Work Text:
Setting up wiretaps is Prosciutto’s jurisdiction. It is one of the most marginally legal things that Risotto’s group does, and they do not advertise that they do this except to people who pay a great deal of money.
Giorno Giovanna, it turns out, does not make very many phone calls, and those he receives are the standard ‘please give us some money’ ‘no thank you, please take me off your list’ type. Prosciutto is almost about to give up on getting information this way when Giorno makes an outgoing call to Florida, of all places.
“Hello?” asks a child’s voice.
“Hello, Emporio. It’s me.”
‘Emporio’ answers, “Mr. Giovanna-”
“Giorno is fine. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Well, I’m not any worse than usual. I probably should be living with people I didn’t know before instead of with my friends, but...”
“I understand. I keep running into people I knew. Today it was Buccellati.” Giorno’s tone is melancholy. “I can’t keep avoiding them forever, but it’s too painful to see them not recognize me. I’m not as strong as you, it seems.”
“I’m not all that strong…” Emporio fades into silence, and when he speaks up again, it’s more hushed. “What about Diavolo?”
“Diavolo seems to be unaware that his Stand has returned to him, for the moment, but I won’t count on that remaining the case. I need to keep an eye on him. If worst comes to worst, and he begins to act as his previous self did, I will have to sentence him to the same fate again.”
“That’s too drastic.”
“I won’t make that decision unless I have no choice,” Giorno says solemnly. “For now, I’m just watching over him.”
Emporio sighs. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Even with everything that’s happened, living peacefully is still nice.”
“Would you miss this world? If everything returned to the way it was?” Giorno asks.
There’s a pause. “I don’t think about that. It can’t happen, so I’d just make myself upset.”
“Of course. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked,” says Giorno. “I should be making dinner soon. Take care.”
“You too. Don’t rely on your Stand to get you out of trouble all the time.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Goodbye for now.”
“Bye, Giorno.”
The call ends.
Prosciutto, who had been transcribing every word, rereads what he just wrote, then sighs and rests his head on the table for a moment, before going to deliver the message to Risotto.
Risotto reads over what he’d written, then looks across his desk at him. “Do you have any clue about what a Stand is, or what they mean by ‘before’?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Prosciutto says. “This is the first call he’s had that wasn’t from a telemarketer or related to his job.”
“Interesting,” says Risotto. “We’ll take a look into his Florida contact, since it’s our only lead so far. I’m starting to think that this is more complicated than any of us bargained for.”
Emporio Alnino, eleven years old, living in Florida. What could this child have to do with Giorno Giovanna, a man with no history in Italy, and where does Diavolo, a recluse, figure into this?
None of the investigators know, but they’re being paid handsomely to find out.