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I Want To Break Free

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“HEY! HEEEY!! YOU THERE, STOP! WHERE THE HELL D’YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?! THIS PLACE IS OFF-LIMITS FOR NORMAL PASSENGERS! DIDN'T YOU READ THE SIGN?!”

Following the intense fight against Squalo and Tiziano, Bruno, Narancia, and the rest of the gang had migrated towards the nearest airport.

Unfortunately, however...they had been stopped by two security guards.

“SCRAM! THE DEPARTING GATE IS OVER THERE! BEAT IT!”

The guard swung his arm towards the departing gate.

Bruno just ignored him and looked over towards Narancia.

“Narancia...do you see any sign of pursuers?”

“Calm down, I got this. Looks like we were right...Venezia’s totally empty. Nothing to report...not even any suspicious breathing within 100 meters! There’s still those rabbits on the airport lawn, though. How can they stand the noise if their ears are so big…?”

The guard took out his firearm, shouting at Bruno.

“HEY! YOU LISTENIN’ TO ME?! I’M TALKING TO YOU! YEAH, ALL OF YOU! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED PAST THIS POINT! STOP OR YOU’LL BE ARRESTED!”

Bruno sighed.

“Just my luck. Are you busy right now? Would you mind answering a quick question? This is a big airport, and I’m somewhat new to the area, so I’m not sure where things are…”

He looked off towards a passing shuttle. 

“...I’d like to steal and airplane. Do you know where I could find one?”

“...Wh--?”

The guard attempted to aim his firearm…

...But found the firearm was actually embedded into his wrists, using zippers not visible to him.

“...What…?!”

Bruno gently escorted the guard towards a nearby pole.

“Could you take about four steps over here? And watch your step...Don’t worry, we’ll compensate you. We aren’t looking for a passenger plane. A private jet, or even a cargo plane would be ideal. Would they be nearby? Or somewhere else in the airport?”

The guard looked back down at his hands, silent.

He was somehow looped around the pole, unable to move his hands, still embedded in the gun.

“...?”

“Hey. Buccellati.”

Bruno turned around.

Anasui had [ Diver Down ] with its arm plunged deep into the other guard’s chest, fingers clasped around his heart. Scattered, disassembled gun parts littered the ground around him.

“The guard here says they’re over there.”

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Bruno smiled and walked away from the guard.

“Molte grazie.”  

“Wh--H-Hey! Get back here!”

Anasui re-assembled the gun to encompass the guard’s hands and feet, holding him in place as Diver Down pulled its hand out.

The group was back on the move, walking towards one of the private jets.

Magenta Magenta snickered and sniffled up a trail of snot, looking through his binoculars as he sat atop the roof of a building in a neighborhood outside the airport.

“Over there...I can see those bastards! They’re sneakin’ into...Those modern airplane things! Wekapipo, I told you they’d be used a ton! They make horses obsolete!”

Wekapipo sipped his tea as he crouched on the roof next to him, sighing.

Fugo stood a small distance behind them, looking off towards the airport and thinking over his choices.

Magenta looked back to him, waving the binoculars around.

“Hneeh...hey, kid...you payin’ attention? They’re getting on that plane, over in the...the-the plane building! Go get ‘em!”

“...What?”

Fugo squinted at the far-off airport.

“...Th-There’s no way I can make it there before they get on the airport, Mage--”

“A-HEM.”

“Mr. Magenta Magenta, sir. Not even with a car or something…”

“Hey.”

Magenta stood back up.

“Are you...disobeying an order from us? A-I-y---”

He thumped his chest, gesturing to himself and Wekapipo.

“US?! The guys who so generously offered a way for you to redeem yourself to the boss? You’ve got a lot of balls for someone so skinny! It’s no trouble to get over there fast enough...just friggin’ get over there!”

“I’m telling you, I can’t! They’re heading towards the plane right now!”

Magenta tossed the binoculars over his shoulders and over the edge of the roof.

“Of course you can’t, you’re spending all this time yammerin’ and blabberin’! Just quit arguing and get over there!”

“Are you DEAF?! I-I CAN’T! THERE’S NO WAY I CAN GET THERE FAST ENOUGH!”

“NOT WITH THAT ATTITUDE, YA BRAT!”

Magenta reached forward and slapped Fugo across the face, leaving a visible red mark on his cheek.

