his only audience member and he knew the lies behind every trick.

But there was really nothing else he could do besides actually being there. Of course, that was just ridiculous. He was already putting himself at risk by simply allowing Trish to go to school in the first place. Doppio had to deal with it. That was his job after all.

There was also the matter with the emergency contact list. If Trish was ever in danger and needed help, he would obviously be her first person to call. The police would ironically be the next step but seeing as most of them were already in his paid grade, he didn’t feel like trusting them too much. Trish needed options at the very least. Pericolo might’ve not been a bad choice but the man didn’t look like one to fight. However, the man did have contacts. He would be able to call the right people if he wasn’t available. If Trish knew where she was, Pericolo would be able to easily send members in the area to deal with whatever was going on.

Two to three numbers weren’t enough, though. There had to be someone else. Someone who had the same level of dedication Pericolo had. Someone who would give their life for him.

Maybe not someone. Maybe three people...

So that was the emergency contact list then. With that taken care of there wasn’t much to worry about now. And yet, his mind insisted on continuing his paranoid practices. At one point he convinced himself using Epitaph whenever it was available was the best thing he could do but as soon as the plan was put in his mind, his focus shifted elsewhere. In the end, it was his exhaustion that eventually drove him to sleep. Uncomfortable sleep but sleep none the less.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As she opened the door, light from the living room streamed down the hallway. The sound of early morning cartoons caught her attention and when she looked around the corner, a familiar sight greeted her.

Half dressed and hardly awake, Diavolo calmly drank a wine glass full of coffee while staring at the tv, his focus clearly elsewhere. At the sound of her footsteps, Diavolo motioned towards the cereal bowl already waiting on the table.

As she sat down next to him, he croaked, "Sleep well?" She nodded. "Good. Very good..." After taking another swig of his coffee, he handed her a slip of paper. "Keep this on you at all times. It’s for emergencies."

While she looked over the numbers, committing them to memory, Diavolo stood up and slowly dragged himself to the door. As he opened the door, her attention returned to him.

"You’re leaving?"

"...We’ve talked about this Trish. I already told you-"

"...you have work to do. I know." Her words fell into a whisper.

He sighed. "Oh Trish...I’m sorry, it has to be this way." Despite his condolences, he remained where he was.

Trish only shook her head at his words before leaping forward for a hug. Like those years before, he caught her effortlessly with Epitaph's warning. As they hugged, Diavolo could feel her tears fall into his hair.

"I hope you have a good day, Dia..." There was no bitterness in her voice as she spoke. Even if he never told her, she understood why they had to do this. Even if she never understood them either.

"I will and I wish the same onto you." He lowered her gently onto the floor. "You remember the game plan?"

She wiped away her tears before nodding. "Wait until Doppio arrives, grab the backpack, help Doppio with the map, and-"

"Have a good day. Doppio will then pick you up after school or..."

"Or?"

"I might have the time to do it instead. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" she cheered.

He smiled at her reaction. "Good. Now, remember, the notebook's on the table, keep the emergency contacts on at all times, don’t forget to brush your teeth-"

"Dad!"

"Sorry, I couldn’t help it." His smile regressed into his usual expression and with one step, the apartment door closed.

And she was alone.

Trish wanted to be angry. She wanted to open the apartment door and yell at him. Didn’t he know how important this was to her? She was going to school! She was going to learn and meet her classmates, her teachers. Why couldn’t he just be there for her?

She didn’t slam the door open, though. She didn’t scream or yell her heart out either. Instead, she walked back to her breakfast and silently watched cartoons until a familiar face opened the door. One of the few differences between the one who left and the one who came back was a purple sweater.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As Doppio stumbled behind her, Trish was already staring down the entrance. While she had passed through the revolving doors plenty of times before, something felt different this time around. She was going to school. No longer would she explore the enclosed walls of the apartment. Now, there was going to be a classroom. Now, there was going to be a playground. It would be fun. It would be exciting. It would be new. She stilled loved the apartment but she had spent most of her life stuck there. The times she did go out were far and few between and even then, she never got a opportunity to explore the outside world by herself.

This was her chance and she wasn’t going to throw it away. Her first steps to freedom would be her own. As she passed through the revolving door, however, she caught a familiar voice.

"Wait Trish-"

Before she could hear what he was going to say, the door had already come around. Finding herself right outside the apartment doorway, her nerves suddenly struck her. Gosh. She was really alone now, wasn’t she? While it was still early in the morning, a few people were already out and about on the sidewalk. Their heights varied amongst them but in the eyes of the six year old, they were like tall trees crowding her vision. Maybe first steps can include some back pedaling. Dia did have something to tell her after all. Walking back inside, Doppio was waiting for her instead with Dia no where in sight.

"Trish, don’t leave so suddenly! You know better than that."

"...Sorry Dopey. I was just excited about going to school."

He practically leapt backwards. "School? You’re going to school! That’s great!"

"Yep, it's really cool...So are we going or-?"

"Oh right. The map says we should go out the back entrance." He offered the map to her. "Take a look at it if you want to."

As she looked over it, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Most of the route sacrificed speed for safety. From the few erased pencil lines she could spot, Dia's first route was much shorter. It passed through several alleyways and there were multiple times the lines went over walls rather than sidewalks. Most of this was scraped for a more public route although a couple alleyways were kept. After looking over the map again, Trish found several pencil lines scattered throughout the map. There were definitely more than two paths Dia thought of. Thank goodness she stopped him last night.

Taking the back entrance actually saved them a block, though.

Keeping the map to herself, Trish reluctantly walked away from the front door. Doppio followed after her and made no attempt to retrieve the map.

As they followed the map (along with a few of Trish's own improvisations), they settled for an awkward silence. Doppio simply had nothing to comment while Trish was distracting herself with the map. The nerves that had crept up after her "first steps to freedom" were still swarming in her head and ignoring them seemed better in the moment. However, as they got closer to their destination, her distraction was starting to prove inadequate.

What was school even like? She had read plenty of books featuring a school setting but most of them were definitely dramatized and in high school. Besides, people couldn’t be that mean, right? Setting that thought aside, Trish realized she needed another reference.

Noticing her sideways glance, Doppio's posture shrunk.

"Dopey, do you remember your first day of school?"

The question hit him like an avalanche. Figuratively speaking but it felt real enough. As he met with a face full of concrete and subsequent darkness, Trish barely had time to panic before he sprung up like he didn’t have a bloody nose.

As he sat up, he gave the best excuse he could, "I tripped! Sorry if I startled you." Her speechlessness spurred him to continue. "Um, I’m sorry but what was your question?"

"...Your nose is bleeding."

"Oh. That happens all the time," he lied. "I’ll go away eventually. Now that question." His green eyes lacked his usual naiveness. Instead, Trish felt like he was daring her to continue on no fault of her own.

Her voice came softly but her question was still clear, "What was your first day of school like?"

He smiled lacked any geniality. "Well, I was homeschooled so I don’t have much to say but I did know some people who did go." There was a hint of anger in his eyes as he continued. "They said they were nervous at first but that the environment was welcoming enough they felt right at home quickly. Does that answer your question."

His tone suggested he didn’t want a reply. She settled for a nod.

"Good. Now, can I see the map please."

Silence soon returned and for the rest of their walk, they followed the path Dia had set up the night before. When they arrived at the gate, it was still locked. Instead of consulting the notebook on his next task, Doppio sat besides the gate and stared into the school. With there being nothing else to do, she followed in his steps but kept her focus on him. Within the short time they had arrived, his nose had already stopped bleeding. Noticing her gaze, he wiped the dried blood on his sleeve and kept staring ahead. After a solid five minutes of waiting, someone finally appeared to unlock the gate.

"Hello there," the woman greeted them. "You do know school starts in an hour, right?"

"Your point?" he answered plainly.

The lady did her best to hide her glare with an overly enthusiastic smile as she continued. "So are the both of you excited for a new year?"

Before he could reply, Trish quickly took up the conversation, "Yes. I'm going to school for the first time."

"Really?" she cooed. "Congratulations. I’m happy to have you as a student. My name is Mrs. Luxottica. What’s your name?"

"Trish."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you Trish." Her smile faded as she addressed him. "And what is your name?"

