Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The phrase ‘dog days of summer,’ he thought, had never before been so obnoxious.

Dio stared out the window, his book resting forgotten on the sill. His countenance was that of carefully trained disdain. The only word for what Jonathan and his mutt were doing in the fields was frolicking, and the sight of it simply filled him with a sense of dissatisfaction. Not at the fact that he wasn’t included, never that, but that his efforts at turning the young man outside into a wretch too miserable to ever even consider standing in the sunlight were failing.

He sighed and closed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin, but if he did this right—if he did the next few years of careful planning correctly—then he could claw his way to the top of these weakly-minded and softer-willed upper-class wastes of skin and then— and then—

Where had he gone wrong? 

Dio wondered this as Star Platinum crumpled The World under its fists like so much paper. Years, no, over a century of careful planning, all destroyed on the whims of some moody teenager. The Stand tore him apart from a distance, practically atom by atom—he could sense the ancient base instincts of his stolen spinal cord sending klaxons of alarm that never reached the ends of his dead and dissipating nerves. He desperately wanted to hold on to unlife, but his efforts were in vain. His vision went neither white nor black, but empty.

And then the day began again.

Dio spent over an hour in his closed coffin thinking that it was the afterlife before realizing he could hear faint noises outside. He had been willing to accept waiting for Heaven in a repeat of his underwater purgatory, but the reverberations of stale air with sound pricked at his awareness. He threw the coffin lid aside and looked around. Because his sleeping quarters were in the basement, he had no knowledge as to the time of day. So he skulked upstairs, uncertain and suspicious, but the mansion was the same as it had been before the damnable Joestars had arrived. He spotted a thin sliver of sunlight streaming through the blackout curtains and scowled. He scanned the room further, searching for Vanilla Ice or one of his other confidants, but he froze when he saw himself at the other end of the chamber.

Yellow Temperance would not dare to do such a sacrilegious impersonation, and besides, the Stand user had been humiliated by the Joestars long before their arrival at the mansion. Dio narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, expecting his double to mirror him. The other Dio merely smiled widely enough to bare teeth.

Dio scowled. “What is this.” It was more statement than question.

The other Dio tilted his head and his golden hair draped against his shoulder. “Take a guess.”

“I did die, did I not?”

“You did.”

“Am I in Hell or Heaven?”

“What difference do you think there is?”

Dio had no desire to play armchair psychologist with himself. He moved forward with supernatural speed, not stopping time but instead merely using vampiric instinct as he attempted to gouge out his copy’s throat. The other Dio flung the curtains wide. Dio shrieked and the bright rays fell upon his skin like molten metal. Despite the pain, he turned his head to glimpse outside. He saw the sun—

He did not see the sun. He landed by slamming his shoulder against a strange and glassy expanse. He could sense the other Dio standing over him, and the double leaned down as if speaking to a bewildered child. His tone was at once mocking and playful. “Try a bit harder next time.”

And the day began again.

Dio threw aside the coffin lid and stormed upstairs. His eyes flashed as he searched the room— and there he was, leaning against the far wall and shrouded in shadow. The World brought time to a grinding halt—

The World stayed but the world did not. Again, Dio found himself upon the glassy expanse. His Stand hovered beside him, as blankly faced as ever, but its hands were raised slackly, as if it was unsure about curling them into fists. His double stood a few paces away from him with his thumbs tucked casually into his waistband. “Allow me to explain,” he finally said, and he raised one hand to languidly wave. “I’m indulging myself in second chances, so please don’t make it boring and please don’t make it predictable.”

Dio scowled. “What is this?”

The other Dio shrugged. “You won.”

He winced at the echoes of pain in his spine. “I certainly did not.”

“Not that time,” the other Dio conceded, “but once. Somewhere. And that’s all it takes, really.”

Around them grew a gallery of worlds. Dio glanced at the orbiting images with narrowed eyes while his double tilted his head back in reminisence. “I did what you couldn’t, and it allowed me to see that one victory in a multitude of defeats was not enough to satisfy me.” A sharp nail swept across the surface of a miniature Earth, digging out a deep divot. “So now I travel, and I help.”

“Help?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Help me defeat the Joestars?”

The scrape deepened, crumbled, decayed. Dio watched as the Earth collapsed into rot in his double’s palm.

“Not quite,” he answered.

Dio gritted his teeth. His double nonchalantly flicked dust from his fingers.

“Think of it as a game,” his double said, “that I simply must win again.”

And then the day began again.

D’Arby the younger was far more solitary than his brother and so Dio had allowed him to sulk within the mansion, his elusive and illusive nature providing a fine first line of defense. Dio avoided the chamber upstairs, wary of confronting himself once more, and he instead sought out the young man. He felt more relief than he was expecting at seeing him— at least he wasn’t the only citizen of his self-made hell. D’Arby was in the middle of killing time and some sort of racing game was flashing on his television screen. Dio watched silently until D’Arby realized he was there. The young man gulped down a yelp and muted the game as he turned to greet his employer. “Lord Dio, sir! Is there anything I can do for you?”

Dio was silent for a long while, partially because he was unsure of what to say but mostly because he was entertained by D’Arby’s nervous squirming. Finally, he tapped one long black fingernail on his chin and nodded towards the screen. “What are you playing?”

Stark incomprehension twisted D'Arby's face into a frown. “Just a game, Lord Dio.”

“I’m aware of that.” He sighed and instead tapped his nails against his elbow with impatience.

“Well, F-Mega is a racing simulator. I’ve been playing it at an expert level for years now.”

“Oh, yes. Your stand allows you to claim the souls of those you best in your…games.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded with ingratiating enthusiasm. “I have to keep my skills sharp, you see.”

The car raced in circles ad infinitum. Dio found himself beginning to frown. “So after you win your game,” he said lowly, “you often return to it?”

“Well, yeah,” D’Arby answered, forgetting decorum in his excitement to talk to the Lord Dio about videogames. “I like trying to beat my own high score. Though, the older the game, the harder it is to surpass your previous run. There’s only so much room in the simulation for improvement, you know? Eventually, your game becomes perfect.” He let out a long, satisfied sigh at that, and he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. “Still, it’s important to keep my skills honed. Don’t want to risk getting rusty. And when you’re the best, there’s nothing more satisfying than beating yourself.”

Dio felt the urge to reach out and pluck the man’s carotid from his neck like a particularly vicious gardener would pull out a weed. He restrained himself. Instead, he muttered a noncommittal “I see.”

A game to win again.

He retreated to his coffin.

Chapter Text

Strangely, the night passed without incident. No Joestars came kicking down the doors. Dio looked at a day-by-day paper calendar that Enyaba had stolen for him months ago and to his surprise, it was a few days earlier than he had assumed his double had placed him. What was the purpose of the added time? Was he meant to approach fighting the Joestars differently? Should he pack everything up and leave? Prepare the manor for a siege? His pacing and planning brought him to the main stairwell, where he heard vicious bickering. He leaned against the balustrade and dragged one sharp nail against his temple in annoyance.

Dio had decided long ago to never have Hol and Mariah work together because Hol tended to walk towards anything woman-shaped crotch first and Mariah would have no qualms with directing his crotch into a high-voltage outlet. It was an electrocution waiting to happen. Yet here they were, snipping at each other like hungry dogs.  Hol was pacing while Mariah was seething upon a wheelchair. Most of her body was held together by gauze and metal struts.

“Shut up,” Dio stated as he descended the stairwell. “Both of you. Hol, did I not give you very clear instructions?”

“Yeah,” Hol replied as sweat beaded on his brow, “and I’m gonna go—”

“And you,” Dio said, turning to Mariah. “Explain.”

There was murder in her eyes. “I want to go out again. I want—”

“You are of no use to me,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but instead so matter-of-fact that Mariah winced.

“I am! I can do this for you. Just let me—”

"Can you even use your Stand?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Hol pointed at Mariah, whose mouth was twitching into a snarl. “You’ve got metal all over you! You use Bastet and you’ll crumple easy as aluminum foil.”

“That isn’t how it works!” she shrieked. “I can be at a long range. They won’t even see me!”

Dio began walking away. “You can go out again and get yourself destroyed by the Joestars if you want. I truly do not care what you do. I have more important things to be concerned with. But if you’re going to go throw yourself at their feet, do it soon. I don’t want your failures to interfere with Hol’s very important mission.”

Mariah leaned dangerously forward out of her chair. The gauze crackled. The wheels creaked. “Hol only does well on a team! Have me go with him! Don’t send him in with some child !”

Dio paused. “Child?”

Mariah and Hol shared a fearful glance as Dio turned around. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t questioning the decision to send in a child; he just couldn’t recall any minors remaining on his roster. Death Thirteen was either abandoned or adopted somewhere, and Boingo…

Boingo had been hospitalized but not injured to nearly the extent that Mariah had. And if he could activate Tohth, he could offer insight as to what the hell was going on. Dio peered into the shadowy corners of the entranceway. There were several cobwebbed crates and cardboard boxes scattered around from the various comings and goings of his underlings. One of them, however, must have been recently moved. While most of the floor was dusty, this one had a patch around the box where the dust had been scuffed away.

Dio flipped open the lid of the large cardboard box. Boingo cowered within. Hol began stammering some form of explanation but Dio held up a silencing finger.

“You. Get up,” he commanded. The boy slowly came out from under the cardboard, shaking like a leaf. He clutched his comic book to his chest.

“Give me the damn book,” Dio hissed, and he snatched it from the trembling boy’s fingers.

“GIVE ME THE DAMN BOOK,” the newest page read, showing the exact same scene in a colorful replica.

“A HINT FOR YOU,” the next page read, overlaying a zig-zagging transition. An angular and rather unflattering depiction of Dio was sitting on a throne.

“I’VE DEFEATED EVERYONE,” the caricature boasted. “AND NOW I AM SO BORED,” it continued, resting its chin on its palm. The throne was revealed to be sitting in front of an old-fashioned theatrical vanity mirror with bright round light bulbs surrounding the silvered glass.

“WHAT’S LEFT FOR A TRIUMPHANT GOD TO DO?” the cartoon huffed, gazing at its reflection.

The vanity lights were revealed to be skulls.

“AUTOCANNIBALISM,” the reflection replied.

Dio didn’t turn to the next page. He threw the book to the floor and turned on his heel. Hol and Mariah were stammering, confused, supplicating. He ignored them and ascended the steps. He threw open the door to the room where his double had been waiting—

Nothing. His double was not there.

He felt a growing panic and an aching hunger. Time stopped; he appeared seemingly instantly behind the distressed Hol and Mariah. “Take the boy and get me what I asked for,” he said, pushing the man forward for emphasis. “As for you,” he said, descending upon Mariah, “I may have found a use for you yet.”

His teeth tore at her throat. She convulsed weakly. Metal creaked around his ears.

He could hear Hol’s boots on the tile: fast steps, a pause, a scrape and a shout as he grabbed the boy from the box, then the tap-tap-tap of him running away. He pressed his face further into Mariah’s neck, the blood flowing messily onto his face, clouding his vision. He closed his eyes. His hunger certainly wouldn’t remain sated, but maybe this time Hol would succeed and he’d have Joestar blood to finally complete the cohesion of his borrowed body—

He opened his eyes. He snarled and pounded his fist into the wooden lid of his coffin.

The day began again.

Dio checked the day-by-day calendar. It was now several weeks before the final confrontations with the Joestars.

He ignored the petty dramas of the manor. Instead, he began searching for Pucci because being around Pucci after being surrounded by his underling sycophants felt a lot like the first breath of fresh air after a century in an airtight coffin. If the calendar was correct, then he had been placed into a time that Pucci was indeed visiting. He eventually found him in one of the myriad extra rooms of the manor lounging on a bed and reading, as he often did, dark eyes sharp with focus as he scanned over the page. Dio stood in the doorway and waited to be noticed.

Pucci placed a bookmark before closing his book, setting it on the bedstand, and then patting the space beside him. “You do not have to stand there. You know you are always welcome to join me.”

“Pucci, you know you are the one I trust most in this world,” Dio began, “so when I tell you that something very strange is happening—”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Strange? Stranger than usual?”

Dio approached him and gently put his hands on Pucci’s shoulders. “I met—”

The floor gave out from under him.

The day began again.

He threw the coffin lid at the wall so hard that it shattered to splinters.

Undeterred, he sought out Pucci once more. Dio stood in the doorway, more observant this time rather than lost in thought. He looke at the book that Pucci was reading. It was a dusty hardback copy of the complete Divine Comedy. Knowing Pucci, it may have been in the original Italian.

Heaven or hell? Which do you think?

Dio sat upon the bed. “Pucci, what do the scriptures say about purgatory?”

“There are mixed opinions on the matter.” Pucci leaned back and stretched, his lithe arms reaching out and brushing against the headboard. “Purgatory is the space between Heaven and Hell that only the dead inhabit. For those expecting the return of Christ, it is where they will wait for resurrection. You can also interpret it as a place to purge yourself of sin on your path to paradise. It holds more sway with the Catholics than the Protestants. For some, the future suffering in purgatory could be assuaged with purchasing indulgences.”

“Suffering?”

“Purification.”

“How so?”

“Baptism by fire is one method.”

Dio sneered and picked at the scar on his neck. “Do you think I can claim to have experienced that?”

“There is no consensus on how much of an infant needs to be submerged for a baptism,” Pucci replied. “I think losing everything below the neck should suffice for even the staunchest Anabaptist.”

“And indulgences,” Dio continued, “People think they can buy their way out of purgatory?”

“Money can buy your way out of suffering in this life; some suppose that it continues to do so in the next.”

Dio made a noise of disgust; Pucci offered a wry smile. “Did I ever tell you about how the East-West Schism was influenced by vampires?”

Dio quirked his brow, and Pucci continued. “The Catholic and the Orthodox church disagreed, as they did on most things, about the definition of a vampire. If all interim souls were in Purgatory, then there could be no vampires, and all vampiric sightings must have been a hoax created by the Devil or a misinterpretation of the natural rotting of a corpse. However, for the Orthodox, vampires held a longstanding history and cultural weight that could not be defeated by the intervention of the western Pope. The tradition of the vampire in the East was simply too alien for the West to accept, and the possibility of revenants either gave the Devil too much power or spat in the face of divine organization. It was another wedge in an already strained relationship; well, perhaps more a stake than a wedge, given the subject.”

Dio tsked. “I was expecting you to tell me one of the Popes was revealed to be a vampire or something.”

“Saint Justinian the First, of the Orthodox tradition, was described by the historian Procopius as a frightening shapeshifter that could rearrange his flesh as he desired.” Pucci smiled wanly. “No further reports on blood consumption, however.”

Dio let out a long sigh and reclined onto the mattress.

Pucci tilted his head. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Dio answered, and he briefly steeled himself for another drop into the past. When it did not occur, he relaxed incrementally.

Pucci didn't push the question further. He simply leaned back and returned to his reading.

The day dragged onward.

(misc sources: on Justinian; on Catholic and Orthodox vampires)

Chapter Text

He fought Jotaro and lost. He drained Joseph’s blood, fought Jotaro, and lost. He eviscerated Kakyoin, drained Joseph’s blood, fought Jotaro, and lost, ad nauseum. He sat in the manor and waited to be killed. He set up the manor to collapse and kill all inside. He left Cairo and wandered around the desert until things grew hazy and he reappeared within his coffin.

He refused to leave his coffin.

“This is getting boring,” he said to no one.

The coffin disappeared and he cracked his head against the glassy floor. He glared up at his double. 

“I wanted to make it clear that Cairo is an inescapable failure,” the double stated, “though I can’t say that you tried to succeed with any real zeal. I even gave you extra weeks to prepare.”

“It doesn’t matter that I lost. I entrusted Pucci with the rest of my plans.”

The double tilted his head, closed his eyes, and conceded, somewhat softly: “This is true.”

“You said you were helping me,” Dio said, “and that one victory wasn’t enough.”

“I did.” The double held up a hand. Within his grasp was glinting metal. He dropped the head of a Stand Arrow to the floor. “Didn’t you wonder what would happen if you used the Stand Arrow on yourself more than once?”

Dio paused with his eyebrows furrowed. “No. A person can have only one Stand. Enyaba was very clear about this.”

“That is true,” his double agreed, “but only mostly true.” His double lifted an arm. A familiar ghostly limb shimmered above it. As his double raised his arm higher and higher, eventually pointing it to the empty expanse above, the arm of The World shimmered and changed in stages, going from gray and yellow to silver and purple, to a myriad spread of other colors and shapes, then settling to something indescribably bright before blinking out of sight. “Here’s my help for you,” the double said. “Find a Stand Arrow and use it once more. That will bring you one step closer to achieving Heaven.”

Dio sat up and grasped at the dropped arrowhead, but it merely passed through his hand.

“That one is only an illusion,” his double said. “I want you to find a real one.”

He leapt to his feet. “I have one at the manor. I’ll go back and take it!”

“That would be far too easy. I want you to complete this challenge first.” His double lazily waved a hand, and a new miniature Earth spun into being between them. “Have you wondered at all about what became of your set of arrows after your death?”

“I entrusted one with Pucci, while Enyaba used two to create more Stand users. The other two I imagine were claimed by the Joestars. The ones that were with Enyaba likely found the same fate.”

The double strode around the miniature Earth. “Enyaba gave one away, yes. The other was simply found. You can find them both here.” He stopped beside Dio and the Earth grew larger, spinning slowly until it settled on Japan. “However, the Joestars are also looking for the arrows. I’ll let you decide what strategy you want to use to get the arrows for yourself, but I will give you one clue.”

The blank expanse around them fell to darkness. The Earth grew closer. Tiny pinpricks of starlight appeared in the vast distance.

“You should find a fairytale,” the double said before giving Dio’s shoulder a shove. 

Dio stumbled forward. The floor became immaterial. The Earth loomed ever closer and as he approached terminal velocity he clutched into his anger and hatred and a not small amount of fear as if it would cushion the impact.

At least it was night. Dio stewed in frustration as his joints knitted themselves back together. Once he felt he could stand, he picked his way out of the small crater caused by his landing. He paused halfway up the slope when he felt an unexpected weight in his pocket: his double had at least been considerate enough to manifest some yen.

He had to find two Stand Arrows while the Joestars were also looking for them. If his recent repeated experience in Cairo was anything to go by, he was not intended to fight the Joestars directly. He would have to be more careful and cunning in his approach. If the Joestars were already here, then perhaps they could do his work for him. He could lie in wait and then pounce as soon as they were distracted by whatever problems the arrowheads had inevitably generated with their presence. That carried the risk of facing Jotaro and whatever kin was tagging along with him, but it was a risk he was willing to take. After all, his double could just throw him back to the beginning again.

He spotted a power line arcing through the night sky. If he followed it far enough, he figured he would find whatever town he was meant to find. He walked. The vacant field gave way to short shrubs and sparse trees. In the distance, he could see the warm glimmering of electric lights.

The outskirts of the town were quiet and dark, but as he walked towards the central hub there were a few late-night restaurants lit by neon and streetlights that flooded patches of ground with amber. Even in the  midst of his personally accursed night, the wide streets and quaint buildings still gave the town an attractive charm. Dio kept to the shadows and looked each building over for clues. Find a fairytale. Perhaps there was a fountain commemorating a local legend, or a wishing well, or some other saccharine tourist attraction that held some clue to the location of the Stand Arrows, but soon the edge of the sky was growing pale and some of the stars had gone dim. Dio began to focus more on finding an unlocked door or an unsecured window.

He passed by a storefront advertising makeup. It had a secluded entrance and small windows, but the door was securely locked and he didn’t want to resort to an obvious break-in unless the sun was already burning at his back. He was about to go to the next building when he spotted the name of the store.

Cinderella

Beauty Salon

“Using Make-Up for Finding Love”

He ducked inside the entranceway. If he stood flush against the side wall, the sun’s rays would not hit him as it rose. He would wait until the store opened and then investigate further.

The sun ascended and the streets grew busy. A pack of giggling children ran by on their way to class. An old man sat on a bench and read a newspaper. A woman walked up to the salon and gave Dio a questioning look. 

“Have you been waiting long?” She let out a little huff.

“No,” Dio lied.

She huffed again. “Here, let me unlock the door.” She lifted a key, and Dio stepped as far out of the way as he dared to. He glanced out at the street as she slipped past him. There were some heavy gray clouds in the distance; if he had any luck, they would drift closer and cover up the sun. “Come on in.” Huff. She swung the door open. Inside there were shelves of cosmetics, a few floor-length mirrors, and, most importantly, little to no sunlight. Dio followed her inside.

“Are you familiar with our services?” the woman asked as she busied herself behind the front desk.

Dio looked at the vast array of lipsticks arranged on the shelf beside him with muted appreciation. A malachite green gloss may yet find its way into his pocket, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “No, but you were recommended to me.”

“I see.” Huff. She began booting up a computer with a large, boxy monitor. “Always lovely to get a referral. Here at Cinderella, we specialize in physiognomy. As you may know, the components of your appearance have a direct influence on your fate.” She looked up from the computer and peered at his face. “For example, you have three moles on your left ear. You’re already destined for very special things. However, for those wishing to change their fate, our beauticians offer ways to influence their physiognomy. So, with that, how can I help you today? Looking to impress a date out for brunch?” Huff. “Though, I don’t understand what kind of date wouldn’t be impressed.” Huff. “You’re quite statuesque already, you know.”

“My girlfriend is very insecure and worries that other women want to steal me away,” he explained. “I would like to look very plain so that I may ease her anxieties. The more I blend in with the average crowd, the better.” 

She tilted her head. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Well, Miss Fairy Godmother, do you think you can help me?” 

Another curt huff, and a boastful one, at that. “Of course.”

“Forgive me, but I doubt a simple contour could truly conceal this.” He flexed his hand towards his face, then gestured widely at the shelves of exquisitely displayed makeup. “Unless you have something else up your sleeve.”

Huff. “Why don’t you come with me, and I can give you your initial consult?”

She had him sit upon what looked disconcertingly like a surgical gurney before pulling out a set of metal measurement tools and scrutinizing his face. She slid the caliper over the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t often,” huff, “that I get handsome men asking me to make them look ordinary.” Huff. “It’s very rare.” Huff. “I would even say this was the first time.” The calipers turned to measure the angle of his cheekbones. “Such a stunning zygomatic process, and, ah—” her hand lowered to his neck and placed chilled fingertips along the scar as she took note of how different the skin above and below was. Huff. “How chimeric.”

The woman’s repetitive shallow breaths were grating on his nerves. “How much am I paying you,” he replied flatly.

“Plenty.” Huff. “However,” huff, “discretion costs extra.”

His fangs clicked together. “How much.”

She let out a low hum. “I’ve been needing a new,” huff, “ultraviolet nail dryer. They’re relatively inexpensive.”

Not long ago, Dio would have considered being blackmailed by some out of breath woman an insult worthy of the response of grinding her and her loved ones into a powder fine enough to be used in one of her little pots of blush. Now, however, he merely lets out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. “That will be taken care of.”

“Wonderful. Now, don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I will give you what you’re asking for.” Huff. “I just don’t think you’re really a Prince Charming.”

Her hands lowered from his face and she set the tools back in their case. She reached over to pull latex gloves from a box when he grasped her wrist hard enough to feel her bones grind together. There was a palpable fear, but he could taste it on the air only briefly; Dio advanced no further, and the woman only watched him with an almost academic curiosity. “Wait.” Dio released his grip. “Throw in some luck. I don’t want my girlfriend to leave me when I show up looking plain, after all.”

Huff. “Fine.” Huff. “Now, stay very still.”

A pink shape loomed over him. He pretended not to see it.

He left the salon looking utterly unremarkable. He melded into the crowds of Morioh with ease. Now he would be unimpeded in his search for both Jotaro and the arrow.

It was either bad luck or the wrath of Heaven, he thought, that caused him to cross paths with someone on the lookout for completely unremarkable men.

Chapter Text

Now that his appearance would not immediately alarm the Joestars, he felt confident that he would be able to track them down and take any intel they had about the arrows for himself. Dio decided that a good place to begin his stakeout was the local café, as the fortunately overcast skies and copious amounts of sunblock (purchased from the salon as the beautician twisted his arm yet further into investing in high-quality cosmetics) would allow him to enjoy the daytime for once. He sat at an umbrella-shaded outdoor table, looked over their impenetrable list of artisan coffees, and ordered hot water (free) and a packet of earl grey (fifty yen).

He could only sip for so long until his awareness of the man two tables away from him staring holes into his skull caused him to forcefully set the teacup on its saucer. Before he could dole out a withering insult, the man offered a curt wave with a metal-nibbed pen in hand. “Pardon me. I’ve simply been working en plein air today and you happened to take your seat in the middle of my composition.”

“My apologies,” Dio replied dryly. “Shall I move?”

“No need at all. Your presence adds a much-needed balance to the foreground.” He twirled the pen around his fingers once before returning it to the page. “Say, are you new in town? I thought I had met nearly the whole population by now. Not in person, of course. Through this manner,” he explained, swinging his drawing hand in a wide streak.

“I arrived here recently,” Dio responded.

“Fresh blood!” The pen scratched against the page. “How exciting. I do pride myself on meeting a wide array of people, you know. Not speaking to them, perhaps, but using them as subjects. It offers an equally wide array of opportunities for creative inspiration.” He paused, frowned, held the sketchbook up to the light, and squinted. “Say, do you mind if I switch tables? It needs finer detail.”

Dio was growing tired of suffering fools with far more lightness that he was accustomed to and simply made a grunt of assent. He began to regret his nonchalance when the man grabbed a seat from another table and set it down directly adjacent to his own.

“Would you mind sharing your name? I could dedicate this to you. Sign it, even. It would be worth something now, but perhaps it could be worth even more in the future.”

With growing suspicion, Dio glared at the man and moved to physically push his chair away.

“At least give it a look,” the man said, and he held up the sketchbook.

Dio saw the impressively detailed depiction of the café patio and found that his arms had paused on their way to grasp the other chair’s armrest.

“There we go,” the man said as he set the drawing down beside the forgotten earl grey. “Now, let’s see.”

Dio’s forearm popped open into a fluttering stack of newsprint and his eyes flashed with anger. The pen quickly scribbled a caveat into an empty square.

“I will not attack, assault, or otherwise harm Kishibe Rohan,” it read.

Rohan began flipping through the pages. “Let’s see…childhood in London, too early.” He took a sheaf of the paper and tilted his head to read beneath it. “Punched my brother and nearly blinded him so that I could look cool in front of my peers.” He tsked. “Brat! Still too early…” He moved thick handfuls of paper, searching for something. “Burned…what?” He stopped his skimming and squinted at the writing. “Burned down the family mansion. Murdered my adoptive father. Became more than human.” His eyes narrowed. “Jack the Ripper? Is this some sort of joke?” Eyebrows furrowed, he flipped forward several chapters. “Traveled to Egypt. Shot with the arrow—aha!” In his excitement, Rohan nearly tore out the page he was holding. “So you are a stand user. And with such a history. I’d take the time to read more, but I suppose there are more important things to be done.” He began writing something in a blank space. “I’ll have to see what Kujo decides to do.”

“I will sit in my seat quietly until Jotaro Kujo arrives,” the writing read.

Rohan gathered up his sketchbook and stood, pushing in his chair with a smug smile. The fluttering papers melded back into Dio’s arm. “It’ll just be a few minutes," he said glibly. "Enjoy your tea.”

Dio flexed his hand as it regained motion. The rage he felt at having been tricked was subdued by a sense of satisfaction that the other man had just done all his work for him. Of course, if Rohan shared any of the details he had found, his plan to stay undercover would be ruined.

At least he had time to adapt his strategy. Dio prided himself on being persuasive and while Jotaro was liable to attack him on sight, the beautician had made him luckier. Perhaps he could convince the Joestars that he could help them find the arrow. He could even play penitent. That act might not fly with Jotaro but it could sway Joseph or any softer-willed family that was tagging along.

It took half an hour, he estimated, for Jotaro to arrive. While the familiar face beneath the improbable hat was held carefully calm, his long strides and clenched fists betrayed his efforts. A few steps behind was Rohan, whose expression was at an uncomfortable place between apologetic and defensive. Trailing at a slower pace behind him was the now-elderly Joseph, who was carrying what looked like a rolled-up flannel blanket in his arms. As they came closer, Rohan’s face cycled through confusion and fear; the man at the table was not the same one he had spoken to. Dio added the fact that the beautician had not informed him that Cinderella’s work wore off after thirty minutes to the index of grudges he held against her.

Jotaro stood at the other side of the table, his fists now shoved into the pockets of his coat. “Talk.”

The earl grey had long gone cold, but Dio couldn’t resist from taking a leisurely sip before replying. “I’m here to help.”

That caused eyebrows to raise. Jotaro let a long breath out through his nose and crossed his arms.

Dio knew Jotaro was expecting him to fill the silence, so he did. “Due to a series of events outside of my control,” he continued, lying but not wanting to waste time explaining how he was, in a way, responsible for his current predicament, “I’m burdened with the duty of making amends. So here I am. Amending.” He hoped that the sheer absurdity of his sudden reappearance would confuse him into complying.

Jotaro turned to Rohan. “Watch him.” He then stormed over to the closest payphone, inserted a few quarters, and made a call.

Dio drummed his fingers on the table. Rohan watched him with unblinking focus as if he would simply explode at any second. Joseph’s shoulders were hunched with tension, but he held the bundle of cloth close to his chest and gently rocked it. Dio wondered if the elderly Joestar had finally gone senile.

Jotaro returned. “Holly’s fine.”

Dio felt a genuine relief. He had entirely forgotten about her parasitic Stand. Reactivating it with his presence would have been more deadly for him than for her.

Jotaro took a long pause before speaking, the brim of his cap not enough to hide the indecision in his eyes. A muscle in his jaw clenched as he deliberated. Finally, he made his choice and began to speak with a low and even tone. “There’s a serial murderer in this town. We believe that he has access to the Stand arrow, as well as possessing a powerful Stand of his own. He’s desperate to hide his own identity and feels no regret in cutting down anyone, Stand user or not, that pries too far.” Disgust was evident in his voice as he turned and glared into the streets of Morioh. “He needs put down.”