Fugo was silent for a second, bringing his hand up to his cheek.

...Hot. And stinging.

“...D…”

Fugo clenched his hand into a fist and lunged forward, delivering a nasty right hook to Magenta Magenta.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Magenta Magenta was sent stumbling backwards, almost falling off the roof before he steadied himself. His nose was bleeding.

Fugo panted as he held his hand in a fist, staring at Magenta.

The snotty-nosed man wiped away some of the blood. 

“...Haahh...you fuckin’ brat...you just lost all chance you had of getting on the boss’ good graces! I’ll make sure he PERSONALLY executes you!”

“You know what I think? I think...No, I’m SURE you guys don’t work for Passione! Nobody in the gang would hire such--such...such an IDIOT like you! You guys just...used my fear of the boss to try and get me to kill my...my friends!”

Wekapipo finished his tea and stood up.

“He found us out, Magenta Magenta. Should we dispose of him?”

“S-SHUT UP, WEKAPIPO, DAMMIIIIIT! I mean...Ugh, fine! You aren’t on our list, but chances are you’ll go back with your friends if we letcha go free anyways...and besides, what’s a little murder? I’ll consider it...practice for our other targets.”

Fugo lowered his fist.

“...Other...targets?”

“Your FRIENDS, numbskull! Yeah, we aren’t a part of that gang or whatever...but we ARE on our way to murder them!”

The teenager trembled, lowering his head with his fists clenched tight as could be.

“...You...y-you...bastards…!”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it, kid?”

Fugo was visibly shaking with barely-contained rage. 

He snapped his head up, staring at the two of them with eyes full of hatred and anger.

“I’LL SAVE MY FRIENDS!”

Fugo hopped backwards off of the roof, reaching his hands out to grab onto the edge and swing himself into an open window, retreating into the building.

Magenta Magenta scrambled forward, leaning off of the roof’s edge.

“Wh--HEY! HEY, DAMMIT, GET BACK HERE! COWAAAAAARD!”

Magenta continued screaming over the roof’s edge into the street below, before he was interrupted by something.

A dead bird.

It fell from the sky, splatting onto the roof and tumbling down the incline until it unceremoniously hit the road below.

“...Uh…”

Magenta Magenta turned around.

There was...a stand there.

And a stand that really, really looks like one that neither of them would want to be around.

Hunched over. Drooling. Panting. 

A cloud of smoke around it.

[ Purple Haze ] had appeared on the roof.

Magenta Magenta instantly whipped around.

Purple Haze stared at him with intense, yellow eyes.

“...Ooh. Shit.”

He slammed his hands down flat on the roof, his own stand emerging and wrapping itself protectively around him.

[ 20th Century Boy ] !”

The unstable stand lunged forward towards Magenta Magenta, delivering a solid punch.

“UBAASSHAAAAAAAAA!!”

He was punched straight between the eyes, one of the capsules on the stand’s knuckles breaking open and releasing a thick, murky fog.

Magenta Magenta watched the fog disperse around him as the attack was redirected and grounded, spreading the impact evenly along the roof and rendering him unharmed.

As long as he stays in 20th Century Boy , he’ll be safe from whatever that fog is…

...But how long is he willing to stay here…?

“WEKAPIPOOOO!! HEEEEELP!!”

“W-Wait a minute, guys! I just realized something huge! We’ve been talking about stealing a plane this whole time, but...I mean, well, maybe it’s just me...but I think we’ve been forgetting something kinda important!”

Narancia shouted, frowning.

“How the hell are we supposed to fly a plane without a pilot?! How could we forget something so important when we’re this far on?! None of us have ever flown a plane before, right?!”

Abbacchio dismissively waved his hand.

“Calm your ass, Narancia, you’re the only one who’s forgotten.”

He kicked the door and it opened up, Abbacchio ducking his head in.

[ Moody Blues ] manifested and sat itself in the cockpit, the numbers on its forehead ticking backwards.

“You’re right that none of us know how to fly a plane...but someone ONCE piloted this plane before. Maybe no more than a day ago...there was a pilot in this cockpit that Moody Blues can take the form of!”

Narancia’s mouth was left agape.

“...Y-You’re seriously gonna replay it with Moody Blues …?”

Outside, Giorno was rubbing the side of the plane with Bruno at his side, while Mista and Anasui stood steadfast, watching for intruders.