"You don’t need to know it. I’m just here to drop and pick Trish up."

Finally taking the hint, the Mrs. Luxottica didn’t bother addressing him again. As other kids and parents started filing into the school, Mrs. Luxottica greeted each group enthusiastically and left them alone. After enough students had entered the school, Doppio finally stood up.

"Think you’ll be fine heading in or do you think you can find your classroom?"

There were already a few people her age gathering around one of the doors. She could guess where she needed to go.

"I think I’ll be fine..."

"Good..." His gaze shifted between her and the school. For a moment, she thought his eyes changed colors but as his eyes settled on her, they were their normal green. Though, weren’t the gold before? "Trish, if you have any trouble, I want you to call me, ok? I’ll be there before you know it..."

It was a promise in everything but word. Knowing the both of them, she knew better than to take it lightly.

"Okay." She would do her best to keep it too. A nervous smile soon decorated his face. After tousling her hair, he turned away to leave but she intercepted his escape with a hug. While his first instincts were to push her away, he managed to return it soon after. "I love you."

"I...love you too."

With that, she ran into the school and left him at the entrance. He watched her as she joined her fellow classmates before making his way back to the apartment. There were still things he needed to do.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Even as he walked away from the school, he was still trying to convince himself he made the right decision. Besides having more free time to improve Passione, Trish was allowed to enjoy school and meet more people. Meet more people. Meet more people... But they had discussed that already. Trish had already promised to not mention him or Doppio to anyone. If her teacher asked for her guardians name she would reply Cavo Viso. It already matched the records and while some may question the differences between their last names, they wouldn’t find anything. He had double checked it himself. It was foolproof.

Besides, it wasn’t like he could keep her in the apartment for the rest of her life. With school, Trish had an outlet to explore the world. She wouldn’t ask to got out as often as she did before if she already spent the majority of her time outside already. The apartment could serve as her retreat then.

Yes. Sending Trish to school was the right decision. If not for her sake then for his. Passione's expanding territory required a daily maintenance and with the freed up hours, he would be able to attend to it more. Rumors of traitors were already making their yearly rounds. The guard squad were managing it well enough but Doppio was growing restless for his own share in the extermination. How else could he prove himself to the Boss if he didn’t kill would-be usurpers. As the apartment entered his line of sight, he already had a mission in mind. Maybe even Tiziano and Squalo could join him. They were in the area for awhile last time he checked.

As he entered the small lobby, several people were crowded around the nearby phone, each one waiting their turn. He preferred using the phone booth the next block over for this particular reason. After receiving several glares from the would-be callers, he continued on his way although not before snapping the line with King Crimson. As the whines and curses met his ears, he had the sole satisfaction of knowing that was because of him.

Following that small excursion, the trek to the apartment was boring and after fishing out his keys, the door finally opened.

His eyes caught the problem immediately. There were many advantages to having a second set of memories. Besides providing a decent cover, Doppio was always a good reference to compare to. The apartment he had left was messy and as he looked over it, nothing much had changed. Except a couple things. Insignificant to most people but not to him.

The mail, useless advertisements mostly, was still grouped together but in a different order. The newspaper, which was usually scattered about, was now organized. Trish never bothered with the newspaper and if she had, he would’ve known. When Doppio walked in, the room was just as he remembered-

Click.

The sound was familiar. He had faced its source many times alongside empty threats.

"Tazzo Vuoto. I know who you are."

Chapter Text

Across their journey to DIO's mansion, they had ran into plenty of Stand Users. Each one of them were assassins in their own right but some meetings were too coincidental. How did the Sun's user know they would be passing through that part of the dessert? If they had taken another route, could they have avoided the fight entirely? And what of their last encounter with Hol Horse? He had no idea what the heck was going on there...But in the end, they had their battles and victories. What might’ve been coincidence simply turned into what was bound to happen.

However, the day had definitely taken a turn. Whether it was for the better or for the worse, had yet to be determined.

His original plan had him waiting at the school the record mentioned and following the person who dropped Trish Una off. In this scenario, he would’ve successfully tracked down his target while avoiding conflict with an innocent girl. DIO might’ve employed people younger than her but he would rather not fight a six year old. After following the target, he would only do some reconnaissance but with his luck, there would a fight and a few broken bones. Hopefully, with Silver Chariot by his side, it would end with a criminal in jail and the arrows in the Speedwagon Foundation's custody.

So his plan wasn’t foolproof but at least, he had some semblance on what would happen. However, reality decided to kick in and as his only lead walked out of a seemingly normal apartment building, everything was thrown out the window. When the girl didn’t disappear as another car passed, he became certain she wasn’t just his imagination acting up again due to any lack of sleep. In an instant, the first part of his plan was obsolete.

As the girl retreated back through the revolving door, he finally became aware of the honking cars behind him and turned. If his eyes weren’t fooling him, things had definitely become easier. If they were heading to the school now, the apartment would be empty. He wouldn’t even need to chance an encounter with his target if he went now. Everything just seemed like it was coming together. If fate was going to be on his side, there was no reason to reject its offer.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The landlord looked over the forged badge with indifference. The Speedwagon Foundation had provided it per his request and while he had yet to perfect his Italian Accent, he hoped the man wasn’t suspecting anything. With a slight shrug, the man finally returned the badge and got up from his chair. Grabbing his keys, the man motioned him to follow and they started making their way to the apartment.

"Tazzo Vuoto. I always thought that guy was suspicious."

"You’ve met him before?" he stammered.

"Nope. In fact, when he set up the apartment, he requested there would be no fancy greeting. There wasn’t going to be one but I just figured the man kept to himself."

"How about rent then?"

"He always paid on time so there was no reason to barge in. Hell, he’s been my best client since that old lady who lived in 309. The doctors said she died of asphyxiation. Never figured out the cause." He supposed they never checked the air conditioning unit then. "Anyway. Mind if I ask what crime you’re investigating him for? I prefer to know in case it endangers anyone else."

Polnareff had no reason to believe him but by there was no reason not to give an explanation ... "Drug dealing. Of course, at this point it’s only an investigation so..." Technically, he wasn’t lying. Passione might’ve been somewhat known for their clean street policy but in practice, they were just as guilty.

The landlord took a second to reply, "I see."

With that, the conversation died out until they arrived at apartment.

After knocking on the door and receiving no reply, the landlord unlocked the door and opened it for him. "I’ll be hanging out here until your done unless you want me to call other officers or something."

"No that will be unnecessary. Local authorities are supposed to be unaware of this case."

"Is it that big of a deal?"

"I am unable to disclose that information. Now if you will excuse me."

As he entered the apartment he caught a final glare before settling his focus on the living room. To his surprise, the room was painfully average. If the landlord said he got the apartment wrong, he would’ve believed him in an instant. However, when he failed to make the correction, Polnareff was dumbfounded. After sifting through the mail, which was besides the tv and right in the open, he concluded it was just ads. Though, he supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised. Of course, the guy wouldn’t trust the post office. There were a few books stacked on the table in the center of the room but all of them where children’s books. The newspaper had nothing written on it and after reorganizing it, he returned it to the table. As he went through the rest of the apartment, he discovered nothing else of note. The supposed boss's bedroom did have a dresser but it only contained clothes and an assortment of purple sweaters. The search had ultimately proved fruitless. The arrows were elsewhere.

The landlord greeted him on his way out, "So did you find anything?"

"Once again, I can’t say, however, may I request something?" The man motioned him to continue. "When Tazzo Vuoto returns to the apartment, can you contact me? I would highly appreciate it."

"Sure but how would I do that? I don’t have your phone number or anything."

"Good point...Mind if we return to your office? I’ll be able to write it down for you there."
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Tazzo Vuoto. I know who you are."

The voice was unfamiliar but he had never been good with voices. Faces. He could remember faces pretty easily. Of course, with a gun to his back, he couldn’t really see his assailant.

The man continued, ignorant of the exact mess he had gotten himself into, "Did you really think you could continue your business without telling me about it. Of course, I wouldn’t mind it if you at least give me a share of your earnings..."

Wait?! Was he hearing this right? Was this idiot trying to blackmail him? Heck, it didn’t sound like he had a clue of what was going on.