Dio clapped his hands together and grinned. “Perfect. I’m sure that killing a killer would be a great first step to my—”

“Absolutely not.”

The grin became a grimace. “Pardon.”

“You can’t have the arrow back.” Jotaro’s eyes narrowed. “I also have no reason to believe that you're not the killer if you've suddenly reappeared here. If you can’t convince me to let you live within the next minute, I’ll let Rohan write your death for you.”

“I told you,” Dio snapped, “I’m here to help. I have to. Kill me and I’ll just return again.”

“I don’t believe you."

“Try it.” He tilted his head forward and to the side, stretching his scarred neck. “If you’re dealing with a murderer, it would be best to stop them before they kill again, correct?”

“You don’t consider yourself a murderer?”

“Fire with fire, Joestar,” he sneered. “And I’m not a serial killer. Any time I’ve killed has been an issue of convenience, not compulsion.”

Convenience! Dio thought back to Egypt and realized that his response may have been a mistake. The chillingly familiar flames of hatred had already been glowing in Jotaro’s eyes and he had just done the equivalent of trying to douse them with gasoline. When time began again Dio’s neck had been broken; he grimaced as he felt his vampiric regeneration sliding his vertebrae back into place. “You’re inconveniencing me,” Jotaro said lowly. “This is your last chance.”

“If you're still upset about Cairo, I can help you with that, too. You could bring them back if you wanted.”

“Chance wasted.”

“I’m not lying. We have the same Stand.” Dio spoke rapidly, using all the effort he could muster to sound persuasive rather than frantic. “If you use the arrow more than once then your Stand evolves. I’ve seen the ability of The World when made complete. One would not be wrong to call it a god. The same abilities could be given to you.”

Dio had been expecting at most desire or at least curiosity; he was not prepared for the look of disgust Jotaro gave him. “What do you really want here, Dio?”

“Let me help.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I do not trust you.”

“I’ve been expressing my goodwill this entire time.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” Jotaro replied. “Rohan won’t let you move until I make a decision.”

Dio stood and knocked his chair to the ground. Jotaro did not move, but the appearance of Star Platinum behind him was enough to show his surprise. Joseph took several steps backward, holding the bundle of cloth tightly. Rohan held up his pen; something shimmering was half-etched in the air.

Dio rolled his eyes and held up his hands. “His clause was only that I wait for you to arrive. As soon as I saw you, I could have killed you and everyone else on the block, if I so desired. And yet, I did not. I am being genuine, Joestar.”

Jotaro let out another long sigh through his nose. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Finally, his tension seemed to relent; his arms uncrossed and his hands went to his pockets. “You will not harm the people of this town while you’re here. If you must have blood, you get it from the hospital.”

“Agreed.” A smirk began to twist Dio’s expression. He was a hard sell, but if Jotaro was setting terms, so be it; he, Dio, had already won.

If Jotaro was bothered by his smug look, he didn’t show it. “If you find the killer, you will not interact with them beyond incapacitating them and then getting one of us.”

That was inconvenient, but Dio shrugged an assent. “Fine.”

“You will not use The World unless someone’s life is in danger.”

Dio ground his teeth. “Fine.”

“You’ll work with Kishibe while you’re here. He’ll be in charge of you. If he tells you to do something...” Jotaro paused, briefly showing the vaguest impression of a smile. “You do it.”

Dio had to bite his tongue to keep from snarling something he would regret. To his surprise, the elder Joestar shuffled forward and placed a gloved hand on Jotaro’s shoulder. In response, Jotaro glanced back at him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Joseph grumbled. “It’s just that if you make him swallow his pride any more I’m going to have to remember how to do the Heimlich.”

Jotaro pulled down the end of his cap and sniped back, but there was no animosity in his gruffness. “Don’t you mean Hamon, gramps?”

“That would hurt him, you dolt. I was trying to make a joke.”

Jotaro muttered something rude under his breath and tugged his hat down further.

“I heard that! I’m writing you out of my will!”

“Good grief.” Jotaro turned to Rohan. “Can you write in what I said now?”

Rohan nodded and finished drawing the figure in the air. The pages on Dio’s arm popped open. He ground his teeth as Rohan inscribed the rules, but he was willing to suffer through one more indignity if it brought him this much closer to the arrow.

Chapter Text

Jotaro had quickly left, obviously unwilling to spend any more time with Dio than absolutely necessary. Joseph, however, had remained at the café. “Would you hold Shizuka for me?” he asked Rohan. “I’m going to get an espresso.”

Rohan nodded and Joseph delicately passed him the bundle of cloth. “Would you get me one with two sugars, no cream?" Rohan asked. "I’ll pay you back.”

Joseph nodded, then stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Eh...Dio? Do you want a coffee?” 

Dio stared at him blankly before fluidly recovering and responding with metered, biting politeness: “No, thank you. I had tea.”

“Right,” Joseph responded, and he left.

Rohan held the bundle of cloth in the crook of his elbow and alternated between staring unabashedly at Dio and looking out at the passerby on the street. Dio ignored him and swirled the dregs of his tea in his cup. Perhaps he should have had Joseph get him a refill. Rohan shifted the blankets to his other elbow. Dio tried to peer inside the bundle and saw nothing. “Is that some manner of... emotional aid for him?” Dio asked.

“What? Oh.” Rohan lightly bounced the bundle. “No, it’s a baby.”

“Right.” He frowned. “But it isn’t a real baby.”

“Oh, no, it is.”

Dio took a deep breath. “Would you explain, then, why the real baby looks like a folded up blanket?”

“Caffeine's here!” Joseph set the mugs on the table with a clatter. The bundle of blankets let out a gurgle and a short cry. Rohan put the baby in Joseph’s outstretched arms. “Shizuka, Shizuka, quiet little Shi-zu-ka,” Joseph whisper-sang until the bundle was silent. “She’ll probably be hungry soon. But I should have enough time to enjoy my drink. You’re confused,” he said to Dio. “Shizuka is a baby but she already has a Stand. It can make things invisible. That’s why you can’t see her.” He turned his attention back to the baby. “We’re never gonna have baby pictures to embarrass you with, isn’t that right?”

Dio tilted his head as the empty space within the blanket cooed. “She’s a Joestar, then?”

“Yes and no,” Joseph answered. “I still have to do the adoption paperwork. We kind of just found her in the street, but her parents haven’t shown up at all, so…” He trailed off and sipped his coffee.

“So you’re a vampire and a Stand user?” Rohan asked. He pulled out his notebook and tapped his pen against it.

Dio narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you just read about it?”

Rohan frowned and went to speak, but Joseph interrupted him. “Kishibe, you’ll have plenty of time to interview him later. Why don’t we see if he has any questions for us? It has been...ten years, I think, since he died. Or didn’t die. Or was no longer undead? Or became un-undead. Eh... let’s just say ten years since Cairo.”

“I do have a question,” Dio replied. “Why are you being so polite to me?”

“Hmm.” Joseph took another sip of coffee. “Polite is a good word. Erina did teach me to be polite. You knew Erina, didn’t you?”

Dio felt a flash of emotion that wasn’t anger but wasn’t quite shame, either. It was something almost like panic.

Joseph laughed. “She had some choice things to say about you. But she was always polite. So I can be polite, too, especially at this time in my life. Even though I think you’re an asshole. Oh, sorry, Shizuka.” He rocked her and whisper-sang again. “Asshole, asshole, I think he’s an ass-hole.”

“Erina was a good woman,” Dio stated carefully. “I did hold respect for her, in the end.”

Joseph nodded. “Sure you did. Oh, that’s the other reason. I actually do believe what you told Jotaro! Some of it, at least. Speedwagon taught me a lot about being able to tell when someone is lying. Oh, wow. That’s another person you knew, kind of.”

Dio scowled. “Next question. What is Jotaro doing with his life?” His earlier disgusted response to the offer of world-changing power still bothered him. How could he have the equivalent of The World at his fingertips and not be tempted to do more with it?

“I’m glad you asked!” Joseph exclaimed as he smiled proudly. “He’s just about to complete his doctorate in marine biology!”

Dio decided against engaging in any more conversation. Rohan and Joseph exchanged pleasantries until the espresso ran out. Joseph said his goodbyes and carried Shizuka off to give her lunch while Rohan downed the rest of his coffee and stood. “Well, I have a few errands to run before I get back to work. I guess you have to come with me. First, I have to stop by the hardware store to pick up an order. Then, I suppose we can stop by the hospital to get your blood. After that, well, I usually get groceries delivered to my house but the person I trust to choose the best produce is out on vacation this week so I’ll have to do it myself. Then we can get you settled into the house and I’ll work.”

Dio furrowed his eyebrows. “When are we tracking down the serial killer?”

“Probably tomorrow.” Rohan shrugged. “I’m busy today and I already did a lot of looking this morning. How much blood are we getting, by the way? Is it like a liter-a-day thing or what?”

Dio thought back to his various homicidal buffets in Cairo and the hundred years spent hungry beneath the waves. He honestly had no idea if there was a ‘normal’ amount of blood for a vampire to imbibe. “Let’s go with a liter a week as a conservative estimate.”

The hardware store was uneventful, though Rohan did catch him looking at the lumber and began pestering him with questions about the validity of multiple vampire myths, including the use of wooden stakes. At the hospital, Rohan paused in the entranceway and scribbled something into his notebook before walking up to the information desk. “Could you tell me what wing this room number is on?”

The nurse looked at the slip of paper and Dio made the mistake of looking as well. The pages on his arm popped open again. The nurse slumped forward and her face flapped off, her features hanging on of a handful of pages. Rohan leaned over and started writing on her. I will give Rohan Kishibe five liters of— Rohan paused and looked back at Dio. “Do you have any sort of flavor preference? Type A, B, AB, O?”

Dio glared at him. Rohan shrugged. “Type O is the most common, so let’s go with that.” I will give Rohan Kishibe five liters of Type O blood. Rohan finished writing and the pages melded back into her body. The nurse shook her head and walked off. After a few minutes, she returned with a large bag that she heaved onto the countertop. She then returned to quietly working.

Dio was staring at Rohan intensely. Rohan hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You said you work,” Dio said. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m an artist.”

Dio resisted the urge to hold his head in his hands.

The dour clouds were dissipating by the time they got to the grocer. Dio went to the adjacent convenience store in search of an umbrella to block any wayward sunbeams. When he returned to Rohan, he found him looking pensively at glass containers of minced garlic.

“No,” Dio answered preemptively.

Rohan’s house was no Joestar Estate but it was impressively large and regal in an antique way from the outside. The inside was similarly designed, with expensive furniture carefully arranged to visually balance each room. Dio noted that most of the windows were already covered in thick curtains. “I suppose I can put off work for a little bit,” Rohan said. “You wouldn’t mind if I did some reading, would you?”

Before Dio could really respond, Rohan’s pen slashed at the air in front of his face and his arms popped open once more.

Dio felt a rising almost-nausea as Rohan skimmed through pages and pages of his history. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of any of it, but the act created an immediate intimate knowing that made him want to wring Rohan’s neck until his vertebrae liquified, and Rohan must have been able to sense his distress. “Alright, alright. I’m almost done. I mean, you’ve got a lot to read. So much drama and pathos and mass-murder. You should be proud, really. You’ve had a rich and varied experience. And I’ve only gotten through the stuff in Britain!” He flipped through a few more pages rapidly. “I’m not going to rip out your pages, either. For things as important as this, I’ve been told to ask myself ‘what would Koichi do?’ And Koichi made it very clear that I should be more considerate about people’s pages. So.” He sighed as he ran his hand over the sheets and melded them back into Dio’s arm. “There you go.”

Dio still felt a queasy rage building. Rohan gave him an even stare. “I’m going to go to work now. The basement has some things stored in it, but it’ll be nice and dark down there. Make yourself at home.”

Chapter Text

Dio was greatly annoyed at being forced to hide in the basement of a haughty artist with a woefully underexploited stand; he also was still nursing his new grudge against the man for presuming himself worthy of reading through his history. He stewed in the basement, alternating between pacing, sitting, and peering carefully through the thick glass-block windows near the ceiling. He kicked off his boots, attempted to do some semblance of styling to his hair, and sorted through the miscellaneous products he had purchased at Cinderella. 

Out of pure boredom, he bit off a corner of one of the blood bags and drank a few gulps of blood. He coughed and let out a dissatisfied hiss. The taste was absolutely foul.

He ventured upstairs. The last vestiges of the sunset were streaming through the first-floor windows, so he went to the second floor, and he investigated the upstairs rooms. There was a bedroom, a bathroom, what might have been intended to be a second bedroom but was used as a storage room, and a study where Rohan was sitting at his desk, surrounded by art supplies.

Dio crept up behind him and peered over his shoulder. To his relief, no pages began unfurling from his arms. The large piece of paper on the desk had drafted comic panels halfway through being inked. A young boy was talking to a group of people while a strange machine was being built in the background.

“Is that…” Dio trawled through his scattered memories of culture in the 80s, most of which had been relegated to night clubs and lounging sessions with Pucci. “…Anime?”

Rohan paused with his pen a hair's breadth away from the paper. He took a deep inhale, set the pen down on the desk, swiveled his chair to face Dio, and laced his fingers together.

“Anime,” he said, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a child, “is an animated film or television show. Manga,” he continued, gesturing towards the unfinished page on his desk, “is a drawn medium released in books or serial publications. I am a mangaka, or manga artist. While both styles share similar artistic sensibilities, this,” he said as he gestured towards the page, “is manga.”

Dio paused as if slowly processing the information and then turned up his nose with disdain. “Their eyes are too big, don’t you agree?”

Rohan took another deep breath and exhaled with nostrils flaring. “No.”

Dio stepped around him. “Perhaps I need a closer look to appreciate it correctly.” He bumped his hip into the desk hard enough to knock over an open jar of ink, and it rolled, spewing black over the page. “Oops. Damn my clumsy half-melded undead body.”

“You know, this would be more upsetting if I wasn’t capable of redoing that in less than thirty seconds,” Rohan said as he righted the ink jar and threw the page into the trash.

Dio rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the other things in the office. Aside from the desk, there was a stuffed-full bookshelf and a display collectible items, including some very expensive looking glassware. 

“This is a nice vase,” Dio said. He had reached out to merely tap the glass, but Rohan had thrown his Stand between him and the shelf. He felt his arm flutter open once more and he scowled.

“Would you go find something to do other than antagonize me? I don’t want to make these any harsher than I have to.” I will not lower the value of the assets of Rohan Kishibe was then inscribed just below the command to not hurt Rohan himself. He smiled. “There. That will do it. Should cover everything from ink vandalism to vase destruction.”

With a grin, Dio drove his fist into the wall.

Rohan’s smug satisfaction quickly melted into shock. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dio said nothing but hooked his nails into the plaster and tore out a chunk of a beam that he hoped was load-bearing.

“Stop!” Rohan pointed at him accusingly with his pen. “You can’t do that!”

“It’s for your benefit,” Dio said with cloying enthusiasm. “If you increase the square footage of your personal workspace, then you could be eligible for larger deductions from your taxes.”

“You’re destroying my house!”

“It’s called a costs-benefits analysis, Kishibe.” He kicked at the dusty rubble pile growing at his feet. “I’m adding value. I’m sure you think this place is a fixer-upper, but you might be better off starting over from scratch, in my opinion.”

“Costs-benefits—I wrote that you couldn’t break my stuff!”

“I’m saving you money,” he replied with a smirk. A lump of drywall came loose with his next pull. As it clattered to the floor, he shut his eyes and turned his head away. The sound of frustration from Rohan was proof enough that his Stand had been called out again. Dio grinned and began walking away, keeping his eyes carefully closed. “Don’t fool yourself, Rohan. You can write new rules all you want, but there are always loopholes.”

He had expected retaliation, a punch to the head, perhaps; Dio had not expected him to smash the expensive vase against the hardwood floor and scatter sharp shards of glass. Dio immediately regretted taking off his boots. Even with vampiric tenacity, a shard of glass to the foot would likely cause him to open his eyes.

Jotaro and Rohan had made it so that he could only use The World if someone’s life was in danger. Jotaro and Rohan, however, were not familiar with the smorgasbord of strange abilities that came with being a vampire.

Dio was suddenly grateful that he had forced down the stale blood from the hospital.

He opened his eyes and a pressurized beam of blood plasma tore from his pupils. He tilted his head back and it sliced from the wall to the ceiling. He laughed when he heard Rohan shriek. “I’ve heard that skylights are in style now. Very desirable.”

He heard the floor creak behind him and he ducked as Rohan swiped at his face with the pen. Even without opening his eyes, he could use his other heightened senses to anticipate his movements. As Rohan attacked him again, he sidestepped and winced as glass pierced his foot. Another pressurized beam, weaker this time, cut into the floorboards before he closed his eyes. He ran one hand across the shelf and found something heavy, perhaps a rock or a paperweight of some kind. He leapt backward, well out of the way of the broken vase fragments, and felt his back hit against the desk. He reached behind him and grasped blindly, knocking over various jars and inkwells until he grabbed something that felt like a metal ruler. He threw it up at the ceiling, where it stuck.

He leaned back against the desk and spread his arms wide. One hand was empty and the other held the paperweight. He opened his eyes and a much weaker beam shot through the air but petered out before hitting the ceiling. 

Rohan’s Stand appeared as soon as the beam disappeared. Dio felt his arms turn to paper and steadily lose strength.

“Alright,” Rohan said as he held up his pen and grabbed the page full of rules tightly, “Time to make this exhaustive.”

Dio’s grip on the paperweight grew weaker and weaker until the heavy object fell with a resounding thud that sent vibrations up from the floor, through the walls, and to the ceiling. The thrown metal ruler fell and tore through the page that Rohan was holding before bouncing off the desk and smacking him against the forehead.

“Ow!” Rohan stumbled backward. As the pages melded back into his body, Dio grinned viciously, stood up, brought forth The World, and then completely forgot what he was doing.

“Hm.” Dio looked around at the wrecked study, disoriented. Had he not just been sitting at the café drinking tea? The World hovered behind his shoulder, waiting patiently for directions. “Strange.”

Rohan took advantage of his confusion and called for his Stand. “Heaven’s Door!”

Dio’s arms unfurled once more, and he scowled. Rohan scribbled an essay’s worth of rules onto the torn-out page. He picked up a bottle of adhesive that had rolled onto the floor and pasted the page back into Dio’s arm.

As his short-term memory returned, so did his limitations. The World faded back into nothingness. He also found that he was unable to move away from the desk. His feet refused to move from the floor as if they had been glued. He seethed with rage and began to fantasize about razing Morioh to the ground. Rohan rummaged around the pile of things that had been knocked to the floor and uncovered his corded phone. He picked it up, punched in a few numbers, and waited for whoever was on the other end to pick up.

“Would you get over here as soon as you can?” Rohan let out a sigh of exasperation. “Yes, Josuke, I remember the last time you were here. That’s not what I’m asking you about. This damn great-great uncle of yours is destroying my home and I am not having more bumbling construction workers getting sawdust on my Tiffany originals. What? No, of course it isn’t Jotaro, you’re his uncle, not the other way around. Yes, I know! Well, if your old man—okay, stop, listen. I don’t want a primer on your family briar patch right now. Get over here and fix my walls before the gas line breaks or something. You owe me! What? Okay. Okay. Yes. That’s fine. Yes. Say hello to Koichi for me. Tell him good luck with the homework. Get over here as soon as you’re done. Okay. Bye .” He slammed the phone back on its receiver and then slumped against the wall. “Are you done throwing your tantrum now? I don’t want to have to call Jotaro. It would suck for both of us. He would just kill you but he would be disappointed in me, and I would hate that.”

“Your Stand is called Heaven’s Door?” Dio asked.

“...Yes?”

“I really am in Hell,” Dio murmured to himself. “It’s like you were specially created just to drive me insane. After I solve this little challenge, you will get to experience any atrocities of mine that you’ve read about firsthand.”

Rohan crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “Do you think that your anger issues and need for control stem from your strained relationship with your father?”

The doorbell rang. Rohan dashed out of the room. It was just enough of a relief that it stopped Dio from slamming his head into the desk repeatedly in the hope that he could die and start over again. He heard heavy footsteps tromping up the stairs; Rohan threw the door open and two teenaged boys walked into the room. One had an improbably voluminous pompadour while the other had partially slicked-back gray hair. Rohan waved his arm at the scattered wreckage. “You can fix that, right, Josuke?”

“Um, I think so,” Josuke replied. He looked around the room with wide eyes, glancing over Dio once before doing a double-take and staring at him.

The other boy gave Dio a cheerful wave. “Who is this, Rohan? A burglar? Is that why the room is messed up?”

“Rohan, didn’t you say something about an uncle?” Josuke’s shoulders were hunched with tension. There was something about his posture that tugged at Dio’s memory. Joseph had similarly hunched forward as he cradled the invisible child. 

Rohan shrugged. "Yes, I did. He is your great-great uncle, technically."

“Uh, don’t you think we should get Jotaro?” Josuke took a step backward, and his silver and pink Stand appeared floating behind him. “I know I’m just going off the pictures but is that not Dio?”

“Oh, Jotaro already knows,” Rohan said nonchalantly. “But yes, that’s Dio. Also, please fix my walls before the roof falls onto us.”

A shadow had fallen over the face of the second boy. Josuke started to have his Stand lift the rubble and meld it back into the wall, but Okuyasu grabbed his shoulder.

“So that’s Dio?” Okuyasu asked.

“Yes?” Josuke answered.

“DIO Dio, the vampire Dio?”

“Yes, that one,” Rohan responded. Josuke’s face blanched and his Stand moved to hover behind Okuyasu.

“The Dio that turned my dad into a miserable unkillable freak of nature?”

“Okuyasu, wait a second—”

A blue and white humanoid Stand cracked into being and swept its hand downward just as Josuke’s Stand rammed into its side. 

There was a smooth void that cut through the ceiling, took a massive cookie-cutter circle out of the desk, and removed most of Dio’s left arm before gouging into the floor.

“No, no, no!” Rohan wailed. “At least do this outside!”

Josuke’s and Okuyasu’s Stands were grappling with each other just as the two boys were trying to pin each other to the ground. Okuyasu’s Stand briefly tore itself free and swooped its hand downward. Dio ducked as far out of the way as he could but still lost a chunk of his shoulder. 

Did his own life count if it was in danger?

The World appeared. Time stopped.

He had a few seconds to think. This Stand was like if Vanilla Ice had a second shot at the Stand Arrow. A few more swipes and the whole room would be sent to an unknowable void. Whatever command Rohan had scribbled in had him utterly incapable of stepping out of the way.

He was also weak from losing most of his left side.

He felt his grasp on the stopped time beginning to slip.

The Hand scraped him out of existence.

Chapter Text

Dio was aware of his continued existence, but every other sense had gone blank. Whatever void The Hand had swept him to was at once stifling and empty, vast and tiny, mundane and indescribable all at once. His primary emotion was anger as the struggle with Rohan replayed in his mind. That soon gave way to the sudden realization that his double hadn’t intervened and restarted him yet. That then gave way to growing panic over the possibility that his double couldn’t access the void and that he would be trapped in here forever, unable to do anything other than barely exist.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he did know that he was starting to freak out a bit.

The space around him popped into existence and he landed on the familiar glassy expanse. He glared up at his double. “That took you a while.”

“I don’t appreciate that your first thought when things go wrong is that I’ll let you start over again,” his double said with a sneer. “That isn’t necessarily true.”

“Don’t you need me to get the arrow?” Dio retorted.

“Need you?” His double laughed. “This is entertainment for me. Here’s something you should have learned from visiting D’Arby: Game over. You don’t have unlimited attempts. Stop being so stupidly impulsive and don’t try to rely on me.”

Dio clenched his fists and began to snarl something but he was snapped back into existence in Rohan’s study. He was alone, but the massive gaps in the walls and general destruction told him that he must have been placed back right after his last failure. He attempted to take a step forward, but his feet refused to move. Rohan’s commands were still active. He heard quiet talking in the hallway and a ragged sob.

“Okuyasu, calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”

“But what if that was my one chance to fix Dad? Just remembering what he put us through for that guy--I got so angry I couldn’t think! But what if he did know how to turn him back? Damn it!” Dio heard a thunk; Okuyasu had punched the floor.

Josuke kept talking quietly as he tried to calm his friend. Rohan spoke up, his voice tinged with begrudging sympathy. “I’m going to call Jotaro and let him know what happened.”

Footsteps approached the door to the study. Dio stared at Rohan. Rohan yelped and ducked back out of the doorway. “Okuyasu, he’s still there.”

More footsteps pattered up the hall. Rohan, Josuke, and a red-face Okuyasu peered inside.

“I’m fine,” Dio stated. “But I would appreciate being able to move.”

Heaven’s Door appeared; Rohan covered a few lines with white-out. Dio rolled his shoulders as the pages melded and he took a step forward.

“What were you saying about your father?” he asked Okuyasu.

The sun had fully set; Dio was able to stride outside with confidence. He followed Okuyasu and Josuke as Rohan walked beside him, watching him warily; Dio pointedly ignored him.

They reached an old, decrepit-looking house. Okuyasu went to say something, then paused, grimaced, and then opened the front door and held it. Josuke gave him a reassuring shoulder squeeze before entering. Rohan and Dio followed behind. The interior was dark, even with the weak overhead lights flicked on. Okuyasu strode past them and led the way upstairs and took a few tentative steps into a bedroom. Dio heard an awful squelch.

In the far corner of the room was a lump of sickly-looking flesh.

“Well, there he is,” Okuyasu said. He squared his shoulders and faced Dio. “I apologize for erasing you with The Hand. I was very upset and acted without thinking. Please accept my apology.”

“Sure,” Dio said with a shrug.

“Great.” Okuyasu crossed his arms. “Now, please try to turn my dad back to normal because it is your fault that he’s like this.”

Dio crouched in front of the creature and squinted at it. It looked up at him without any real recognition. It drooled.

“What’s your family name?” he asked.

“Nijimura,” Okuyasu answered.

Njimura. Dio tried to remember the dozens of accomplices, minions, and various underlings he had made in Cairo. The name just barely tugged at his memory. “Oh, I probably gave him a flesh bud to keep track of him,” he realized aloud. He stood and glanced back at Okuyasu. “Technically, this is Jotaro’s fault. If he wouldn’t have killed me in Cairo, then the bud wouldn’t have mutated out of control.”

Okuyasu was flabbergasted. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Dio waved his hand dismissively. “I might be able to fix it. Let me try something.” His nails pulled at his wrist. He fashioned a second flesh bud and smacked it into the creature’s head.

The creature yowled. Josuke grabbed Okuyasu’s shoulders. The father's flesh bubbled, settled, then bubbled again. It tottered away from Dio and fell over. Okuyasu sounded incensed but congested, yelling at him through a sob. “What the hell did you do?”

“I put another one in. The new one might prove stronger than the old one. It will absorb the old bud, and since I’m alive, it shouldn’t corrupt him like the old one. Then, maybe, he’ll turn back to normal.” He watched as the creature crawled pitifully on the floor, and he shrugged again, nonchalant. “It might take a while.”

Okuyasu slumped, his anger and shock dissolving. He ran to his father’s side and tried to comfort him.

Josuke remained to keep Okuyasu and his father company. Rohan and Dio walked back in pensive silence. Rohan paused before opening his front door and faced Dio directly. “Why did you decide to help him?”

He took an ominous, cryptic, and mocking tone. “It’s all a part of my plan.”

Rohan’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, your plan—”

“There’s no plan,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I only helped because I already have a bad enough reputation with the Joestars. It’s leverage in case Jotaro changes his mind about me.”

Dio descended to the basement and Rohan went to repair what he could in his study. The night passed without incident, which Dio hated because he was itching to track down the serial killer, get the arrows, and be done with Morioh a soon as possible. He also could only read through the ingredients list on the back of his sunblock so many times before growing deathly bored. He didn’t really need to sleep, but he did anyway. When he woke up, he peered through the glass-block windows. It was another cloudy day, but he could see the sunlight.

He ventured upstairs and overheard pleasant-toned talking. Rohan was having an energetic conversation with whoever was in the living room. Dio rounded the corner and leaned against the wall, eyes searching through the ornately furnished room for the visitor. His gaze skidded over a figure on the couch before sliding back and recognizing—

Whatever Boingo had been telling Rohan quickly devolved into hoarse screaming and an attempt to scramble backward off the couch. His feet kicked against the table, jostling a tea set and throwing hot water across the glossy wood. Rohan yelped as the steaming liquid spilled on his leg. Heaven’s Door materialized and quickly picked up the teapot, keeping it from spilling further.

Dio had to restraining himself from laughing from in schadenfreude. Boingo buried himself in the couch cushions while Rohan swore up a storm and Heaven’s Door gently but ineffectually patted at the spill with a napkin. In spite of the puddle of tea surrounding it, Toth sat dry and pristine, open to a page in which Boingo appeared to be juggling an assortment of yen.

“Was that necessary?” Rohan glared at Dio as he approached the table. Dio ignored him as he picked up Toth and flipped through the pages. All of the predictions seemed to be about Boingo himself, including an illustration of him walking up to Rohan’s house. “I was trying to talk with this young man about the artistic sensibilities of his Stand,” Rohan said. “I know he used to work for you or whatever but you are obviously frightening him and I’ve been planning this meeting for a month.”

“W-why didn’t you tell me he would be here?” Boingo wheedled from within the couch. "How is he here?!"

“It happened yesterday and you were already on the plane over,” Rohan answered. “It’s not like you could have just turned back around.”

Dio smirked. “I’d be more than glad to leave. May I go out without you having to babysit me?”

“Yes, go.” Rohan scowled as he took the napkin from Heaven’s Door and threw it into a nearby trash can. “Then I can finish my research in peace.”

He returned to the café. While Jotaro had given him the barest description of the serial killer, he didn’t really know who or what to look out for. Sitting out on the veranda had been good enough to bring Jotaro to him before, and he hoped he’d have the same fortune a second time. He was staring at the drink menu wondering if he really wanted an Earl Grey again after the last one had been so disappointing but at the same time he wasn’t in the mood for a bitter coffee nor a too-sugary-sweet one and he didn’t know what half of the terms on the menu meant and he really just wished he could curl up somewhere with a bottle of wine but drinking before noon was generally frowned upon even for hundred-year-old vampires when a rough voice called out to him. He turned around in his seat. 

