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Diavolo should have known better. He should have known that leaving the leading to Doppio wouldn’t have been a great idea. But, at the time, Diavolo’s personality wasn’t still completely formed and so couldn’t take total control of Doppio’s body as he would have done in future. So he couldn’t have stop him from bonding with that girl, Donatella Una, and prevent all the consequences from that contact.
Just after the destruction of his hometown and the foundation of his organization, Passione, he found out that Donatella, his old crush, had been pregnant. And not by some random man, no. By him.
The baby was his.
Diavolo never felt so much dread sitting in his guts. The baby… must have been terminated. It was too dangerous, they… couldn’t live. He wanted to delete his past, all his past, included Donatella and the baby who, hearing his informators, hadn’t more that six months. It was something that required his presence.
Following the informations, Diavolo came to his ex-girlfriend’s house. Here… the kid. Donatella was sleeping, oblivious of the menacing presence that was about to end the life of her precious… daughter.
Diavolo’s green eyes reflected in the baby’s ones. A puff of pink hair -right like his- stood on her tiny head, so easy to crush. He looked at the letters above the cribs- Trish… so the baby was called Trish.
His daughter was called Trish.
He looked down at her again, tilting his head to a side. How strange… a creature so little could be so dangerous. He felt drawn to her, as they shared a soul bond; once adult, she would have felt it too, always knowing where he was, putting him, in fact, in danger. She must be eliminated.
He lifted his hand, ready to hit, as his King Crimson came to life, but, to his utter stupor, the little girl lifted her small hands too, opening and closing her little fists, staring at King Crimson. She…. could see his stand? She was a stand user too, so? Unexpectedly, a wave of pride washed over him. His daughter was already a stand user. Of course, she was his daughter, Diavolo’s daughter, the daughter of the most powerful stand user of the whole world. He couldn’t have expected less.
And this made him reflect.
Killing her… was the right choice, in the end? Having a heiress sounded incredibly alluring… and the baby had already showed her abilities, if only… if only well educated, if he would have made her grow up in his world, made her totally loyal to him…
He slowly lowered his hand, instead picking up the little girl, holding her, a bit awkwardly. Trish looked up at him, as she already knew who he was, and patted his cheek with her little chubby hand. For the first time since long, long time, a gesture so simple teared from him a small smile.
“Yes, my child. You know who I am. You’re going to grow up with me. You’ll become strong and loyal. You’ll be my worthy heiress, Trish.” he murmured, as the baby stared in his eyes, fearless, as she knew that her destiny, from that moment on, would have depended by that man, by her father. The life she had known and barely remembered, her mother… it all was washed away.
Trish grew at Diavolo’s side, always watched and followed by her father. Since her early childhood, Diavolo grew her as his utterly loyal and devoted daughter and heiress. She never thought even for an instant about betraying him. He was her father, the only parent she had ever known: he was everything.
She knew about her father’s splitted personality, the Diavolo one and the Doppio one: she loved them both, as she was both’s daughter. She had Diavolo’s coldness and decision, but Doppio’s sweet and soft traits: it was crazily useful when she was in mission. Who would have ever suspected of a girl with a so innocent face?
Diavolo was proud of his daughter. She was rightly as he had pictured her: strong willed, sharp minded, discrete, ready to follow his orders… And her stand, Spice Girl, even if not as strong as his King Crimson -not that he blamed her for this: being as strong as King Crimson was impossible- was incredibly useful and she used it with smartness. It was what mattered the most.
It wasn’t all good, however. Some people in the organization still tried to find out his identity and, if someone would have ever known about his precious daughter, it would have been the end of him. So he terminated immediately who could have been a threat both to him and Trish, who he had sent in a secret city of North Italy to study. To his dismay, he was grown attached to the little girl, getting used to have her at his side… now that she was a teenager and far away, he felt a little nostalgic. He… missed his girl.
But, when she was 15 years old, things dropped way too suddenly for his tastes.
News about his daughter filtered out and arrived to the Squadra Esecuzioni, a team that, since the dispatch of two of its members, had been kept under observations. They thought, not wrongly, that with the Boss’ daughter in their hands they could have located him but what it mattered more for him was Trish’s safety. So she sent her to Pericolo, who sent her to Bucciarati and his team. Diavolo observed from afar, closely following his daughter’s journey with the team. To his utterly satisfaction, Bucciarati’s kids showed an unexpected strength, killing one by one the members of Squadra Esecuzioni. Even better, he wouldn’t have had to move a finger. He observed his daughter, how she blent perfectly with the team in the role of the spoiled girl who didn’t know a thing about mafia and its dangers. If only they knew…
He had to meet her at Venice. For that time, all the Squadra, minus Risotto, had been annihilated. Risotto was a too high target: he would have gone personally. But until then… he would have had his daughter back. Bucciarati and his team would have been compensated and all would have gone well and nicely.
Just that it didn’t go like this.
Bucciarati’s team betrayed him. Thinking that “they were saving Trish for a man who sold drug to children”, what a bullshit. Still, his heart swell in pride when Trish didn’t let the cover fall down. Just as he taught her….
He ordered to his Unità Speciale to block them and kill the traitors, but not to lay a hand on his daughter. He got angrier and angrier when even his Unità Speciale was wiped out by those damn kids.
How dared they to try to hunt him down like a dog?! They really thought to have a chance to kill him, Diavolo, Don of Passione? To beat his King Crimson? They didn’t even know that he was hiding behind his sweet Doppio, that his precious daughter was luring them all to the death they deserved. The first to fall had been Abbacchio, Moody Blues’ user. He was too dangerous to stay alive. Still, they seemed to have plans… he felt, through his daughter, where they were heading and so did he. Still, he sent before Cioccolata and Secco, that freak duo, in an attempt to buy time. He would have arrived soon enough to block them -even once for all if needed- and take back his daughter.
But then came the Coliseum and Polnareff and all seemed to just crumble down as a sand castle. So… this was his end? A so inglorious end? And what about his daughter? What fate waited for her?
But it seemed that fate wasn’t totally done with him. He could snap off Doppio, immediately following his daughter’s soul during the swap. Trish knew, of course she knew. But she didn’t say a word, just lightly smirked, feeling stronger now that she knew that her father was near her. Now no one, no Bucciarati’s team, no Requiem bullshit could defeat them.
She carefully acted as usual, as the scared, distressed and spoiled girl, criticizing the body -Mista the gunman, if he remembered well- she was ended in. Thanks to her, Diavolo could call King Crimson out and eliminate the threat embodied by Narancia Ghirga, Aerosmith’s user, the only one who could have unmasked them.
But it wasn’t finished. Bucciati, Mista and Giorno Giovanna were still alive. He and Trish had to play smartly their cards, to get the arrow and be invincible.
And oh, they did it.
They played in a perfect tandem, fooling them all. Fooling even Giorno, who thought to be so smart and always one step above them. Oh, what a stupid, stupid boy. Like he could compete with him and his daughter.
And, right when they all thought it was done, that Diavolo could have been taken down once for all, Trish thrown away the mask.
Holding the arrow, with a smirk on her -Mista’s- face, she stared at her ex -or, better, they never were so- comrades. And, in that moment, they all understood. Too late to prevent what was by now unavoidable.
Trish sank the arrow in her father’s stand and the last bell rang for the traitors, in a requiem which was just for them.