At first, he thought it was funny. How could anyone in his position think of it as anything else? Blackmail was a precarious investment. It only really worked on people who had a reputation and who wanted to keep it. While he did have a "reputation," it wasn’t something that could be easily compromised. Besides, the way the man threatened it suggested he had no idea what he was getting into. To say the very least, the word "earnings" didn’t really apply to him.

It only took a second for his paranoia to kick in afterwards, though. The world blackened out around him as King Crimson appeared by his side. In an instant, the landlord found himself removed from his place of power and instead, against the wall. An invisible force held him by his neck and slowly choked him as he rose from the ground. The once unassuming teenager had seemingly disappeared and in his place, a similarly dressed man stood in front of him. The lack of a logical explanation kept his mind from connecting the dots.

"Why did you decide to pull this stunt?! What was it? Who was it?!" he hissed.

The words caught in his throat at he tried to reply. Diavolo could feel the man's bones shift under King Crimson's fingers and as the man's eyes rolled back, he knew he should’ve stopped. If the man was dead, there would be no way to get information out of him. Even as these thoughts entered his mind, he was not compelled to stop. This man had dared to threaten him. It was his fault any of this was happening. However, while it was paranoia that told him to kill the man, his own questions brought him back to his senses. There had to be some reason why the man choose to act now. Hell, it would’ve been more logical to strike when Trish was at the apartment. He would’ve gotten the chance to have a hostage if he had done that. Something was missing. As his grip subconsciously loosened, the man fell to the floor and attempted to crawl away. King Crimson rewarded his attempt to escape with a kick in the ribs.

As the landlord squealed in pain, he reiterated, "There must’ve been something that drove you to this. If you tell me, I might have a reason to spare you."

While his words had been very clear, the landlord had failed to register them. "Call. I have to call them..." In fact, it appeared as if the man had become delirious. "Need to...Need to get to the phone."

He might’ve felt insulted on any other occasion but if the man was going to bring him unknowingly to the perpetrator, at least he wouldn’t have to keep up the mercy act.

"I have a phone you can use." He might as well feed the insanity.

"Thank you. Thank you..." He continued to spit nonsense as he helped him into his apartment. King Crimson did most of the heavy work, though.

When the man's eyes met the phone, he practically leapt for it. After taking out a small piece of paper, the man started aimlessly dialing the number. As his neck snapped between King Crimson's fingers, the Stand simultaneously grabbed the paper and handed it to its user. Diavolo took the number and studied it silently. Even as King Crimson retrieved a garbage bag, his gaze did not move. It was only once the body had been contained did his focus return to the phone.

He needed to make some calls...
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As he checked the clock for the seventh time, Polnareff felt the temperature of the car rising. Did the landlord forget to call him or did walking four blocks and back just take a really long time? He figured he was just getting impatient and settled for opening the window.

Logically, all he had to do was wait until the landlord called him. From there, if he played his cards right, he could pretend to be a door to door salesman and finally see the face of his enemy. With the Speedwagon Foundation’s resources, he would be able to track them and identify their contacts. With its members exposed and in custody, arresting the boss and finding the arrows would be easy. However, as he had discovered earlier, the arrows were not in the apartment. He knew Passione was connected to the rise of Stand Users in Italy but their exact connection to DIO remained unknown. Hermit Purple had provided him with a picture of a Sardinia beach front and after learning the history of the island as well as a devastating fire, he had drawn his own conclusions. This small morsel of information had taken him this far but even then, this whole business could lead him into a dead end. If the arrows weren’t connected to Passione, at the very least, he would be helping the peninsula by disposing of the gang. That was a positive.

The sound of the car door opening awoke him from his fantasies.

"Hey—I mean hello! I’m sorry about this but can we get this show on the road. I need to go to Senza Senso street now or else I’m going to be late for my job!" the teenager cried.

He supposed it was his fault he decided to drive a taxi. "I’m really sorry, sir. I’m afraid I’m off duty-"

While he was disposed to crying occasionally, the sudden flood that came from his passenger's eyes was unnatural. "Please! Please! If I don’t get there on time my manager says she’s going to fire me! I’ll even pay you double if you take me. Please..."

He knew better than to give the young man hope. This stakeout was important and if landlord called him, he needed to be on the scene. However, it was his fault the teen thought the taxi was available. At the very least, he should’ve locked the door or put up a sign. Driving to Senza Senso wouldn’t take that long and if he hurried, coming back around wouldn’t be that difficult. He already knew where his target lived so he wasn’t in a real hurry either.

Pity ultimately won out in the end. "Fine but don’t worry about paying extra. This is my job after all."

"Really? Thank you so much sir." The teen's voice hitched as he wiped his tears onto his sweater. "I really appreciate this."

"Think nothing of it," he replied as he merged into traffic. Although Senza Senso street was a few blocks away, Polnareff took the time to appreciate the architecture around him. Despite being in the city, the hilly geography served as a challenge to overcome. The buildings served as a testimony to this struggle and the staircase like way they advanced up the hills was impressive.

While he was taken with the style the city offered, his passenger looked disheveled. Never settling on one place, his gaze drifted sporadically. He originally chalked it up to nerves, however, as time passed, some things could not be so easily dismissed. What he assumed to be random glances soon approached staring territory. The teenager's gaze never left him for very long and even stranger, nor did it leave the phone. One of the reasons he had chosen to drive a taxi was because of its access to a phone. It also explained why he stayed in certain areas for long time but it was mostly the phone that made his decision. Mobile phones were slowly becoming available to the public, however, their bulky design was hardly pleasing or efficient. He had settled for the taxi in the end.

Before he could think about his passenger's odd behavior, the phone began to ring. Like a cat pouncing on a mouse, the teen immediately grabbed the phone and answered it honestly, "Hello? Who is it?"

The phone immediately began beeping which usually indicated the other line had hanged up. However, the conversation seemed to continue. Between long pauses, the teen would occasionally nod and confirm what the other person said. Except from what he could hear, no one was speaking back.

Just as quickly as the call began, it ended just as suddenly. "Ok. Thanks for the info."

After hanging up the phone, the teen leaned back into his seat like nothing had happened. However, his once random gaze had finally settled and now, he was just staring.

Right at him...

As the unknown Stand lunged at his head, Silver Chariot stabbed the front tires sending the car into a nearby building.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

When Polnareff awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t dead. The airbag had done its job and while he could feel some blood trickling down his forehead, nothing else seemed to be wrong with him. Unfortunately, his still intact front windshield suggested his enemy's seatbelt worked and the open door suggested he had fled too. While there was some logic in staying put and avoiding further conflict (he didn’t know if he had a concussion), he knew following after the teen had more promise. He was connected to Passione, there was no denying that. Whoever called the taxi had done it on purpose. Although he was not known for his detective skills, he had a decent idea of what had gone down.

The landlord had definitely been caught or he had turned against him. While the latter was definitely possible, he felt the former was more likely. There would’ve been no reason for the man to have let him into the apartment after all. From there, he could surmise that his target had discovered the phone number he had left. How he connected it to the taxi was another question. What mattered was they knew he was after them and had sent one of the gang's members. If Passione was a normal gang, he would’ve mocked the teen to being one of the low leveled lackeys. However, Passione was no normal gang and its boss hardly fitted the regular MO of a gang leader. If they were so guarded about their identity, dealing with traitors or would-be usurpers was probably a private affair. The teen might’ve looked skittish but there had to be a reason they had sent him.

Thus, chasing after him wasn’t a bad idea. As Silver Chariot cut down the door, Polnareff immediately spotted what looked to be the fleeing teen scamper into a nearby alleyway. While he did catch the eyes of some pedestrians, none of them followed after him as he ran from the car. The teen had been quick on his feet and the alley was already empty upon his arrival. However, a small trail of blood led him into a nearby church. The door was slightly ajar despite a nearby sign listing the church as closed for renovations. He was only slightly behind his assailant's footsteps so the chances of encountering him in the church were high. After taking a deep breath, Polnareff steeled his nerves and entered the small parish.