Okuyasu was waving at him boisterously. “Oi! Dio!”

Josuke was sitting beside him, looking worried. A much shorter boy sat across from them. A girl with incredibly long, lustrous hair was scooted right up against the shorter boy. Dio approached the table, and Okuyasu beamed. “Hey, guys! This is Dio! He’s helping my dad. Dio, you know Josuke already. That’s Koichi and that’s Yukako.”

Yukako, who glanced at him with the dismissive mien that seemed almost exclusive to teenage girls (though Dio had leveraged a similar look before once or twice in the clubs of Cairo,) seemed entirely disinterested. Koichi, however, went pale. “You mean— ”

“Yeah, that one,” Josuke replied.

“Dad is doing better!” Okuyasu said. “He still looks like shit and doesn’t remember how to do much but he is walking more, I think.”

“That is good to hear,” Dio said flatly.

The silence stretched. Okuyasu’s smile faded.

“Anyway,” Josuke finally said. “Rohan said that Jotaro said that you said that you were here to help catch the killer?”

“That’s correct,” Dio responded.

“All right!” Josuke bumped his shoulders against Okuyasu. Even Koichi seemed happy. “That’s one more on Team Morioh!”

Dio absolutely did not consider himself a member of Team Morioh. He pulled a chair over to the table and sat anyway. “So, what do we know about this killer?”

“Not much, unfortunately,” Josuke explained. “We know his Stand can blow things up. But what he looks like, where he lives, anything like that is still kind of a mystery. That’s about it.”

So he had to find a serial killer with no known physical characteristics. “What kind of person does he target?” He thought back to Jack the Ripper, who had exclusively targeted beautiful young women.

“Well, based on all the police reports over a long period of time, mostly beautiful young women,” Josuke answered. “But he’ll kill anyone who gets too close to revealing who he is.”

“We think that he is a he since that’s like, typical,” Okuyasu added. “And, uh, Jotaro is here now. Hi Jotaro!”

Dio felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder with viselike intensity. He hadn’t heard him walk up to the table; he must have spotted him from a distance, stopped time, and restarted it when he was just behind him.

“Josuke,” Jotaro said. “Take your friends and go.”

Okuyasu looked at Josuke, his confusion obvious. Josuke looked at Dio with concern. “We were just talking.”

“Go. I’ll talk to you about it later.” Jotaro was gruff, but at least he didn’t sound as angry. Josuke stood and pushed in his chair. Okuyasu, visibly upset, followed his lead. Koichi quickly stood and went to join them. Yukako, however, sipped at the last dregs of her coffee before glaring at Jotaro. “I was having a nice, romantic breakfast with Koichi, you know.”

“Enough,” Jotaro grunted. “Go.”

She pouted, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and left with a huff.

“I told you to stay at Rohan’s,” Jotaro said.

“And he told me to leave,” Dio retorted. “Don’t worry. He wrote plenty of rules. It would be very difficult for me to cause any trouble around here.”

“I don’t want you talking to Josuke.”

“Why not?”

Jotaro was silent.

“Is ‘because I said so’ the only reason you can come up with?” Dio smirked. “I did his friend a huge favor, by the way. The stupid friend with the dad who used to work for me.”

Doubt crept into Jotaro’s stony voice. “You were able to make his dad normal?”

“No.” Dio paused. “But have you heard of the placebo effect?”

Jotaro sighed and muttered something to himself. 

Dio stood and turned to face him. “So are there any leads on this serial killer outside of the fact that we know they exist? How am I supposed to find them when there aren’t any clues?”

“I do have a lead,” Jotaro stated. “But we have to be careful. If we spook him, we don’t know what he’ll do.”

“So tell me the lead,” Dio replied. 

“No.”

Dio sighed dramatically. “I’m beginning to think that you just want me to languish away in Rohan’s basement.”

“Yes.”

Was that a joke? With Jotaro, it was almost impossible to tell. Dio scowled.

“Wait two more days,” Jotaro said. “Then I’ll tell you what you can do.”

(putting end of chapter notes in body text for sake of HTML; here's actual footage of dio during this fic; as always, thank you for your kudoses and comments!)

Chapter Text

The sun burned through the clouds and the day became disgustingly bright. Dio was forced to retreat to the basement once more. He swallowed down some stale blood and flipped through a book on architecture he had taken from the living room. Boingo had presumably left, as neither he nor Toth were anywhere to be seen. He refused to engage with Rohan lest he get the urge to start ‘renovating’ the house further. So, with nothing else to do, he waited for the sun to go down before venturing back outside.

He knew that Stand users were drawn to each other almost inexorably, their strange abilities seeking each other out to clash and fuse. If the serial killer was a Stand user, they would have to be exceedingly careful in order to avoid simply running into a member of Team Morioh. Perhaps that same attractive force would bring the killer to him. But how to tell which of the many inhabitants of Morioh was the killer when Jotaro refused to tell him anything?

He wanted a drink. Fresh blood was preferable, but wine was acceptable. 

Dusk had arrived. Dio took his umbrella and ambled the streets looking more for a decent restaurant than for clues. He walked until he came across a quaint Italian-styled house that had been partially renovated into a restaurant. Figuring this was as good a place to get a drink as any, he moved to open the door.

It opened before he could grasp the handle. Joseph and Josuke stepped through the doorway but both froze upon spotting him. Josuke remained tense, but Joseph at least gave a thin smile. “Good evening! Were you in the mood for Italian food, too?”

“No, just for wine.” He took a few courteous steps back. Joseph shuffled forward but Josuke remained in the doorway.

“Wait,” Josuke said. Joseph gave him a questioning look.

“You might not want to eat here,” Josuke said to Dio. “The owner is a Stand user. His food gets rid of diseases and stuff. No offense, but it might kill you.”

“Oh, good point, Josuke,” Joseph said, nodding in agreement, but a narrow little look at Dio had effectively communicated that he would not have been all that worried had Josuke failed to mention the Stand's effects. 

Josuke paused for a moment, bit his lip, then spoke again. “There’s a pretty good French-style place not far from Rohan’s. If you want to walk with us, I can show you where it is.”

“Wonderful,” Dio said. “I wasn’t in the mood for chianti, anyway.”

The walk to the restaurant began quietly, but it wasn’t long until Josuke’s curiosity took over. “Okay, so Jotaro told me not to talk to you, but I’m gonna pull seniority for this one time and talk to you anyway.” Josuke took a deep breath and kicked aimlessly at a pebble. It skittered off the road and into the grass. “Jotaro already told me pretty much everything about Cairo.”

“All flattering things, I’m sure,” Dio responded, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I mean, you were a super evil vampire with a Stand and an army of Stand zombies or whatever. But Jotaro was pretty sure he killed you at the end of all that. So, how are you here now?”

“I’m intrigued by your use of ‘were’,” Dio said. “I ‘was’ a ‘super evil vampire’, as you and Jotaro say. Not ‘am’?”

“Well.” Josuke frowned. “You did help Okuyasu.”

Dio grimaced.

Joseph lightly elbowed Josuke. “That whole second flesh bud thing might not work.”

“Yeah, but he still tried!” Josuke crossed his arms. “Anyway! How did you end up in Morioh?”

“What did Jotaro tell you?” Dio asked.

“He didn’t explain it very well, but he did say that you wanted to make amends.”

“And Jotaro told you not to talk to me because…?”

“He doesn’t believe you.”

“But he is pragmatic,” Joseph interjected. “That’s why we’re keeping you around. Kind of like a secret weapon.”

“Fantastic.” Dio’s tone made it clear that it was anything but. He forced his voice to soften a bit before asking his next question. “But who do you believe, Josuke? Jotaro, or me?”

Josuke frowned and went a bit pale. “I don’t…”

Dio was fully prepared to begin pitiful dramatics to sway the sympathetic teen over to his side, but before he could begin, Joseph clapped him on the back with his robotic arm. “We believe Jotaro, of course!" He leaned against Dio heavily and patted him hard enough that his arm clanked. Dio fought the urge to fling the elderly Joestar into the turf. “Just look at this guy,” he said as he jostled Dio one last time. “Evil to the core. He’s probably plotting revenge for Cairo. Or he wants to steal all his stuff back from the Speedwagon Foundation. But we can’t be mad. He can’t help it! He can’t do anything else. Like you said, super evil vampire.” He poked Dio in the chest before stepping away and grinning, his face half-buried in his scarf.

Dio clenched his fists, narrowed his eyes, and— 

Joseph chuckled. “Your next line is, ‘you’re wrong!’” 

“You’re wr—  ugh .” He bit his tongue and glowered.

Joseph’s eyes crinkled from his widening smile. “See, Josuke? I told you he was telling the truth. Maybe he’s not here for any really good reason, but I bet he wants to help just because Jotaro said he couldn’t.”

Josuke smiled. “Jeez. I mean, I was gonna say I believed him. I just get why Jotaro is freaked out about it, too.”

Dio pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “How much further is this restaurant?”

Dio did not appreciate the enthusiasm in Joseph’s and Josuke’s goodbye waves as they dropped him off at the entrance of the French restaurant. His mood improved when he read through the decent wine selection. After feeling the lightness of the yen left in his pocket, he settled for an even more decently priced glass of merlot.

Since the night air was pleasantly cool, he opted to sit outside facing the street. He sipped at the wine. The taste was acceptable. The belligerent drunk at the table next to him was less acceptable. The poor waitress had brought him escargot and he was acting as if he hadn’t expected them to actually be snails. There were threats to get the manager, no, the owner, and to have the waitress fired if his meal wasn’t made free. If the waitress didn’t have the guts to dump the plate on his head and kick him out, it wasn’t his problem. However, that didn’t stop the exchange from being incredibly annoying. Dio still gave the man a sharp stare as he sipped at his wine.

“Hey! You got somethin’ to say?” the drunk guy slurred at him.

Dio gave him a once over. He was the sort of self-important idiot that Dio would have barely even considered giving a flesh bud. But there was something about him, a confident set to his shoulders, a speck of light behind the eyes, that made him think—

A ghostly arm appeared above the man’s own. “I said, you got somethin’ to say?”

Of course he was a Stand user. Dio let out a long sigh and set down his wine glass. “You take yourself to a nice restaurant, order something that you aren’t familiar with, and then decide to make such a fuss that it ruins the experience of those around you. Am I not entitled to a nice, quiet drink? Must I suffer just because you’re so unfathomably idiotic that you don’t know what escargot is?”

“Well, escar-go-fuck-yourself, buddy.” The ghostly arm grew further; a dull brown Stand solidified at the man’s side. “You wanna take this outside?”

“No.” Dio cracked his neck, stood, and pushed in his chair.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What, you’re just going to leave? You insult me and then you just leave? Hey!”

Dio ignored him as he set a few yen on the table as a tip. He didn’t know if tipping was the custom here, but better safe than sorry.

“I said hey! ” The man stood from his chair. His Stand’s hands unfurled, revealing long, razor-sharp fingers. Its body coiled for a moment, springlike, and then it launched forward. It slashed at Dio’s arm and managed to scrape a gouge into his shoulder before fleeing back to hide behind the man. Dio stared blankly as dark blood seeped from the wound.

“Oh dear,” he said flatly. “It appears my life is in danger. Whatever shall I do.”

The World materialized behind him. Fear flashed across the man’s face, but he soon plastered it over with aggressive confidence. “So you have a special ability, too. But if you’re from around here, you’re just as new to it as I am.”

Dio picked up the napkin-wrapped silverware from his table and unfurled it as the man was talking. He looked at the dull butter knife and pursed his lips.

The man continued, oblivious. “But I’ve been putting in some hard work! My Stand is faster and sharper than any I’ve encountered! I’ve named it—”

Dio threw the silverware with such force that even the spoon stuck into the man’s shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell?” The man took a staggering step backward. As Dio approached he stumbled even farther, almost falling over his own chair in his terror. As he recovered, he knocked into the waitress, who had returned with his check. He grabbed her and his Stand twisted around the woman’s shoulders, a bladed finger pressed tight against her throat. “Don’t come closer! You don’t want this innocent bystander to get hurt, do you?”

Dio reached over, grabbed a random customer from their seat, threw their head against the ground, and then drove his foot into their gut. He grabbed their set of silverware from the table, stepped over the prone body, and approached the man. Someone screamed. People began to flee. With eyes wide, the Stand user stumbled backward.

“I can’t say I really care,” Dio responded with complete nonchalance. “I’ve been incredibly patient and well-behaved today, so a bit of senseless violence would be a welcome relief. Well? What will it be?” He sauntered over to the stammering Stand user, his grin baring teeth. “Are you all bark and no bite?”

The Stand user’s eyes were rapidly flitting between the growing puddle of blood beneath the customer’s head and Dio’s too-cheerful face. He began backing away, his stand releasing its hold on the now-terrified woman, who slumped to the ground in a faint.

“Listen, man,” the man said as he raised his hands in supplication. “There’s no need to—“

“Backing down already?” He made a mocking tsk of disappointment. “So soon, and yet still too late!” He threw the silverware. The fork dug deep into the man’s forearm. The man screamed in pain and turned to dash away, but Dio sprinted forward and landed a kick to the small of his back. The man’s recoiling Stand slashed at his face repeatedly, but the World simply grabbed it by the neck and squeezed. He watched with horror as the deep cuts on Dio’s face healed rapidly. The man wheezed, his breath thinning as the World strangled his Stand.

“You said you were working hard to strengthen your Stand?” Dio tilted his head. “I’d just love to see what you can do.” The World flung the Stand into the ground, where it writhed and tried to right itself. “Go ahead. Impress me.”

The man leapt to his feet and bolted. He only made it a few steps before he ran right into Dio, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, but had indeed taken a leisurely stroll before him in the stopped time. “Oh, you’re running away from me? How disappointing.” He shoved his hand into the man’s neck. The veins and arteries parted around his fingers. While the rules said he could only get blood from the hospital, it didn’t mean he couldn’t freak the guy out. The man swore and squirmed away from his grasp. His bladed Stand lashed out. Dio ducked, but the Stand swung its arms back and caught him. The sharp edge cut a clean diagonal from his shoulder to his spine.

“Not bad!” Dio let his fingers slip out of the man’s neck as the slice grew wider, the weight of his arm pulling the flesh downward. Dio held his own shoulder tightly and pushed his body back together as the wound began to heal. The man fell to the ground. His Stand slashed at Dio a few more times and tried to drive one long finger into his chest, perhaps aiming for his heart. The World watched impassively, and he narrowed his eyes, no longer amused. “Don’t you understand? That won’t work.”

The man tried to crawl away. His Stand tore at Dio’s chest uselessly.

“Alright, I’m bored.” The World punched the flailing Stand to the floor. The man heaved and hacked up blood. Dio put his boot on the man’s head.

A familiar voice interrupted him. “Stop.”

“Jotaro.” Dio turned to look at him without removing his foot. The man groaned as his face was ground into the tile. “You made it here quickly.”

“Shut up and explain.”

Dio couldn’t help but pout. “That seems counterintuitive.”

Star Platinum punched him in the chest. Dio fell beside the bloodied corpse of the man he had thrown to the ground. Jotaro advanced upon him, his eyes burning bright, Star Platinum pulling its fists back and— 

The seemingly dead person on the ground coughed and rolled over. They spat red liquid from their mouth and it splashed into the puddle beneath them. “Ugh! Is this Merlot?” They closed their mouth and looked thoughtful. “It isn’t too bad.”

Dio nodded at him. “Grand Rosseau, just a few years old. The quality leaves something to be desired, but the price is agreeable.”

Jotaro looked at the defeated Stand user, then the man covered in wine, and then at Dio. He sighed.

Dio pointed at the Stand user. “I doubt he’s the serial killer, he’s too much of an idiot. But he’s a threat nonetheless. He attacked a poor, defenseless waitress, so I used my new friend here,” he said, gesturing towards the wine-covered man, “to get him to leave the waitress alone. I stopped time for a short moment, poured the wine that I unfortunately did not get the chance to enjoy onto him, and set him very gently on the ground at the last second. Then, I added a fake kick while he was down, just for emphasis. After that, I incapacitated the Stand user, as I was told to do.” 

Jotaro blinked at him. “Just go back to Rohan’s. The police were called. I came because I listen to the scanner.” He turned his gaze to the Stand user. “They can take care of him.”

Dio stood and dusted himself off before offering a hand to the wine-covered man. He lifted him up, and the man tottered off in a daze.

“Alright, Jojo, I’ll go back in the basement. My apologies for the misunderstanding.” He grinned and searched Jotaro’s face for any sort of expression. There was exhaustion for sure, and lingering tension, but the fiery anger had disappeared.

Jotaro frowned at him before turning away. In the distance, sirens began to sound. The young man sounded, more than anything else, tired. “Just stay out of trouble.”

Chapter Text

The night passed. Dio and Rohan had an unspoken agreement to completely ignore each other unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t stop Dio from raiding his bookshelves, but Rohan didn’t seem to mind. He leafed through a few botany reference books before impatience and boredom made him toss them to the side. Once morning broke, he ventured back upstairs. The house was quiet. He went to the second floor and peered into each room, but Rohan was nowhere to be seen.

Well, it wasn’t his fault if Rohan refused to keep an eye on him. Dio grabbed his umbrella and headed outside.

The shade of the umbrella, the decent cloud coverage, and liberally applied sunscreen were enough to let him walk the streets of Morioh during the day, but he could still feel an underlying sting of discomfort. Dio figured he could stay outside for an hour at most. He knew the main spokes of road that spread out from the central hub of Morioh fairly well by this point. He decided to venture into the back streets and alleyways instead, and he was grateful for the increased shade. There wasn’t much of interest aside from a few stray cats that hissed and scattered away from him, but he remained alert. Dark alleyways, after all, were prime real estate for serial killings.

He heard a loud rumble in the distance, and then another. He picked up his pace. There were more sounds, louder this time, and then the unmistakable sounds of Star Platinum beating the shit out of something.

He rounded a corner and almost had to laugh. Jotaro was in a bloody heap on the ground. Koichi was crumpled up a few meters away from him. Dio crouched at Jotaro’s side. He looked awful. Singed holes in his jacket gave way to bloody and bruised flesh. Dio leaned a little bit closer and tilted his head. Jotaro was still breathing, but it was weak and uneven, and his eyes were…

His eyes were open. Jotaro looked up at Dio with barely restrained horror.

“Th’ fuck away from me,” he spat. Star Platinum’s arms wavered just above his own.

Dio smiled in a way he thought would come across as friendly. “I’m not going to take your blood, Jotaro. I’m not allowed to, remember? Not unless I carry you all the way to the hospital.”

Jotaro’s throat spasmed and blood spattered his lips. “Ugh.” His head rolled to the side. “Then you can,” he paused, fighting back another painful, heaving cough, “go. Get him. He’s…” 

He trailed off. Dio grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him once. “Joestar, if you die right before telling me what the killer looks like I may actually lose my mind.”

Jotaro was unresponsive. Dio shook him again; still nothing. He listened closely; Jotaro’s breaths were shallow and shrinking. Footsteps came running up behind him, and he realized that crouching over Jotaro’s injured body was incredibly suspicious, but it was too late to move.

“Oh, shit.” Josuke was out of breath from running. “What…? Did you see what happened?”

“No.” Dio stood and watched Josuke carefully. “I merely heard it happening.”

Josuke frowned doubtfully and looked at him, then down at Jotaro, but he kept quiet. His Stand appeared and gently touched Jotaro’s side. The burnt wounds began to heal. As Josuke tended to Jotaro and Koichi, Okuyasu meandered over to another body lying prone on the road. Dio heard a shriek.

“Oh, God! Watch out! There was a terrible explosion! There could be another! I was in the store…” The man trembled and sobbed. “Those two were in there, too! Oh—!” The man rolled over and clutched at himself, whimpering in pain.

Josuke’s shoulders hunched as he rushed through healing Koichi as best as he could. Okuyasu peered down at the crying man with a mixture of confusion and concern. The man was lying in a stripe of steady sunlight; Dio stood beside Okuyasu and huddled beneath his umbrella. His face stung as he leaned forward and looked down. The man was bloody and bruised, but his jacket didn’t have the same strange burns that Jotaro’s did. Then again, the man was lying on his stomach. Perhaps he had been directly facing the explosion when it happened. The man groaned pitiably. “I think one of my ribs punctured my lung.”

Behind them, Jotaro coughed and weakly tried to sit up. The man rolled over and looked at Josuke pleadingly. “Please, hurry up and fix me!”

Josuke frowned. “No matter how you look at me, I look like a high school student. Why would I be able to fix you? I have trouble even getting into pachinko parlors. Do I look like a doctor who graduated from med school to you?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut uselessly. Josuke leaned over him. “You saw my Crazy Diamond, huh? That means you’re the Stand user.”

In a mere moment, all emotions slid off of the man’s face. Okuyasu took an unconscious step away from him. “Yes, I’m the one you’ve been looking for.” The man gave a tiny, thin smile, but his eyes darkened with something Dio was familiar with.

It was the expression of a man who had already won.

“My face has been seen. My Stand has been seen, and my name has been discovered.” He sounded almost amused. “It appears that I won’t sleep peacefully anymore…” He trailed off and looked at the ground. “But only for tonight.”

An arm materialized and cut downward with incredible speed. The man’s amputated hand landed wetly on the ground.

Josuke’s recoiled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Winning or losing means nothing to me.” The man was weeping involuntarily as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest, but he smiled, straining his satisfaction against the pain. “I’m going to survive in peace.” He began to say more, but Dio didn’t give him the luxury. He shoved his hand into the man’s neck, and the man writhed.

“I can understand your motivations,” Dio stated. “But I want to live in peace and win.” His fingers tightened around his carotid, but the man was still smiling. He looked almost delirious.

Something heavy rolled over Dio’s foot. He looked down. Some sort of miniature tank had emerged from the chopped-off hand. It circled around his foot and then paused, as if deciding what to do next.

The miniature tank began to move again, but now it was headed towards Josuke.

“Sheer Heart Attack,” the man gasped out. “Get back. Right here. Wrong way.”

Dio watched as it paused in confusion before continuing to trundle over to Josuke.

“Josuke, keep away from it,” Jotaro said as he staggered to his feet. “It’s a heat-seeking independent Stand.”

“Heat seeking?” Dio grinned and looked back up at the man. “How unfortunate.”

“Your hand is so cold,” the man stated. “And your nail polish is lovely, but not my type.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dio noticed that the black and pink arm of the man’s Stand had grasped onto his umbrella.

The umbrella exploded. Dio felt his body fly back and smear into the sidewalk. The sunlight burned. He hissed in rage and pain and tried to crawl into the shade but at least one of his limbs had been blasted off and his body kept collapsing itself against the pavement. Something landed on his face and blocked the sunlight; Jotaro had thrown his white coat over him. While there were a few fiery pinpricks where the sun shone through the singed holes, the pain was much more tolerable. Someone was also pulling on his shoulders. “Oh shit! Is he okay?” Okuyasu managed to drag Dio over to a wall, where there was marginally more shade. “Josuke, can you help him?”

Josuke sounded strained. “Jotaro, we can follow the killer if I send his hand back to him, but I’d have to let Sheer Heart Attack go if I heal Dio. What should I do?”

“That isn’t Dio’s body,” Jotaro answered. “If you try to fix it, his head might come off. He can heal himself just fine. Follow the killer. I’ll go with you. Okuyasu, stay here and keep him out of the light.”

Dio heard Jotaro, Josuke, and presumably Koichi run off. “Okuyasu,” Dio said. He was slightly muffled beneath Jotaro’s coat. “Do you see my arm anywhere?”

Okuyasu sniffled, then stood and looked around. “No...wait, yeah, there it is.” He picked it up and grimaced. “Eesh. It’s kind of burnt.”

“Bring it to me. Is there anything else you can see?”

He set the arm on the ground gingerly. “Uh. Just sort of...clumps, to be honest. And they’re, like...boiling. Sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Dio dragged the severed arm over to him and attempted to reaffix it to his shoulder. “Do you know how far we are from Rohan’s?”

“Not too far, I think.”

Dio forced himself to sit up. His arm was mostly reattached, but the joint still felt ragged and loose. Okuyasu took Jotaro’s coat and attempted to hold it over Dio’s head like an awning.

Well, the killer had managed to draw a battle with both Koichi and Jotaro, and Dio begrudgingly admitted that he had been outmaneuvered in his currently limited state. But now he knew what the killer looked like, and surely the team of two Joestars and their short sidekick would be enough to at least slow the man down. He needed his strength back, but he was restricted to the stale prepackaged blood piled in the basement. “Help me up,” he said. Okuyasu hooked an arm under his less-wounded shoulder and lifted.

They made for an odd pair as they walked slowly and steadily back to Rohan’s house, but they were fortunately uninterrupted. Once Okuyasu opened the front door, Dio slid off his supporting arm and leaned against the wall. Okuyasu wheezed and hunched forward, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Dio staggered over to the basement door and carefully descended the steps. He grabbed the remaining bags of blood and didn’t bother with drinking them; he simply shoved his fingers through the plastic and absorbed it. He grimaced at the metallic-verging-on-rusty taste that stung at the back of his throat. His body felt better, but only marginally so.

He heard heavy footsteps creaking the wood upstairs.

Josuke, Jotaro, and Koichi had returned. Koichi was curled up on the couch, looking crestfallen. Jotaro paced the living room while Josuke stood with his arms crossed. Okuyasu sat by Koichi, still holding Jotaro’s tattered jacket.

“He got away?” Dio asked.

Josuke nodded. “Yeah, he got away. And he looks completely different now. He stole a face from Cinderella.”

“Aya doesn’t even have a body left for a funeral.” Koichi drew his knees closer to his chest. “Just because she knew what he looked like.”

Dio frowned. So much for getting revenge on the beautician. “Doesn’t that wear off?”

“We don’t know.” Jotaro stopped pacing but his frustration had to go somewhere. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “With Cinderella deactivated, he might not revert.”

“So we are all right back where we started,” Dio said. “No name, no face, no lead.”

“I got his wallet,” Koichi said quietly.

The front door opened. An exhausted looking Rohan came through the door and glared at the group that had commandeered his living room. “Well. Hello, everyone. Thanks for making yourself at home while I was away. Sorry I couldn’t make tea.”

“Not the time, Rohan,” Jotaro said lowly. “Why weren’t you with Dio?”

“I had another guest to take care of,” Rohan retorted as he gestured toward Dio. “Boingo refused to stay because he was here. I had to give him a ride back to the airport.”

Jotaro narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

Rohan waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Why are you all in my house?”

“We found the killer,” Koichi said. “He got away and made Aya change his face. Then he killed her and escaped.”

“Oh.” Rohan leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s awful. I apologize.”

“We know where his house is. He might go back to get his things. He might not. Either way, we should go and look for any clues.” Jotaro nodded towards Koichi. “You did good work today, but you also took a beating. You can come with us if you want, but now the killer knows how your Stand works. That could be dangerous. He knows you can heal,” he added, turning his attention to Josuke, “but he doesn’t know about Crazy Diamond’s strength and speed. Okuyasu, I don’t think he’s seen your Stand at all. Rohan…” He trailed off and stared at him. “Heaven’s Door is powerful, but the killer has an independent Stand ability. You might not be able to stop it, and Heaven’s Door wouldn’t be able to protect you.” Jotaro paused, sighed, and then finally turned towards Dio. “The killer has seen you, but he has no idea of what all you can do. Unbelievably, you've actually been trying to help while you’ve been here. You’ve kept your word. You can come with us.”

“I’m your secret weapon,” Dio said with a grin.

Jotaro frowned at him. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Chapter Text

The killer’s home looked utterly unremarkable, built plainly and kept neat, a house much like any other if not for its slight remoteness and its nods towards a Western style of construction. As the sun dipped into dusk, Jotaro, Josuke, Okuyasu, and Dio stood in the driveway and watched for any signs of movement inside. Dio’s still-healing skin prickled in the dying sunlight, but he had ample cover from an umbrella begrudgingly donated by Rohan. The umbrella was some sort of plaid monogrammed Burberry custom and it was so absurdly ostentatious that Dio couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it. It clashed with his acidic green and yellow outfit in such a way that it made him hard to look at.

Josuke peered into the mailbox. “Well, his mail is still in here. Maybe he hasn’t come back to the house yet.”

“There could still be booby traps and stuff, though,” Okuyasu replied. “Since he was such a paranoid guy.”

“Dio.” Josuke gave him a serious stare. “You can lead the way. I doubt anything he has set up would be fatal to you.”

“Delightful. Am I to be the punching bag for this whole endeavor?” Dio asked. Jotaro went to speak, but he cut him off. “Don’t answer that. I don’t actually care. I only ask that if we do run into the killer, you let me tear him in two.”

Jotaro pointed at the front door. “Just go.”

Dio turned the handle of the door. It was locked. He curled his hand into a fist and punched; a chunk of the door and the doorframe, including the deadbolt, loudly clattered to the floor.

Jotaro gave him a look that might have been amusement if not for the flat tension of his mouth. “Subtle.”

Dio pushed the door open and took a few steps inside. The interior was dim and quiet. He took a few more strides; the wood creaked but no traps were activated. Jotaro trudged in behind him. “We’ll check every room," he instructed. "Right-hand rule. Go.”

Dio took the first steps into the doorway on the right. It was a fairly spacious living room. A display case held a multitude of trophies and photographs. Once Dio signaled that the room was safe, Josuke and Okuyasu made a beeline over to look at all the awards. “Was he a big sports guy? Wouldn’t we have recognized him, then?” Okuyasu pressed his hands against the glass and looked closer. “Wait. What the hell? These are all for third place!”

Jotaro joined them in investigating the glass case. Dio ventured through the next doorway.

“Psst!”

Alarmed, he squinted into the shadowy corners of the room.

“Lord Dio! Quickly, quietly!”

There was a tiny flutter of movement in the far corner. A camera spat out a photograph. Dio approached it and put his hands on his hips.

