Bucciarati Team (Seeking Recommendation Tickets)

Despite Diavolo believing he had the situation under control, Scarpi had indeed died under the muzzle of a gun, just as "Rolling Stones" had predicted.

"Fate."

"Is it truly impossible to resist?"

Faced with those two impossibly heavy words, Diavolo foresaw his own death.

No matter what he did, it would be futile.

We are all slaves to fate.

Scarpi's pessimistic words echoed in his mind, unsettling him.

"No!"

"I, Diavolo, am 'King'! Nothing has changed!"

Diavolo gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire.

"What of fate?"

"Since fate dictates that I am about to die, then I shall shatter this damned fate with my own hands!"

At that moment, he couldn't help but ponder a question:

Why did "Rolling Stones" show him a fate of imminent death? What could possibly threaten him, a dark emperor who had been invincible for over a decade?

"Li Qing."

Diavolo immediately thought of the bald man who had suddenly intruded upon his quiet life.

"Scarpi seemed to say that 'Rolling Stones' only suddenly sensed our impending deaths around 8 AM this morning."

"Around 8 AM..."

"Wasn't that precisely when that damned bald man appeared in my room?!"

"That's right. It was at that time."

"My fate, Diavolo's fate, has been altered!"

In that instant, the unfamiliar Eastern name 'Li Qing' became a venomous snake coiled around Diavolo's heart, refusing to leave.

Diavolo no longer saw him as a disgusting sewer rat, nor did he consider him an insect he could crush with a flick of his wrist. Li Qing had become his fated nemesis, a nightmare he had to eliminate!

"I can't continue like this anymore."

"I must use every means possible, mobilize all available forces, and eliminate this bald man as soon as possible!"

So thought Diavolo.

Until now, fearing that information regarding his Stand ability might leak to the organization's executives whose loyalty was questionable, he had only deployed his most trusted personal guards to intercept Li Qing.

But now, Diavolo could no longer afford to be so cautious.

He knew he had to take a small risk and mobilize all of Passion's forces in Naples to extinguish this fated enemy before he could rise to power.

Of course...

His true identity and Stand ability still absolutely could not be exposed.

If those organization executives were to overhear anything they shouldn't while dealing with Li Qing, then...

"Today," a chilling coldness gradually emerged in Diavolo's bizarre, yellow-green eyes, "many people will probably die."

Deep within the Naples prison, the VIP suite.

That's right.

Within this prison that housed serious offenders, there existed a VIP suite that was well-furnished, fully equipped, with internet and phone access, a refrigerator, a television, a supply of fresh food, and 24-hour attentive service from attendants (prison guards).

The occupant of this suite was Polpo, a Passion executive in charge of local affairs in Naples.

The clear irregularities of this VIP suite hinted at something.

He wasn't living here because he was arrested for a crime, but because he wanted to.

As a prominent figure within the Passion organization, this entire Naples prison, no, this entire Naples city was Polpo's territory.

With great power came great visibility, and Polpo had amassed countless enemies alongside his immense authority.

Rather than risk living outside, it was better to reside directly within this prison, which was constantly guarded by heavy troops.

For Polpo, entering prison felt like coming home, and he felt better in prison than at home. Everyone inside was his subordinate, and they spoke so nicely...

"Guards!"

"Hurry over here... I have something important to order!"

Polpo rang the bell in the room, summoning a prison guard for service as if calling for a hotel attendant.

Soon, a neatly dressed, stern-faced female prison guard pushed the door open.

"Lord Polpo?"

"Do you have any orders?"

Despite appearing like a righteous police officer, she immediately acknowledged the criminal Polpo as her boss.

Polpo didn't waste any time either.

This man, a full two-and-a-half meters tall and as corpulent as a giant bear that had gorged itself into obesity before hibernation, slowly rose from his luxurious sofa.

He looked down at the female prison guard.

"First, open the door and prepare the car. The boss has given orders, and I'm going out personally this time."

"Second, notify all organization members in Naples, especially the thugs on the outer fringes responsible for gathering street intelligence:"

"Tell them to use all means necessary to search the entire city for a bald Easterner named 'Li Qing'."

"Third..."

Polpo paused slightly and specifically instructed:

"Notify the Bucciarati Team and tell them the organization needs their strength right now."

