"Where is it?"
"No, it's not here." Giotto shook his head vigorously, and at the same time waved for Trish to give him something to eat. Trish had no choice but to pick out a steak for him, and then he drank a carton of yogurt, saying while drinking, "It's in the sky."
In less than two hours, Babyface had grown to look like a five or six-year-old, only about a meter tall, increasingly resembling a Q-version of Johnson Joffrey, because the pink hair on its head had receded, quickly growing golden hair. Trish happily hugged it.
"Oh, Giotto is so cute, don't grow up!"
"It won't grow up," Melone said, shaking his head. "Anyway, the biggest Babyface I've ever raised is only this size."
Johnson Joffrey looked at Babyface with some alarm. Everyone praised Babyface for looking like Johnson, but from Johnson's perspective, it looked a bit like... DIO... His original intention was not to let Babyface turn evil, but with Trish's guidance, Johnson was more at ease; he really didn't know how to teach a child.
"In the sky?" Bucciarati sat on a chair, thinking for a moment, "Is Diavolo taking a plane to leave this city?"
"It should be." Risotto stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and after a moment of silence, he said, "Then where is he going back to?"
"Babyface's tracking range is unlimited; we'll know once he lands," Melone said, gently tapping the keyboard.
Johnson's gaze fell on the computer next to Giorno.
Polnareff, why aren't you looking for me yet?... Now that Diavolo's past has been almost entirely investigated, why hasn't Polnareff contacted me yet? From the original work, Polnareff should have been paying attention to the situation in Italy. When Bucciarati contacted him, he accurately stated Bucciarati's name, showing that although he had been hiding his identity, he had no shortage of intelligence.
We've caused such a commotion; it's impossible for him to receive no news at all.
Could it be that it's too early, and Polnareff hasn't discovered the arrow's ability yet? That would be too unlucky.
Why is Diavolo leaving Cagliari again? Logically, with Bucciarati joining us, we could directly restore his true appearance. Diavolo has already been fully exposed.
Isn't the key now to directly kill us? Why leave Olbia? Why on earth?... "Dad, I want bread."
Babyface walked up to Johnson with its hands clasped behind its back like its mother, carefully saying. Johnson glanced at it, found the bread was indeed with him, then picked up the bread, tore open the plastic bag, and handed it over with a smile.
It hopped a little, delighted. Its intelligence was indeed only like that of a five or six-year-old, and its learning ability was extremely strong. It was only a meter tall, with dazzling golden hair, slightly large red eyes, and very fair skin.
He's practically a chibi Dio Brando. I'm worried Jotaro will ora you if he sees you.
It sat next to Johnson, seriously munching on bread. Johnson continued to ponder, then moved the computer from Giorno's side and, unwilling to give up, repeatedly sifted through Diavolo's messages.
Polnareff, where exactly are you?
"Ah ah ah!!"
Giotto pushed his bottom, jumped off the high stool, and suddenly shouted—
"Diavolo fell to the ground! Diavolo fell to the ground!" He repeated it several times, then circled Johnson to express his urgency.
"Calm down, Giotto." Johnson grabbed its collar and lifted it, but it hadn't realized it yet, its little arms and legs still running incessantly.
"Tsk." This child's intelligence is a bit low.
In the original work, Babyface saw through Giorno's Gold Experience ability at a glance. Our family doesn't have low intelligence; could this be Diavolo's genes?
After struggling for a while, it finally stopped, then said somewhat dejectedly, "Dad, Diavolo fell down."
Johnson put it on the ground, and it ran 'thump-thump-thump' behind Trish, hugging her leg.
"Where did he fall, Giotto, tell me." Risotto bent down and said to Giotto.
"Northeast, 200 kilometers, 40.54 degrees North latitude, 9.3 degrees East longitude," Giotto whispered.
Upon hearing this, Melone immediately looked up the location.
"No need to look it up," Johnson said, looking out at the balcony, "It's in Olbia."
Everyone's gaze fell on Johnson. His golden hair on top of his head fluttered in the wind. He walked to Trish's mother's sickbed, where there was a pile of things that Ghiaccio, Mista, and Formaggio had found in the apartment where Trish and her mother lived. He squatted down and carefully examined each item.
"Why would he go to Olbia?" Bucciarati frowned, deep in thought.
Johnson picked up a photo from the pile of miscellaneous items. He held the photo, raised his hand, and aligned the photo with his gaze, placing it alongside Trish's sleeping mother in his line of sight.
In the photo, a young Trish's mother was leaning on a landmark. The photo was taken in 1985.
"Trish, did you say your mother got pregnant with you while traveling in Olbia?"
"Mm." Trish looked at Johnson with the same confusion as everyone else.
"This photo was taken fourteen years ago in Olbia. You weren't born yet. This photo..."
"It's Diavolo!" Trish's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, exclaiming, "Diavolo took this photo! My mother told me about it when I was little!!"
Johnson smiled, put down the photo, and said confidently, "Diavolo doesn't know that the captain has been resurrected."
"From his perspective, the Assassination Team is basically a scattered mess. Now the only thing he has to deal with is Bucciarati's Team. To him, Bucciarati and we are basically hostile."
Indeed, Giorno frowned and thought, if Johnson hadn't told me before, and if Trish and I hadn't had a good impression of Johnson, we might not have allied. Because in Bucciarati's eyes, the Assassination Team is a group of bloodthirsty maniacs, greedy individuals, and desperadoes; he wouldn't even consider an alliance.
"Then the only enemy he considers is Bucciarati," Johnson continued, "and Bucciarati can only rely on this photo to find his true identity."
"That's why he went to Olbia."
"Well said," Bucciarati sighed, "If it weren't for Johnson's secret mediation, I wouldn't have allied."
"I see." Abbacchio looked up at Johnson, "Have you calculated to this extent?"