“You may not know me, but I know you,” a voice said. “You and I are joined by a common goal. You wanted to stop the Joestars and so do I.” The voice laughed in a vicious titter. “I see you’re trying to trick them. Get as close as you can and then wham! Stab ‘em in the back.” The voice grew more thoughtful. “I knew Enyaba entrusted me with the arrow for a reason. All to bring you back to power and to save my son!”

“Your son is the killer,” Dio stated.

“Eh...yes,” the voice admitted. “Yes.”

Dio crossed his arms and leaned away. “Your son is a powerful Stand user. I would have been honored to have him assist me in Cairo.”

The voice was flustered by the flattery. “Oh! Of course! I mean, my son tends to keep his life very peaceful. But yes!” The voice wheedled. “Will you help him...I mean, let him help you fight the Joestars?”

“Yes.” Dio tried to keep any excitement from his voice. “And where are the arrows?”

“Oh, good, good, good!” The voice cheered. “I’m so glad you agreed. You would have been trapped in this room, otherwise. What a waste that would have been!”

Dio took a step back as the photo on the ground wavered and went hazy. “The arrows,” he hissed. “Where are the arrows?”

“That Nijimura kid had one, but the Joestars already took it away. I have mine just through that door—”

Okuyasu poked his head into the room. “Oh, there you are. Man, the layout of this place is weird. Could have sworn I looked in here already.”

“Okuyasu, back up,” Dio said. “I think this room has a trap.”

“Oh shit, really?” He took a few steps away and blinked at Dio with astonishment.

“Just stay there. I’ll look at the next room.” Dio ducked through the next doorway, and something glistened in the corner. The bow and arrow was resting against the wall. It was so obvious and out in the open that it was absurd. He cringed as he heard Okuyasu call out behind him.

“Hey Jotaro! Dio said this room has a trap!”

Dio heard the flash of the camera. He picked up the arrow and ran.

His double had said that there were two arrows. The killer’s father said that the Joestars already took one. That meant it was most likely in the hands of the Speedwagon Foundation. Obtaining both would be ideal, but it would take a long time to infiltrate the organization and find the arrow, and he was limited by however long it took the Joestars to defeat the voice with the photographic Stand.

Of course, now would be the perfect time to enhance his own Stand. That would make everything easier. He paused and turned the head of the arrow towards himself.

He attempted to plunge the arrow into his chest. It veered away, a strange force preventing it from breaking his skin. He tried again, and it flew out of his hand as if repelled and landed on the ground. He scowled.

Perhaps he had to have both arrows at once to do it. But how to get the arrow back from the Joestars, and quickly?

Joseph Joestar tucked Shizuka into her crib, gave her a kiss goodnight, turned off the light, and closed the door. He returned to his kitchen, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and grabbed two glasses. He poured one for himself but left the other empty. He picked up a broken digital camera and placed it in a trash bag, where it clattered against several others, and then he sat on his couch, waiting.

He didn’t have to wait long. He heard one of his windows slide open, followed by a quiet thump. He sipped at his glass, then turned to look behind him. “Dio, do you want a drink?”

Dio froze halfway through prowling up behind him. With will, the abrupt tension slid away like icemelt; he loosened his curled fingers so that his clawed nails were no longer pinching into his palms. “No.”

“Well, then at least let me be a good host and take a seat.”

Dio did not take a seat. He instead looked at the glasses on the table and the bag full of busted cameras. 

“I don’t use my Stand much, so it got pretty weak over time,” Joseph explained. “You probably didn’t even notice me checking in.”

“You know what I want, then.”

“The second Stand Arrow, yes.” Joseph nodded slowly. “What do you want it for? Isn’t one enough?”

Dio didn’t answer.

“It’s interesting,” Joseph said. “The Speedwagon Foundation called me up a little after I first arrived in Morioh. They had found some special instructions regarding the Stand arrow. Do you know who wrote them? Speedwagon himself. That was one hell of a surprise. Did you know he tried to keep everything about you and Jonathan a secret? He didn’t want me to get involved in all of that. He did tell me eventually, though. When the time was right.”

“Tell me what happened to the arrow,” Dio commanded.

“Speedwagon never told me about this.” Joseph frowned and downed the rest of his drink. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I guess he had his reasons.”

“Joseph,” Dio stated, “the arrow.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

Dio crossed his arms and tapped his nails against his elbow. He nodded towards the closed door. “Shizuka is sleeping in there, isn’t she?”

Joseph stood with surprising speed for his age. “You’re gonna threaten a baby? That’s low, even for you.”

Dio sneered at him. “Tell me what happened to the arrow.”

“I still know Hamon, you know,” Joseph retorted. “And you’re still a vampire.”

“When’s the last time you used it?” Joseph’s mouth was set in a firm line as Dio circled him. “You’ve grown old and weak. I don’t blame you for that; you’re only human.”

Joseph smirked at him. “You’re more human than you think.”

Without warning, and without any consideration for the man's aged fragility, Dio grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the floor. It was a quick motion, a thoughtless motion, and Joseph landed with a surprised grunt that turned into a dry laugh. “That’s the funniest thing, Dio! You think you’re so special with your Stand power when Jotaro has the same damn thing. You think you’re so great as a vampire when—” He coughed as he pulled his knees beneath him and began to rise. “I’ve been married to worse! You’re not at the top of the food chain! None of us are!”

Dio drove his heel into Joseph’s chest. Some small satisfaction came from the sensation of crackling bone. Joseph fell onto his back. His breath was ragged and uneven.

“You know, out of all of the Joestars, I think you’re my least favorite.” Dio put his boot on Joseph’s chest and steadily increased the pressure. “That’s no small feat. Now, I want you to tell me what happened to the arrow, or we find out if that baby stays invisible after being dropped off the roof. Would you be able to see the splatter, or no?”

“You could have just asked nicely.” Joseph looked up at him and spoke softly; he sounded disappointed. Dio’s skin crawled. “The instructions were to send it here and give it to you.”

“What.” Dio backed away from Joseph, who sat up and coughed wetly. There was no way his double would have made it this easy. Dio looked around the room, half expecting him to be lurking somewhere. “Speedwagon said to give me the arrow?”

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it either.” Joseph hit himself on the chest and took a deep breath; there was a flickering crackle of light around his fist. He used the side of the couch to bring himself to his knees and his legs trembled as he stood back up. “But when you appeared and said you wanted to help...I thought maybe you were really telling the truth. You might have had your own selfish reasons as to why, but I thought you were telling the truth! But to see you act this way? Nothing has changed. You’re the same piece of shit you were ten years ago and a hundred before that. I don’t know what convinced Speedwagon to write these instructions, but I’m not going to give you the arrow!”

“Lower your voice, Joestar,” Dio snarled. “Must I remind you of the infant in the other room? We don’t want to disturb her.”

Joseph took a step forward, but his leg gave out and he fell to his knees beside the table. He placed his robotic hand flat on the surface as he pushed himself back up.

Dio lifted his leg and prepared to kick Joseph in the head. Before he could, a Hamon-laden shot glass went flying towards his knee.

He just barely dodged; he could feel the sting of the sunlight energy reaching out to him as it flew by. Joseph staggered to his feet. Dio leapt forward and grabbed him by the throat. He squeezed and drastically dropped the temperature in his arms, knowing that stopping his circulation in one way or another would interrupt the Hamon, but Joseph still had his layered coat, turtleneck, and scarf on. He was surprised when Joseph had the strength to lift his legs and dig his knees into Dio’s ribs, throwing off his balance and sending them both into a heap on the floor.

Joseph didn’t let up; he slammed a fist into Dio’s side while the other hand tore at the Stand Arrow he had taken from the killer’s father. Dio twisted away from him, but Hamon crackled out from Joseph’s fingertips and it was as if the arrow had been magnetized. He pulled it away from Dio and rolled onto his side.

“It might be my final Ripple,” Joseph said as he clambered up the couch, “but I could probably destroy this Arrow. Then you’d be one short. It might ruin your plan, it might not. But it’d be worth it.”

“Give that back,” Dio hissed.

Joseph shook his head. His shoulders hunched and his hands grew bright with energy. Dio launched himself forward; Joseph drew his hand back. Time slowed but didn’t quite stop.

The cozy living room became transparent and immaterial. So did the arrow. Joseph was now holding something else, an object that looked like two steel and acrylic balls held together by a wire. They were shining brightly with energy. Dio glanced upward; Joseph himself was different, too. Dio stared at the much younger Joestar in shock.

Time abruptly returned to its normal pace. One clacker crashed into his face while the other slammed into his chest. The Hamon tore through him and he went flying backward. He landed on a floor that felt like solid rock.

“What the fuck?” Joseph swung the clackers back into his hands. “Who the hell was that?”

Dio could feel his face melting. His nails sloughed from his fingers as he struggled to sit up. He looked blearily towards Joseph. There were three absolutely massive and barely clothed men standing within the cavern. One was close to Joseph, while the other two were farther off to the side. Behind Joseph were two individuals of relatively average size. One in particular caught his attention; the massive facial scar could only belong to Speedwagon.

One of the gigantic men spoke up. “It seems a vampire decided to take the blow for me.”

Another of the men nodded. “Many a vampire has died for its master.”

The third man, whose head was bundled in a sable cape, frowned. “I don’t remember us making any vampires recently.”

They turned and stared at Dio. He stared back. An ominous wind whistled through the cavern.

Chapter Text

One of the gigantic men strode up to Dio and gazed down at him imperiously. “Perhaps those soldiers were playing with a mask prior to our awakening.” 

“We should have thanked them for the appetizer before we killed them,” the man in the dark scarf stated. “Too bad it was ruined by the Ripple. Put it out of its misery, Wham.”

Wham stretched out one long arm and dropped it towards Dio’s leg so quickly that he barely saw him move. In one moment, he had a leg; the next moment, he did not. It was not amputated but was instead seemingly absorbed directly into Wham’s body. The World activated on instinct one millisecond later.

Dio used his first second in the stopped time to let out a short, muffled yell. He used the next few seconds to scramble backward and look for cover. The floor dipped a short distance behind him, and he used one last burst of strength to throw himself back and roll down the slope.

Time began to flow normally. Dio kept silent and still.

Joseph was shouting. “Hey! Get back over here! I may have had a test run on a vampire but I still have to show you what my clackers can do!”

Wham stared at the space where Dio had just been. He pursed his lips and glanced toward a few scuffed streaks of blood that had seemingly instantly appeared. He followed the blood trail and narrowed his eyes as he stared into the darkness—

A handful of rocks pattered off the back of his head. Wham turned to look at Joseph.

“Come on, big guy. Surely you’re not afraid of these.” He twirled the clackers around his fingers but lost control; one heavy ball landed on his toe. “Ow! Shit!”

Wham grunted and strode back over to Joseph. Dio ignored the ruckus that followed as he focused on healing himself. The Ripple energy was still jolting through his abdomen, destroying him about as quickly as he could rebuild, but it was growing weaker over time. There wasn’t much he could do about losing his leg without taking in fresh blood.

He distracted himself from the pain by focusing on his anger. Both Stand Arrows had been within his grasp; why the hell had he been thrown into this cave? Did Joseph, of all people, have some sort of reality-bending ability that he activated at the last second? Or was Dio’s all-powerful double up to something? And what kind of being could absorb his leg in an instant?

Dio had done some research into the history of the Speedwagon Foundation during his time in Cairo, but much of its documented history during the World Wars was destroyed. He had assumed it was for political reasons, as collaborating with Nazi Germany was generally frowned upon by the Allied victors. There were scattered files about vampires and Pillar Men but they were so redacted and esoteric that nobody knew what to make of them. He had gathered that Joseph was involved in something involving Hamon training and vampires in the 1940’s; other than that, the details were murky.

There was a loud clank and a whoosh of air. He pressed himself flat against the stone floor as a minecart zoomed past him. A few moments passed, and then Speedwagon and the young blonde man ran after the cart.

Dio waited in silence for a few minutes before moving and looking behind him. The cavern was empty. He crawled back up and looked around the shadowy space. There were flattened corpses of soldiers scattered across the cavern floor. Blood was splattered all over the rock. There were stone masks embedded into the walls, surrounded by crimson-covered frescoes. He crawled over to a puddle of blood and placed his palm in it. Nothing happened. He swore through clenched fangs and rolled onto his back. Of course Rohan’s rules were still active. He could only use The World defensively and he could only drink blood from a hospital. He put his hands on his still-mangled face and seethed.

Footsteps echoed against the stone walls. He curled into a crouch and looked around for another hiding place, but he wouldn’t be going anywhere fast with one leg, even if he stopped time to get there.

“Hey! It’s that vampire I hit!” Joseph called out. His footsteps grew faster.

“I thought that Wham ate it,” another voice stated.

“Not with all that Ripple I gave ‘em,” Joseph responded. “It’d be like trying to eat a sea urchin. Too painful!”

“People do eat sea urchins, Jojo.”

“Shut up, Caesar. Hey!” Joseph waved a heavily bandaged arm at Dio. “Vampire! Tell us about your Pillar Men masters or we fry you with Hamon.”

Caesar and Joseph stood a few feet away from him. Speedwagon lingered further away, looking out-of-breath and distraught.

Dio decided that it was time to take a page out of the Morioh killer’s handbook. He clutched at his melting face and sobbed. “Oh, such pain! What did I ever do to deserve this?” He noticed that a stone mask had come loose from the wall and had fallen to the floor. Dio pointed at it. “I was just walking along, minding my own business, when a man put that mask on my face and activated it. I hid in this cave afterward because it hurt to be in the sunlight. I don’t know what’s happened to me! And now my leg is gone!”

Joseph looked confused but concerned. “Oh my God, it’s like Mark mark two. Poor guy.”

Caesar shook his head. “I do wish the Nazis would stop playing around with this stuff. The Pillar Men would have woken up without them, but they didn’t exactly make it any easier.”

“Sorry to break it to you,” Joseph said to Dio, “but you’ve been turned into a vampire. No going outside during the day, strict blood diet, etcetera.”

“If you don’t want that kind of life, we can help you move on. You’re already in pretty bad shape. I swear to you that it will not hurt.” Caesar flexed his hand and a small wave of energy dissipated into the air. 

“No! I mean,” Dio said quickly, “I’m not in that bad of a shape. Listen, you’re fighting those men that came out of the pillar, right? One of them stole my leg. I want revenge. Let me help you fight them.”

“Vampires won't be much use against Pillar Men,” Joseph responded. “I mean, it’s like… humans are like a plain, unseasoned chicken breast. To a Pillar Man, a vampire is like if you took that, spiced it up, and deep-fried it. You’re a snack to them. Plus, vampires can’t use Hamon. That’d be like if you poisoned the chicken, I guess.” He frowned. “Anyway. I’m not sure that you coming with us is the best idea.”

Caesar tilted his head. “I’ve heard worse ideas, but that’s only because of Jojo—”

“At least let me die trying,” Dio interrupted. “Don’t just put me down like some dog.”

There was a shocked pause, but Joseph broke it with a laugh. “Well, at least you have fighting spirit! What the hell, let’s take the vampire with us.”

Joseph moved to lift Dio up. Dio stared at his bandaged arm; he could smell the coppery scent of fresh blood even over the overwhelming dull staleness of the blood staining the cavern. If it wasn’t for Rohan’s goddamn rules he could have just leaned forward and latched on—

“Wait!” Speedwagon called out. He paused; Caesar and Joseph looked back at him. Dio restrained himself from baring his teeth in frustration.

“I had a wheelchair stored here,” Speedwagon explained. “Just in case I hadn’t fully healed from Mexico. We can take him out on that.”

Joseph nodded. “Good thinking, Speedwagon. That’ll be more comfortable for him and I won’t have to get gross melting vampire skin on me. Sorry, good chap, but you're quite disgusting!”

Caesar grabbed the wheelchair and brought it over. Joseph bent down once more to lift Dio up, but Speedwagon called out again.

“Wait!” He pointed at Joseph. “Your arm is injured, and you’re still covered in the oil charged with the Ripple from your clackers. You’d just end up hurting each other. Caesar, you have the same problem with the soap for your bubbles.” He looked down at Dio. “Do you think you have the strength to get into the chair yourself?”

With a sigh, Dio managed to heave himself up. He settled into the seat and leaned back. He tensed when Speedwagon grabbed the back handles of the wheelchair.

“Wait!” Speedwagon yelled. “Joseph! Caesar! Don’t follow me!”

Dio gripped onto the armrests as Speedwagon took off running and pushed the wheelchair over the stony floor as fast as he could. It rattled so hard that Dio’s teeth clicked together. He heard Joseph shout what the hell? behind them.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t recognize you with a busted face?” Speedwagon was breathing heavily, but he was keeping a fast pace for his age. “What would some English-accented bastard be doing in a Nazi-occupied Italian research base? Why would he sound so familiar and have the overwhelming smell of evil itself? I don’t know how on Earth you managed to make it here, but I’m not letting you ruin another generation of Joestars!”

“Okay, Speedwagon, you found me out.” His nails dug into the metal arms of the wheelchair. “But I swear to you that I have no idea how or why I got here. Just stop pushing me! We can talk about it!”

“Oh, I’ll stop the chair alright,” Speedwagon replied. “I’ll stop it right in the morning sunlight! You’re not taking Joseph!”

“Speedwagon! Just listen to me!” He looked around frantically for a brake or a wheel lock. He found none. “Don’t do this!”

Speedwagon said nothing, but his breath grew ragged as he gathered energy for a final burst of acceleration. They were quickly approaching the circular entrance to the cave.

Dio froze his left forearm solid, reached down, and shoved it into the spokes of the wheel. The wheelchair stopped but lurched forward with momentum. Dio twisted his body as best as he could to avoid snapping his neck. He crushed his shoulder into the stone as the chair flipped over; Speedwagon tumbled over Dio and landed on his back. Speedwagon coughed and heaved, still ailing from earlier injuries, but he struggled to his knees. He grabbed Dio by his remaining leg and began to drag him.

Time stopped, but he was not the one that stopped it. He heard a familiar laugh. He looked behind him and saw his double.

“What a comedy of errors you’ve been having,” his double stated. He strode forward and peered down at the frozen Speedwagon. “You’ve had your plans ruined by two old men.”

“I was supposed to be getting the arrows,” Dio snarled. “Why am I here?”

His double smiled. “Do you know how many times I’ve done this? How many versions of myself that I’ve ‘helped’?”

Dio glared at him.

“Dozens, maybe hundreds of times, all with their own minute variations.” His double sighed. “I’m always looking for new ways to win. Something to spice the process up a bit. Didn’t you wonder why the Speedwagon Foundation had instructions to leave the arrow to you in Morioh?” He crouched down beside the frozen Speedwagon and gave him a friendly pat on the head. “Here’s your new challenge: Convince him to write those instructions.”

“Speedwagon is loyal to the Joestars,” Dio retorted. “He would never do such a thing.”

His double pursed his lips. “And yet, he did.”

Dio grimaced as he tried to sit up. “I’m short a leg. I can’t heal myself any further. I can barely use my Stand. I have this idiot dragging me out into the sunlight and two Ripple users about to catch up to him. I’m beginning to think that you’re setting me up to fail.”

“Am I?” His double’s eyes glinted. “Goodness. And I had just thought of something fun for the next time you die. Must be a coincidence.”

Dio felt uncontrollable rage boiling at the back of his throat. His double stood and leaned over him.

“I’d also appreciate it if you stopped thinking of me as your double,” he said with a smirk. “I’m better than you.”

Time slammed back into motion. Speedwagon dragged him towards the sunlight. Dio snarled and grasped at the man’s arm, gouging deep cuts into his straining limb, but Speedwagon’s determination was indefatigable.

He stopped time. In his current state, he would only have a few seconds to act. He clawed at Speedwagon’s fingers and the World landed a heavy blow to the man’s chest. When time began again, Speedwagon let out a pained gasp. Blood dribbled out of his mouth. His hands still clutched at Dio’s leg.

“Speedwagon!” Joseph and Caesar were getting close. Dio threw his weight to the side and twisted his leg. Speedwagon stubbornly held onto him like a bear trap. He stopped time again. The World landed a powerful kick on Caesar’s approaching shin. Dio tried to writhe out of Speedwagon’s grasp to no avail. Time began again and Caesar fell to the ground with a shout. Joseph stared at him in shock. “Caesar?!”

He stopped time again, but he barely had the strength to hold it for a second. The World wavered. Time began again. He wasn’t sure if it was the sunlight or Joseph’s ripple that killed him. He supposed that it didn’t really matter.

When he returned to awareness, the world was dark. He felt weak. He ran a quick inventory of his limbs; at least he had his leg back. But when he moved his leg, he found that he had a minimal amount of space surrounding him. It was the same for his arms. His surroundings were small, soft, and sickeningly familiar.

“You can use this time to strategize, I suppose,” he heard himself say. “See you in a few years.”

The coffin rested silently upon the ocean floor.

Chapter Text

The silence was oppressive. Outside, the unfathomable pressure of seawater pushed down upon the coffin. Dio thought because there was nothing else to do.

He was meant to convince the incorrigible Speedwagon to help him? He almost had to laugh. It would be easier just to forge the instructions and hide them somewhere in the organization. To actually convince Speedwagon to help him when he was Jonathan’s best friend... the idea was so nonsensical he refused to consider it. He instead considered his double.

His double (and he refused to think of him as anything else) had taken Heaven for himself; that had always been his own goal, after all. While he had entrusted Pucci to finish his plans in his version of the world, his double must have come from a world where he had defeated the Joestars and throned himself as God, with or without Pucci’s help.

His double wanted to ‘help’ him. So far, his help had been more like sabotage. 

Dio thought back to the prediction Thoth made so long ago: Autocannibalism. He had a hypothesis about that: The end goal of this whole experience was for him to fight his double and lose. His double would absorb his power somehow, become stronger, and move on to the next world and the next Dio. It seemed like something he would do, given the opportunity.

But then why go through the charade of finding the Stand Arrows? If he was meant to become more powerful to level the field, whether to fight the Joestars or to fight his double, why put him in this accursed coffin? Was he playing with his food?

He grimaced. Speaking of food, what the hell had Joseph been saying about vampires?

Pucci had brought him an ecology textbook once. It was entertaining to see how different it was from the fumbling assumptions given by his tutors in the 1800s. There were trophic levels and food webs and all sorts of checks and balances between populations, extinctions and speciations, and the hint of something deeper in DNA. Had he lived in Cairo for longer, he would have loved to learn more about genetics, but that field seemed like something primed to expand in a future that Dio hadn't been around to see.

He had a hierarchy in his head: at the bottom, plants, then up to insects and rodents, then up to beasts of burden, then to the minor predators, the major predators, and at a quickly narrowing top, humans. Perhaps a half-step above that, humans with Stands. Then, above that, humans that had been transformed by the stone mask into vampires. Then, above that, himself: a vampire with a Stand.

Jonathan was the one that researched the stone mask; Dio had merely used it. He had looked into the Speedwagon Foundation’s research on the mask on a whim while in Cairo, but since there did not seem to be any more masks accessible to him he let that line of inquiry drop. The Stand Arrows were so much more convenient, anyway. Stands didn’t come with a weakness to sunlight.

He thought about the other parts of the food chain before having to confront the obvious. He had once seen an illustration of the chain with three additional lines. At the base of the pyramid was a wavy line signifying sunlight. The energy of the sun allowed plants to photosynthesize and become food for the animals that ate them. That energy continued up the pyramid as the consumers become the consumed. It made a sort of sense for vampires to be at the very top of the pyramid, then; they couldn’t stand the sunlight, so they took in its energy in the most processed form possible: human blood.

On the left side of the pyramid was a solid straight line pointing from narrow top to wide bottom. Decomposers ate the dead and recycled their bodies into dirt for plants, supplementing sunlight energy with solid matter.

And on the right side of the pyramid, there was a solid line pointing from the bottom to the top: parasites.

Every organism, the book had stated, has its own coterie of specialized parasites. Even parasites had their own parasites. A human could be made ill by a lowly bacteria; it had been discovered not too long before Dio’s reawakening that even bacteria had to fight off hijacking viruses.

And as for the painful new addition to his mental diagram: Pillar Men had claimed the absolute top of the food chain. Apparently, they ate vampires. They had, in fact, eaten a portion of a Stand-using vampire by taking Dio’s leg. Perhaps a Pillar Man could get a Stand and ascend higher yet, but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Dio was no longer at the top of the pyramid and he found that unacceptable.

Well, his double had found a way to transcend them by becoming a reality-altering god. So, in his mental diagram, he added his double somewhere a bit above the Pillar Man level of the food chain.

How was he to transcend both the Pillar Men and his double? How was he to escape a defeat at his own hands?

He thought of the simple classification system he had made as a child.

His mother was a foolishly kind woman. She was a giver. His awful father was a taker to the point of fault. Those above took from those below. The food chain chomped ever downward. Dio considered himself a taker because he had no qualms about stealing to survive and he planned on taking everything from the Joestars, anyway.

The Joestars... were inheritors. They had what they had because they were born into it. They were probably really takers but they were so stupidly and blissfully unaware of their position that they didn’t care. That was what Dio had utterly detested about Jonathan at first.

And yet…

With the exception of whatever his double had done to surpass them, the Joestars were able to defeat Dio every time he faced them directly. It was when Jonathan hit him for the first time that his mental map of givers, takers, and inheritors grew more murky and undefined. Jotaro had defeated him in Cairo, throwing off his plans to achieve Heaven. And now, Joseph had exposed him to the Pillar Men.

He felt vaguely smug at the fact that he hadn’t remained in Morioh long enough for Josuke to find a way to shake his worldview.

His enemy this time wasn’t the Joestars, though, it was himself. A version of himself that had already clawed his way into a new Heaven and claimed dominion, but himself nonetheless. He knew what his own weaknesses were and if he kept alert and played along, surely he would notice some opening that he could take advantage of and then—

He was awash in frenzied hopelessness. And then what? Get thrown back into a box under the waves for his trouble? Get fed to a Pillar Man? Have his double grow bored and discard him into a blank death?

What was the point?

Time passed deliriously.

Fear. Boredom. Uncertainty. He thought through the prime numbers: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23…

He considered punching the coffin lid. It could splinter out into the water and let him drown. His arms were still too weak to do so.

He hummed through those old lullaby words, dragged from memories made perhaps before thought: Spiral staircase, rhinoceros beetle, ghost town...

Time passed tortuously.

What if his father had never been walking along the same road as Jonathan’s father? What if the Joestars had been left to die at the bottom of the cliffside? What if his father killed him instead of vice versa? What if he never left the slums, never found the mask, what if he just gave up as a child instead of deciding there must be more than this?  What if, what if, what if.

“What if, indeed,” he heard himself say.

Reality lurched.

He was in a carriage. He was a human again. He glanced over at his sparse luggage sitting on the seat across from him, then down at himself. He was a child again. Based on his age and the fact he was carrying all of his belongings with him on the carriage, at least he wouldn’t have to face the useless, banal drama of his parents again, but he was headed instead to the Joestar mansion.

What if, indeed.

Dio kept his distance from both of the Joestars, maintaining nothing more than a polite demeanor. There was no malice in his manner, but no notes of friendship, either. He and Jonathan never fought. He was always diligent in his studies. He never strolled down Ogre Street in search of poison.

It was as if he wasn’t even there.

He reached seventeen years of age without incident. He picked up the stone mask, looked it over, then placed it back on the wall.

Things seemed to happen very quickly after that moment. He graduated with honors from the university and began participating in high profile criminal cases. Once he was self-sufficient, he never spoke to the Joestars again. He started his own firm, became wealthy and successful, diversified his business into an incredibly influential incorporation, grew old, ensured the longevity of his now expansive network of employees, died a bachelor at eighty-nine—

“That isn’t right.” It all came to a halt. The world rewound itself. Dio was once again sitting in the carriage. The sudden change made him lurch forward, fundamentally sickened.

“You know that isn’t how it happened,” his double reprimanded. “You know that you set more important events into motion.”

Dio remained silent, gritting his teeth and driving his knuckles into the seat.

“You’ll be doing this,” his double said, “until you get it right.”

“Get it right? What’s the point of this? Why relive this? What am I supposed to be doing? ” Dio blurted out.

There was no response.

The second time, he put on the stone mask as soon as he was settled into the house. He was booted right back into the carriage ride.

The next few times, he planned to put on the stone mask at the same time he had originally and the drama repeated itself with all the same lines, but something about the experience grew empty. He found himself falling out of the plot almost at random.

The interior of the carriage grew all too familiar.

Dio realized that this was the perfect opportunity to vent his frustrations. No matter what he did, his double sent him back to the carriage ride, not to the long stay in the underwater coffin.

If he was meant to find something that he could have done differently as a vampire, then he refused to do so. He didn’t want to deal with the Jonathan that he respected. The world tended to reset when he used the mask, anyway. He instead indulgently focused on his childhood in the Joestar mansion.

Finally, he could win at something against the Joestars.

It was the young Jonathan he hated in order to distract himself from his double: that stupid, kind, oblivious, weak Jonathan. Sometimes Dio would play the perfect brother and plot to ruin the family with more discretion than he had ever afforded in his first life. Other times he would torment his adopted sibling like a holy terror, escalating to the point that even the optimistically myopic George Joestar began having doubts about taking him under his roof.

Sometimes he strangled Jonathan to death within sight of his father. Sometimes, vice versa. Sometimes he set the mansion ablaze as soon as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the entrance.

He always, always kicked the dog.

The sound of cobblestones against metal ceased. Dio swung open the door of the carriage and squinted against the comparatively bright light. He hadn’t yet decided how to act this iteration. He could see Jonathan waiting to greet him in his periphery. If he wasn’t so sick and tired of the repeated boring hours in the carriage he would consider stabbing him to death right now—

“We don’t have to be brothers,” Jonathan blurted out apropos of nothing. Dio shot him a look of confusion as he paused, his foot halfway between the steps of the carriage and the ground. The other boy looked pale and nervous. Danny’s collar was held in a vice grip. The dog seemed interested in leaping forward and investigating the newcomer, but Jonathan was holding him back. “Or even friends,” he continued, the words beginning to tumble out of his mouth. “It’s okay, if that’s what you want. I know you’ve experienced a lot of hardship lately, what with your father—your father, ah, well, and if you just want to be alone, there’s no pressure on you to do otherwise.”

