When it came to intelligence gathering, Joey had a few tricks up his sleeve.
The identity of a Licensed Hunter was the easiest path to acquiring high-level intel. Although Joey wasn't a professional hunter himself, he knew plenty who were.
So, once he decided to dig into Gerrard's background, he went straight to Gon.
Gon had no issue using his Hunter license to pull data from the Hunter Association's intel network.
Thanks to that, Joey quickly obtained detailed information about Gerrard online.
This kind of intel was purchasable through the Hunter Association's classified database, but the prices were steep—starting at 10 million Jenny, and scaling upward depending on the depth and accuracy of the content.
After reviewing the report, Joey could only admit—it was worth every Jenny.
The file contained not only the names of Gerrard's family members, but also details about his bodyguards, including strength assessments for some of them.
It even featured an analytical summary written by a professional intelligence hunter, which alone was valued at 3 million Jenny.
Altogether, Joey spent 17 million Jenny for the full report—leaving his wallet bleeding dry again.
He finally realized how naive his so-called financial freedom had been.
Over 100 million Jenny once felt like a fortune. But after paying Mizayaston and now this intel purchase, he was barely left with 10 million—just enough for food and shelter, but not enough for more high-end investigations.
To get deeper intel, Joey would have to dig it up himself.
What he needed now was a chance—a way to meet Gerrard face to face.
He reviewed the intel again to double-check his action plan.
Gerrard had two sons—and no record of a father. If Gerrard were to die, his sons would inherit the fortune. His family was relatively small.
Yet, this man controlled assets in the hundreds of billions. Even without Joey, Gerrard was a walking magnet for attention, power, and danger.
Still, Gerrard wasn't at the core leadership level of Heaven's Arena—he was likely a high-ranking executive, maybe even a stakeholder, but not a top shareholder.
According to the report, Gerrard was frequently targeted. Attacks on his staff were common, including his own butlers. In a chaotic world of Nen users, crime syndicates, and corporate warlords, that was expected.
Especially at Heaven's Arena—a breeding ground for talent and killers alike.
Yet despite all this, Gerrard was still alive and well.
That, Joey learned, was thanks to his elite bodyguard team.
Thirteen hand-picked professionals: Nen users and world-class security experts. Some he had recruited from the arena itself, others trained personally.
Two of them were always at his side:
Atikem, a former Floor Master of the 210th level.
Miku, his "secretary," who had no public intel whatsoever.
Anyone Gerrard trusted to guard his life had to be terrifyingly powerful.
And if the analysis was right—Gerrard himself was a Nen user—then this wouldn't be an easy job.
In fact, it might be impossible to approach him without brute force.
But Joey wasn't here to roll dice on luck.
The report detailed Gerrard's upcoming itinerary, including matches he planned to spectate. That would be Joey's best chance to get close.
He had no intention of charging in blind.
Over the next several days, Joey roamed the arena like any hardcore martial arts fan—studying every floor and fight.
Naturally, his attention focused on the 200th floor and above—the real battlegrounds of Nen users.
But those tickets? Insanely expensive.
His funds dwindled fast.
Still, the gamble paid off.
Joey found out about a huge event scheduled for October 1st:
A Floor Master showdown.
The names hadn't been officially revealed yet, but he already knew.
Chrollo Lucilfer vs. Hisoka Morow.
Two reigning Floor Masters—Chrollo returning from a suspension, Hisoka issuing his first challenge.
It was the kind of fight that would pack the house.
Heaven's Arena had no VIP rooms, no private booths.
Their slogan was clear:
"Want to feel the heat of the fight? Sit ringside and witness the fiercest matches in existence!"
The closer to the stage, the higher the ticket price—and the more respect you earned.
It was marketing genius.
Joey decided then and there: this match would be the meeting point.
Gerrard would definitely be present.
And Joey needed no better opportunity.
Until then, he waited quietly—keeping a low profile.
He was tempted to step into the arena himself… but until things with Gerrard were settled, he wouldn't risk exposing his identity.
Three days later, that plan shattered.
A familiar pulse reached him—his connection with Gold Experience had been triggered.
And he'd only planted one active construct: the coin he gave Ed.
That could only mean one thing:
Ed had arrived at Heaven's Arena.
Would Ed figure out the coin's secret? Possibly. But unlikely.
There was no way to confirm Joey had left Shiping's private mining site, which was tightly controlled and guarded.
Joey had left quietly, without fanfare.
Without knowing Joey's whereabouts, Ed wouldn't be able to predict he'd be here at all.
Still—never underestimate the unexpected.
Joey decided to tail Ed from a distance.
Maybe this would lead him straight to Gerrard.
Throwing on a suit, mask, and sunglasses, Joey blended in perfectly.
Compared to the cloaked figures and helmeted brawlers of Heaven's Arena, his disguise was downright ordinary.
Following the coin's signal, he made his way to the elevator lobby.
The arena had two types of elevators:
Fighter-exclusive, always attended.
Tourist-access, slower, more crowded.