Nothing seemed to be off about the Church although its age shined through with its cracked ceiling tiles and decaying pews. Besides these eyesores, however, most of the church was unique. Though it lacked stained glass windows and well carved statues, its character was accented by stylized paintings of biblical events. The sanctuary was also well furnished with twisting candle stalks and cushioned chairs. If he had to criticize anything else, the fact that the candles were still out left room for a fire hazard. But he had no time to think on it. Maybe after he interrogated his attacker he could dispose of them.

While his attention was taken by the church's design, he did search for the assailant. When it became obvious they weren’t in the main part of the church, the only place left was the sacristy. Usually the sacristy was the most unimpressive part of any church and this one was no exception. Everything was accounted for: a sink, some drawers for the towels and the like, a locked cabinet for the vessels, and a dresser for the vestments. As he searched the areas where a person could possibly hide, a sudden sound came from the room over. Dashing from the dresser, Polnareff ran into the other room with Silver Chariot at the ready. However, what he saw was unexpected. There was a man wearing priestly garbs laying on the floor. Judging from the crease in the carpet, he must’ve tripped.

As Silver Chariot disappeared, he helped the poor priest up. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yes. I’m fine—" When the man met his gaze, he stumbled backwards. "Excuse me but the church is closed. We're undergoing renovations at the moment."

"My apologies, sir. I came here chasing a suspect. They broke into the church to flee so I followed after them."

"Is that so? I’m sorry to say I’ve seen no one here besides you."

"Really?..Does this church have a back entrance? If you could—"

In an instant, he was on the ground, his shoulder in agonizing pain. Swiping forward with Silver Chariot, he only managed to slice through air before the enemy Stand caught Silver Chariot's arm. As King Crimson wrenched Silver Chariot's arm backwards, Polnareff felt the full force behind it. As he screamed in pain, he failed to notice the approaching priest.

Diavolo lifted the man by his collar and slammed him into the nearby counter. "How did you find out about me?!" he hissed. "Who sent you?!"

Of course, the man was still dazed by his initial attack. Like with the landlord, he had felt the immediate desire to kill the man. Unfortunately, dead men had the habit of keeping things to themselves so the fool would have the pleasure of being alive for the moment. While a part of him wanted to give the man to El Dipartimento Tortura to deal with, he knew better then to trust those people. Besides, this involved his identity. Like he would trust anyone when it came to that.

"I said, who sent you."

When Polnareff failed to reply again, Diavolo settled for carving out one of his eyeballs. As his nails etched themselves into his eyelids, Polnareff struggled against his hold. To reward his efforts, Diavolo kneed him in his stomach before slashing at his face. The scratch managed to cut vertically across his eye and as blood dripped down his face, Polnareff's vision slowly petered out on his right eye. However, as the Stand User attacked him physically, the Stand's guard was left wide open. Breaking free from King Crimson's clutches, Silver Chariot released its armor and slashed at the enemy Stand. King Crimson managed to dodge most of the attack but Silver Chariot did manage to lacerate its knee. As his leg gave out from underneath him, Diavolo fell backwards inadvertently freeing Polnareff. Taking the chance, Polnareff immediately kicked down the nearby door that lead back into the sanctuary.

Diavolo quickly chased after him but as he passed through the door, he was met with the blade of Silver Chariot. If he had any other Stand, his throat would been slit and he would’ve died soon afterwards. However, with the power of King Crimson, he managed to erase this danger from existence, though, the shock from almost dying kept him planted in the sacristy...

When his attacker failed to follow after him, Polnareff instinctively hid behind the altar. At this point, he was pretty sure the other's Stand was close range but he knew better than to assume anything. But certainly, his Stand was powerful. It managed to face off against Silver Chariot and for a while, it had held his Stand with brute force.

However, during the fight, he managed to figure out one other thing about this new enemy. Well, for one thing, he wasn’t that new. His questions in particular gave away his true identity. This was the boss. The person he had been searching for this whole time. Diavolo. The man had chosen to reveal himself solely for the chance to silence him himself. The teen must’ve been a distraction for him to follow. Now, that man had seen him there would be no chance to escape. Even now, the man must’ve been planning to attack him.

Judging from their first encounter, Polnareff understood he was no match for Diavolo in the state he was in. He had bruises all over his body and he couldn’t see properly through his right eye. His best chance to survive was to flee the scene. They were people who could help him. If he managed to contact the Speedwagon Foundation, they could assist him. He needed to—

The smell of smoke caught his attention. As he peaked over the altar, he saw flames erupting from the sacristy. The bastard had set the church on fire! Anger momentarily overcame him before he settled for sadness. The fire was already spreading to the sanctuary and the wooden pews would only feed it. He had to escape before it engulfed him too. Limping across the aisle, Polnareff made his way across the Church and into the alleyway as flames followed after him...
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

After treating his wounds and cleaning out his eye, Polnareff found himself partially blind but mostly okay. A small victory considering how the day went. What was supposed to be a simple stakeout had turned into a bloody fight. While the battles on the road to Egypt had been difficult, none of them had drained him this much. Maybe he was getting on in years. He did have white hair after all. Quiet chuckles escaped from him. Imagine if the others had heard him. Jotaro would probably agree. Joseph would probably gawk at him. He couldn’t really say much for those three but he was sure they all would’ve had their fair share of opinions too...

If their trip to Egypt had taught him anything, it was the value of teamwork. Diavolo and his Passione couldn’t be taken on by a single man. No! He needed backup and he had a pretty good idea on how to get it. Even if he only summarized what he discovered, he knew the Speedwagon Foundation would come calling and if they didn’t, he was sure Jotaro and Joseph would’ve caught the next plane. It had been a year since they last saw each other. Maybe Jotaro managed to find an arrow or maybe he was still studying to become a marine biologist. Honestly, he thought he was joking the first time he said he wanted to become one. It was always difficult to tell when Jotaro was being serious or not.

While he had lost his taxi, his hotel room did have a phone. As he dialed the Foundation's number, all he could feel was a growing sense of calm. Everything was going to be so much easier after this.

"Beep. Beep. This number is unavailable right now. Please call again at another time." And with that, the line hung up.

"That didn’t seem right..."

So he called again but the same message popped up. Unavailable. Unavailable. Unavailable. On the tenth try, he settled for calling Joseph directly. Unless the man had changed his number in the last year and no one had bothered to tell him, this one should work.

"...Hello, who may I ask is calling?"

Huh? Maybe he accidentally dialed his office number. No matter. The secretary should be able to patch him in.

"This is Jean Pierre Polnareff speaking. I would like to speak to one Joseph Joestar. If you wouldn’t mind connecting—"

"Jean Pierre Polnareff...What an interesting name. I assume it is foreign correct?"

That voice!

"Diavolo!" he hissed.

"So you even know my name. Impressive..." he hummed.

"How did you intercept my call?! What did you—"

"Now, now. I don’t think you really have a right to ask questions. But if you must know, the company you rented the cab from doesn’t keep their records private. Enough money can convince anyone eventually. Knowing this won’t help you, of course."

"So you’re intercepting all the calls to the Foundation? Don’t you think they’ll catch on to your sabotaging. I don’t need to call them if they’ll already on your tail."

"It’s not as simple as that and while you may think I’m over extending myself, I am perfectly fine. It’s only one company out of many. Though, I must say, they do have a lot of contacts. Luckily, I figured you would call one of the hire ups so I took the privilege of answering myself. But tell me Polnareff, what do you think will happen now? I know your name, your face. It won’t be that hard to find you."

"And what about you? I could say the same."

"Diavolo isn’t the only name I have."

"Yes. A few come to mind actually. Tazzo Vuoto. Cavo Viso. Solido Naso—"

"How did you—?!"

"See. I know a few things," he interrupted.

No reply. No threats. No answers. Eventually the silence on the other line became unsettling.

He supposed it made sense in hindsight. Diavolo had done all he could to protect his identity. Whether that meant destroying anyone who saw him or covering up his past, his actions were drastic. Knowing even one of his identities had already landed him in a lot of trouble. What each name implied said a lot too. There was no point denying it. He had placed himself in this situation. After all, anyone who came across the name Diavolo already had the bucket at their feet.

Beep.

The line died.

The silence remained.

Chapter Text

As the other line died out, Pericolo placed the phone aside and considered the time. An hour had passed since the school day had begun. Whatever could’ve happened within such a short time span to cause such a phone call must’ve been pretty extreme. Of course, the orders themselves practically ensured that.