Naples, a seemingly ordinary tea restaurant.

This was actually the Bucciarati Team's regular base.

The Bucciarati Team was a combat unit under Polpo, composed entirely of Stand Users, responsible for maintaining order in Naples' underworld and handling any dirty work.

Of course, calling it a "team"...

There were currently only three members, and they were all basically underage:

Bruno Bucciarati, 18 years old.

Pannacotta Fugo, 14 years old.

Narancia Ghirga, 15 years old.

Despite their astonishing youth, these three were Polpo's most trusted top fighters, and their strength was beyond doubt.

However, the number of members was indeed a bit small.

The team leader, Bucciarati, had been constantly looking for suitable Stand Users to bolster his team.

And today, it was precisely time for a new member to join:

"Leone Abbacchio, 19 years old."

"Your former profession was a police officer?"

"Hey, hey... Why quit being a cop to hang out with us gangsters? Are you a mole?"

Looking at the new team member, Abbacchio, who had just introduced himself, Fugo, who had a bit of a short temper, was the first to question him.

At this moment, the captain, Bucciarati, was outside taking a call from a superior.

The responsibility of "getting acquainted" with the new member naturally fell to Fugo, who, at only 14 years old, was the second oldest member of the team.

"19 years old?"

"Older than Bucciarati... a whole..."

"One, two, three, four... four years older!"

"Older than Fugo by... one, two, three..."

Narancia, a 'genius child' who hadn't put any skill points into math, counted the age difference between the new guy Abbacchio and them, his fingers meticulously working.

Of course, no matter what Narancia was doing...

He didn't look directly at the so-called new member.

"Giving the new guy a hard time?"

"How boring..."

Abbacchio subtly curled the corner of his mouth, then calmly answered Fugo's question:

"I've told Bucciarati everything I needed to say before joining."

"That's right. I was a police officer, but I left the force for certain reasons and am now changing careers to become a gangster."

"As for whether I'm a mole?"

"Heh."

He shrugged helplessly and laughed:

"When I was a cop, I already knew that this country called Italy was rotten to the core."

"Isn't the so-called 'police force' just a branch of your mafia, after all?"

"Who am I going to spy on?"

"Hahahaha."

Hearing this, Fugo immediately curbed his irritable temper and burst into exaggerated laughter:

"Just kidding, I was just joking."

"You're the new guy, we'll definitely take care of you!"

"Here!"

"Drink this cup of tea, and from now on, you're one of us!"

As he said this, Fugo stood up from the table and, in a friendly tone, poured Abbacchio a cup of steaming hot black tea.

Then, In front of Abbacchio, Fugo bent down and dug a clump of dark mud from under his leather shoe, dropping it into the teacup and stirring it with his finger.

"Come on!"

"Abbacchio, drink it!"

Fugo pushed the now murky tea towards Abbacchio, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Tch, childish."

"Every organization has its way of welcoming new members. It seems that compared to the police, you gangsters still aren't ruthless enough!"

Abbacchio openly displayed his disdain.

With that, he casually picked up the freshly made mud-water and, without changing expression, drank it down in one gulp.

"No way..."

"He actually drank it?"

Both Fugo and Narancia were stunned by this display.

"He's a tough one."

"With someone like this joining the team, any new recruits in the future are going to have a rough time, aren't they?"

Seeing Abbacchio's practiced performance during the 'newcomer's welcome,' they couldn't help but worry about any future members who might join the team.

Just then, Bucciarati returned from his phone call.

This man, only 18 years old, always exuded a mature and steady demeanor when speaking with his own people, like an elder whose presence was as comforting as a warm spring breeze:

"Abbacchio."

"How is it? Are you getting along well with Fugo and Narancia?"

"Pretty well."

Abbacchio replied nonchalantly, "These two 'junior' seniors are very good at taking care of people."

"That's good..."

Bucciarati's gaze, tinged with suspicion, darted between Fugo and Narancia's guilty faces, but he ultimately said no more:

"Since everyone has met each other, let's get straight to business!"

"The situation is a bit sudden, but..."

"Abbacchio."

He specifically looked at the newcomer who had just joined the team, "Your first mission as a gangster has arrived."

"Oh?"

Abbacchio asked with keen interest, "What kind of mission is it?"

Bucciarati took a deep breath and slowly replied, "Murder."