"So," Giorno said as he drove Rarity and Mista to the station, "What about your history? I'm sure you have some stories to tell." Mista shrugged. "I don't see why not. My life was pretty simple to start. Got good sleep, enjoyed the morning sky, even got to enjoy wine or cheese tastings." "Never was a fan of wine," Rarity admitted, "Cider's been more my poison." Mista looked at her. "My family owns an orchard outside of Manhattan," she explained.

Mista shrugged. "Anyway, I've done the occasional flirting when I saw a pretty girl, all of it harmless. Mostly they turned me down, but honestly I never really expected them to take me up on my offers. Whenever I was low on cash, I'd hang around outside the theater and beat up people who badmouthed Clint Eastwood." "You would get along famously with Uncle Hol Horse," Rarity said, "Or Grandmama for that matter. She always calls Clint Eastwood the modern-day John Wayne."

"So what about those people you beat up?," Giorno asked. "Well, if I won I'd take their money," Mista replied, "If I lost... I'd wind up spending the night in a police station holding cell. I was content with my life. Some may have called it idiotic, but I was never one for complex matters, that invites fear into the heart. But then when I was seventeen, everything changed. I was walking home alone one night when I stumbled across a man beating up a woman. From the looks of the half-naked and bleeding woman, this was no mere spat... It was an attempted rape."

"What did you do?," Rarity asked. "Well my body was moving more than my mind, which was screaming not to get involved," Mista said, "I tore the man out of the car, ramming my knee into his stomach hard enough to knock him out. But this guy was a regular street thug. Not a gang member, just a rotten thug off the street. And he had two buddies." "Thugs don't like getting humiliated," Giorno noted. Mista shrugged. "Well, the guy pulls out his revolver and fires off two shots. But here's where things get crazy... Even though he was at such a close range, he completely missed with both shots, zooming right under my armpit and into the darkness behind me."

"Did you have your Stand back then?," Giorno asked. Mista shook his head. "At the time I hadn't even heard of Passione, let alone have a Stand. Anyway, I kept approaching the guy as he kept firing, emptying his revolver without hitting me once. I could hear the sounds of the ricochets behind me as I got closer." "He must have been in a panic," Rarity thought. "Probably," Mista replied, "By this point his two buddies also pulled out their guns and fired at me from two different angles, yet not one bullet so much as grazed me. Even my clothes came out unscathed."

"Stranger things have happened," Giorno noted, "So how did you deal with them?" "Now here's where the story takes an interesting turn," Mista said, "I found myself overcome by a calm collectiveness. I didn't think myself invincible or unkillable, more like I could feel my concentration sharpening. I grabbed the empty gun from the first thug and reloaded the chamber with a few bullets I also managed to grab. That's when I got my first kills under my belt, killing all three of them in four shots."

He sighed. "And that's where things went downhill. I was arrested and the court wouldn't believe my self-defense story, so I'd be getting fifteen to thirty years in prison if found guilty." "Didn't the woman vouch for you?," Rarity wondered. "They never found her," Mista explained, "She ran off after the thugs were killed. The more I thought about it, the more my mind went back to the fact that I had to take four shots to kill three people. That's why I started equating four with bad luck."

"How were you released?," Giorno said. "The incident came to Buccellati's attention," Mista explained, "He saw that I had Stand potential and unlike the courts, he believed I acted in self-defense. So he pulled some strings to get me acquitted. Then he sent me to Polpo to take his test. And you can guess how that worked out." "Right," Giorno said, "You wouldn't be here telling the story if you didn't pass the test." Mista nodded. "So Rarity, what about you?"

"Not much to tell," Rarity said, "I grew up on my family's orchard, learning the value of hard work. When I was around eight my parents wanted to move to the Zeppeli ancestral home in Napoli. When I was ten I wound up getting hit with the same arrow from the test. I guess someone from Passione was seeing if it could be used for recruitment. Two years ago me and Giorno met and he shared his dream. We became friends first and later began a relationship."

"How did your parents feel about you joining the mafia?," Mista wondered. "Oddly enough Father said he was proud of me for taking control of my life," Rarity said, "Mother was a little worried knowing what a dangerous life it is, but that was her only concern. They knew about Giorno and his dream and wished him success when they heard it." Mista then noticed frost on the windows. "Looks like the mist is rolling in," Mista said, "We're approaching Venezia, the city on the sea."

"Grandmama told me all about Venezia," Rarity said, "It's where she and Grandpapa got married." "This is the Ponte Della Liberta," Giorno said, "The only road to and from Venice and the mainland. Santa Lucia is a train station, meaning once we reach it, we won't be able to get further by car." Mista kept rubbing frost off the windows. "This doesn't seem natural, even with the mist around the city." "Roads are getting icy too," Giorno noted, "Rarity, we need some traction." "Coming right up," Rarity said, focusing Art of the Dress to create a crystal road over the ice.

Mista noticed that his finger had gotten torn off. He soon saw it on the window. Giorno opened the window only to have a blast of cold air come in, a picture hitting his face. "Wait a moment!," Rarity said, "That looks like a copy of the picture Pericolo showed us! But he was supposed to have burned it!" "It's not the same picture," Giorno said, "Look, the image is incomplete, but the building and statue are still visible." "I gotta say," came a male voice above them, "It took us a while to find you. That was clever how you used the ten or so cars to throw us off. But some of us were already going after Pericolo, and we knew you were heading for Venezia. And while Pericolo offed himself, we did find his laptop."

"He's on the roof!?," Giorno noticed. "I don't see the turtle in the car," the voice said, "You must have split up... Which means you're here to pick up something important! And it's in the photo! Well, well. We may not need the girl after all. This could be something that leads right to the boss." "We gotta get him off the roof," Mista said, "Clearly this guy has a Stand that can control ice. If it's gets too cold, then game over." This was the last part of the mission. They couldn't fail here.

And so approached the last of La Squadra...

Or at least the last one the group fights, they never do tangle with La Squadra's leader.