This was new. Dio looked away, finished descending to the ground, and crossed his arms. “That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed as he stared him down, searching for meaning in his reaction.

Jonathan averted his gaze, choosing to look at the dog instead. “I mean, you can. If you want to. But you don’t have to.”

“That’s true.” Dio’s voice was flat, emotionless. “I don’t have to.”

Everything else was the same. Boredom gnawed at him. He decided to end that iteration soon after the dog’s funeral. When his adoptive brother had finished mourning and fell asleep, he pressed a pillow to his face and simply waited.

The next time, the arrival was the usual familiar routine. The mutt approached him, he lashed out, and he failed to notice that Jonathan was looking harrowed before he even left the carriage. He attempted to kill himself using a knife stolen from the kitchen. It barely broke past his skin before he was placed back within the familiar dim compartment. The next time he returned, out of curiosity he clambered out of the still-moving carriage and murdered the driver. Soon after, the world reset, placing him right on the same cushioned seat he started on.

Wanting time to himself, he killed the driver for a few more loops, giving him hours of time to sit and think in the solace of the carriage.

He wondered if his double was even paying attention. This whole restarting process could be automatic. Maybe the intention was to dump him into this endless facsimile of an adolescence until he truly went mad from frustration. He was still lost in thought when the carriage stopped again. With a sigh, he stood, swung the door open, and squinted against the light. He spotted Jonathan adjacent to the carriage on the left and Danny fast approaching to the right.

He kicked the dog. As it yelped and whined, he realized that Jonathan had been uncharacteristically silent. With his eyes narrowed, he turned his attention from the twitching mutt to the other boy.

Jonathan wasn’t even looking at him. His hands were shoved into his pockets and though his face was turned away, Dio had seen him cry enough times to know when tears were about to start falling.

Before Dio could say anything, Jonathan faced him with an expression of pure exhaustion. “I’m so tired of this. Haven’t you had enough?”

Dio was taken aback. “What—”

“Every time, you do this.” He crouched beside the whining dog and placed a shaking hand upon its head. “I was thinking maybe, eventually, you would tire of it or, or, want to do something else or—”

Dio held up a hand. “Stop. Wait. What you’re saying is—”

“Why do you hate us so much?” The utter pain and confusion in his voice cut deeper than Dio expected it to. “Did I do something wrong? Why do you keep doing this?”

Dio laughed. There was no humor in it, but it was all he could do. “Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

Jonathan stared at him with wide, questioning eyes still wet with tears.

“You’re saying that every time, you knew—” his laugh should be triumphant, but it felt off-kilter, “Every time, you remembered—why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m not supposed to,” Jonathan answered.

Dio pressed his face into his hands, his shoulders still shaking. “How many times now, Jojo?”

In any iteration, seeing Dio upset is unsettling. Jonathan found himself rising from his tense crouch and wringing his hands.

Dio pressed his palms against his stinging eyes, trying to will his countenance into an impassive mask. It didn’t work. “Why should I care?” he snapped, still not lowering his hands from his face. His mind grasped at excuses. “You aren’t really Jojo. You haven’t fought...I didn’t believe that you were real. I thought you would forget. This is just something that he—that I made up.”

“That you,” Jonathan said. “He can do anything, can’t he?” While his voice was still shaky, his characteristic steadfastness could be heard.

Dio didn’t respond, so Jonathan blustered forward. “This isn’t made up. You—he—asked me if I wanted to do this, so I agreed. Because I thought it could work. I thought that maybe you would want to do it differently.”

“You’re right,” Dio said, dragging his fingertips down from red-tinged eyes. “I can do anything. This isn’t real. It’s just a trick.”

Jonathan’s face fell, but there was still steel in his stare. “I know I can’t make you believe me. But pretending that something isn’t so, just because it hurts… it isn’t like you.”

“Stop.” Dio wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Jonathan kept going anyway.

“One of the last things you said to me was that you respected me,” Jonathan stated. “You were going to kill me, yes. But you wanted to do it painlessly.”

“I meant it,” Dio said weakly.

Jonathan stared at him. His face, as always, was like an open book. How had Dio not recognized him? Because he was distracted, because he was frustrated, because he wanted to act selfishly. Because he didn’t want to do what his double wanted. He had a litany of reasons to choose from, but Dio rejected them all.

Dio held certain truths within himself: A desire to transcend all limitations and reach Heaven. A respect for Pucci, the dedicated and intelligent man that Dio trusted beyond death. And, finally, a respect for the Jonathan that he had fought; the smart, determined, and damnably kind Jonathan Joestar. The Jonathan Joestar that first appeared after Dio threatened Erina’s honor; the Jonathan Joestar that Dio felt responsible for creating.

To act against one of those truths, even accidentally, made him feel…

He wasn’t sure how he felt, but he was certainly crying.

Jonathan sounded panicked. “Hey… it’s okay. You didn’t know. And I knew you hated it here. I wasn’t supposed to, but maybe I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, you idiot.” Dio let out a short laugh as he wiped his face off with his sleeve. “I’m just glad I’m not back in the carriage again. These are tears of joy.”

Jonathan grinned. “Of course.” His voice grew softer. “Can I at least take your luggage in for you?”

“Fine,” Dio replied with a wan smile. “I guess I’ll allow it.”

Jonathan picked up the few suitcases and carried them into the mansion. Dio followed, but he paused at the threshold. He looked back at the broad blue sky stretching out above him.

He felt instinctively that there would be no more returns to the carriage.

Chapter Text

Dio took his first steps back into the mansion and reality shifted once more. Instead of the grand foyer, he walked into a dormitory room. Jonathan stood sheepishly by the window. He was still holding the childhood luggage, but the suitcases were made comparatively tiny by his adult body. They were both young men again, right on the verge of graduation. Dio leaned against the doorway and let out a sigh. “What am I doing here?”

Jonathan shrugged and nodded towards the writing desk as he set the luggage down. “I think the calendar has us about a month before the commencement ceremony.”

“I don’t mean here here,” Dio responded, “I meant overall. You said my double asked you to do this, right?”

Jonathan nodded.

“What did he say when he asked you?”

Jonathan sat on the bed and pursed his lips as he looked at the floor. “Well… it was on the ship. You were talking, I mean, the you that was just your head was talking. But I was just about to die when something strange happened. I saw three people standing still. I couldn’t see them very well because of the flames. As soon as I saw them, though, the flames stopped moving. Everything stopped moving. And then, I was somewhere else, and I saw you.” He frowned. “You asked if I thought you would do things differently, given the chance. To be completely honest, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to give up the opportunity to try. And that first time… you did do things differently, but I guess it wasn’t what he was looking for. Other than that first time, he hasn’t spoken to me.” He smiled weakly. “That’s why I told you I knew. Even my patience has its limits, so if I was upset about being trapped in a loop, I was hardly able to imagine how you were feeling.”

Dio sat on the other end of the bed and rested his chin on his palms. “You shouldn’t trust a single damn thing my double says. I think he asked you to do this because… I think he knew I would act rashly. This isn’t the first loop that he’s put me in, so I thought I knew what to expect and I made assumptions when I shouldn’t have.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You said you saw three people?”

Jonathan nodded. “Yes. Not Erina, and not any of the zombies. Three silhouettes. That’s all I can really remember.”

“Mysteries on mysteries,” Dio said flatly. 

“So that other you,” Jonathan asked, “is that a version of you that defeated me? Did the mask end up unlocking all that power?”

Dio laughed. “I don’t believe that he beat you. He has the same start as I did, I think.”

“But I sank the ship with us in it,” Jonathan asserted with a frown. “How could—”

“That didn’t kill me, Jojo.”

“Really?” He looked at Dio incredulously and leaned back onto the pillows. “Damn. Well, I can’t say I didn’t try.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “So you were able to… did Erina make it out?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God,” Jonathan replied. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s good. But what did you do after that?”

“Sat at the bottom of the ocean for a century in the coffin, then got dredged up in Africa,” he answered.

“A century!” Jonathan exclaimed. “Wait. In the coffin?”

Dio nodded.

“When I last saw her… I thought Erina used the coffin for shelter.”

“You know, that was something I never quite understood myself,” Dio replied. “I know all too well that I used the coffin. Perhaps she found something else to float on.”

“Huh. Still, a century. What a long time. More than a normal lifetime, even.” Jonathan grimaced. “God, you must have been bored.”

“You are entirely too correct,” Dio said.

“But what did you do in Africa? I guess, besides, well,” he stammered, “vampire things.”

“I wanted to become more powerful,” Dio said, picking his words carefully. “I wanted to transcend all of my limitations. All of anyone’s limitations. So I tried to achieve that there.”

Jonathan blinked at him. “What, more powerful than a vampire?”

Dio rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jojo, more powerful than a vampire.”

“You know, that is the one thing I did admire about you,” Jonathan said plainly. “That you never get what you want.”

Dio’s eyes narrowed.

“Not, like, well,” Jonathan stuttered, trying to sort out his thoughts. “Nothing satisfies you. You’re never complacent. Even when it’s perfect, it could be better. Remember learning the classics, way back when? You recited enough Shakespeare to make my ears fall off. But only because you wanted to be good—no, the best at what you did. Even on the most peaceful spring day, I would simply want to enjoy the good weather while you insisted that the time be used for something, anything that could end with self-improvement. Yes, it made you a self-righteous braggart the majority of the time,” he reprimanded before Dio could start preening, “but I can’t say I wasn’t jealous of your drive. It could have made you a good man,” he continued, his tone growing more somber. “Being so critical. There’s a lot of problems out in the world that need solving.”

“And they weren’t my problems to solve,” Dio replied flatly. “If idiots are snared in traps of their own making then I have no reason to offer my hand.”

“Fine. I’ll grant you that.”

Dio raised an eyebrow. He had been expecting a lecture on altruism.

“It’s just that you chose to make more problems, instead.”

“…I’ll grant you that,” he echoed in return. “You seem to have more thoughts on this,” he continued, restraining a goading tone as he looked at the terse half-frown on Jonathan’s face.

“Well,” Jonathan said slowly, evenly, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

The following pause was deeply uncomfortable. Dio decided to break the silence. “You said the one thing. Do I truly have only one virtuous trait?”

Jonathan snorted and threw a pillow at him. Dio blocked the soft impact with his forearm and smirked.

“I could start listing your vices,” he said, gently mocking in tone. “It’s been so long that I cannot remember if it was father or Speedwagon that said it first. The bad man is owned by his vices, the good man owns no vices, the pragmatic man uses his vices as he wishes. You’re nothing if not pragmatic.”

Dio gave a short, sardonic laugh. “Quaint.”

“Is it? You were going to be a lawyer. I don’t think you had any passion for it but it would have paid well. God, I cannot even imagine how that would have gone.” He took on a mockingly posh tone. “Brando at law.”

Dio made a noise of disgust and tossed the pillow back. “I would not have named it Brando. I am legally a Joestar, you know.”

“Joestar at law,” Jonathan replied contemplatively. “Why not use Brando?”

Dio scoffed, causing Jonathan to raise an eyebrow.

“Joestar is a known name,” Dio deflected. “It would have been good for my reputation.”

Jonathan frowned. “Brando… you refused to swear on your father’s honor when I accused you.”

Dio glared at him, but Jonathan pressed onward. “Dio, why did you kill your father?”

Dio leapt to his feet. Jonathan watched him carefully, his expression somber, one arm instinctively half-raised in front of his chest.

Dio sighed. “Well, I’m certainly not going to talk about this while sober. Come on, Jojo.”

He knew this part of town very well. He strode through the busy evening streets, weaving through throngs of people, and Jonathan followed him like a wrecking ball, having to stop on occasion to apologize for bumping into someone as he tried to keep up with Dio’s pace. After a few twists and turns, he found a familiar pub. “We came here once, didn’t we?” Dio asked.

“I think it was around graduation,” Jonathan answered. He scuffed some mud off of his shoes onto the cobblestones below. “We went out with the team after a game. I think I remember you pouring salt in my drink when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that was one of your better pranks.”

Of course. He had played the part of a friendly brother then, but he still grasped at any chance to cause a mild inconvenience. Plus, his teammates had thought it was hilarious. They were so easily entertained. Dio swung the door open and headed straight for the bartender. Jonathan followed him, smiling in spite of the conversation that had prompted their visit. To Jonathan, Dio figured, going to the pub with his brother was such an abnormally normal experience that it was a relief.

The bartender pushed two mugs of beer towards them. Jonathan sipped at his and stood beside the bar instead of trying to find a comfortable way to sit on the stools that looked about as sturdy as matchsticks.

Dio took a swig of his drink and scowled. “Ugh. Still hate beer.” He took another gulp of it anyway. “You look like you have other questions,” he said, nodding towards Jonathan. “Ask away. But if I don’t want to answer, I’m not going to.”

Jonathan nodded. “Do you know anything more about Erina? I guess you were stuck in the coffin, but…”

“As far as I know, she did very well for herself. Speedwagon kept an eye on her. She lived a long and happy life, given the circumstances.”

“That’s wonderful! And at the time, um. She was…”

“Yes, she had your child,” Dio replied flatly. “She named him George. He served in the British Royal Air Force, was very honorable, and died in combat.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looked pensively at the beer he had barely sipped. 

“Ask something else, that was entirely too grim.” Dio scowled at his empty glass and gave a curt wave to the bartender.

“Well.” Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh! Speedwagon?”

“Multimillionaire,” Dio replied. “He struck oil in America and started a research and development firm.”

“Oh my, how good for him!” Jonathan smiled and took a sip of his drink. His smile faltered when the bartender gave Dio one wine glass and one whole bottle of wine.

Dio poured himself a glass. “Ask me if a vampire can get drunk.”

“Can a vampire get drunk?”

“Not at all. Certainly not on wine, anyway. The metabolism simply won't allow it.” He took a gulp. “Getting blood drunk, however, is another story.”

“What did you do in Africa?”

“Vampire things,” Dio replied mockingly.

Jonathan frowned at him. Dio moved to pour himself another glass just to see if he would say anything—

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you drink that much,” Jonathan said quietly. 

“Maybe this is what I was getting at, though,” Dio replied with a wink. “Maybe the real solution my double was looking for was for me to finally go full wino.”

Jonathan gave him a look of hopeless concern. 

“I’m tired of this. Let’s go for a walk,” Dio said. He shoved whatever money he had in his pocket (ah, he thought, so his double had wanted this) onto the bar. He slung one arm over Jonathan’s shoulder while the other gripped the neck of the wine bottle. Jonathan shot him a confused look in response but allowed himself to be dragged out of the pub.

Dio pulled Jonathan down increasingly narrow and grimy streets and Jonathan refrained from questioning his actions. Just as Jonathan finally began to feel that he should remark upon their distance from the pub or the lateness of the hour, Dio pointed at a building. It was just as cramped and shoddy looking as any of the others, but Jonathan saw a glint in Dio’s eyes that started sounding off warning bells within his head.

“I lived there,” Dio stated. He took the last bitter dregs from the wine bottle before pulling out a ring of keys (his double was really looking out for him now) and opening the front door. “The man who saved your father’s life lived there, too.”

Jonathan’s voice was hushed as if there would be any consequence for being overheard. “What are you doing? There’s probably someone else living here now.”

“There isn’t,” he replied, striding into the narrow entranceway. “Come on, Jojo.”

The place was just about the same as he remembered: small and squalid. It was a bit dustier with the passage of time, but the layout was still perfectly ossified in his memory. He could have found his way around with his eyes closed, but that wasn’t all that impressive considering there were only a few rooms. “Welcome to the Brando Estate,” he said as if he were a game show host hyping up the grand prize. “The perfect size for a family of three plus some profitable boarders. All the amenities you could ever desire, as long as you know they belong to the man of the house. That you belong to the man of the house. Watch your head,” he said to Jonathan as he ducked through the doorway. “We have low ceilings.”

Jonathan stared at him. 

Dio grinned. “Speaking of watching your head, want to know a special skill I have?” He forced the wine bottle into Jonathan’s hands. “I can dodge just about anything thrown at me from behind, even without my vampire senses. Big things, small things. Bottles. I guess the trajectory correctly every time.” He took a few long strides away from Jonathan and turned his back to him. “Give it a try. I bet I can still do it.”

Jonathan frowned. “...Dio, I’m not going to throw this at you.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Dio,” Jonathan said as he placed the bottle down on a table, “why are we here?”

“You asked me why I killed my father,” he replied. “You may as well have asked me why I would empty an overfull garbage can or wash a sink full of dirty dishes. It just needed to be done.”

Jonathan went to say something, but Dio cut him off. “Would George Joestar have pawned your dead mother’s heirlooms just to buy something as useless as alcohol? Mind you, this question is set in an absurd hypothetical world in which George Joestar needed more money.”

“No, I don’t think he would have."

Dio nodded. “Of course not. He’s far too sentimental. So sentimental that he didn’t recognize my father for what he was: trash to be removed.”

“Dio,” Jonathan said softly, “why didn’t you ever tell us about this?”

A familiar rage tore at the back of his throat. “Because I was already an orphan dependent upon your father’s good graces! Do you think I wanted your pity as well?”

“There’s a difference between sympathy and pity, Dio, just because we might not have understood didn’t mean we couldn’t have helped—“

“Helped what, Jojo?” The biting edge of his voice sounded sharp enough to break skin. “Do you think of me as broken? Do you think I was just some poor pauper boy ruined by circumstance?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying—”

“Let me tell you, Jojo. Every bottle, every bruise, every damnable night where I starved so that he could sate his thirst. None of that remained a part of me. Every decision I have made has been made for myself and myself alone. I would never let his memory influence my mind.”

“Dio—”

“You think I wouldn’t have clawed my way to the top if I had been born beneath another roof? It’s my fate, Jojo. That’s me.”

“Dio, please. Let’s go home.”

“My home is in Cairo. Jojo, do you know what I did?”

“Come on.” Jonathan had clamped his hands on Dio’s shoulders and was attempting to steer him out of the building.

“I killed you, Jojo.”

“I know.”

“I’m responsible for the death of your son, too.”

His steps faltered, but he continued to push. “We’re leaving, Dio.”

“I killed your grandson. Stole his blood to fill your body.”

“Dio.”

“Your great-granddaughter would have died if it weren’t for your great-great-grandson—”

“Stop.”

“And even then, after my death, I had plans set in motion to kill them, to exterminate every Joestar like vermin—”

Something crushed into his face; Dio thought with glee that he had finally provoked Jonathan enough to break his sympathetic façade. He braced himself for another impact until his vision stopped swimming and he realized that he had simply fallen forward against the door frame after Jonathan had let go of his shoulders.

He dug his nails into the wood. “You want to know what I’m most proud of, though, Jojo?” he spat as he staggered and tried to regain his balance. “You would be nothing without me. I’m the reason you are the way you are. If I hadn’t gone after Erina’s honor, if I hadn’t taken the mask, if I hadn’t been myself, you would have remained the same weak, selfish, useless child forever. Maybe the whole Joestar lineage wouldn’t have become what it did. But you? I’m the one that saved you from complete mediocrity. You would have been nothing.”

He wanted Jonathan to be enraged, to be hurt, to be left helpless now that he knew the truth, but Jonathan looked perfectly calm.

“Before I ever met you,” Jonathan said slowly, “I saw two boys that stole a doll from a girl. I tried to fight them because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. They beat me, but I still stood up for her.”

Dio’s hands tightened into fists. “Jojo.”

“I might not stand up for myself very well,” Jonathan continued, “but I have always felt the duty to stand up for others.”

“Jojo.” His nails were digging into his palms so harshly that he expected blood. “Shut up.”

“Even before you decided to push my friends away, there were some that hated me, or hated Erina, or even both. If it wouldn’t have been you, it would have been someone else.” His voice was stern, but there was a note of melancholy that made Dio want to tear his hair out. Jonathan squared his shoulders and looked Dio in the eyes. “I’m me, and you’re you. That’s all.”

Dio threw himself at Jonathan, who tried to dodge him but froze when all Dio did was clutch uselessly at his shirt collar. 

“Don’t say that,” Dio cried out. “It isn’t true. I’m the one that really changed the fate of the Joestars! Not my father!”

Jonathan was silent and still. Dio fought to steady his breathing and waited for him to say something, anything.

Jonathan was too silent and still. Dio let go of him and quickly turned around, but then immediately regretted it as drunken dizziness made him waver.

Outside, his double stood alone in the dark and empty street.

Chapter Text

Dio circled his double warily, his steps uneven and wobbly. “You wanted this to happen,” he spat. “You wanted me to hurt him. To bring him here.”

He double shrugged.

“Why? Why put me through this? Why put him through this?”

“When have I ever been opposed to cruelty?”

Dio glared at him. “I have some standards.”

His double smiled. “No, you’re only sentimental.”

Dio forced himself to breathe in, out. “No. To do this... you… you’re not even my double, then. You’re—“

“Better,” his double replied.

“Worse,” Dio snarled.

“What are you thinking?” His double tilted his head. “Do you think you can simply change the past? Do you think you can let Jonathan live a full life? Did you think that my lesson for you was that you had to change something?”

Dio stared at him with his jaw tightly clenched.

“Fate is what it is,” his double said. “I wanted to show you that it is unavoidable. You did, in fact, change the course of history in several ways by putting on the stone mask. You certainly wouldn’t want to cause a paradox by not doing so, correct?”

Dio didn’t respond, so his double continued. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll put you both back within the mansion, at the time right after Jonathan returns from Ogre Street. You’ll put on the mask, all will continue as it always had, and once you are done, I’ll allow you to get back to hunting down the Stand Arrows. I’ll even sweeten the deal. After you convince Speedwagon to help, I’ll give the arrows right to you. No more bumbling around in Morioh. You’ll unlock your next ability. What you do from then onwards will be up to you.”

Dio took a lurching step forward. “I don’t believe you.”

His double rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe me about what? Fate, the arrows, or all of it?”

Dio tripped and fell into a crouch. His stomach roiled.

His double tutted and leaned over him. “Look at the state of you. You drank yourself sick. You were supposed to visit your father’s house, not impersonate him.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Dio hissed between tightly-gritted teeth.

“Oh? Is that so?” His double crossed his arms. “How would you do that? Do tell. I’m so curious. If you’re too intoxicated to realize it, I’ll remind you that, right now, you are only human.”

Dio glared up at him, his eyes burning with hatred. 

His double smiled and lifted a hand. “Oh, you’re perfect,” he practically purred. “Look at you, plotting away. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. But in the meantime,” he said, and his hand swung downward with a blinding light; Dio was now back within the Joestar mansion. His double was gone. The stone mask was in his left hand. A knife was in his right. Jonathan stood in front of him, gripping a set of handcuffs. To their left, Speedwagon and the police squadron observed. To their right, the moon sent silver beams through the tall glass window.

Time began again.

Dio moved to stab Jonathan. As always, George Joestar leapt forward to take the blow.

George’s blood slicked onto the mask. Dio pressed his face into the stone and jolted as the spikes pierced his skull. His vision wavered. A spray of bullets sent him stumbling. He could just barely peer through the eyes of the mask as he crashed through the window.

The look of pain on Jonathan’s face would have been worth it, once.

He felt the ground drop from beneath him. Instead of landing on the Joestar estate lawn, he landed on a tile floor lit harshly by overhead lights. The stone spikes slid out of his skull. He felt his bullet wounds healing. He rolled onto his side and let the mask fall off his face and clatter to the floor. He clenched his teeth, curled his fingers into a fist, and hit the ground hard enough to shatter a tile.

Of course his double hadn’t given him the chance to explain anything to Jonathan. His double refused to let him change the past. But where was he now?  

“Again?” he heard someone gasp. “How?!”

Dio craned his neck and looked behind him. The older Speedwagon stood a few paces away, frozen in shock. He began to speak, but Dio cut him off. “If you tell me that I smell bad one more time, I can’t be held responsible for what I do to you.”

“Don’t threaten me, Dio, I’ve got a hundred-thousand lux and I’m not afraid to use it.” He brandished something that looked like a flashlight bulked up to the size of a gallon jug. “I thought that the Pillar Men might send vampires to infiltrate this base but I certainly wasn’t expecting you to show up again!”

Dio narrowed his eyes and watched the flashlight warily. “Yes, well, neither was I.”

“What are you doing here? What are you planning?” Speedwagon aimed the flashlight at him and kept his thumb on the switch.

What was he planning? Dio had settled on a goal, but the path towards it was murky and undefined. He glowered at Speedwagon and remained silent.

Speedwagon shook the flashlight. “Answer me, Dio!”

“I need your help,” Dio replied.

Speedwagon’s mouth fell open and his grip on the switch loosened, but he steeled himself and re-aimed the flashlight. “I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, you do. Isn’t that your whole thing? Being able to tell if I’m lying or not?” Dio stood and Speedwagon took a hesitant step back. “I need you to remember something for me,” Dio stated. “After the Joestar estate burned down, did Jojo say anything about me?”

Speedwagon frowned. “What, other than how you betrayed years of his family’s trust and hospitality?” 

“Yes, other than that.” Dio rolled his eyes.

Speedwagon stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line as he thought it over.

“Your father,” Speedwagon finally said. “He said you told him about your father, and that after that, you were upset with him.”

Dio sighed and turned away. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

“He had sympathy for you,” Speedwagon said, his voice tinged with sadness, but then he furrowed his eyebrows and squared his shoulders. “But I’m not so easily manipulated. You think you’re the only one who had a bad childhood? You think you’re the only one with a worthless shitstain of a father? I grew up on Ogre Street! You know what I didn’t do? Become some sort of murderous megalomaniac!”

“You weren’t exactly living a life of honor, either,” Dio snapped. “Not until—”

“Not until I met Jojo,” he interrupted, but some of the fight had left his voice. He glanced to the side and sighed.

“Not until you met Jojo,” Dio repeated emptily.

“But what does it matter?” Speedwagon jostled the flashlight. “Why are you here? ”

“I’m going to save Jojo from myself,” Dio answered.

Speedwagon lowered the flashlight, his hands trembling. “Oh God, you’re telling the truth,” he gasped. “Why is that scarier?”

“I’m not sure how I’m going to do it yet,” Dio admitted, “but I have a few ideas. In the future, your foundation will find two ancient artifacts in Japan. The artifacts are a special type of bow and arrow. The arrows are the important part. You have to make sure that the first arrow the foundation finds goes to Joseph. Then, Joseph needs to give the arrow to me.”

“The future?” Speedwagon was bewildered. “Do you have a damn time machine now, too?”

“Sort of.” Dio refused to elaborate further.

“What do the arrows do?”

“Much like the mask, they unlock an inner power,” Dio explained. “I need it to become stronger.”

Speedwagon frowned and went to say something, but a panel on the ceiling clattered to the floor. A half-rotten vampire dropped to the ground. Speedwagon yelped and turned on the flashlight. The bright light blasted the vampire’s skin apart and it died with a teapot-esque shrill. Dio looked into the shadowy gap in the ceiling and saw several sets of eyes. Two thin beams of pressurized blood plasma burst from the hole in the ceiling, tore through the flashlight, and bored holes into the floor. The bright light flickered and disappeared.

Time stopped.

Dio let out a sigh of relief. His double had pulled him out of the past right after he had turned into a vampire, so he was still in his original body that had never been exposed to the Stand Arrow. However, using a Stand was a bit like riding a bike; once you knew how to do it, it would take something pretty extraordinary to forget. The real advantage of having his old body back, Dio realized, was that he was no longer constrained by Rohan’s rules.

There were an unknown amount of vampires seething in the ceiling. If Speedwagon was killed, he would not be able to write down the instructions to give Dio the Stand Arrow.

“The World,” he commanded, and the familiar form appeared. “Defend Speedwagon.”

Time began again. Speedwagon jumped at Dio’s sudden appearance in front of him. He slapped the flashlight a few times in an attempt to get it to turn back on, but it was thoroughly broken. As the first vampire poked its head out of the ceiling and hissed, he hurled the bulky flashlight at its head. It cracked against the vampire’s skull, but the monster only scowled and dropped to the floor, followed by three others.

Dio glanced back at Speedwagon. “You never learned the Ripple, did you?”

“Don’t have the temperament for it,” Speedwagon answered. “Got a touch of asthma instead, God bless London and her smog. But we’re close to my office. I have the walls fitted with UV floodlights. I just need to get to the switch.”

“Don’t run.” A vampire lunged forward. Dio grabbed it by the skull and threw it to the floor, where both its bones and the tiles crunched. While his Stand couldn’t stray too far from his side, it was able to hover over Speedwagon as long as Dio remained close. “Stay within ten meters of me and you’ll be perfectly safe.”

Another vampire leapt at him; Dio sidestepped it and allowed it to approach Speedwagon. Speedwagon shouted and tried to dodge, but The World held him by the shoulder as he swore and tried to tear himself away from the invisible grip. The vampire snarled and went straight for Speedwagon’s throat, but the World punched the vampire so hard that it splattered into pieces.

Speedwagon stared at the meat that had once been a vampire, his mouth agape. Dio smirked and turned his attention back to the vampires descending from the ceiling.

The two retreated down the hallway. Dio was having some much-needed fun crushing skulls, tearing off limbs, and stopping time just to turn a vampire around so that it was now attacking its fellow undead. The World hovered protectively over Speedwagon, only having to act when a stray vampire escaped Dio’s carnage. Speedwagon walked backward at a steady pace, keeping considerate of the distance between Dio and himself. He estimated that his office was only twenty meters away now, but the flow of vampires from the ceiling only seemed to increase. 

One vampire twisted its head to the side and shot eye beams right at Speedwagon. The World lifted its forearm to block the blow. Dio hissed as matching holes bored into his own arm. “How much further?” he shouted over his shoulder.

“The third door on the left, right there,” Speedwagon answered. Dio looked past him and judged the distance. He could probably reach it within the confines of the stopped time, even if he had to carry Speedwagon with him.

