Stand Awakening

Guido Mista was born in an ordinary village in the Neapolitan countryside.

Unlike his peers who were full of youthful vigor and constantly striving, this young man, who grew up bathed in the gentle Mediterranean sea breeze, had longed for a comfortable and leisurely life since childhood.

And Mista followed this ideal quite well:

After graduating from junior high school, he stopped attending school and instead roamed the streets of Naples, enjoying life.

He greatly enjoyed the act of sleeping, and he also loved watching the swaying branches and drifting clouds under the sun.

He enjoyed the aroma of wine, and he also loved tasting delicious cheese.

When he saw a pretty girl, he would approach and flirt, even if he got yelled at.

When he ran out of allowance, he would go back to the cinema and beat up guys who were lining up while badmouthing Clint Eastwood, then steal their money.

Of course, the description above is a "small, sweet happiness" literary version written entirely from Mista's own perspective.

From the perspective of others, especially the villagers who used Mista as a negative example to educate their children:

Guido Mista was simply an incompetent dropout, a loafer, a womanizer, a thug who robbed and brawled, and irredeemable trash.

If he continued down this path, he would sooner or later become a good-for-nothing who lived off government relief, a nobody working odd jobs in the mafia.

But

Even for a Mista like this, a punk looked down upon by everyone, he knew what was right and what was wrong, what was justice and what was evil.

Although that bald guy named Li Qing had robbed him of two motorcycles and a mobile phone, and punched him in the face when he instinctively drew his gun to retaliate, causing him to lie on the street for more than ten minutes before waking up.

But Mista knew that Li Qing was righteous.

After all, Li Qing had saved his life at the risk of his own from that terrifying meatball and bravely sealed the meatball underground, saving the city from impending doom.

So.

When the tall man with silver hair falling over his shoulders, exposed chest muscles, and a flirtatious stance, who clearly looked like a rogue and a scoundrel, came looking for Li Qing's whereabouts, Mista instinctively, subconsciously, and without hesitation chose to cover for Li Qing.

"No, I haven't seen him."

Without even considering the consequences of lying to a bad guy, Mista unhesitatingly sided with the man who had just robbed him.

This clumsy lie seemed to fool the other party, and the bad guy turned and left without further questioning.

It was only then that Mista had time to think:

"That bald guy said he was in a very dangerous situation."

"As expected, someone came looking for him so quickly."

"Which means..."

"This man in front of me is actually working with that meatball from before?"

Recalling the meatball that had wreaked havoc in the city not long ago and almost swallowed him whole, Mista immediately branded the silver-haired man in front of him as an all-out anti-human terrorist.

His eyes showed even more disgust.

But just then, the silver-haired man suddenly stopped his departure and slowly walked back.

"Why are you back?" Mista asked with a hint of guilt.

"That..."

Abbacchio quietly leaned closer to Mista:

"I just want to ask..."

"How many fingers is this?"

As he spoke, he ordered Moody Blues to extend its blue palm in front of Mista and casually held up a few fingers.

"Four."

Mista answered instinctively.

"You can see it after all!"

Abbacchio's expression changed, and he immediately confirmed Mista's identity as a Stand User.

Stand Users were not common street commodities that could be easily encountered. This Stand User, appearing at a sensitive time and place, and clearly covering for Li Qing, was highly likely to be an enemy of the organization.

Therefore, he immediately rushed forward and launched an attack, delivering a powerful elbow strike to Mista's unguarded and vulnerable abdomen.

Although his Stand, Moody Blues, was not a combat-type Stand skilled in fighting, Abbacchio himself was a well-built combat-type Stand User with excellent physical skills.

Abbacchio exerted all his strength, and one blow made Mista's insides churn and his blood surge.

Clutching his heavily struck stomach, he instinctively hunched over. His skin flushed red from the intense pain, making him look like a boiled shrimp.

"What... what are you doing?!"

Mista let out a pained, low growl.

Abbacchio showed no mercy.

He knew that when dealing with Stand Users, one could not slacken even a little, lest the situation be instantly reversed if they unleashed some terrifying Stand ability.

Therefore, Abbacchio completely ignored Mista's muffled cries for mercy and, taking advantage of his pain-induced immobility, suddenly delivered a chop to his nape, aiming for a vital point.

"Ah!"

Mista cried out in pain, hunching his body lower and lower.

"He didn't even faint?"

"This guy's physique is really something."

Abbacchio was slightly surprised, and even more wary.

He immediately knelt behind Mista, pressing down on his spine. He held one hand down on Mista's neck and the other behind him, locking Mista's arm. Using a standard police takedown technique, he pinned the opponent firmly to the ground.

Mista's head was pressed tightly against the ground. One of his hands was firmly bound behind his back by Abbacchio, and the other was trapped beneath his own body. He had no way to retaliate at all.

At the same time, the silver-haired man pressing down on him continued to increase his strength, using his palm to put pressure on the nerves and blood vessels in his neck.

Clearly, the other party had no intention of talking and wanted to knock him out directly.

"No."

"This guy is an anti-human terrorist. I absolutely cannot fall into their hands!"

Mista, relying on his unusually strong, almost inhuman physique, struggled to maintain consciousness.

He then moved the hand trapped beneath his body with all his might, fumbling to grip the revolver at his waist.

"Still moving?"

Abbacchio was even more surprised.

The enemy had suffered heavy blows repeatedly without losing consciousness, yet hadn't summoned his Stand to counterattack.

Could his Stand ability be "incredibly tough skin"??

Abbacchio was puzzled, so he increased the pressure on his hands, attempting to knock Mista out in one go.

His Stand wasn't good at combat. If his surprise close-quarters attack failed to incapacitate the opponent, the situation would become very disadvantageous for him.

"Ugh..."

Mista let out a pained groan, his consciousness finally beginning to blur due to insufficient blood supply to his brain.

The revolver he had managed to grip was also firmly wedged beneath him due to the heavy pressure.

No matter how Mista struggled or fought, he couldn't move the hand holding the gun out from under him, nor could he aim the muzzle at the scoundrel behind him.

"Damn it..."

Mista felt a hint of despair.

"I can't move at all. I have no hope of fighting back!"

In this despair, his consciousness became even more muddled.

And then, perhaps because his brain was in disarray, he suddenly heard several unfamiliar yet clear voices:

"Mista—"

"Shoot!"

"Shoot? Shoot what?" Mista replied hazily in his mind. "The muzzle isn't even aimed properly. How can I hit anyone if I shoot?"

"It's okay."

"Trust us, Mista!"

Muddled, Mista felt like he saw six "little figures" flying around his vision:

They were only about the size of a bullet, and their appearance was a bright yellowish-orange, much like bullets, but they had hands, feet, heads, faces, noses, and mouths. Their expressions were so vivid and natural.

"Mista, shoot!"

They flew and leaped around Mista's eyes, urging him in unison:

"You don't need to aim to hit the target, because..."

"The bullets can curve!"

PS: Stand Stats

Stand Name: "Sex Pistols"

User: Guido Mista

Destructive Power: E

Speed: C

Range: The flight distance of the bullet

Durability: A

Precision: A

Growth: B

Ability: Can control the trajectory of bullets after they are fired, like little figures. Can ride on bullets to change direction and rapidly change trajectory with kicks. Can divide bullets with combined power to hit multiple targets.

A team of 6, each with self-awareness. Numbered from No.1 to No.7, with no No.4 due to Mista's own insistence.