Someone was threatening the Boss's identity. While the underboss took on all manner of jobs and errands for the sake of Passione, the teen’s secondary position centered around him being the Capo of the guard squad. Like all squads in Passione, their name gave away their purpose although within that simplicity laid a great responsibility. To protect the Boss's identity by all means, to protect a person they had never met or would ever meet. They might’ve gotten their orders straight from the Boss but only their Capo was said to communicate with him. As a result, the lower members were definitely more active when it came to missions so for something to pull their leader's focus, the circumstances must’ve been serious.

Within the first few seconds of the call he had pieced this together. In fact, Pericolo had already imagined several possible conclusions to where the conversation would go: a request for backup, a survey over the city, a stealthy assassination, or an emergency blackout. What the Capo ended up going with was much more specific but easily handled regardless. From what he could guess, the Boss had already organized a plan of attack and he was just supposed to help fulfill it. After sorting through the phone book and a taxi company's records, the call was reaching its natural conclusion when the conversations took a turn. He supposed it made sense in hindsight.

There was not point in dwelling on it, however. For right now, he was just supposed to act as a supervisor. He was only required to do something if the call came in and hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. Those two were a temperamental bunch after all.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

As the cool breezed brushed against her face, she couldn’t help but pull her coat closer. It didn’t matter which one was picking her up, they were late. What made it worse, was it seemed as if they were the exception. Her classmates were passing through the gate with unprecedented speed as their parents pulled over and picked them up. Some even got out of their cars just to help their children inside. That wasn’t to say all the parents had arrived for pick up but those students were already heading to after school daycare. So as the last of the cars petered out, she was left alone in the cold with Mrs. Luxottica.

Mrs. Luxottica looked at her with sympathetic eyes, though, she hadn’t asked her too. "Don’t worry dear. This happened all the time last year. Traffic jams, hospital emergencies. Name it. It happened. They all come eventually and if they don’t..."

"If they don’t?"

"Then child protection services. Believe me. Things will work out."

Trish knew she wouldn’t have said that to anyone else. Doppio must’ve left a really bad impression. She kept this to herself, of course.

Mrs. Luxottica tugged her coat closer to herself. "It’s getting chilly, huh? Do you want to go inside for now? I'm pretty sure there should be some cupcakes left in the teacher's longe. It was Mary's birthday today." When Trish failed to reply, her frown deepened. "Or we can wait in the cold, I guess."

As her complaints fell on deaf ears, a black Cadillac pulled into the parking lot. "Urgh, this happened all the time last year... Excuse me! This is school property. You can’t park here."

However, as she spoke, one of the shaded windows lowered to reveal a familiar face.

"Mr. Pericolo?"

While her teacher's eyes sought answers, the man gave his reply, "To think I left any sort of impression...Yes, Trish. It’s me. The 'boss' apologizes for not being able to make it but he did send me to give you a lift. I hope you can forgive me for being late."

"It’s fine..." He wasn’t the one who was supposed to pick her up after all.

As she went for the door, however, her teacher held her in place. "I’m sorry but I’m still uncertain about all this."

Pericolo gave a slight smile at her words. "That is perfectly acceptable, madam. I do believe you are Miss Trish's teacher, correct?"

"I am," she confirmed.

"Then it is well within reason to be protective of your students. I am Miss Trish's godfather and I know her father quite well. Cavo Viso is his name although I’m sure you’re already well aware of it. Any good teacher would memorize the names of their students' parents. If you were to look on Miss Trish's record, I should be listed as a-"

"I think you’ve proven you point Mr. Pericolo. I can say with confidence you do in fact know Trish. I apologize for my rudeness."

"Think nothing of it. You’re only doing your job." With that last compliment, Mrs. Luxottica released her grip and Trish bolted for the door. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Pericolo gave a sympathetic nod. "Quite a teacher you have there."

"I don’t think she's bad but she's kinda overbearing." Though, it was a nice change of pace.

"The first of many. When Gianluca started school, I thought things couldn’t get worse with the teacher he got. I was wrong to say the least, though, that isn’t to say you won’t have some great teachers. They’re people, just like you and me."

"Gianluca? Who’s that?"

"My son. He just started his last year in high school. In all honesty, I’m surprised we managed to send him. He was always a sickly child. We always thought we would have to homeschool him..." Realizing his mistake, Pericolo returned his attention to the road. "My apologies Miss Trish. It seems I’ve lead this conversation to personal territory. I must ask you to forget our previous chat."

"It’s fine-"

"Not entirely," he interrupted. "I’m sure your caretaker would prefer everything from now remain as informal as possible. I must ask you do the same for the people you are about to meet regardless of how long your stay is."

"Stay? Mr. Pericolo, did anything happen to Dia-"

"Please Miss Trish!" he stammered. "No names besides our own. I would recommend that you also keep to first names during your visit." As silence tempted to invade the car, the back window lowered. "My apologies. I didn’t mean to worry you. I assure you, Miss Trish, this is all for your own safety. I can’t disclose exactly what’s going on, I promise you all of this is for the best."

While it seemed her thoughts were elsewhere, a slight nod ensured her attention had not strayed. The sounds of the city also managed to ease the encroaching silence and as he turned on the radio, he had the courtesy to ask,

"Anything you have in mind?"
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

To think the day had started off so swimmingly. It was his first official day off in months. After trailing a group of rats through Rome, with no sight seeing at all, they were called back immediately to deal with some would-be startups. Their targets' insistence on playing gangsters near the water did help their extermination considerably but the ego boost it gave to a certain someone was almost not worth it. Honestly, he would’ve gone for another three months in Florence dismantling a rival gambling ring if he didn’t have to deal with him. Of course, the Boss probably would’ve partnered them up again so even that didn’t provide an escape. There were other people in Passione for Pete’s sake! Assign someone else to the dang squad if it was so important. Four people was hardly enough...

Yeesh. That was a tangent, wasn’t it. Well, at least he didn’t say it out loud...Anyway, it had been his day off. Theirs technically but when they weren’t on a mission, he liked to separate himself from that idiot as much as possible. But it was his day off and he was at his favorite safe house, only safe house, in the city so he wanted to relax. Of course, Pericolo had to call and now, not only was his day off thrown out the window but they were about to be given another mission. Great.

"Hey Tiz!"

Just as the light flashed red, he managed to slam on the breaks in time. While his seat belt kept him secured in place, Squalo's face slammed into dashboard before he flew back into his seat. The idiot managed to escape with only a bloody nose, however. Dang it.

"What the hell Tiziano?!" he yelled. "I was just trying to warn you about the light."

"And yelling at me was your best solution. What’d you expect would happen?" He received a glare in reply but he wasn’t going to bury the hatchet just yet. "And put on your seatbelt for goodness sake."

While Squalo was trying to burn his eyeballs into the back of his head, Tiziano rewarded his efforts by changing the radio. He had won this round, though, it wasn’t that difficult to win against Squalo in these sort of things.

Despite the small distraction, the light did eventually turn green and they continued on their way. As they approached the given meeting place, it became apparent it would be impossible to park. Tourist season was just about dead but a few stragglers were still making the traffic a living herd of cattle. Someone was going to have to get out of the car. Just as his hand reached for the seatbelt, Squalo was already out the door.

"Hey, don’t just-"

"Nice try Tiz! Keep the car warm while I’m gone!"

Just as he disappeared into a nearby tour group, Tiziano managed to shout, "Close the door, you idiot!"

Squalo only stayed long enough to see Tiziano's reaction to his escape. For as calm and collected as Tiziano claimed to be, he was able to always get on the guy's nerves. It was just teasing of course. He liked the guy well enough as a partner. Not like he’d admit that out loud anytime soon. Tiziano could continue his silent curses for as long as he needed to. There was no reason to ruin their dynamic just yet.

Of course, that wasn’t his main concern at the moment. While he didn’t have a watch with him, he had the feeling he was already running late to the meeting. Following the flow of foot traffic, he managed to maneuver himself down the sidewalk at a steady pace. Pericolo had said to meet him at L'Antica Pizzeria de Michele. While he had never been there himself, he heard the food was pretty good from a variety of tourists. Though, that probably meant it was also expensive. If Pericolo wanted them to meet there, the mission must’ve been pretty important.