His ankle stung. He glared down at a mangled vampire that had shoved its hand into his leg. He kicked at it with his other leg, but the vampire refused to disengage. Dio doubted the vampire would be able to drain him but it was effective dead weight. He staggered back, dragging the vampire with him. Above him sounded a loud rumbling, and the ceiling panels rattled. More vampires. He scowled as he realized that they might have listened in; if they knew about the UV lights, they might try to cut the circuit to the switch. “Speedwagon. Run. Now. Turn on the lights.”

“If you get in the room, I can just turn on the ones in the hallway,” Speedwagon insisted.

Another vampire latched onto his leg. Dio stomped on it. “Go turn them on. Now.”

“But you’re out here,” Speedwagon said, his voice wavering.

Dio fell to the ground and another vampire latched onto him, but his Stand was now just within range of the office. The World opened the door and shoved Speedwagon in. Satisfied, Dio stopped time and used the World to remove the panels from the ceiling. The remaining vampires hiding in the crawlspace were primed to fall.

Time began again. The vampires landed on the ground in a messy heap. An electric buzzing filled the air and metal plates in the walls slid open. The floodlights turned on.

If dying for him wouldn’t convince Speedwagon, Dio thought, nothing would.

Chapter Text

The empty expanse appeared just as the ultraviolet rays nearly turned his body to ash. Dio heard his double give a condescending slow-clap. “So convincingly heroic,” he said. “Here are the arrows, just as I promised. Actually, more than I promised. I was in a generous mood, so I saved you the trouble of going back to Cairo and brought your own arrow here, as well. Now you have three arrows to use.” He waved his hand and they clattered to the glassy ground. Dio stared at them suspiciously, causing his double to sigh. “Just use them.”

Dio reached out and the arrows turned as if magnetized. They skittered over the ground and the first pierced his skin, followed by the second and the third. A jolt of energy tore up his arm and he clenched his teeth as the arrowheads slid until they were stacked within his elbow. The sensation was somewhere between being electrocuted and being dunked into ice water. He hissed as the arrowheads pressed inexorably higher, slicing upwards toward his shoulder. His vision grew hazy, but he saw The World appear beside him, and it was leaning back just as he was, its eyes glassy and staring off into the emptiness around them—

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The arrows fell out of his arm and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was in a living room that he did not recognize. It was cozy and would have been well lit if it were daytime; the tall windows in front of him opened to a grassy lawn made silver under the moonlight. In the corner was a little wooden structure on the floor made of alphabet blocks carefully balanced together. Atop one block, a tin soldier stood. The couch beside the toys was plush and comfortable looking. A pink blanket, possibly hand-knitted, was folded carefully over the back of it. Dio turned to look behind him; there was a set of stairs through an adjacent door and a hallway through another. 

The details of the room weren’t high on his list of priorities. He called forth The World and peered at it. His Stand looked the same as ever: a golden hue, a stony face, and a powerful physique. However, its arms were crossed across its chest as if it was hiding something.

Dio pursed his lips and spread his arms wide; The World mirrored his movements and let go of whatever it was concealing. Dio narrowed his eyes as what looked like a small pile of trash fell to the floor. He crouched down to investigate it and his Stand watched blankly.

The first item was a day-by-day calendar, possibly even the same one Enyaba had snatched for him all the way back in Cairo. He frowned and tossed it aside. The second item was a worn-looking travel atlas. The third was a sheet of stickers akin to what a preschool instructor would give to a well-behaved child, all smiley faces and great job!s and rainbows.

He fell to his knees. “What,” he growled, “the fuck.”

The floor creaked. A softly flickering yellow light appeared in the hallway. He heard a child’s voice, though it was too quiet for him to know what they were saying. When a woman’s voice answered, he froze.

“It’s okay, George. Today was a rough day for all of us. A nightmare is almost to be expected and certainly nothing to be ashamed of. If you think it will help, you can take the toy soldiers upstairs with you. They’re very brave, aren’t they? I think they will help you keep nightmares away. We can get them together—” she fell silent, her breath trapped in her throat, her hand clutching at George’s shoulder and pulling him back. Dio stood and turned to face her.

“No,” Erina said quietly. 

Dio kept his face blank. He lifted his hands with the palms facing outward in an attempt to show he meant no harm.

“No,” she said again, and the oil lamp she was holding trembled.

Dio had always puzzled over where to put Erina in his mental hierarchy. She was a human woman, sure, but obviously something about her had spurred Jonathan towards greater things. The same thing had happened with Holly; her being in danger was what had brought about the Joestars hunting him down. Both women indirectly had the ability to defy his attempted stranglehold on fate. He wasn’t afraid of Erina per se, but he was wary of how she might impact his plans.

George was perhaps around nine or ten years old and Erina was clutching at him tightly, but he peered up at Dio with wide eyes. There was fear there, and perhaps curiosity, but there was also the characteristic Joestar determination, even the close echoes of Jonathan’s features in his face— he was his child, after all. Dio supposed that the kid would not hesitate to attack him if he made even one wrong move towards Erina.

Erina probably supposed that as well, and she knew who would win the scuffle. “George.” Her voice was like steel, but the lamplight sputtered slightly as her hands shook. “I have a surprise visitor. Why don’t you go back to the kitchen and let us speak in private?”

George looked up at her questioningly. Erina squeezed his shoulder and gently pushed him behind her. He begrudgingly retreated down the hallway, but he gave Dio a severe look before ducking through the kitchen doorway.

“How…” Erina was pale and Dio wondered if she was liable to faint. “How could… What do you...” She took a deep breath and attempted to collect herself. “You’re here, and not him. What more could you possibly take from me?”

“It’s been ten years,” Dio stated.

“To the day.” She leaned against the wall and clutched at the oil lamp with both hands. “This is an old house,” she murmured. “All dry wood. Would it be fast enough? Perhaps not. George would have time to get out, at least.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dio said.

Erina gave him a look of exhausted sorrow. “Are you offering me another painless death?”

“No.” 

“What do you want?”

“Look.” He ran a hand over his neck, hoping she would take note of the lack of scarring. “It’s a long story, but a lot of things have changed. I want Jojo to live. I’m going to bring him back.” 

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she glared at him, unswayed. “Don’t promise me the impossible,” she said shakily. “I’ve already grieved, and I do not trust your power. What’s done is done. I don’t know if you’re feeling guilty for it now or if you want something else but you can’t just erase your sins and pretend they never happened—”

“You know me well enough, Erina.” He approached her carefully, cautiously; she did not shy away from him. “I don’t like to be restrained by what’s impossible. Will you trust me?” 

She looked up and narrowed her eyes. The lamp dipped dangerously close to the wall. A tear rolled down her cheek, but her gaze was cold and hard. “What choice do I have? If he—if you didn’t die from the fire on the ship, what could I possibly do to stop you?”

He wrapped a hand around the lamp to steady it. He was careful not to brush against Erina’s fingers. “Tell me not to try, and I won’t. I promise you that much.” He was sincere, but he could see in her expression what her answer would be.

“How could I?” Her voice shook. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish that he was here with me. Of course I want him back. But I don’t want to make a deal with the devil to make it so.”

Dio gently pulled at the lamp; it slipped from Erina’s grasp. He backed away and set it down safely on a table. “There’s no deal to be made. I’m asking nothing of you.” He glanced at the items The World had dropped and he tilted his head. “Well, I may ask you for your opinion.” Erina wiped her face with her sleeve and gave him a confused look. Dio picked up the calendar, the atlas, and the stickers. “Are any of these familiar to you?” he asked. “Maybe that’s why I ended up here.”

She blinked. “What?”

Dio walked over to her and held up the items. “Here, take a look. Have you traveled lately? Perhaps check the map.” 

“Map?” She sniffed and frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

Dio peered down at the items. He held up the calendar. “You don’t see this?”

She took a tentative step back. “I see your hand. You aren’t making sense.”

He frowned. “Hold on.” He took a piece of the atlas between his thumb and index finger, then held the page in place with his other hand. He made a tiny tear in the paper; a cut opened up on the back of his palm. He laughed and Erina stared at him, utterly bewildered.

The items weren’t junk, they were the three new aspects of his Stand. He looked at the day by day calendar and closely checked the dates. The page was flipped to read February 7, 1899, but it had been circled in ink. He tilted the calendar and looked into the spiral binding; tucked inside the plastic was a miniature pen. He frowned and clicked it, then peered at the next page. The date read February 8, 1899. He flipped through more pages, entering the next century, and while the calendar didn’t seem to change in volume the pages continued for as long as he bothered to flip them. He grasped a chunk of them and flipped to reveal August 23, 1915. He frowned and circled the date with the pen.

The world shifted around him and yet still remained the same; he was in Erina’s living room, but the children’s toys were gone and a new set of embroidered throw pillows adorned the couch.

He heard a tearing sound. The page for February 7, 1899, fell out of the calendar and fluttered to the ground, where it faded away into nothingness.

He flipped through the calendar once more, this time going through the pages until he reached the very first one. It read February 7, 1889.

So he could use the calendar to travel to any day and arrive there at about midnight, but he could only visit that day once, and it didn’t seem to go any earlier than the day the boat sank. He still needed to figure out the map and the stickers, but he also realized that he must have just disappeared from Erina’s perspective and reappeared years later.

There was a light at the end of the hallway. He approached the kitchen silently and peeked inside. Erina was sitting at a table with a few unfolded letters spread out over the wood. She was focused on her writing, dipping a metal-nibbed pen into an inkwell and peering down at the paper as she inscribed small, neat lines.

Dio knocked on the doorframe. Erina jumped and inhaled sharply, her pen skittering a jagged line across the page. “You’re back,” she gasped. “Did you—?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “From my perspective, I was just talking to you in 1899.” 

“You’re traveling through time,” Erina said, “like in H. G. Wells. Is that what you meant? You’re going to go back—”

He nodded. “I’m still figuring it out. I’ll only have one chance to do it right, so I need a plan with no possibility of failure.”

Her chair scuffed against the floor as she stood. “Take me with you. I want to help.”

Dio frowned, and she strode up to him and grasped his shoulders. “My son is at war. Every day I worry for him, but there is nothing I can do but send him my love. And while you may have just been here, to me… I’ve had years of waiting and thinking. And here you are again, offering me the chance to do something that could help bring my family together. I’m not very special,” she said, and she let go of him with a sigh. “I mean, I haven’t learned the Ripple. But I want to help.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you could help,” Dio said carefully. “I just don’t know how I would bring you with me.”

Erina turned away from him and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Is it… does it have something to do with the mask?”

“No.” He opened the atlas and looked it over. He found Great Britain and found that there was a minuscule circle drawn on the map. “This house isn’t far from Oxford, is it?”

“It isn’t a long trip,” she answered. “Why?”

He pulled the pen from the calendar and pored over the map, flipping through the pages until he found Japan. So much for no more bumbling around in Morioh, but if he went there in 1999, there would be three Joestars there to work with. The calendar could take him through time; the map would presumably take him through space. The stickers, however, were still a mystery. He peeled a yellow smiley face off of the waxy paper.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Give me your hand.”

Erina frowned but complied. Dio pressed the sticker to the back of her hand, drew a tiny circle around Morioh on the map, and then shuffled through pages of calendar days until he found the summer of 1999. He settled on the date that he hoped was the same as he found the arrow in the killer’s house.

He pressed the pen against the calendar. “Cross your fingers,” he told Erina. 

She squinted at him. “Why?”

“You’re a Joestar now, aren’t you?” he answered. “That means you have excellent luck.”

She tutted. “Is that what it is?”

He circled the date on the page and the world shifted.

Chapter Text

The world blurred around them and then grew light. Erina gasped as the ground settled under her feet. She glanced around with wide eyes, taking in her surroundings; they had appeared in someone’s backyard. It was well-maintained, with mulched plots growing both flowers and vegetables. A willow tree bent over her head, dappling the ground with sun and shadow that shifted in the breeze. She heard sizzling.

Dio pressed his back against the tree and hissed as the sunlight ate away at his skin. Erina unclasped her woolen shawl from her shoulders and threw it over him.

“Midnight in Britain is the morning in Japan,” he said flatly, muffled beneath the shawl. “I’ll have to keep time zones in mind next time.” He raised his arm, careful to keep it under the fabric, and peered out at the backyard. “It’s hard for me to see. Do you see any houses with Victorian-style gables? Or, actually, any houses with a big hole on the second floor.”

Erina looked around for a few moments, then pointed. “Oh! That one. There’s a tarp covering the siding.”

“That’s the one we want. Lead the way.”

Erina picked her way over the vegetable plot and made her way to the street. “Is that your future house?”

“Sort of. That does remind me, though. We need to wait before we go in.”

Erina gave him a concerned look. “Don’t you need to get inside?”

“There’s shade under the front awning. If we go right up against the wall then—” The front door creaked. “Get down.” He tugged at her shoulder and crouched behind a Morioh postal box. “Look, but do it carefully. Tell me when I’m gone.”

Dio opened Rohan’s front door and walked down the steps, his umbrella leaned jauntily over his shoulder. Once he hit the edge of the awning’s shade, he opened the umbrella and strolled down the street, headed away from Erina and Dio’s hiding spot.

“Two of you?” Erina blinked. “Oh, of course. Is that a future or a past you?”

“Past, actually.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “He’s gone around a corner. I don’t see you anymore.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

Once inside, Dio pulled off the shawl and leaned against the wall. His skin was already mostly healed; he had only been in the sun for a few moments, and the shade from the tree had saved him from the brunt of it. He held the shawl out to Erina, who gave a short, nervous laugh. “You can keep it. You got, er… melted vampiric flesh on it. Hold onto it in case of another emergency.” 

Dio looked down at the rusty smears left by his still-healing arm and scowled. 

They had a while to relax in Rohan’s empty house, but his encounter with the killer would happen around noon and Team Morioh would meet up soon after that. Then, they would go investigate the killer’s house and past Dio would run back with the arrow, get Joseph’s information from Rohan’s address book, and go attack Joseph and try to get the second arrow.

Joseph was the reason Dio had returned on this particular day; he remembered that he had threatened to use his ‘final Ripple’ to destroy the arrow. Dio would have to time his intervention carefully. He couldn’t change what his past self had done, but he might be able to step in as soon as his past self had been thrown into the cave with the Pillar Men.

There was also the matter of explaining himself to Jotaro and by extension Rohan now that he was back in a different body. A scarf to cover the lack of scarring would be enough to fool Rohan, who avoided Dio anyway, but Jotaro was a damnably observant person. If he thought something was up, he would likely tell Rohan to write in more rules, or, more likely, decide he was sick of dealing with Dio and kill him. Still, it was worth a shot. He rummaged through Rohan’s closet while Erina explored the downstairs. He settled on a teal and emerald patterned Gucci creation (Rohan had taste, Dio admitted, but if asked he would refuse to specify if it was good taste or bad taste) and wrapped it around his neck.

He found Erina peering at the elegant furniture in the living room. “This is 1999? It’s interesting that this type of furniture never went out of style. Or, that it came back into style. It reminds me of when I was young.”

Dio smirked. “Oh, no, it is out of style. The man who lives here just has very particular tastes.”

“Ah. You did only say this was ‘sort of’ your house.” She frowned. “Are we trespassing?”

“We have an agreement. I have the honor of boarding in his basement. Anyway,” he said as he held up a pair of binoculars that he had stolen from Rohan’s study. “Want to help me with a stakeout?”

There were still several hours before Dio’s past self would go to confront Joseph. Now that he was freshly sunscreened and had stolen another umbrella from Rohan, he figured that the café would be a good place to pass the time and avoid running into his past self.

He watched with some glee as Erina floundered with the café menu. He pointed at the tea selection and she was still a bit lost until she spotted the much more limited arrangement of British-styled drinks. When the time came to pay for their order, he stopped time, took money from the register, started time again, and handed it right back to the cashier. Having The World back was great.

Erina sipped at her tea. “So, what are we watching for?”

“At some point, later today, I get pulled out of this year. I need to stop something from happening right after that. I just need to be careful about the timing and I can’t remember when exactly it happened.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve already lived through today and you can’t remember it?”

“In my defense, today happened to me at least a century ago,” he replied with a scowl. “I recall a survey saying that most people can’t remember what they ate for lunch last week. Can you?”

“No need to be testy,” she murmured into her tea.

Most of their time at the café passed in awkward silence. Well, at least it seemed awkward to Dio. Erina had taken a few books from Rohan’s house and was reading them intently. He leaned over and saw that it was a history reference book. “Are you planning something?”

She glanced up at him. “Hm?”

“You’re reading a history book from 1999,” he said. “You’re from 1915. You now know more of the fate of the world than anyone from your time.”

“I mean,” she answered with a guilty smile, “wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Do you want to change any of it?”

“Do I want to? Sure. But I don’t think I could. You were so careful about avoiding yourself earlier,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe I could change something small. But if I changed anything too big, this book wouldn’t be here for me to read, so I never would have gone back to change it in the first place.”

“Hm.” He rested his chin in his hand and thought. She returned to reading, and a few silent minutes passed before he spoke up again. “You’re probably strong enough to have a Stand.”

She frowned. “What?”

He pursed his lips. “Then again, having an outsider perspective can be useful.”

Erina gave him a tired stare. “Talk to me, not at me, please. What do you mean by standing?”

“Remember the Ripple? A Stand is a lot like that. It is a manifestation of your fighting spirit. Instead of just giving yourself energy, your Stand can be totally separate from your body.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Like the Amherst poltergeist. The one Hubbell wrote about.”

Dio’s face screwed up with surprise. “You read that superstitious trash?”

“You’re one to talk, Lord Ruthven. Maybe the poltergeist was a Stand.” She held up the history book. “Are you saying I could make this float with my mind?”

“Not quite.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s more like… imagine crossing a poltergeist with a guardian angel. A Stand will protect you, but all Stands have their strengths and weaknesses, blessings and curses. For example, I knew a man who had a Stand about the size and shape of a saucer. It was small and couldn’t do much but crawl along the ground, and even then the ground had to be wet to allow it to travel. But the Stand had the ability to make anyone it touched want to fight. They would grow so angry and energized that they would fight themselves to death.”

Erina looked concerned. Dio leaned forward and grinned. “Sounds powerful, doesn’t it? The problem was that the Stand acted automatically. It affected friend and foe indiscriminately. That isn’t always the case, though. Some Stands have effects that are wide-reaching, while others are incredibly specific and precise. It all depends upon the person.”

 “You have one, then?” she asked.

The World appeared and lifted the history book out of Erina’s hands. The Stand held the book for a moment before placing it on the table. Dio grinned at Erina’s wide-eyed expression.

“Ah, so I could make that float with my mind,” Erina said, “if I had the right kind of Stand. Does yours have a special ability? Is that how we traveled here?”

“That’s a secret.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s considered incredibly rude to ask someone what their Stand can do.”

“Psh.” She snatched the book back and returned to reading. “Fine.”

“But I’ll tell you anyway,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “My Stand isn’t much of a secret anymore. It can stop time, and in combat, its speed and precision is nearly unparalleled. And yes, my Stand is how we traveled here.”

“Ah.” She did not look up from her book. “Nearly unparalleled?” 

Dio rolled his eyes and stood. “It’s starting to get dark. We have to go watch for myself.”

The window Dio had used to break into Joseph’s suite was on the third floor and tucked around the back end of the building. They found a bench along a street that was away from where past Dio would have walked but where they could still easily see the window. Erina watched carefully with the stolen binoculars while Dio kept the umbrella positioned to keep the last rays of the sunset away from his face.

He figured that it wouldn’t take too long to spot himself, but the sun was taking its sweet time sinking beneath the horizon. Erina’s head nodded low but she woke herself up with a sharp inhale.

Dio squinted at her. “Are you falling asleep?”

She yawned. “You appeared at my house at midnight, so I had already been awake for a long day, and this is another... twelve hours of being awake, I think. I’m trying to pay attention as best I can. I should have said something, but...” She peered through the binoculars. “This is exciting. Oh!” She pointed. “You!”

Dio shielded his eyes with his hand and looked out. His past self was gripping the frame of the window with one hand. With the other, he gave the window a powerful shove upwards, snapping the locks and forcing it open. 

“Let’s go.” He stood and motioned for Erina to follow him. His past self slipped inside the window and left their sight. 

They approached the house and Erina craned her neck to look up at the open window. “Am I going with you?”

“Yes. I still need your luck.” He paused. “I’ll have to carry you.”

She let out a long sigh. “No taking the front door?”

Dio grabbed the siding and scowled back at her. “Just hang on to my shoulders or something. My Stand won't let you fall.”

She steeled herself and, with an air of put-upon dignity, looped her arms over Dio’s shoulders. He was glad that he didn’t really need to breathe; her forearms pressed harshly against his throat. He dug his fingertips into the plasticine panels of the siding and began to climb. Once they were a few feet away from the window, he used one hand to tap Erina’s arm. “We won’t fit through together. I need you to let go of me, and my Stand will carry you inside.

“I wouldn’t die from here,” she said, mostly to herself, as she peered down at the ground. “Just the third story. Broken leg or hip. Maybe spine.”

“It’s not going to drop you,” he said with a frown. He climbed up another foot, close enough that Erina could easily reach the sill. “Go.”

She reached out with a shaking hand while keeping one arm wrapped tightly around Dio’s neck. She gripped at the windowsill hard enough to make her knuckles go white. The World appeared and hooked its arms beneath hers. She inhaled sharply as it lifted her up and supported her as she shimmied through the window.

Dio hauled himself in soon after. He could hear himself arguing with Joseph. He glanced over at Erina, who had gone a bit pale.

He scowled. Having Erina hear his past self threaten to throw Shizuka off the roof wasn’t one of his proudest moments. He shook his head and motioned toward the hallway, then crept forward with his back against the wall. He peered around the corner, then ducked back. His past self had just fallen to the floor after Joseph grabbed him and threw off his balance. Joseph crawled halfway onto the couch and light sparked between his hands as he held the arrow. His past self threw himself forward, trying to tear the arrow from Joseph’s hands—

Time stopped, but he could still hear Erina moving behind him.

“Ah,” Erina whispered with shock, “three of you?”

The double had appeared right beside Joseph. He grinned as the past self faded out of existence. He took the arrow from Joseph and looked up, locking eyes with Dio. Dio felt a creeping dread, but his double only lifted a hand in greeting and smiled.

Time began again. His double disappeared. Dio called forth The World and stopped time himself. He looked back at Erina intensely, and she took a half-step away from him and frowned.

“You can move in the stopped time.” He stared at her and she looked back in confusion. “Oh. Wait. Let me see your hand again.”

After a moment of hesitation, she held out her hand. Dio peeled off the smiley face sticker and she went still.

The stickers could also bring someone into the stopped time. That was good to know. He pressed the sticker back onto her skin, and she blinked at him. He waved his hand, motioning for her to follow as he went around the couch and faced Joseph, whose hands were still shining brightly with Ripple energy.

Time began again. Joseph looked down at his empty hands in bewilderment. “Where—?” He looked up at Dio and grimaced. “You were just—“ He spotted Erina and the energy between his hands sputtered and began to fade. “Granny Erina? But… you look like when I was a kid. Oh my God!” He clapped his hands over his face. “I’ve really lost it. I’m seeing things from childhood. Shit! I can’t be going senile now! Or is that the effect of my final...”

“Granny?” Erina murmured.

“Joseph, calm down.” Dio crossed his arms and leaned over him. “When’s your birthday?”

Joseph stared off into the middle distance as he focused. “September 27, 1920. My name is Joseph Joestar, the current year is 1999, the current president is—”

“Five years off.” Dio glanced back at Erina. “This is your grandson.”

Joseph looked at her in complete befuddlement. Erina stared back with wide eyes. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “George survives the war! He must settle down and then have you—” She paused, her breath hitching in her throat, and she lifted a sleeve to her eyes. “I’m so glad. It’s nice to meet you, Joseph, though I suppose you’ve met me before.”

Joseph furrowed his eyebrows and glared at Dio. “Oh, my father, George? Is that who you’re talking about?”

Dio stopped time; Erina barely had time to look confused before he snatched the sticker from her hand. He approached the frozen Joseph and slapped the sticker onto his forearm. Joseph scowled and narrowed his eyes as Dio loomed over him.

“Not a word about George being killed by one of my zombies,” Dio hissed through clenched teeth. “This Erina is from 1915. She doesn’t know.”

“How did you make her appear here?” Joseph asked. “What the hell is happening?” He looked down and bent his arm to get a closer look at the yellow smiley face. “What the hell is this?”

“Promise me, Joestar.”

Joseph frowned. “Fine. I won’t bring it up.” His expression softened as he glanced at the frozen Erina. “I hate seeing her upset, anyway.”

Dio snatched the sticker back, and Joseph froze. He returned to the spot he had been standing in before, and time began again. “Well, now that you two are reunited, I need to go make sure Jotaro isn’t still trapped inside a photograph. Erina needs to sleep, so let’s all meet and catch up some time tomorrow. Let’s aim for noon at Rohan’s house.”

“Fine,” Joseph answered as he crossed his arms. Erina smiled and nodded as she blinked away the last of her tears.

(sources: Amherst poltergeist ; Ruthven joke )

Chapter Text

Dio gave Joseph one final pointed stare before returning to the broken window and dropping to the ground. The dusk was tinged with a deep, burnt orange as the last hints of the sun fell beneath the horizon. Dio first went to the killer’s house; the inside was dark. He swung open the busted front door and peered inside; it was empty. He ventured into the room where the camera had been. Pushpins were scattered all over the floor and the camera was broken.

Well, the Joestars had defeated the man with the camera Stand, as expected. But where had they gone after that? Dio had Jotaro’s hotel room number from Rohan’s contact book, and that was as good a place to start as any.

Jotaro’s hotel room was on the first floor and had some windows facing out toward the sea. There were lights on inside and the curtains were thrown open. Dio could see Jotaro pacing with a phone pressed against his ear.

Dio weaved his way through some decorative shrubs, crept past a noisy air conditioning unit, walked up to the window, and knocked. Jotaro, startled, turned to face him with the phone clenched so tightly that it was at risk of snapping in two. Dio smirked and made a short, upward motion with his hand at the window.

He could just barely hear Jotaro through the glass. “Nevermind. He’s literally right here.” He paused to listen to whoever was on the other end. “Yes. Just in case.” He slammed the phone down on the receiver and glared at Dio, who just gestured for him to open the window again. Star Platinum’s arms appeared and the pane slid upward. Dio peered up at Jotaro and grinned. “May I come in?”

Star Platinum yanked at his shoulders and his head slammed into the sill. Jotaro stared down at him, his eyes burning. “You gave the arrow to the killer’s father. Why?”

Dio grimaced as blood seeped past his eyelid, but the cut on his forehead steadily healed. Star Platinum’s grip on his shoulders twitched as if Jotaro was considering slamming him into the window frame again. “Would you believe me,” Dio asked, “if I said it wasn’t me that did that, but instead my evil twin?”

Star Platinum didn’t shove him, but its grip tightened. “You can use The World again, somehow, can’t you?” Jotaro stated. “That’s the only way to explain how you disappeared after that. Did you do something to Rohan?”

“I have done nothing to Rohan,” Dio answered, “except annoy him. The answer to your other question remains the same as before.”

Star Platinum lifted one hand to lower the window, trapping Dio’s head inside. “Decapitation won’t kill you, I know.” The window pushed down and his neck ground against the sill. “But it will make killing you much easier. Tell me what you’re planning.”

Dio twisted his head as much as he dared in order to look up at Jotaro. “If I was planning something terrible, would I have come knocking on your window to tell you about it?”

“I don’t know. Could be a trap. This is all weird.” Jotaro scowled. “You’re acting damn weird.”

“I’ll gladly explain everything if you stop trying to guillotine me with the window,” Dio said, “but I also want to ask you questions of my own.”

The seconds dragged. Dio stared up at him, his face held carefully and patiently blank. The phone rang. Star Platinum kept a steady pressure on the window as Jotaro snatched the phone off the receiver and answered it. “Gramps.” He listened for a few moments, his posture stiffening in shock. “Who?”

Star Platinum let go of the window. Dio clambered inside and adjusted his scarf with a sigh of annoyance. Jotaro glared at him as he listened to Joseph. “If he was trying to kill us by going back in time and killing your grandma, he would have done it already. Something else has to be going on. Just wait.” Jotaro set the phone back onto the receiver lightly, then scowled stonily at Dio.

Dio tilted his head. “You’re a marine biologist, correct?”

“Yes.” Jotaro’s glare somehow managed to become more severe. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you have any paper? And a pencil?” Dio glanced around the room, noticing a desk covered in notes and a boxy computer. He began to approach it, but Star Platinum appeared and blocked his path.

“Just answer my questions,” Jotaro said. “Talk. What’s going on?”

Dio frowned at the impassive Star Platinum and then turned to Jotaro with a sneer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, Jotaro. Every word I say will be the truth. I need you to trust me, and I’m going to trust you in return. Agreed?”

Jotaro took a deep inhale, squared his shoulders, and then gave a begrudging nod.

“In another world, you did not defeat me in Cairo. That version of myself was able to evolve his Stand enough to claim heaven for himself and become a god. Now that me goes from world to world, hunting for other versions of myself. My theory is that he does so in order to kill them and become even stronger.” He paused and lifted a hand to his neck. “You know that I stole my body from your ancestor. When I first appeared in Morioh, it was that body that had Rohan’s rules.” He tugged off the scarf and tilted his head, stretching his unscarred neck. “I am not the one that gave the arrow to the killer’s father. It was the me that I’m being hunted by.”

Jotaro did not move, but Star Platinum shifted defensively. “So you do have The World back.”

The World appeared behind Dio and Jotaro tensed. Dio expected him to stop time and attack him; to his surprise, Star Platinum faded away and Jotaro shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yes, I have reobtained The World and much more,” Dio answered. “My double pierced me with three Stand Arrows. The World has evolved.”

“Great.” Jotaro’s voice was completely flat. “But it still isn’t strong enough, is it.”

“Of course not.” Dio waved his hand dismissively. “If I want to have any chance of defeating my double, I’m going to need more help.”

“You want me to help you,” Jotaro stated. 

“Possibly. I have a few different ideas of how to defeat him. That’s why I wanted that pencil and paper.”

