Fuck this is bad. Sure Fugo has lost his temper before (he’s a raging hothead nearly sixty percent of the time) but he’s never lost his temper so badly that he’s accidentally let out his stand Purple Haze. One wrong move and everyone within thirty meters will be killed by its deadly vaporous poison. It wasn’t his fault! The bastard at the restaurant had it coming, constantly mocking Bucciarati and his friends. But the worst part? You’re right in the line of fire. The newest edition to the Bucciarati gang. Laying sleepily in the chair by the table after catching a slight fever from the rain outside. And where was Purple Haze? Right behind the chair.

”Fugo…..you need to bring him back. Now.”

Bucciarati was trying to remain calm, but everyone was tense and afraid to move. There’s no cure to the poison. And it only takes thirty seconds for the vapor to kill whoever it infects. Narancia had slowly backed up, Abbacchio and Giorno doing the same as Mista hurriedly cleared out the restaurant. There can’t be any catastrophes now. Especially not a massacre any non stand users could explain.

“I don’t know if he’ll listen to me. That guy pissed me off so bad he came out on his own! Fuck! I always fuck everything up!”

Mista had came back with his pistols, Giorno already had Golden Experience out but any rash attacks will set him off. Everyone knows that. But it’s hard to just hold their breath when Purple Haze is gripping the chair tightly, the knuckle pockets of vapor so close to your sleeping face.