In truth, they had just gotten back from Rome and after he killed a large group of gangsters singlehandedly, they originally assumed they would have some time off. At the time, Tiziano had been elated at the chance of a break. Personally, he didn’t see the big deal of it. Going on missions was always much more exciting then staying home all day. He also never got the chance to use Clash while they were on break. The hideout might’ve had plenty of fish tanks scattered throughout it but compared to the sea or the open ocean, it was claustrophobic. There wasn’t even anything to do on the tanks. He had originally planned to get some fish to populate the stupid containers but their schedule kept preventing them from caring for the things. After the first batch died, he had given up on the idea and as such, the tanks remained empty. So if Pericolo did have a mission for them, he would’ve accepted it without hesitation. Though, it wasn’t like he could really deny it either.

His instincts to follow the tourist herd ended up work as he desired. As the restaurant came into view, Pericolo was sitting on a table right outside the establishment. To his surprise, however, the Capo wasn’t alone. A young girl was also sitting at the table. Nothing about her seemed abnormal although her pink hair was rather striking.

As he took one of the remaining chairs, their attention immediately shifted to him although the girl's quickly returned to the pizza in front of her.

It was Pericolo who began, "You're late."

"Sorry about that. We couldn’t find any parking space so and tourist season is still swinging. Tiziano's still driving around but I’m sure he’ll come if he does manage to find parking."

Pericolo's expression didn’t give anything away. "I see...I’m sure your curious as to why I called correct? I’m not your Capo after all."

Squalo was taken aback by his comment. It was true. While they did occasionally receive missions from the other Capos, Doppio was still the one who relayed them. To have one directly give it to them instead of Doppio did seem strange in hindsight. Did Tiziano mention anything about it? Regardless, he shock his head in reply.

"I see. Well, while I would have preferred to tell you both simultaneously, I might as well inform you now. Doppio is currently doing some...errands. All I’ve been told is that he will be strictly unavailable for a period of time until the problem is resolved."

"What?! Why is he dealing with it by himself? Hell, we’re on break. He could’ve just sent us to deal with it."

This caught the girl's attention but her reaction was unnoticed by them.

"I’m afraid the matter is strictly confidential." After leaning closer, he added, "The orders are said to be directly from the boss."

That shut him up. The Boss. Despite technically being the person's bodyguard, he had never met the man or woman. They were an enigma in the world of organized crime. No one knew their identity and those who had any information on it, lies or truth, had been scoured off the earth. Whoever they were, they weren’t to be messed with. Or disobeyed.

"I understand. Sorry about that."

"There is no need to fret. The matter has already passed. No about your mission..." To his surprise, Pericolo motioned the girl to pay attention. "Trish, this is Squalo. Squalo, this is Trish. Until Doppio returns from his mission, Squalo and Tiziano will be your...babysitters."

While he sat in stunned silence, Trish stared at him. Her gaze reminded him of the first time he met Tiziano. He would never forget those judging eyes for as long as he lived. What the hell was this mission anyway? They were bodyguards, not babysitters. He killed people for Pete’s sake. Whose idea was it for him to babysit some brat.

"I’m sorry but why?! Look, Mr. Pericolo or whatever, I’m sure you can find plenty of decent babysitters around here. Me and Tiziano probably aren’t the best suited for this kind of work."

Pericolo gave him an apathetic look. "I’m afraid you can’t refuse. These were the last orders Doppio gave before he left."

Doppio. Doppio? What they hell was his Capo thinking?! Who the hell was this kid anyway? She did have pink hair. Were the two of them siblings or something?

While he was still processing his confusion, a shadow appeared over him. "Sorry for being late. What have you guys been discussing?"

Of course, Tiziano had to arrive. Must’ve finally found a parking spot. Maybe he could make sense of this situation.

Pericolo was quick on the reply, "Tiziano, thank you for making it. This is Trish. Until Doppio gets back from an important mission, you two will be her babysitters."

"Okay."

Okay? Okay! "What the hell Tiziano?! You’re just going to accept this?!" he yelled.

"And why not? Come on, Squalo. Babysitting is technically our job but with children. It’s not that different."

He might’ve had a point but it was still ridiculous.

Though, no one else seemed to think so. "While I would like to inform you two on other details concerning the mission, I believe Trish here has had quite the long day. I expect you two will do your best to fulfill your orders but expect a call in a few hours so we could straighten things out."

"I wouldn’t expect anything different." A small smile appeared as he spoke.

This was nothing compared to their last mission. Babysitting? Babysitting! He would babysit thousands of babies if it meant he could get some vacation time. Although he understood his hyperbole didn’t work in realty, the girl seemed quiet enough where it worked in his favor. Kids didn’t need much to survive. They had food, space, and water. What else could anyone need?

Judging from Squalo's expression, though, he didn’t think the same. It was just like him to squander an opportunity. Luckily for him, there was nothing the fishboy could do about it. Noticing his smirk, Squalo barred his teeth and hissed. While Pericolo managed to remain stone faced throughout the silent scuffle, Trish looked confused.

Tiziano awarded her expression with a genuine smile. Maybe the drive had been worth it. If she wasn’t here, their vacation time might’ve ended prematurely.

"Thank you for the call Pericolo. I'll be sure to do my best for this mission. Now, Trish, if you’ll follow me to the car."

"Hey! Don’t count me out on this just yet. I’m on this mission too!"

"I know that quite well Squalo. I just know where the car is parked. I’ll drive per usual." Even as a nearby glass of water shook, he couldn’t resist. "We couldn’t afford to get pulled over after all. With your driving skills in mind."

To his surprise, the idiot managed to retort, "Please. Like your fake ass ID would be able to full anyone, you twelve year old!"

"I am not twelve!"

"Your not the legal age to drive either!"

"I could say the same thing about you!"

While the nearby tables listened intently, Pericolo sighed under his breath. "I apologize for their behavior. If you ever overwhelmed in their care, you can call me at any time. I’ll give you some phone-"

"It’s fine Mr. Pericolo," she muttered. "I’m sure things will go okay. I also have a list already so there’s no need to worry about that."

"Is that so? Well, I have no reasons to doubt your words. I sincerely wish you well, Miss Trish."

She gave a nod in reply although her attention had already moved on. As she watched the two of them argue, she could already see her plans fall into place. Security? Mission? Capo? Although she only knew half of these words, Trish recognized that whatever was going was bizarre. Her main concern lied in the circumstances behind all of this. There were long periods of time where Dopey disappeared so his absence could be justified. It was Dia's absence that through her off guard. The fact that he was gone along with Doppio proposed a deeper conspiracy. These people only supported her theory. If she got them to answer her questions, maybe things would start to make sense. They seemed careless enough at least.

Whatever happened next, she would do her best to work with it.

Chapter Text

With Trish officially being in the temporary care of the two bodyguards, there were a lot of things that could now go wrong. Being a part of Passione always meant danger was around the corner so it was common sense to expect the worse. They could be jumped by enemy gangsters or arrested by police officers. Though, compared to most of the organization's members, their identities weren’t as public. That didn’t meant they should lower their guard of course.

However, as they arrived at the parking space, they discovered it was exactly that. Just a parking space. Their car was missing. Tiziano could feel Squalo's anger radiating off him but in all honesty, nothing had been lost. Nothing was in the trunk last time he checked and it wasn’t like they couldn’t get another car. Besides, if he remembered correctly, the thing only had two seats. Even if the car was still there, they would’ve had too few seats. He supposed Squalo could’ve gotten into the trunk but that didn’t matter anymore. The car wasn’t here after all.

To make up for Tiziano's lack of a reaction, Squalo had to over exaggerate his. "I paid one hundred eighty-three thousand euros for that thing!"

Tiziano could only hold in his laughter as Squalo collapsed dramatically into the empty space. As the other's eyes narrowed in on him, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Doubling over in laughter, Tiziano let his cold words sting his partner, "You spent that much money on a stupid car?! That’s like half your paycheck from the last mission. It’s nothing Squalo!"

Unable to meet the truth, Squalo quiet muttered, "It was something to me..."