He started towards the desk again but Jotaro held up a hand. “Why the hell would I help you? It sounds like the only person your double has a problem with is you. I’m not involved at all. It seems like none of the Joestars are.”

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to help me out of the goodness of your heart, Jotaro,” Dio replied, his tone dripping with saccharine venom. “I’m offering you something in return.” He strode towards the desk and lifted a framed photo from atop a stack of books. “You really cared for them. To hold onto a photo like this years later, even if seeing them is painful... those are memories you cherish and hate all at once, aren’t they?”

Star Platinum wrenched the photo out of his hands. Dio allowed it. “You will not use them as bargaining chips,” Jotaro growled.

“I’m offering this to you with no strings attached. I could easily bring them back, and I expect almost nothing in return. I’d even feel bad for them if you refused,” he said with a smile, and Jotaro gave him a look of revulsion. “It would be as if they were in the hospital on the verge of death and you said no to a cure just because you didn’t like the doctor doing it.”

Jotaro clutched the photo tightly and Star Platinum looked prepared to punch Dio into a paste, but beyond the anger and disgust in Jotaro’s expression, Dio could sense the tiniest nascent glimmer of guilt. Dio grinned when Jotaro gave a glance toward the phone.

“Think it over, Jotaro.” Dio dusted himself off as Star Platinum hovered watchfully beside him. “Sleep on it, if you must. I’m going to have everyone meet at Rohan’s around noon tomorrow. I’ll be explaining myself again, which will be annoying, but I suppose that Josuke and the rest of Team Morioh should be brought up to speed. I suppose I’m sorry that I upset you, but it’s your fault for being so stubborn. I had to get my point across somehow.” He slid the window fully open and heard the sound of rustling leaves. He froze. So did Jotaro.

Wary of Jotaro trying to chop his head off again, Dio used The World to brace the window open as he peered out into the darkness. He saw nothing, but he could smell the faint traces of sweat and adrenaline-laden fear.

“What do you see?” Jotaro set the photo back on the desk and stood beside the window. “Was someone listening?”

Dio nodded. “Yes.”

“The other you?”

“No.” Dio squinted and sat on the windowsill, then swung his legs over to the outside. “If he was here, we’d know it. But this is familiar, somehow. Stay here,” he said as Jotaro moved to follow him. “And tell Joseph to think about my offer, too. I know you didn’t hang up all the way,” he said, nodding at the phone that was just barely off the receiver. “You had him listen just in case I threatened you.” He dropped down from the window and looked back at Jotaro. “Oh, and if you have the time, can you consider the idea of the food chain for me?”

Jotaro stared at him silently. The World pulled the window shut. Dio stopped time and looked down at the ground. The mulch didn’t hold footprints very well, but Dio could see his own, as well as a second set that seemed to have larger soles. He stalked around the side of the hotel and looked over the grassy lawn. There was a man running away, his legs frozen in the air as one hand was out for balance and the other held onto his hat. Time began again and he dashed forward, nearly stumbling over the curb as he reached the road.

Time paused and began once more. The man skidded to a stop as Dio appeared in front of him.

“Hol Horse,” Dio said with a wide smile. “How nice to see you again.”

“Whoa, shit,” Hol stammered. The Emperor appeared in his hand but he held it more for reassurance than out of any intention to aim it at Dio.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Hol?” Dio asked in a terrible imitation of an American accent. “And calm down, would you? Even though you failed me in Cairo, I’m not going to kill you.”

“That kid,” Hol answered. “Boingo said you were back. I thought maybe he was havin’ hallucinations from stress or something. He’s never been good at traveling and he took a plane ride to Japan to meet some famous artist or whatever. But he called me and wouldn’t shut the hell up about his Stand book sayin’ the world was gonna end.” Hol took a deep breath and wiped sweat off his forehead, his hand brushing against the mottled scar just below his hat where he had accidentally shot himself. “He said that the artist said you were harmless, that you couldn’t use your Stand, but you just... back there, you had it. When you were talking to Jotaro.”

“The end of the world?” Dio crossed his arms and gave Hol a curious look. “Tohth had a prediction about the end of the world?”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t really know, Boingo wouldn’t show me. But it had somethin’ to do with you.” He frowned and gripped Emperor tightly. “I only made it here today. I got real lucky and saw you just as I was leaving the hotel. Did you do somethin’ to the Joestars? Why don’t they care that you’re here? Did you find a way to control them?”

Dio lifted an arm and Hol shied away from him. “Aw no, no flesh thingy, don’t —”

He simply placed a hand on Hol’s shoulder. “Hol, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hol blanched. “What?”

“The Joestars and I are very absolute people. We’ll do what we set our minds to, even if it kills us. You, however,” he said, and he squeezed Hol’s shoulder. “I won’t insult you by saying you’re a coward, Hol, but you have a finely attuned survival instinct. I admire that. I could use your perspective.”

Hol frowned at him. “Perspective? Perspective on what?”

“You didn’t hear what Jotaro and I were talking about?” Dio asked.

“No, I mean, I tried. The damn AC unit was too loud. But I saw your Stand!”

“Oh, but you didn’t see all of my Stand,” Dio replied. Hol squinted. Dio pulled him by the shoulder and wrapped an arm around him, forcing him to turn and look at The World as it appeared. The World reached forward and Hol lifted his gun protectively—

The World opened its fists to reveal the calendar, the map, and the sheet of stickers.

Hol lowered the gun. “Huh?”

“Go to any time, go to any place, and bring someone with me,” Dio replied, pointing to each of the items in turn.

"Your Stand evolved," Hol said in awe as he stared at the objects. “So you can just go any place at any time?”

Dio sighed. “Yes, Hol, just like I said. Though I suppose there are some limitations. I can’t go any earlier than 1889.”

Hol frowned. “You can go to the future, though? As far as you want?”

“Hm.” Dio picked up the calendar and looked it over. He bent it slightly and let the pages rapidly flip. The years advanced into the 2000s, then the 2010s, and then—

There was a final page. Dio peered down at it. The date at the top read March 21, 2012, but beneath it, dozens of other dates were printed. By the bottom of the page, so many dates were listed that the ink ran together into a solid black mass.

“Hol,” Dio said quietly, “do you believe in gravity?”

“The thing that makes shit fall to the ground?” Hol took a half-step away from Dio, disentangling himself from his arm. “Yeah, I’d say I believe in it.”

“You said Boingo called you.” Dio ran a finger over the calendar page. “You keep in touch?”

“Only kind of,” Hol admitted. “I try to keep a low profile but sometimes the kid needs help. It’s not like the survivors of your old Cairo crew hold reunion parties or anything.”

“Have you heard anything from Enrico Pucci?”

Hol's frown deepened, and he looked away. “No. Haven’t seen that guy in years. He kinda kept to himself, anyway. I was a little worried about how he would take it after… well, whatever the hell actually happened to you, since you ain’t dead. Like you said about yourself, ol' Enrico is, uh… a pretty absolute guy.”

“Yes, he is. Perhaps even more so than I.” Dio flipped the calendar back several pages, settling on one week before the final page. “I wonder… in this world, does he take Heaven for himself?” He took the sheet of stickers and the map from The World and looked them over. “Say, Hol, which do you prefer? ‘Way to Go’ or ‘Awesome!’?”

“Uh.” Hol took another step away. “I don’t want either of them, thank you very much—”

The World grabbed his wrist. Dio ignored Hol's protests as he pressed ‘Way to Go’ onto his hand.

Dio pulled the pen around the coordinates he knew by heart on the map, then circled March 14, 2012 on the calendar.

Chapter Text

Dio and Hol appeared in a dark hallway. Hol stumbled around with his hands extended, swearing as he looked for a lightswitch. “Where the hell are we? And when the hell are we?”

“Kennedy Space Center visitor complex, Florida, the United States,” Dio answered. “Around seven o’clock, probably past visiting hours. Since it’s springtime, sunset should be in an hour. Today is March 14, 2012, approximately one week before the new moon.” He held a hand to his temple; he wasn’t in pain, exactly, but he had a sense of something trying to grab his attention, like an alarm clock that refused to snooze. “This is the place I knew could be used to reach Heaven. I think Enrico Pucci is able to achieve what I was not. I need to find him.”

“Alright,” Hol huffed, “but I didn’t really want dragged along.”

Dio rolled his eyes and sneered. “Well, what’ll it take, Hol? Do you want me to drop you off at Fort Knox after all this and let you take all the gold you can carry? Is preventing the end of the world not rewarding enough for you?”

“No! Ugh. Damn! I mean,” Hol crossed his arms tightly and looked away. “Boingo was just freaking out like he always does, right? There’s no way the world ends now.”

“Don’t underestimate Enrico’s potential,” Dio said gravely. “I have no doubt that he is able to take fate by the reins. But if the world fights back, who knows what the outcome could be.” He sighed. “If he can really tame Heaven… I need him.”

Hol frowned. “Well, how the hell are we gonna find him?”

Dio tapped his temple. “I can sense something. There’s a sort of ritual that we discussed and I think he is following it. This sense should bring me to him.”

Hol scowled. “That’s convenient.”

“You know how to drive, don’t you, Hol?” Dio strolled down the hallway and waved his hand, motioning for Hol to follow him.

“Yeah, but we’re over a decade into the future,” he grumbled. “My license is gonna be expired.”

“Well, that’s simple enough to deal with.” He paused at a window, avoiding the last rays of the setting sun as he looked down at the visitor center parking lot. “Don’t get pulled over.”

They hotwired a car and drove off in silence. Hol turned the radio on, flipped through the channels, found nothing familiar, and turned the radio back off. He wiped sweat from his brow and peeked at the rearview mirror. The last thing Dio had said to him was simply to drive south, and now he sat as a silent and ominous shadow in the back seat.

“This climate, huh?” Hol waved a hand at the windshield, which was now spattered with dead mosquitos. “At least Cairo was a dry heat.”

“You’re only talking because you’re nervous, Hol,” Dio replied. “Tell me what’s really on your mind.”

The steering wheel creaked under the tightness of his grip. “Alright, fine. I don’t wanna be your goddamn meat shield again,” Hol retorted. “I have a bad feeling about all this. Pucci might have his own crew of Stand users protecting him if he’s trying to pick up where you left off. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you alive again and neither will he. Plus, there’s all that end of the world shit to think about.”

Dio narrowed his eyes. “I think a nicer term for you would be bodyguard. Well-paid bodyguard. It was a job that you were willing to take in Cairo.”

“Yeah, well.” He frowned and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m a different man now, but I was one of the lucky few to actually have a life outside of Cairo.”

“Well, what have you been up to, Hol?” Dio asked with mocking faux-interest. “Did you settle down and start a family?”

“What does it matter?” He grimaced and changed lanes to pass a beat-up van. “I know you don’t give a shit. I’m here because you can use me. I’ll do it because what the hell else am I gonna do? Run away and try to live in the future? Fight you? I already know how that would turn out. I’d rather be a bodyguard than your damn lunch.”

“Pull over.”

“What?” Hol glanced up at the rearview mirror, startled.

Dio sighed and crossed his legs. “Pull over. There’s plenty of room on the right.”

“Fuck.” Sweat beaded on Hol’s brow. “Alright, alright. I’m pulling over.” He twisted in his seat to check his blind spot, shifted back into the right lane, then switched on the hazard lights. The car rolled to a stop and Hol was tense in the front seat, with Emperor flickering in his hand uncertainly.

“Where’s your home at, Hol?” Dio flipped open the map and looked at the United States. 

“Christ almighty.” Hol’s knuckles went white as he gripped his gun. “What’re you trying to say?”

“I’m saying go home if you don’t want to be here,” he answered. “You’ll have twelve nice, peaceful years to yourself before the world ends. I’ll drop you off.”

Hol stared at him. “You’re not threatening me.”

“No, Hol, I’m not. If you’re not up to the task, then having you stay is more of a liability than an asset. I don’t hate you, Hol.” He crossed his arms and spoke with a cool, even tone. “I have no desire to hurt you, but I do want your help.”

Hol let out a long breath and slumped back against his seat. “See, that’s another thing buggin’ me. You want my help, and you’ve already got some sorta super-Stand. You’re talking to the Joestars like it’s no big deal. Boingo’s seeing the end of the world and even if I try to deny it, that kid is never wrong. Something big must be going on. You really wanna know why I’m freaking out? I’m scared because you are.”

Dio stared at him impassively, and Hol went on. “I know what it’s like to be backed into a corner. You can act all cool and collected but you’re thinkin’ at a mile a minute. I can see it. I know, I know, you’re untouchable,” he said, waving his hand, “but somethin’ got to you, and it wasn’t Jotaro. I’d prefer not to meet whatever the hell it was.”

“Perceptive as ever, Hol,” Dio hissed. “Now, are you going home or not?”

Hol sighed and leaned forward. He turned off the hazard lights, sat in silence for a few moments, and then flipped on the turn signal. “I gotta stay, don’t I?” he grumbled. “You don’t know how to fuckin’ drive.”

Dio stared out the window and hoped his intuition would be enough to determine which exit they had to take. Green and white signs passed as they drove until he spotted one that tugged at his awareness. “Port St. Lucie, exit 121, two miles. That’s the one we want.”

Hol gave a grunt of assent and prepared to change lanes. “You think he’s there?”

“It’s possible.” He let his head rest against the cool glass of the window. “I can at least tell that we’re close.”

Another sign passed, listing the attractions: a golf course, a few restaurants, and Green Dolphin Street Prison. Dio felt a chill. “The prison,” he said. “That’s what we want.”

Hol peered up at the sign. “You want to break into the prison? What, you think Pucci got arrested?”

“Pucci will be looking for sinners,” Dio answered. “Hospitals have chapels attached. So do prisons.” He glanced at Hol sidelong. “You knew he was going to seminary school, didn’t you?”

“I knew he was the religious type,” he replied. “But like I said, I didn’t really talk to him much. He wasn’t in Cairo all the time, anyway.”

Dio gave a thoughtful hm and returned his attention to the window.

It took about half an hour to reach the entrance to the prison. Since the main complex was on an island, they had to cross a bridge to access it. The bridge was blocked by a guard station and red-and-white striped wooden panels.

“Visiting hours are probably over,” Hol said. “How are we gonna get in?”

The World manifested at Dio’s side. “You didn’t take your sticker off, did you?”

“No, why?”

Time stopped. Dio leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. “Floor it.”

Hol slammed his foot on the gas and the car jolted forward, busting through the wooden barrier. He watched in awe as the splintered shards careened away from them but then slowed to a stop in the air. They sped past the guard station, where two men in uniform were frozen in place, one watching a video feed while the other read a newspaper. They were able to cross the bridge before time began again and Hol slowed the car to a reasonable pace. “Holy shit,” he breathed. 

“Park behind those transport buses,” Dio instructed. “Do you want to come with me or keep the car running?”

Hol took a deep breath and opened the car door. He reached beneath the wheel and unwound the wires. “I’ll come with. Safer with you than out here when the guards come around.”

There were a few guards on patrol, but they were easy enough to pass by in the stopped time. Dio strolled down the halls, following his intuition until they found the entrance to the chapel.

“I hate to keep complainin’,” Hol said quietly, “but I really do have a bad feeling about this. I know you talked to Pucci a lot back then. But… it has been about twenty years.”

“I appreciate your insight, Hol, I really do.” Dio was worried less about Pucci’s reaction to his sudden reappearance and more about a trap set by his double. Finding Pucci felt all too easy. “Like I said, your survival instinct is impeccable. Let’s keep this simple: I’ll go in and you can stay out here. Keep watch.” He slipped past Hol and opened the door.

It was dim inside the chapel, as only a few overhead lights were flicked on. The main room appeared to be empty, but a side door was propped open, revealing a small but comfortable looking office. Dio felt a chill of recognition travel down his spine; Pucci was sitting at his desk and clicking away at a boxy desktop computer.

As was his habit, Dio stood in the doorway and waited to be noticed. Pucci held up a hand, signaling for him to hold on as he turned his attention towards a printer that whirred and chugged its way through spitting out a paper. Once it finished, he grabbed the printout and slid it into a folder on the desk. “Chapel hours for inmates are over at eight,” he stated. “If it’s urgent, I can write in a meeting for you in the morning—” His gaze finally ventured towards the doorway and his face froze.

Dio smiled warmly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Pucci stared at him. “Are you here to test me?” he said breathlessly.

“Test you?” Dio approached him but Pucci remained still, his hands lightly gripping the leather arms of his seat. 

“Jesus was led by the Spirit into the stony wilderness to be tested by the devil,” Pucci recited. “And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.”

Dio leaned back against the desk and crossed his legs. “And the devil said to him, ‘if you are really the son of God, tell these stones to become bread.”

There was a glimmer of joy in Pucci’s dark eyes. “Man shall not live on bread alone.”

Dio laughed and leaned forward. “No, I shall not.”

Pucci smiled as he closed his eyes and turned away. “You are a pleasant vision and I am thankful for it.”

“Not a vision.” Dio reached out and gently brushed his knuckles against Pucci’s shoulder.

Pucci inhaled sharply and leapt back, nearly knocking over his chair. “No,” he said lowly. “You are dead. I know it. All I could bring back of you… is now a part of me.” He shook his head. “Is your user hiding somewhere? I do hope you are a short-range Stand. I don’t have the patience to track a long-range automatic user right now. Cancel this illusion and I’ll offer you mercy.”

Dio tilted his head towards him. “Pucci. I am here. Do you want to check?”

Pucci turned away and quietly recited his primes.

“I know you’ve begun to reach Heaven. I’m so proud of you, Enrico. I held the highest of expectations for you and you have surpassed them.” Dio circled around to face Pucci and dropped to one knee before him. He gently took a hold of his wrist and pulled his hand to his forehead.

Pucci did not move any further. He stared down at Dio coldly. “Your shoulder,” he said, coldly, without trust. “What happened to your birthmark?”

Dio called forth The World and stopped time. He stood and let out a snarl of frustration, though it was mostly directed at himself. He retreated, putting the desk between Pucci and himself, and then began time again. “I know your only desire is to take Heaven for yourself,” he said, and Pucci quickly turned to face him. “Well, I’m already there, and I’m the worst.”

Pucci only stared at him, so he continued. “If there’s anyone I trust to take Heaven back from me, it’s you. You, and the rest of the Joestars.”

Pucci at least didn’t look so stone-faced anymore; now, he was just perplexed. “The Joestars? The Kujos are inconsequential. The rest are too old, too weak, or too naïve to face me.”

“I don’t mean… listen to me. The reason I no longer have the Joestar birthmark is because I no longer have Jonathan’s body. What I need now is not their blood, but instead to have the Joestars’ luck on my side.” He felt the familiar flames of ambition giving him strength; his sharp nails tapped against the wooden surface of the desk to punctuate his decree. “I’m going to save Jonathan Joestar from myself. Would you not erase the original sin if given the chance? Is that not what our goal was in taking Heaven? To allow even the most sinful to have a paradise?”

Pucci stared at him blankly and let the silence stretch before speaking. “The reason that people fail… is due to the feeling of shame. People die because of shame. They think that they could have done things differently in the past, or they wonder why they did the things that they did. Because of their regrets, people feel shame. They slowly become weak, and they fail.” The emotion made plain upon Pucci’s face, Dio realized with shock, was disappointment.

“Perhaps you feel shame for killing your brother,” Pucci continued. “I do not intend to use Heaven to alleviate shame. My goals are beyond that. I am going to use it to change humanity for the better.”

Dio leaned forward and before he could stop himself, he said: “And did you not feel shame for Perla that set you on this path in the first place?”

Pucci closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but his expression was held carefully calm. Dio felt rage and despair roiling within him as if they were competing for overwhelming supremacy. He hated being angry with Pucci, but it turned out that his double hadn’t even needed to set up a trap. Pucci had merely… surpassed him, he realized, and he felt a tightness in his throat.

Something wet landed on his shoulder and stung at his skin. The ceiling was dripping. Before Dio could react, Whitesnake dropped down and swiped a hand across his forehead. Two large discs were removed halfway, but three miniature ones also popped out and fell to the floor with a clatter. Dio hissed and tried to retreat but he felt rooted to the floor. Pucci looked at the miniature discs inquisitively, and Whitesnake kicked at them. They slid across the wooden floor and stopped at Pucci’s feet.

Dio fought against rising panic as he neared dangerously close to pleading. “Pucci. I am asking you to trust me. You don’t know what taking Heaven will mean.”

“The meaning is beyond you. Perhaps the meaning is even beyond me.” Pucci's face was like stone as he approached. “But I trust in our original judgment. Be happy, my friend.” His fingers gently pulled at the discs. “‘But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.’ I will find our new heaven, Dio.”

The air cracked. Pucci staggered back and blood began to swell from his shoulder.

“Jesus, you two deserve each other,” Hol Horse said as he took steady aim with the Emperor. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Those discs are my ticket outta here, so we’ll be needin’ them back.”

Dio bent forward, slammed his head into the desk, and forced the two main discs back in. Pucci took a ragged breath and fell back against the wall. 

“I didn’t shoot to kill, man. Don’t be all dramatic about it.” Hol nodded towards Dio. “Come on. Get the discs back. I hope you have a plan B in mind because this ain’t gonna work.”

Pucci collapsed to the ground. Whitesnake writhed and the surface of the Stand shimmered. Dio lunged forward, reaching for the discs. 

Whitesnake split apart, revealing something half-formed within. The desk slammed into Dio’s chest and the chair went with it, falling sideways and pushing him towards the wall. He managed to slip to the side and avoid being crushed. To his surprise, he continued to slide, falling past the doorway and into the main hall of the chapel. Hol went flying back as well; Dio grabbed his collar and pulled him towards himself. Before they slammed into the far wall, he stopped time and looked up, wary of more heavy objects coming to hit them. Thankfully, there were none; the pews were bolted to the floor and the only things in the air were some stray papers from the desk. Time began again. He landed on the far wall in a crouch while holding an astonished Hol.

“What the hell is that,” Hol said, pointing up towards Pucci. Dio craned his neck as he tried to look up at him. Pucci was standing up again, bracing himself against the wall for support, but his feet were flat on the ground while Dio and Hol were crouched upon the wall. His Stand was floating unsteadily beside him. Whitesnake was molting.

Chapter Text

The fissure in Whitesnake’s form widened, revealing something green and writhing. Pucci lifted his hands to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“Okay, okay, his Stand is freaking out,” Hol stammered. “Do I shoot him?”

“No,” Dio said quickly. “This is good. This is perfect.”

Hol gave him a look of absolute bewilderment.

“I needed this change in perspective,” Dio said with a half-laugh as he gestured towards the wall they were standing on. Hol furrowed his eyebrows and now looked as if he was considering shooting Dio instead.

“We do need those discs back,” Dio continued, “but this proves to me that not even I can discourage him from reaching Heaven. Perhaps no version of myself can.”

“Uh, the end of the world problem, though. I thought we were gonna fix that.” Hol lifted Emperor and began to take aim, but Dio pushed his arm down.

“The world is going to end, Hol. It’s unavoidable. If it’s in Tohth, it’s going to happen. However, I am going to find a way to take advantage of it. If the tides of fate are changing, what we need to do is ride the wave and try not to drown.” He grasped Hol’s wrist and adjusted his aim so that Emperor was instead pointing at Pucci’s feet. The three miniature discs were trapped beneath his shoe.

Before Hol could shoot, Pucci shook his head and his Stand shuddered. He held a hand to the bullet wound on his shoulder and frowned. “Not… yet. Not here,” he snapped, and Whitesnake made a hideous cracking noise as it mostly reformed. The change in gravity relented. Dio and Hol fell to the floor.

Dio stopped time and prepared to sprint across the chapel, but he paused when he saw the fallen printed papers at his feet.

Was that a photo of Dario? His face twisted in disgust and he crouched in order to look closer. The face was similar, but it was a younger man, and in modern clothing. He also had a tattoo of a semicircle beneath one eye. There was text on the paper; it seemed to be a printout of a file from a juvenile detention center.

He felt a weaker version of the same instinctive pull that had brought him to Pucci. He glanced around, searching the floor for any documents that had fallen from Pucci's desk. The stopped time would be running out soon; he grabbed whatever papers he could find.

Time began again. “Priorities have changed,” he said to Hol. “We’re going to make a trade.”

“What?” Hol regained his balance and grimaced at Dio. “Trade?”

He felt an uneasy fatigue pulling at him, but he stopped time again. “We’re retreating, for now.”

“Running away, you mean,” Hol grumbled.

“Call it whatever you like.” Dio looked back at the frozen Pucci; he took in his dark eyes, his serious frown, and his familiar burning determination. Dio nodded to himself, then turned his attention back to Hol. “I know what he’ll be looking for next. We need to get to them before he does. Then, we can trade them to him for the discs.”

He ran from the chapel. Hol let out a frustrated grunt, fixed his hat, and sprinted off after him.

Dio was grateful that their little scuffle hadn’t alerted the guards. He kept watch of the parking lot as Hol scraped the wires in the car together. In any case, Dio was worried less about the guards and more about Stand users coming after them. Pucci had a habit of collecting Stand discs that caught his interest; it was likely that he had installed a few useful ones into the people around him. 

“There!” The engine rumbled and Hol jumped into the front seat. “Where are we going?”

“Avon Park. We’ll be going west,” Dio said as he slid into the back and swung the door closed. “How much gasoline do we have?”

The tires squealed a complaint as Hol got the car turned around and sped for the bridge. “Not great. About two ticks from empty.”

Refueling would take precious time. They needed a head start. Dio dug his fingers into his temples in annoyance. “Drive as fast as you can, but when I tell you to, you need to follow the speed limit.”

“Got it.” Hol nodded and pulled onto the exit bridge. Time stopped and the engine growled. The car flew past the frozen guard station, where one guard was looking at the shattered barrier and holding a walkie-talkie.

They made it across the bridge and time began again. Dio leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. Hol barely decelerated as he made the turn onto the main road and momentum had him leaning sharply out of his seat.

Time stopped again. It was late, so the highway was thankfully less crowded, but Hol still broke a sweat and went tense as he swerved between the lanes and avoided the frozen cars.

Time began, but then stopped almost immediately. Hol ventured a glance up at the road signs; he remembered passing several gas stations back in Port St. Lucie, but at the speed they were going, they might make it out of town and back onto the interstate before Dio said to stop.

Time began again and Dio made a concerning, low-in-the-throat noise. Hol glanced up at the rearview mirror. “You good back there?”

“Eyes on the road, Hol,” Dio hissed. Time stopped again. He hadn’t pushed The World like this since… well, probably against Jotaro in Cairo.

His original plan had been to convince Pucci to at least help him, but Pucci could not be deterred at all from his singular goal. Dio had also brought up Perla in anger, which he viscerally regretted. He knew Pucci’s motivations couldn’t be reduced to something as simple as that. It was a regrettable exchange, but not unsalvageable. The folded papers in his pocket were proof of that. He would have preferred Pucci to remain a genuine ally, not someone he would have to manipulate further. But if Pucci was looking for Dio’s offspring, then he must think he needed them to access Heaven. If Dio got to them first, he could hand them over to Pucci in exchange for the discs.

And if Pucci refused even that, it would still work out in his favor. His children had been… an experiment of sorts, a way to test out a theory. But if they had even a hint of Joestar blood, then they fit into his second plan.

The first thing his double had done was reinforce the inevitability of Dio’s loss in Cairo. Why was Jotaro defeating him in Cairo just as unavoidable as the end of the world? Dio had come to the conclusion that it was because Jotaro was a Joestar, of course. Joestars had an inherent determination. They found a way to win.

If he could gather up every Joestar at once…

He was still working out the finer details of that plan.

Time stopped and began again. Dio clenched his teeth and leaned forward. His body was aching and uneasy. He felt drained. Time stopped once more. Hol pulled onto the interstate.

“Slow down,” Dio muttered. Hol settled into the right lane and dropped to the speed limit as time began again.

“We’re real low,” Hol said as he tapped the gas dial. “I’ll probably have to take the next exit. Goin’ fast really chugged through it.”

Dio didn’t respond. Hol squinted up at the rearview. “Hol, I have a favor to ask of you,” Dio said quietly.

“Don’t like the sound of that,” Hol replied with a grimace. “Please don’t tell me you’re hungry.”

Dio was silent. Hol hunched forward over the steering wheel and drew his shoulders up to his ears. “Hell no. Don’t I have to drive? I don’t—”

“It won’t kill you,” Dio said flatly.

“I don’t wanna be a vampire,” Hol spat. “Or a zombie.”

Dio rolled his eyes. “And I don’t want you to be one, either.” His expression grew more thoughtful as he remembered the first time he had realized the mask’s true purpose. “I had my blood partially drained by a vampire before and I was completely fine.”

“Oh, you’re completely fine, are you?” Hol retorted, a high-pitched panic edging into his voice. Dio began to reach forward and he winced away. “Don’t touch me or I’ll crash the goddamn car.”

“Would you like for Pucci to find us, Hol? I’m sure he’d enjoy adding your Emperor to his collection.”

“I honestly might prefer that. I saw all the shit you did when you had your dinners in Cairo! Hell, half the time I had to help clean up!”

Dio stared at him for a few moments, then crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Hmph. Fine.”

Hol didn’t relax. He remained hunched over the wheel and he shot regular glances at the rearview mirror as he took the next exit.

“You flew into Japan quite late, didn’t you?” Dio asked. “Did you have the chance to eat dinner? Are you hungry? You can get food at the gas station.” He waved a languid hand. “You can refuel yourself and the car. But I’ll just sit back here. Starved. Exhausted.”

Hol glowered at the rearview mirror. “Christ alive, are you guilt-tripping me?”

Dio shrugged and leaned his head against the window.

They drove on in silence. Hol let out a frustrated sigh. “How… how much do you need?”

“Some,” Dio replied. Hol rolled his eyes and prepared a retort but a hand plunged into his neck and he nearly swerved the car off the road. He yelled and gripped the steering wheel as he felt his pulse fighting against the draining pull of Dio’s fingers.

It was over as quickly as it began. Hol slumped forward and blinked as Dio drew his arm back and settled into his seat.

“What the hell,” Hol muttered. “I thought you had to bite people.”