The blonde-haired teenager looked back at his capo.

“I can’t sense any trace of life energy on this plane...that means...well, I’ll keep checking, but it means there’s no life on this plane at all...not even a cockroach or a fly.”

“Good! Then, we’ll take this plane!”

Bruno shouted back at Mista and Anasui.

“Mista! Anasui! You too, Giorno! Don’t let anybody...or, no, anything near this plane! Once we take off, we’ll be cruising at up to 10,000 meters in the air, and at over 800 kilometers per hour! No stand or stand user has the speed, power, or range to keep up with us once we’re airborne! Our destination...is SARDEGNA! Flight time is just under two hours!”

Mista and Anasui both gave thumbs ups, while Giorno just nodded to him as Bruno entered the plane.

Mista sighed, looking out at the horizon of the runway as Narancia poked his head out of the airplane, radar on.

“...Yaknow, Anasui, what’s Florida like? All the stuff I see that’s filmed there makes it look almost like a tropical paradise...Disneyland, swamps, palm trees, crocodiles...don’tcha get tired of all the cool scenery after a while?”

“I guess so...I mean, Florida has a lot of other neat things apart from what you described. It also has Universal Studios, Seaworld...Er, swamps...alligators…Okay, it mostly is just that.”

“Really? Sounds like there’s a lot of amusement parks.”

“There are...you get tired after going three or four times. It just becomes another landmark. It’s the same with how Italians view the colosseum in Rome or the Leaning Tower, right? Tourists go crazy over it, but you’re just like ‘eh, whatever’, right?”

“Heheh, yeah, damn, I guess you’re right! Maybe I should go and take a visit!”

“Ugh, god, don’t. It’s humid as fuck. It’s like living in a sauna 24/7.”

Giorno just watched them converse, listening to the conversation.

“Guys!”

The two guys looked over to Narancia.

“Something’s on the radar...it’s coming closer! We got someone walking down the runway!”

He looked back over down the runway, pointing.

“Mista! Anasui! Front and to your left! There’s someone walking! WE GOT INCOMIIING!”

Mista and Anasui whipped back around, Mista pulling out his revolver and Anasui getting ready to call out Diver Down .

...There was…

...Er...It was…

...C-Certainly someone that was walking down the runway.

A very ugly, freaky-looking someone that had a head that looked like nothing but a fatty lump coming up from between their shoulders.

Giorno looked up.

“A pursuer…?! Narancia, do you see anyone else?”

“Nobody else in range, at least. Any further and they wouldn’t be able to catch us before we left.”

Mista shouted at the strange man.

“STOP RIGHT THERE! Sorry, but I’m not lettin’ anyone lay a finger on this plane! You could be a saint or Jesus Christ himself for all I care, but I’ll still shoot you full of holes! No saint would show his ugly mug around here anyways...If you know what’s good for you, turn around, keep walking, and get the hell off the runway!”

The man simply kept walking.

Anasui glanced over to Mista.

“I’ll cover for you if he deflects any bullets.”

“Gotcha.”

Immediately, Anasui started sprinting towards the man as Mista shot one bullet.

The bullet dug itself into the man’s leg, spurting out blood as he fell to his knees, wounded.

Anasui slid around to the side, him and Mista flanking the man.

“Dig the wax outta your ears and listen up! This is your FINAL WARNING! I’ll let you go. Just turn around and crawl away, and I won’t kill you.”

The man groaned and huffed, but continued to crawl forward.

Narancia shouted from the airplane.

“He isn’t stopping, Mista! He’s slowed to a crawl, but he’s still coming at us!”

Then, a figure emerged out from the man’s side.

“A STAND! HE’S GOT A STAND!”

[ SEX PISTOLS ] !”

DIVER DOWN !”

Mista fired several times, and the small, yellow Sex Pistols rode on the bullets, kicking them and ricocheting them back and forth through the man’s head and quote-unquote “neck” with high-pitched ‘yeeeee-haaaww’s. 

After the man fell limp on the floor, Anasui lunged forward and sent Diver Down out, the stand digging its head into his neck and forcibly tearing out one of his cervical vertebrae, tossing it out behind him.

Narancia cheered. “He isn’t breathing anymore! He’s dead!”

Mista blew the smoke away from his gun, holding it up defensively.

“Giorno! Narancia! Anasui! Keep your eyes open, he might’ve brought friends!”