Luckily, Tiziano still managed to hear him. "'It was something to me...' Heh, heh. You’re terrible Squalo. How could someone be so unintentionally funny."

Though, the joke was dying already and the car was still missing. Unless they wanted to walk to the hideout, their best bet was to find a taxi. From there, they would be able to call Pericolo for a suitable replacement. After all, how would they be able to care for Trish if they didn’t have a car to drive around for supplies. That way they could avoid having to pay for anything. They might’ve not had a choice in the brand they received but he was honestly growing tired of that stupid Lamborghini.

He sighed. "Come on Squalo. Let’s just find a taxi and head home. We have a mission after all."

Throughout the entire exchange, Trish had managed to stay silent. Despite the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the discussion, if it could be called that, she managed to gather some information. Whatever car they did have must’ve been really fancy. She didn’t really know how expensive cars usually were but she knew a handful about numbers and none of the numbers they mentioned sounded right. While Mrs. Luxottica did sing a song about numbers in class, she hadn’t paid attention since by the second chorus nothing new had come up. Speaking of class, if Dopey and Dia were gone, who was going take her to school?

Was she still going to school?

Before the implications behind this question could come to realization, her thoughts were interrupted.

"Hey kid, we’re going to find a taxi. Stay close by, okay?" Although not fully over the missing car and wasted paycheck, Squalo was back on his feet and standing above her. For someone who had openly objected to babysitting, Squalo was surprisingly attentive... "Hey where’d that idiot go to now?!"...if not otherwise distracted.

He was right, though. Tiziano was gone. Within the seconds her attention was elsewhere, he must’ve walked away. Agmonst the cars in the parking lot, small as it was, the teen was no where to be seen. Of course, with her given height, she wasn’t going to spot anyone within the forest of cars. Squalo also had this disadvantage although his fast feet helped him cover ground quickly. This didn’t help in the search, however. It seemed like Tiziano had actually left them.

Though, as a familiar face appeared through a strange haze from a nearby taxi window, maybe Tiziano just had different priorities.

"I found a taxi. You going to get in or what?"

"Well you were the one that ditched us!"

"And got a car. Your welcome by the way."

In the end, they both seemed petty.

As she climbed into the car, the first thing she noticed was the smell. All four windows had been open for a reason and even as smoke escaped through every crevice offered to it, the car was still engulfed by it.

Between coughs, Squalo had enough air in his lungs to wheeze out, "What the hel-heck, Tiz?! Couldn’t you have found a better taxi?"

Tiziano replied with a halfhearted shrug. He probably wanted to avoid subjecting himself to more smoke than necessary. Squalo seemed to understand this compromise, however, he still rolled down all windows available to him in a show of protest. She was sure he would’ve escalated it if the car hadn’t started. Even now, his eyes drifted to the door handle with Tiziano glaring at him all the while.

Trish personally would’ve walked out but the thought of even moving tired her. She had done plenty of running around during school and even though it was fun for a while, her lungs had threatened to collapse several times on the playground. Her time in the apartment was surely the cause of this. Dopey might’ve taken her out for walks but those barely lasted fifteen minutes. In Dia's case, he never went outside with her and only left when he had "business" elsewhere. Recess was probably the most active thing she had done in her whole life. And it had been fantastic.

Seeing the blue sky through her own eyes and not through some window or for fifteen minutes had been great. Even through the haze, she was still appreciating the blue expanse above her. Her lungs might protest, her heart may race, her muscles may tire, but she would do it all over again.

And as her thoughts returned to her despite the smoke clouding her senses, she wondered if she would be given the option to. Security. Mission. Capo. She hadn’t figured out the last word and she only knew the first two vaguely. She had wanted to know more about whatever was going on but she hadn’t been able to ask questions. And at this point, she didn’t really care. She was Trish Una. She knew how to read and she knew more numbers than ten. Her art was already on a fridge and she already knew more words than any book the classroom had in it. She was in kindergarten and she probably should’ve been in second grade if not higher. But right now, she just wanted to go to freaking school.

However, the door handle remained untouched. She didn’t know exactly what would’ve happened if someone opened it but it probably wouldn’t be good. No. Not good at all.

Trish was simply upset. Unlike most her age, however, she didn’t pout. That would’ve been obvious. She stewed. She considered...A question did eventually arise but she would wait to ask it. Not for long, though.

Luckily, unlike the circumstances leading up to the taxi ride, the drive was uneventful. Though, after exiting the smokestack on wheels, they had to walk five blocks before arriving at the apartment, passing several apartment buildings and a high school as they went. Squalo smiled as the door came into sight. Jumping for the handle, he yanked it enthusiastically before frowning immediately afterwards.

As Tiziano took out the keys, he commented, "Why do you even do that? It’s never opened. We always lock it before leaving the house. Hell, we don’t even use this entrance half the time."

"But what if it was opened? Can you imagine the results." His devious smiled suggested something more despite the dangerous possibility.

"Squalo." The name veiled a silent threat.

Not like the owner noticed. "I mean with all those fish tanks, Clash would just be able to go ham on the fuc-!" As he caught her eyes, he corrected, "Fudge! Fudge ice cream. That’s what I meant..."

"To think it was the thought of cussing that stopped you..." He sighed as the door clicked open. "We’re going to need to discuss this later by the way."

Squalo gave him an incredulous look. "We had time to discuss it before this whole mess began! If you hadn’t picked up that phone-!"

"He would’ve called again. Please, Squalo, I could infer what happened. Of course, I wouldn’t mind if you fully caught me up." As the sound of hardwood floor reached their ears, he motioned them to follow after him. "Preferably in here of course. Wouldn’t want any prying eyes or ears now."

Following Tiziano's light footsteps, Squalo stomped in without hesitation while Trish quietly entered behind him. After gently closing the door and locking it, Tiziano had the curtesy to offer a hand to their guest. Unexpected as she might’ve been.

"While Squalo is rather uncouth, I at least have the manners to offer a tour. It’s a small place but anyone can get lost in it. So?"

For a moment, he was met with silence. Although he didn’t know it, as he gave his fancy offer, Squalo did his best imitation of his words. Trish had enough self control to keep her from laughing in Tiziano's face but speaking and not laughing was an entirely different issue. She settled for a quiet nod in the end.

Luckily, he didn’t seem insulted by the lack of response and quickly proceeded with his original plans. Though, not before catching Squalo in the act just before he finished the abridge.

The apartment was just as he described it. Small but complex. Between short converging hallways and rooms that ignored common divisions, everything seemed to diverge before coming back into itself. The kitchen was within the living room. Two closets were right next to each other but divided by a wall. The two bathrooms were on opposites sides of the apartment and the water pipes feeding the two could be seen running along the ceiling. Then there were the fish tanks.

Fish tanks of varying sizes were stacked on shelves and emptied bookcases. When the maximum number of tanks were on one shelf, the floor around the area was covered instead. The water damage was extensive if not obvious. The towels stuffed at the base of the tanks were soaked and from their smell, hadn’t been replaced in a long while. Despite their commonality, none of containers had any residents. She only had the vague idea that the tanks once held life by the plastic decorations that decorated their bottoms. Tiziano pointedly ignored the empty vessels while Squalo smiled whenever they appeared as if he knew some secret no one else did. There were times she thought something was swimming within the water but when she looked again, it was still motionless.

As they returned to the living room, Tiziano finished, "And that’s it. I know it may seem confusing but I assure you once you get used to it, it’s a walk in the park. And concerning the fish tanks, just do your best to ignore those. We haven’t gotten around to getting rid of them."

"Hey! Those things are the best security you could ask for!"

"Please. It’s a better idea to shatter the things and use the shards as a weapon. Your so called security is useless."

"Take that back!"

"No."

Before Squalo could fulfill Tiziano's previous advice, Trish interrupted, "Where will I be staying?"

As if the argument hadn’t even existed, Squalo and Tiziano returned to their previous relaxed postures if they could be called that.

It was Tiziano who answered her question, "There’s a guest room stationed in the middle of the apartment. I’m sure you noticed it during the tour but if you didn’t, we can just show you it."

"Yeah and it’s decked out too! Though, it hasn’t actually been used...Originally it only had a dusty mattress but we furnished it to fit the place better. One of Tiziano's better ideas actually."

