“I’m such a screw-up!”

A high-speed train rumbled through a field of green. Dalia put a warm arm over Frida’s shoulder.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” said Georgia. “I mean, what was the alternative? You take the feathers with you, and then Leo snatches them off your person and abandons you in Alone Time?”

“Yeah, Frid~ya, we’re just glad you’re alive~,” said Dalia, nuzzling up to Frida. “It must have been ny~awful, trapped in there for a me~onth…”

“Funny thing is, I barely remember it,” said Frida. “Probably says something about how human memory handles monotony, I dunno.”

“Anyway, I get the feeling it doesn’t totally matter,” said Georgia. “Presumably, whoever wants to unlock Giorno’s treasure needs to have every feather, so as long as we have one, we’re still in the running.”

Georgia pulled a blue feather out of her jacket. The feather had a golden semi-circle pattern that glittered in the fluorescent light.

“You’re positive the hint led to Switzerland?” said Frida. “I mean, it would be pretty bad if we went off-track now…”

“The hiny~at was a red ladybug with a white plus sign~ya on its back,” said Dalia. “I’m ny~ot sure what else that could me~own.”

“Still... Switzerland may not be huge, but it is a whole country,” said Georgia. “Unless we find another hint, we may be stuck. Like, where would you find a blue feather in all of Switzerland?”

“Umm… Ge~ow?”

Georgia looked up from the Secret Step. A poster was plastered on the other side of the train - an advertisement for a ski resort. A picturesque hotel in the snow, with smoke rising from the chimney. Behind the hotel, a ski lift could be seen heading up the mountainside. Glittering text drew Georgia’s attention.

Try the slopes at La Plume Bleue! Only 65 km out of Geneva!

“La Plume Bleue… the blue feather…” mused Frida. “There’s no way it’s that easy, right?”

“Well, my father isn’t always subtle,” said Georgia. “Besides, it’s our only lead.”

“Ny~awesome!” said Dalia, jumping out of her seat. “I’ve always wanted to try skiing, nya~!”

“You realize you won’t always land on your feet, right Dalia?” laughed Frida.

A pale green car rumbled down a road through the woods. A hooded man wearing a diamond ring sat in the backseat. The driver wiped sweat from his brow. A sleek, black car could be seen approaching through the rearview mirror.

“Pick up the pace a little,” growled the hooded man. “I would rather not have anyone coming near me.”

The sweaty driver nodded nervously, and pushed the gas pedal further down. The passenger reached into his hood, and pulled out a set of six wooden tiles. He turned each tile over in his hand, revealing a letter and Scrabble score on each square. The collection had one “A”, one “E”, one “I”, two “N”s, and one “V”.

“The next hint on Giovanna’s treasure hunt…” grumbled the hooded man. “Six tiles, scrambled across the floor of Big Ben. In the right order, they spell out the location of the next Secret Step.”

The black car seemed to disappear from the back window, making a turn behind some trees. “At first, I thought the puzzle was impossible,” continued the mysterious passenger. “What location could possibly be spelled with those letters? NIVENA? NANIVE? VIANEN? It was only after hours and hours of searching that I realized… I was allowed to rotate the letters.”

The hooded man pinched one of the “N” tiles, and rotated it 90 degrees. The passenger whipped off his hood, revealing a wide grin and a silver beard.

“Z-E-N-I-V-A!” blurted Harry Warhol. “That’s what the hint spells, I’m sure of it! Geneva is the only city name that can possibly be spelled with these tiles! All right, driver, what’s our ETA?!”

“I have a name, you know,” said the driver. “I’ve told you five times already. And I’m going as fast as I…”

A loud sputtering sound filled the vehicle. The pale green car slowed to a stop, and smoke poured out from the engine.

“What the hell did you do?!” spat Harry.

“Me?! You’re the one who made me drive 120 on an ice road!”

“Look, I…” Harry sputtered. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Let’s just take a look under the hood.”

A pale green sheet of metal popped open. Harry and the driver peered down into the car bonnet. Most everything seemed intact. The transmission was all in one piece, the radiator looked fine, the battery was normal, and the engine was as flat as a pancake.

“Well,” said Harry, “I guess that’s the problem.”

“Wh-what the hell is going on?!” sputtered the driver. “It was running just fine a minute ago!”

A faint sliding sound whooshed past. Harry turned around, and saw a pair of people rushing past the trees.

“Is there a ski resort near here?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, there is,” said the driver. “It’s called Blowing Plums or something.”

Harry looked to the driver, then to the empty road, then back to the woods.

“I’m… gonna go see if anyone there has phone service.”