Joey, being unregistered, used the latter.
He waited in line patiently.
And then—they appeared.
Ed, the coach, and the fitness woman.
Ed had ditched the Debt Collector curse and was now wearing a sharp suit.
He spun a coin between his fingers, brows furrowed in tension.
Joey's eyes narrowed. It was his coin.
Apparently, Ed now used it to relieve stress.
He'd even become proficient at coin tricks.
...What the hell happened to him in the last few days?
Joey boarded the elevator, pressed "Floor 100," and waited.
Floor 100 and 200 were special.
The first was home to most administrative offices.
Only the arena's real power players had offices on the 200th floor.
Seeing Ed's group stop at Floor 100 confirmed it: Gerrard wasn't a top shareholder.
That matched the intel Joey had bought.
At the front desk, Joey pinpointed the coin's location on the map and purchased a ticket to the nearest viewing room.
Stepping forward, Joey released his 1.7-meter En,
A tiny Weather Beast perched on his shoulder.
His body shimmered.
He activated a technique based on mirage physics—manipulating temperature and air density via Nen.
Light bent around him, projecting an illusion of him standing still at the arena gates—while he moved freely unseen.
Anyone watching would only see a faint, rippling silhouette.
Carefully avoiding obstacles, Joey crept closer to his target.
Once in range, he pulled out a tiny bug-shaped wiretap, used Gold Experience to morph it into a ladybug, and sent it flying into the office.
Then he transformed his backup phone into a gecko, and sent it crawling along the walls.
Finally, he backed off—merging with his own projected image and dispelling the Weather Mirage.
Inside the arena, Joey adjusted his earbud.
"…The mission failed!" a deep, smooth voice said through the bug.
"But at least you survived. Based on the data you sent… I underestimated him. Thought he was just a punk from the Dark Continent. Looks like I was wrong."
Gerrard.
Joey was 90% sure that voice belonged to him.
Dark Continent? Joey's eyes narrowed.
He thinks I'm from the Dark Continent?
But his official record said he was an East Gorteau citizen.
Did Gerrard know something the world didn't?
Then came Ed's voice:
"His Nen Beast doesn't bear any Divine Characters. I checked carefully."
"None?" Gerrard echoed, deep in thought.
Joey froze.
Divine Characters.
He'd heard of them from Kite—ancient glyphs used to augment Nen.
Mostly used by Conjurers, they enhanced equipment and objects.
Kite's own weapons—scythe, rifle, magic wand—were all engraved with different Divine Characters.
He'd learned them from Ging, who was a top five master of the art.
Joey had some basic info but hadn't started learning.
He didn't need glyphs—yet.
But if Gerrard thought Joey's Stand bore Divine Characters…
Why?
"Forget it," Gerrard finally said.
"If he won't come in alive, bring me his corpse and everything on him. Atikem will assist you."
"Understood."
Two voices responded—Ed, and a low, gravelly baritone.
Then a third—female and confused:
"What's this? A gecko? A… phone?"
"…An assassin?" the gruff voice hissed.
"Joey Joestar! He tracked us here!" Ed snapped.
But by then—it was too late.
Joey's Killer Queen had already pressed its thumb.
The bug burst into a blast.
The room fell silent.
Back in the arena, Joey licked his lips, eyes fixed on the ring.
Guess I was naive thinking we'd talk this out. Gerrard's a dead man.
Black-suited guards flooded Floor 100.
Joey left the area casually, blending into the crowd.
With his disguise and Shiping's makeup lessons, no one could recognize him from a photo.
Heading back to his room, Joey thought aloud.
"He wants me dead. Fine. I'll take him first."
As for Gerrard's secrets about "Chirp"? If he could steal them, great.
If not? Whatever.
Collateral damage? Not his problem.
He had no attachments—Kite's group wouldn't be dragged in.
Joey's role in the expedition was a disposable pawn—a temp forced in by higher-ups.
His presence wasn't even properly documented.
As for his healing abilities? Still a secret.
In short: Joey Joestar was invisible.
Sitting in his room, Joey stared at the calendar.
What was once meant to be a meeting date…
Now became an assassination date.
His mission changed:
From investigating Gerrard to eliminating his guards.
Gerrard's group had someone capable of detecting intruders with En or some special ability—someone who had instantly spotted the gecko.
The ladybug might've slipped under the radar.
But the gecko? Too obvious.
So Joey triggered First Bomb by calling the phone and hoping someone would pick it up.
He hadn't expected goodwill to be enough.
And if they hadn't tried to kill him? He could've kept the phone in semi-organic form. No one would dare answer that.
But they had.
And someone likely died in the blast.
That woman—probably a Conjurer, judging by those specialized Nen shoes Ed had worn—was likely one of Gerrard's bodyguards.
One down. Fifteen to go.
Joey smirked.
"They're in the light. I'm in the dark. That's how I like it."
He flipped a coin.
Midair, it morphed into a parrot, which fluttered around and landed on his shoulder.