"I suppose I can accept that as a compliment but yes, we did manage to work on it together. Though, I did have to compromise a couple times. That water bed is so gaudy..."

"And one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. I got one myself a couple months ago although it hasn’t actually been used."

"Um guys..."

"Yes?"

With both of their attention on her, Trish felt her thoughts weigh down on her. She needed to word this very carefully. Too specific and her question would just be denied. Too general and the conversation may divulge into an argument. Regardless, whatever their answer was would mean...something. Knowing the answer determined everything else beyond this point.

Not allowing herself to stutter, she yelled, "What exactly does this all mean for tomorrow?"

Tiziano's raised eyebrow and Squalo's dumbfounded expression told her enough. Freaking nailed it...

As Squalo repeated the question to himself, Tiziano ran through a list of possibilities.

He quickly singled out one of them. "How old are you again?"

Squalo managed to catch his suggestion. "You don’t mean that, do you?"

"Let her answer the question, Squalo."

As their eyes singled her out, Trish had the feeling this wasn’t going to turn out well. "Six..." Before they could voice a continuation, she answered for them, "Today was my first day of school."

The irony was not lost on them, though, their level of sympathy was skewed. Both of them technically were supposed to be in the same boat as her, though, they had abandoned their schooling early on. Passione didn’t require an education to be a part of.

Much to Tiziano's chagrin, Squalo was the first to speak, "Well, we don’t know all the details yet so maybe?"

"Maybe what?" she inquired.

Both he could reply, Tiziano grabbed his arm and dragged him into the hallway.

Falling into a whisper, he ordered, "Don’t start this Squalo."

"Start what? We don’t know shit about any of this. We’re bodyguards that have never guarded anything. Why’d you sign us up again? Or right, because you wanted a vacation!" he barked.

"I didn’t—Look Squalo. You know that’s bullshit. Unless your even more of an idiot than I think you are, you should know what’s happening by now. Hell, Pericolo must’ve explained some of it to you." His partner's silence spurred him on. "She has pink hair for Pete’s sake. I’m not sure how they’re related but for whatever reason, she’s in our care now. I’m sure it probably has to do with Doppio, right?"

"He’s on a mission..."

"And since he’s gone, we’re taking care of her. If he sent her to us, whatever he’s doing must be serious enough to keep an eye on her. School would just become seven hours of not knowing what the heck is going on. We don’t know how deep any of this goes. Taking her to school is out of the question so don’t even give her the hope."

He stuttered, "I—I know that! It’s just...they just have the same look, you know?"

"Ah!..That’s what you meant. I can see what you’re getting at. I mean I just mentioned him-"

"I know, right?! Hell, I don’t know how old the Capo is but he just looks so gullible. Honestly, I’m happy he’s finally able to go on a mission. He’s been bored for months on end. You could practically hear it in voice how much he wanted to kill people for the Boss."

"It wasn’t just me? You heard it too."

"Yeah I did! Every single mission report, I tell ya, it was the same thing over and over-"

Thunk. The sound immediately peaked their interest. The sound was familiar but neither of them could place it. It felt universal but the exact tone and pitch distracted them.

It came to them suddenly. Each expressed their own horror simultaneously, "That was the front door!"

As they both rushed to the living room, yep, she was gone.

Tiziano was the first to leap into action. "Squalo, get the car! I’ll-"

"Our car was stolen Tiz!"

"Oh right! Fuck—let’s go look for her on foot! I’ll go right!"

Before his partner could even get another word in, he was already out the door. As his eyes glanced over the street, he discovered his search may have been in jeopardy already. The sun was beginning to settle down over the horizon and while the street lamps were turning themselves on, the visible area was rapidly decreasing. He didn’t have terrible eyesight but he would've preferred if he didn’t have to search for the six year old in the dark.

At first, he searched the area around the apartment but that eventually became futile. If she was planning on running away, there’d by no reason for her to stick around near them. He was already wasting time looking here anyway. But where then? It wasn’t like he knew much about the area. He was always off on missions and when he was here, he usually just spent his time inside watching tv. To most people, this lifestyle probably seemed normal if not painfully average. But when he spent most of his time killing traitors and trying to survive, average was relaxing. He had expected this job to work alongside his vacation but clearly he had been wrong. However, unlike every mission he had ever been on, this time he was alone.

"Where the heck is Squalo when you need him?"

Probably still in the apartment. He never took anything serious, the bastard. There was never a strategy to beating their opponents. It was always just Clash, Clash, Clash! And when there were no random puddles or rivers nearby, he was always so useless. Talking Heads might’ve been situational but at least he knew how to use it inventively.

At least, none of their Stands were useful right now. Which meant little Miss Trish was still missing. Did she always run away from Doppio or were they just stupid? She was only a six year old for Pete’s sake. She couldn’t have gotten that far. Where would she be able to go anyway? She probably doesn’t even know the neighborhood. Heck, he didn’t know anything either! On their walk to the apartment, they didn’t even pass anything interesting. There were only apartments and a lame high school...

School. She had been so focused on school. Heck, that might’ve been the reason she ran away in the first place. What a dumb reason. Personally, if he was in her situation, he would’ve ran away because of the smelly fish tanks. They really needed to get rid of those things, security or not. But that was besides the point. The sun was teetering on the edge of the horizon. He needed to find the brat now rather than later.

Finding the school had been easier than he expected. Agmonst the old architecture cluttered with apartments, pointing out a clearly modern structure hadn’t been difficult. Figuring out what the building served was also a breeze. From his limited experience within a similar institution, he found all high schools looked the same from the outside. They probably weren’t much different inside either. A pointless waste of time really.

As he neared the entrance, a figure slowly came into view. His search had finally come to an end.

"You know this place isn’t exactly your level, right?" She answered his question with a glare which he returned with his best smirk. "Well. I hope your done with whatever this is. I would prefer it if you didn’t run away every chance you got."

"I didn’t ask for this..." Her voice was unexpectedly quiet. He didn’t have much experience with children but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be loud and rambunctious. She continued regardless, "It's just...Why now? Why of all days did they both have to disappear? He was supposed to pick me up. He promised but he couldn’t even do that."

He couldn’t help but focus on that one word...

"Let’s not get into any they business."

"What’s it mattter to you? You already know-"

Someone Doppio could only know-

"Don’t cross that territory! You have no idea what your insinuating-!"

"And why should I care?!" she yelled. "I have no idea what’s going on! I don’t know you people but here I am! But it’s not like any of you would listen..." Her face fell into her hands but her voice remained steady. "I’m just tired. Why did all this have to happen today?.."

For the third time that evening, he reminded himself of her age. But this time, it held more of an impact. It wasn’t just school. It was a bunch of bullshit. He didn’t exactly what composed it but they weren’t helping. She would run away and she would run away. And then, she'd do it again. If anything was going to get solved tonight, there needed to be compromise.

"You can’t just keep running away. I don’t know what other shi-stuff you have on your plate but I can work with the school idea for now."

Her gaze turned to him. Doubt clearly in her eyes. "Really?"

"Sure. Of course, you should only expect so much. We haven’t exactly cleared up any of the details, yet."

But if she had any suspicions, Trish was failing to show them. As she stood up, her posture showed confidence.

"Shake on it." She held out her hand.

He repeated, "Shake on it."

As they shook hands, Tiziano did his best to match her enthusiasm. False promises would do for now. Though, as a smile appeared on her face, she finally looked her age.

"Oh! There you guys are!"

Of course, Squalo had finally made his appearance. Frowns quickly appeared on both of their faces, though, for entirely different reasons.

"Where have you been Squalo?"

"Looking for the both of you, obviously. You were the one who ditched me after all."

"And you were the one didn’t follow. Honestly, I expected you to be faster Squalo. What the heck took you so long?"

"I just had to make a phone call. Nothing else-"

"You did what!"

"Look Tiz, we both know we’re in over our heads here! I just figured we could do with some advice so I called Carne and-"

"You did what?!"

"I called Carne—! The hel-heck?!"

After being swiftly tackled to the ground, Squalo did his best to resist Tiziano's efforts to strangle him to no avail. Trish only watched the spectacle out of confusion. She had already seen them descend into argument before but not to a level of violence.

Who the heck was this Carne anyway?