Harry wandered into the woods, leaving the driver to stare at his car in confusion.

= = = = = = = = = =

Frida and Dalia lay on a fuzzy sofa in a warm bedroom. Frida held up a dish of hot cocoa, and Dalia lapped it out of the bowl. Georgia plopped down in the armchair across from the two women, carrying a small pamphlet.

“It’s ny~ot anywhere in the hotel~ya,” said Dalia. “The feather, that is. No hiny~at either, at least ny~one that popped out.”

“Then, we better check the slopes,” said Georgia, leafing through the pamphlet. “Despite the size of the hotel, there only seem to be three main trails, one on each face. There’s a green trail, a red trail, and a black trail.”

“One for each of us, makes things easier,” said Frida. “I’ll take the black one, Georgia takes red, and Dalia takes green.”

Dalia pulled herself away from Frida. She sat up and folded her arms in a pout.

“...Did I say something wrong?”

“Frid~ya, do you think I’m fragile?”

“Wh-what?” stuttered Frida. “I just… I mean, you’ve never skied before-”

“Neither have I,” interjected Georgia.

“I me~own, think of it logically~a!” said Dalia. “My stan~yad is the longest range. I’ll probably~a be able to find and take the feather without needing to ski down anyway~a. Let me take the black slope!”

“Hey, can’t argue with that,” said Frida with a shrug.

“Dalia, are you… sure?” said Georgia. “I mean, I know your stand is good at this but… I’m worried there might be more danger than you’re anticipating.”

Dalia stood from the couch, and stared out the window. “I kny~ow, I get it, I’m not… the strongest one here,” she said. “But… I can’t live in fear forever~ya.”

= = = = = = = = = =

Harry Warhol brushed aside a branch, and stepped out onto a snowy slope. He stared at a concrete pole in front of him - the rumbling of a ski lift sounding from above. An older woman skied down the clear slopes. Harry stepped into the snow, and waved his hands. The older woman stuck her ski poles in the ground, and came to a stop in front of Harry.

“Hello there, young man! You don’t seem quite dressed for the occasion! What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a phone?” gasped Harry. “I… my car broke down, and my phone doesn’t have service in Switzerland…”

“Aw, no, sorry hon!” said the older woman. “There’s one down the slopes at the resort, but it’s a bit of a walk!”

“That’s- fine, thank you so much!”

“No problem!” said the woman as she skied away. “By the way, you do know about the two people who were following you through the woods, right?”

Harry turned around as the older woman flew down the snowy trail. A man and a woman wearing suits popped out from behind the trees, and drew guns on Harry.

“Wh-what’s going on here?!” sputtered Harry.

“I’m Mars from Interpol,” said the man. “That’s Venus from Europol.”

“Harry Warhol, you are under arrest for the disasters at Henriette-Herz-Park and Disneyland Paris,” said Venus. “We are authorized to kill you if necessary, so don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“What? But I wasn’t even there-”

“We have a reliable source,” said Venus. “Now, put your hands above your head and don’t move!”

Harry stared at the two. Sweat dripped down his cheek. Suddenly, he spun around on his heel, and dashed away.

“Open fire!” shouted Mars.

The agents squeezed their fingers around thin air. Their guns had disappeared. A troop of Rapture’s cells danced across the snow towards Harry.

“Better luck next time, agents!” laughed Harry. “Maybe bring something stronger than-”

Harry’s taunt was interrupted by a loud squelching sound. Harry screeched to a halt. He slowly looked over his shoulder, and watched two headless agents fall to the ground. Harry stared back at the corpses in shock and confusion.

A red mist began to fill the area.

Harry’s breathing stopped. His hands began to shake.

The air around Harry vibrated, and a sticky sound filled the trail. Harry looked over his shoulder as a man covered in scars and a stand with heavy armor appeared out of the blood mist.

“You are a very easy man to follow,” said Egon Bathory, “But a very difficult man to catch.”

Egon touched down on the snow. Harry backed away as South of Heaven loomed over the pair.

“Where are your companions?” said Egon. “Geovana, and the others. You don’t seem the type to travel without a bodyguard…”

Suddenly, a pair of Raptures spat a barrage of metal into Harry’s hands. The metal formed into the shape of two guns, which Harry aimed at the approaching Egon.

“All right, don’t move!” yelled Harry. “I snatched these guns from the agents earlier, so unless you wanna be pumped full of lead-”

“To be clear,” said Egon, “Are those real, working guns, or did you just make metal sculptures to trick me?”

“Erm-”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” said Egon.

Harry retreated, guns shaking in his hands as South of Heaven launched itself towards him.