Dio wiped his hand off on the car seat and frowned. “Hol, as your friend, I say this out of concern for your health. You simply must reduce your sodium intake. I feel as if I just tried to drink from the Atlantic.”

“Oh, you don’t get to be the one complaining about this,” Hol retorted, and the engine made a sputtering noise. 

“There’s a gas station to the left of the next intersection,” Dio said. “Let’s stop there.”

Hol’s credit card would not work in the future due to what used to be a reasonable expiry date, and he wouldn’t get more money unless he attempted to rob a Stand-blind clerk with Emperor, so Dio begrudgingly left the car and went into the gas station with him. He stood a few paces away from the checkout as if considering the lottery tickets. Once the clerk opened the register, he stopped time and took some money for himself; who knew what price inflation was like in the future, but a hundred dollars seemed like it would cover their costs. 

Hol had wandered off towards the food, refusing to heed Dio’s diet advice. He looked at the wide arrangement of snacks and frowned. There were twenty kinds of jerky and yet none of them were the brand he liked. He mourned the fact that perhaps they had gone out of business in the future and instead meandered over to the pretzels. There was a man standing in front of him and the aisle was narrow. Hol approached him and tried to shimmy by, but the man was so engrossed in the snack selection that he didn’t notice.

“Slim Jim?” the man muttered to himself. He put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, peering down at the shelf display with dark eyes. “Col cavolo.”

Hol was about to just squeeze past him when the man looked down at his wrist. “Che cosa ne pensi?”

Several tiny things crawled out of his sleeve. Hol watched with his mouth agape as a group of miniature Stands considered the Slim Jim box and chattered amongst themselves.

Could Pucci have already sent Stand users out to find them? Dio had given them such a head start that it seemed impossible, unless Pucci had previously stationed them in a radius around the prison and just called them to alert them of their approach. Hol glanced over his shoulder. He could see the lottery ticket station and part of the checkout counter, but where was Dio? He scanned over the tops of the shelves and spotted a familiar head of golden hair.

How would he get his attention without alerting or losing track of the Stand user? Emperor manifested in his hand and he turned away. His Stand made a mildly loud, bassy noise when firing, but perhaps…

He made a loud, hacking cough into his shoulder, grabbed a noisy foil back of chips, and shot Emperor all at once. The Stand user glanced at him with mild annoyance but soon returned his attention back to his hand, where his Stand was arguing noisily. Hol faked a sniffle and wiped his nose on his sleeve, but he focused on sending the bullet over the next aisle and around the corner before it would lose momentum. It zipped past where he had seen Dio standing and he adjusted the trajectory; he heard a pop-pop-pop as the bullet passed through a few snack bags. He hoped it would be enough to grab his attention as the bullet used the last of its momentum to round the corner and return to the beginning of Hol’s aisle, where it fell to the ground and pointed inward.

He saw Dio’s head bob as he startled at the sudden noise, and then he began to walk. He circled around the outside of the aisles and as he approached he began to speak. “Mista? Cosa c'è che non va? Hanno già mangiato?”

Oh shit, that wasn’t Dio. Hol tucked Emperor between his palm and his thigh in an attempt to hide it without having to send it away. 

The Stand user stood and looked at the end of the aisle in confusion. “Eh? Non abbiamo ancora deciso.”

“Non gli hanno sparato?” The person Hol thought was Dio strode into the aisle; the similarities did not end at the hair. They had the same sort of angular face and piercing eyes, though his eyes were a calm blue instead of the unnerving amber. Something about his posture also echoed Dio; he emanated a confident, statuesque steadiness even under the blaring fluorescent lights and grimy surroundings of the gas station. The man glanced briefly at Hol, who was now pretending to be absolutely enthralled by the chip selection, before tilting his head inquisitively at Mista.

“Hey, Hol, how many gallons of gasoline do you think the car takes? I must pre-pay in order to fill it.” Dio came around the other end of the aisle and waved a fistful of cash. He stared at the perplexed-looking Hol and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Mista looked up at Dio blankly, then back at Hol. Hol looked at Mista with a growing grimace, then peered back over his shoulder at the blonde man, whose eyes were wide with surprise.

“Ah.” Giorno cleared his throat and gave a nod of recognition. “Hello, father.”

Chapter Text

Hol and Mista looked from Giorno to Dio. Dio frowned and held up a finger. “Now, hold on.” He reached into his pocket. Mista narrowed his eyes and his posture shifted defensively; when Dio merely pulled out some folded paper, Mista didn’t quite relax, but he also didn’t move any further.

Dio flipped through the printed sheets. The first had the picture of the man who looked like Dario from the juvenile detention center. The second was also from a juvenile detention center, but it was a psychiatric referral form. The third was a heavily redacted medical file. Only the first had a photo. “Let me guess,” Dio said. “Donatello? It would correspond with the Italian.”

Mista and Giorno shared a look that spoke volumes. Hol felt a vague dread as Dio tsked and went to the next paper.

“No? Is it Rikiel, then?” Dio held the printout close to his face and tried to read the grainy, scanned-in document. He shot a sharp glare over the top of the paper at Giorno. “Or are you another one that Pucci already spoke to?”

“That name is not familiar to me,” Giorno answered.

Dio narrowed his eyes and re-folded the printouts. Hol felt sweat break out on his forehead. If the blonde guy was Dio’s kid, there was no way he didn’t have a Stand. Plus there was Mista, whose tiny team of whining Stands had gone silent and were now watching the exchange warily. If they had been sent here by Pucci…

The door to the gas station jangled as it opened. They all turned to look at it, but a customer had simply walked outside. They had unfortunately let in a stray pigeon, which was now up in the fluorescent lights and cooing in confusion. Its antics didn’t do much to diffuse the tension; Dio tilted his head and crossed his arms as he peered at Giorno. “Oh? Then you’re just here completely by chance?”

The pigeon flew over them. Hol heard a small splat. He grimaced and looked at the white splotch on his shoulder. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Dio ignored him, but Mista was struggling to fight back a smirk. Hol wiped the sweat off his forehead and sighed. Christ, Florida was muggy.

“I have no ill will towards you,” Giorno said, his gaze cool and even. “And I have no plans to attack you. I think this meeting was just... inevitable.”

“Of course.” Dio leaned forward. “Inevitable. Fated. Would you even call it gravity?”

“Um.” Hol swallowed, his throat suddenly parched. He waved his hand in front of his face but found no relief for the sudden burning sensation on his skin. Giorno glanced at him, then at the splotch of pigeon shit on his shoulder, and then up at the ceiling.

“Ow, ow, ow, god damn !” There was steam coming off of Hol’s skin. He grimaced in pain and stumbled back against the chips. Mista leapt out of the way and went to Giorno’s side. Dio grabbed Hol by the shoulder to prevent him from falling to the floor, and he pursed his lips as his hand blistered at the heat coming off of him. He focused, and his arm began to freeze; the chill fought against the growing heat. Hol yelped as one arm turned to ice and the other boiled, leaving the rest of his body at an uneasy but safe balance.

“Stand attack,” Giorno said quietly. “Mista—”

Mista pulled out a gun (a real gun, Dio noticed, and he hoped the apathetic store clerk wouldn’t decide to look over at them any time soon). Giorno squinted up at the ceiling. “The pigeon,” he stated.

Dio followed his gaze. The pigeon bobbed its head as it strutted across the top of the fluorescent light. Upon closer inspection, the back of its head glistened; a Stand disc had been forced into its body.

Dio went to stop time but realized that Hol still had his sticker on; it was frozen into his arm. Pucci may have stolen his discs, but much like the deceased Cinderella, the effects remained even when the Stand was indisposed. That was the whole reason they had been able to get a head start in the first place. If Dio let go of him to kill the pigeon, he would still boil to death in the stopped time. If he jumped up and carried Hol with him, his frozen arm would probably snap off and then he would boil to death.

It would be a fairly pointless sacrifice when there were two other capable Stand users nearby. Then again, Dio wasn’t sure that they were willing to help him. For all he knew, they were in cahoots with the pigeon.

Mista raised his gun and fired three times. The gunshots were nearly deafening in the small space, and Dio heard the store clerk shriek. He also heard tinier, higher-pitched shrieks as Mista’s Stand flew out with the bullets. Mista focused as they prepared to ricochet the bullet around the ceiling, but Dio noticed that Giorno was now staring down at the tiled floor, where there was another white splotch.

Dio heard the hissing of growing steam. He stopped time.

“Walk carefully,” he said to Hol as he steered him forward by his frozen arm. “There must be a water pipe under the floor. We need to leave before it cooks us.”

“What about those two?” Hol asked.

Dio sighed, considered it, and then sighed again. “Well, that one did fire at the bird. Perhaps they actually will be our allies.”  He grabbed Mista by the collar with his free hand and then hoisted him over his shoulder. He then hooked his arm under Giorno’s shoulder and began dragging him along. It was awkward and slow but it would be enough to get them out of the gas station before time began again. 

Dio dipped his shoulder and Mista tumbled to the pavement with a shout, landing on top of a bewildered Giorno. There was a high pitched whistling and steam exploded out of the floor inside the gas station.

Hol waved his arm and grinned. “Oh, we must be out of its range. That feels way better. But, uh. Ow. Ow, ow, ow.” He yanked his frozen arm away from Dio. “Christ, that’s cold.”

Mista rolled to his side and crouched. He aimed the gun at the entrance to the gas station. “I can’t tell if I hit it. Seems like a dumb pigeon, though. You think it cooked itself in there?”

Giorno got to his feet. He peered at the fogged-up windows and frowned. “No. It’s still alive.” He paused. “So is the clerk, but I think they fell unconscious.”

“Let’s just get the hell out of here. You two got a car?” Hol asked. “Ours is outta gas. And stolen.”

Mista squinted at him. “You want to run away from a pigeon?”

“I agree.” Giorno nodded at Hol. “We should run away from the pigeon.” 

Mista pursed his lips in confusion at him, so Giorno explained further. “This is a gas station. It wouldn’t be safe if it flew out here and superheated the gas tanks.” He pointed towards an inconspicuous van. “We’ll stay out of its range. A pigeon can fly at speeds up to 120 kilometers per hour. If it pursues us, we’ll lure it onto the interstate and get a clear shot at it there.”

“That fast? That’s what, like 80 miles per hour?” Hol frowned and hugged his thawing arm to his chest. “The interstate here barely hits 70.”

Mista clicked a key fob and the van unlocked. “We have a good source on where the speed traps are. We should be able to avoid them.”

Giorno paused on his way into the driver’s seat and gave Mista a wide-eyed look. “Oh. Consigliere.”

“Cross that bridge when we get there, huh?” Mista ducked past Dio and jumped into the front passenger seat.

Hol slumped into the seat behind Giorno and Dio sat behind Mista. As Dio moved to slide the van door closed they heard a coo and the pigeon waddled out of the entranceway. Giorno rummaged through the center console and pulled out a half-eaten bag of sunflower seeds. He rolled the window down and swung the bag, flinging the seeds out into the parking lot. “I hate to litter, but perhaps that will distract it for a short while.” 

“My sunflower seeds,” Mista said with a pout. “We didn’t even get to buy more snacks at this place.”

“Buy? We have a tight budget to follow, Mista.” Giorno put the car into reverse, held the steering wheel with one hand, and dug into his pockets with another. He tossed a small assortment of slightly crushed candy and granola bars onto Mista’s lap. “Thankfully, the clerk was very inattentive.”

“Ah, molte grazie.” Mista opened a granola bar that immediately degraded to dry crumbs in his hands. He sighed.

Hol pressed his face against the window as the van pulled onto the road. “Hey, I think the sunflower seeds worked. The bird’s stuffin’ its face.”

“Pucci likely inscribed directions to follow us onto the disc,” Dio said flatly. “It won’t stay distracted for much longer.”

“Disc?” Giorno took a quick right turn and glanced around for the way to the interstate. “The one in the pigeon’s back?”

“Let’s trade answers,” Dio said as he crossed his arms. “Yes, the disc in the pigeon’s back. That pigeon doesn’t really have a Stand of its own. The Stand was installed there by someone else. The disc can also contain information such as simple commands. Now, answer me this: have we met before?”

Giorno responded immediately. “No.”

Dio frowned. He had a hunch that he was lying, and that some sort of further time-space travel shenanigans must be involved in such immediate recognition, but perhaps he was just being too paranoid. He half-wished that he had Speedwagon around as a convenient lie detector. “Then how did you recognize me?”

“Is that another question?” Giorno glanced at the rearview mirror. “I’ll still answer. I have three reasons. The first is that we look quite similar, no?”

Hol gave a quick nod. “I mean, I got the two of you confused.”

“The second reason is that I have dealt with the Speedwagon Foundation before,” Giorno explained. “I was once contacted by them about, well, my paternal lineage. I did some digging of my own after that.” He paused and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then reached back into his pocket. “The third reason is that you gave my mother a labeled glossy headshot of yourself.” He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open.

Well, there he was. Hol knew better than to laugh when he was sitting right beside Dio but he looked physically pained as he restrained a guffaw. Dio didn’t think that he personally gave her the photo but the early Cairo years were a hazy blood-drunk time.

“My turn for a question.” Giorno merged onto the interstate. “I take it I have other siblings?”

“Yes.” Dio crossed his arms. “At least three. Would you like to meet them? If you know the way to Avon Park, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“Speaking of which.” Mista reloaded his revolver. “Is it following us?”

Giorno was silent for a few moments, and then he nodded. “Yes.”

“My turn again,” Dio stated. “If you’ve done your research, you know exactly how my Stand works, and you know how dangerous it can be. In the interest of trust, safety, and our continued allyship, I’ll tell you that his Stand,” he said, nodding towards Hol, “is a gun.” Hol sputtered and frowned, but Dio ignored him. “We’ve seen some of what your Stand can do,” he said to Mista. “It seems straightforward enough. But yours,” he said, and he tilted his head in thought as he peered at Giorno. “You just used it to track the pigeon, correct?”

Mista had finished reloading his gun, but now he was fiddling with it in such a way that Dio could tell that he was trying very hard not to look at Giorno.

“Your Stand is very dangerous, yes.” Giorno glanced up at the rearview mirror, his expression blank. “If you’re expecting the same of me, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” He looked out the left window, made sure the lane was clear, and shifted over. “My Stand can sense living beings within a certain radius if I focus on a specific area, such as within the gas station or over the highway. It doesn’t have many applications in direct combat, but it is good for surveillance. I call it Radar Love.”

Giorno had an excellent poker face, but Mista’s posture was just the tiniest amount off. He shot a glance at Giorno, then rolled the window down and held up his revolver.

“My turn for a question,” Giorno said, and he gave a small smile. “I’d ask you how you’re alive, but I’m sure it’s some overly complicated bullshit. It might make for an interesting conversation later, but for now, I just need to know that I can trust you.” He swung up one arm and pointed towards the back of the van with his thumb. “I suppose my question is more of a request. Can you reach into the back and pick up the turtle for me?”

Dio quirked an eyebrow but he turned and looked into the back of the van. He was surprised to find that the space had been converted into a sort of terrarium, with a pebble substrate, assorted plants, and even a shallow pond that sloshed gently with the movement of the car. A turtle was perched on a log and it stared at Dio impassively. It had an odd metal contraption on its back.

Hol craned his neck to look back, as well. “What, does the turtle have a Stand, too?”

“Yes,” Giorno answered, “but not a lethal one. On the back of the turtle, there is a small keypad. I need you to press the upper left, upper middle, center right, and bottom left.”

Dio pressed the buttons; a gear spun and the metal slid over a hinge and hung off the side. Revealed beneath the metal plate was a key with a circular ruby-red gem. Hol blinked and Dio was gone. The turtle landed on the car seat with a light thump. “Hold on,” he stammered. “What the hell? Where’d he go?”

“In the turtle,” Giorno replied nonchalantly. There was a mechanical whir and the metal plate slid back up and over the key.

Mista frowned. “Jeez, shouldn’t we have given him a heads up?”

Giorno pursed his lips. “The consigliere is strong and I respect him greatly, but… I think if we told him ahead of time, he would solidify his decision too early. The surprise will keep his head clear.”

Hol picked up the turtle and jammed his finger against the keypad, following the same pattern Giorno had just given. The plate refused to move. “Did you just trap him in a goddamn turtle?”

“Not trapped,” Giorno answered. “Just secured. The code changes every time the cover is opened. The consigliere will text us the new code if he wants us to let him back out. I have no doubt that Dio could force his way out if he wants to, but I do hope that it doesn’t come to that.”

“Consigliere?” Hol held up the turtle and squinted at it. “Y’all are with the mafia?”

Mista turned in his seat and glared at him. “Enough questions, huh?”

The ground rumbled and orange light flared up behind them. Mista poked his head out the window and looked back. “Fucking pigeon,” he muttered. “It overheated someone’s gas tank.”

Giorno sighed. “Unfortunate for the driver, but it might block any more traffic from entering the bird’s range. Can you see it?”

Mista squinted. “It’s dark, but the flames… there.” His Stand appeared and hovered just outside the window, whooping with excitement. He fired the revolver and they flew after the bullet.

Hol frowned and held the turtle close to his ear. “Merde alors!” he heard an oddly familiar voice shout, and the metal cover rattled.

(notes in the body text for the sake of HTML once more: 

The brief Italian was 'thank you'; the brief French was 'well, shit!'

The Stand used by the pigeon is the same one that Pucci used in an attempt to boil Foo Fighters to death.

Giorno's fake Stand, Radar Love, is named after the Golden Earring song.

Speaking of music, I made the attacker a pigeon for a somewhat convoluted reason: The song I've been vibing off of for this part of the story, Dollywood by Hail Mary Mallon, has some pretty fitting lines for the Mudad Family Reunion crew but it also has a direct reference to Pigeon by Cannibal Ox which is just a good song in general.

For funsies, here's the other songs that I listened to for specific parts: this one for Phantom Blood Groundhog Day, and also this one. Also oh boy this is where the title of the dang fic came from

There's some other songs on my writing playlist but they're mostly for parts I've yet to write so I'll link 'em later.

As always, thanks for reading/kudosing/commenting etc! You all have been a real delight. <3 )

Chapter Text

The inside of the turtle’s strange Stand was a small but comfortable lounge with a closet, a few couches, and a coffee table. On the far wall was a desk covered in computer parts and several laptops open to various spreadsheets, programs, and webpages. More importantly, in front of the desk there was a familiar man sitting in a wheeled office chair. Dio stared at Polnareff. Polnareff stared back. The silence stretched.

Dio raised his hand and pushed at the metal plate covering the key. It rattled against the latch but did not move.

“Merde alors!” Polnareff’s face contorted with confusion. “You’re NOT a ghost?!” Dio took a deep breath and stared off into the middle distance as Polnareff began to rant. “How on Earth? How could you possibly be here right now? And alive? What the fuck!”

Dio let out the breath he had been holding as a sigh. “Polnareff.”

“Don’t you say a word,” Polnareff spat. “Shut up. Shut up.” His chest heaved as he struggled to calm himself.

Dio lifted his hands with his palms out. Polnareff pointed at him and scowled. “Don’t even try anything. You can’t hurt me anymore, you know that?” 

When Dio narrowed his eyes in confusion, Polnareff laughed helplessly. “Want to know why? Because I’m a ghost! I’m already dead!” His panic solidified into fiery determination. “You’re trapped in here with me, not the other way around.”

“Polnareff.” His tone was firm but not unkind. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Ha ha fucking ha.” Polnareff glowered at him, but his eyes flashed with sudden fear. “How did you get in? What did you do to Giorno?”

“He’s perfectly fine.” He waved a hand towards the computers. “You can contact him, can’t you?”

Polnareff squinted at him, but he turned to one of the laptops and typed out a brief message.

Outside of the turtle, Giorno’s phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a preview of the text: the pixels spelled out a simple WTF? In the midst of pigeon-based chaos, Giorno pointed at his phone. “No texting and driving. Mista, would you reply for me?”

“Hey, make yourself useful and give us some cover fire,” Mista said over his shoulder to Hol. He then peered down at the screen, read the message, and snorted. “What should I say?”

Giorno frowned thoughtfully and swerved to avoid flaming debris. “Judgement,” he finally answered, and Mista tapped at the screen.

Polnareff read their response and folded the laptop shut. He turned in his seat and stared imperiously at Dio. “Alright. You get to talk. I determine when you get to leave. You better be convincing, because if you break your way out of here, they’ll know, and it won’t end well for you.” He crossed his arms.

“What, should I be worried about a Stand that can kick bullets around and another that’s a glorified radar dish?” Dio sneered and watched Polnareff’s reaction closely. 

Polnareff had grown better at hiding his tells over time. He only frowned at Dio and shook his head. “You’re not off to a good start with this convincing thing.”

Dio let his expression soften. He took a seat on the couch, crossed his legs, and bounced his heel against his shin. “Alright, then. Let’s catch up. So, you work for my son now?”

“He’s not your son,” Polnareff spat. “Not in any way that matters.”

Dio tilted his head. “Is that so? He looks an awful lot like me. There’s no overlap in personality at all?” Polnareff narrowed his eyes and Dio laughed. “You’re a real family man, Polnareff. I honestly do respect that about you. How do you know him so well? What, did you find him and raise him after Cairo?”

“No. We met very fortuitously ten years ago. We work together as allies.” He smirked. “Unlike some people, he can actually persuade others to join his cause without putting a cancerous meat spike in their head.”

Dio stared at him blankly and considered what to say. “I only did that to you,” he finally stated, “because I could recognize you were a good man.”

“No, you did it because you wanted me to be able to work in a group that included the same man that murdered my sister,” Polnareff retorted.

“Both statements can be true,” Dio replied. “Here’s another truth: you came to me because you wanted a purpose and I gave you one.”

Polnareff shook his head slowly. “You are so damn full of yourself, you know that?” He reached over to the laptop with a sigh.

“Wait.” Polnareff glared at him, but Dio kept his expression carefully calm. “Polnareff, I…” He trailed off and Polnareff looked at him expectantly. “I need your help, but I want you to do it on your own terms.”

Polnareff went wide-eyed and at first he was silent, but he let out a strained wheeze that turned into a loud guffaw. He threw his head back as he laughed. Dio felt hot rage accreting in the pit of his stomach.

Polnareff let out one last cackle before his face grew deadly serious. “No.”

“Don’t do it for me, then.” Dio crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. “Do it for Giorno.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

Dio pulled the folded up papers out of his pocket. “He has siblings.”

Polnareff shook his head in astonishment. “Are you serious?”

He waved the printouts and shrugged. “At least three.”

“At least?! You don’t know ?”

“They’re in danger,” Dio stated. “So is Giorno. Do you remember Enrico Pucci?”

“Kind of.” Polnareff frowned. “Cairo. Priest guy. I met him like, once.”

“Let’s just say that he’s trying to pick up where I left off,” Dio said. “He will want to bring all of my descendants together. It will not be safe for them if he does so.”

“What do you mean?” Polnareff furrowed his eyebrows, his expression taut with concern. “What would happen?”

“The end of the world,” Dio answered.

“You’re bullshitting.”

“I’m not.”

Polnareff frowned and turned towards the computer. “Is this… this is why Jotaro’s in the hospital?”

Now Dio had his turn to be confused. “What?”

Polnareff quirked an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t know? He’s in some sort of weird coma right now. The Speedwagon Foundation is being cagey about his location, but I figured I could find a way to locate him. That’s the whole reason I wanted to come to Florida.”

Dio pursed his lips. “Kujo’s in a coma?”

Polnareff tilted his head. “You know, the fact that you’re surprised is actually kind of promising.”

Dio fell silent and Polnareff watched him, his expression slowly souring into a vague disgust. “Did Jotaro ever talk to you about Morioh?” Dio finally asked.

“That whole thing with the serial killer,” Polnareff replied. “Only barely. Jotaro is a very private person and I was deep undercover when that was going on.” 

“Jotaro could vouch for me,” Dio bluffed. “I helped him catch that serial killer.” Well, that was at least partially true. It was low on his current list of priorities, but Dio was hoping to show the killer the meaning of pain when he made it back to Morioh.

“Oh, shut up.” Polnareff rolled his eyes. “You don’t think he would have said ‘oh yeah, by the way, Dio showed up in Japan and now we’re best buds’ to me at some point?”

He shrugged. “You said it yourself, he’s a private person.”

“Not so private he’d keep quiet about,” Polnareff gestured wildly, “this.”

If Jotaro hadn’t told Polnareff, his future self must have given him a pretty good reason. Or, Dio realized with worry, he never made it back to Morioh and Jotaro had written off his reappearance as a strange fluke.

Polnareff’s expression grew doubtful and he looked away. “But maybe… I don’t know. He practically dropped off the face of the Earth for a few years and the last time he spoke to me… And his family... I think I have a more active social life and I’m a ghost stuck in a turtle.”

Dio sighed at him. “Are you willing to explain the ghost comments?”

“Not much to explain. I’m dead. My soul is stored within the turtle’s Stand,” Polnareff replied.

Dio pressed a hand to his temple in annoyance. “Yes, but how did that occur?”

“Let’s just say that we’ve had bad prior experiences with a child meeting their estranged parent,” Polnareff said flatly. 

Dio was quiet for a few moments, but his eyes flashed with curiosity. “Do you still have Silver Chariot?”

“No.” Polnareff glanced away. “Silver Chariot no longer exists.”

If ghosts didn’t have Stands, what was going on with the killer’s father and his photographs? Perhaps something else had also happened. Dio frowned. “But you can still use the computer?”

“Yeah, duh.” Polnareff flipped the laptop open. “I just have to focus. But enough about me being dead. How the hell are you alive?”

“Did you know that you could use Stand Arrows on yourself more than once?” Dio laced his fingers together and set his hands on his knee as he leaned forward. Based on Polnareff’s current tense expression, he did know. “Imagine if in Cairo I had just…” he waved his hand sharply, pantomiming an arrow piercing his heart. “Perhaps a few dozen times. There is a version of myself with such power. He has decided to use that power to… toy with me, essentially. I think he intends to kill me at some point, after using me to become even stronger.”

“Tu t’es foutu dans la merde.” Polnareff blinked at him. “I’d tell you go to fuck yourself, but it sounds like you already have.”

Dio looked at Polnareff, his expression as open and honest as he could manage. “I don’t expect any sympathy. Not from you. But I do want your help, if you will offer it.” 

“I will help Giorno as best I can. If he wants to find his siblings, I will help him with that, too. But you’re on your own beyond that,” Polnareff answered. “And Jotaro…” His expression grew melancholy. “He’s caught up in all of this, too, isn’t he? I want to help him.” He typed on the laptop and sent off a message. “There. I let them know my decision. I’ll open the door for you, but know that I’ll be watching every damn move you make,” Polnareff said. “If I see just one sign that you’re up to something, it’s over.” He let out a sigh. “Believe me, I’d love to avenge Avdol and Iggy right now. Once this is all over, I’ll still be considering it. Even if that other version of you has dibs. The second Giorno is safe, you should be watching your back.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Dio said flatly.

The lock on the metal plate whirred and Dio heard the latch pop open. He stood and approached Polnareff, holding out the printouts. “These should have enough information to allow you to find them,” he said, and Polnareff snatched the papers from his grasp. Dio lifted an arm towards the ceiling but paused and grinned at Polnareff, who furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh, by the way, Hol Horse is here, too.”

“What!” Polnareff nearly dropped the papers. “That bastard?!”

Dio smirked and exited the turtle. He slipped out of the gem and landed on a seat covered in feathers and blood. He glanced around in confusion and saw Hol to his left, who was covered in scorch marks and spitting out fluffy down. In the front, Giorno had the steering wheel in a death grip and Mista was wiping blood from his face with an expression of annoyance.

“The pigeon is dead?” Dio asked.

Giorno shot an exhausted look at the rearview mirror. “It better be.”

(merde alors = well, shit; Tu t’es foutu dans la merde = you've fucked yourself over

thank you so much for reading! I honestly didn't expect a goofy idea I had while watching an Eyes over Heaven let's play to get such great engagement. You all are really the best.

Chapter Text

“Should we be worried about more Floridian wildlife with Stands trying to chase us down?” Giorno asked. “I don’t appreciate being forced to kill animals.” He frowned and rooted around in the center console before handing a pack of tissues to an appreciative Mista. 

“It’s possible.” Dio wasn’t sure what to expect once Pucci realized that he was gathering up his sons. The pigeon was probably not meant to kill them, just to cause enough of a ruckus that Pucci could figure out where they were. Beyond that, his intentions were still a mystery. Dio figured there were two possibilities: the attacks would relent because Pucci didn’t want to bring harm to his sons, or the attacks would continue as a sort of trial-by-fire to test their mettle and ensure that they were worthy of bringing down Heaven.

And once all of his sons were brought together? Polnareff believed that they were being brought together for their safety, but Dio held no warm and fuzzy paternal feelings towards the names on the printed out files. In the best case scenario, he was handing them over to Pucci in exchange for his discs and then escaping back into the past. If they had any potential, he’d meet back up with them at the end of the world, but beyond that, he had no use for them.

And if Polnareff realized the truth, he would… do what, exactly? Use some sort of ghostly curse on him? Send Mista a text telling him to shoot Dio dead? His threats didn’t sound like empty posturing, but it was still possible that he had been bluffing.

One thing Pucci had said was still bothering him. (Well, several things that had been said were bothering him, but that was besides the point.) He had described the Joestars as inconsequential. Jotaro was in a coma and the Speedwagon Foundation was involved. Dio put two and two together: Pucci had managed to defeat Jotaro somehow, probably by stealing his discs.

What other Joestars would be around in 2012? He didn’t have high hopes for Joseph, but Josuke should still be able to fight. He’d have to ask Polnareff about getting a hold of him later.

“What kind of enemy are we dealing with? Is there a reason that they’re sending animals instead of doing the work themselves?” Giorno asked. His tone made it clear that he didn’t hold the unknown enemy in very high regard.

Dio restrained the urge to be defensive. “The enemy is a man that can remove and reinstall Stands in the form of discs, as you’ve seen. If he is sending others after us, it is only because he is unable to do it in person. Trust me when I say that anything he does, he does out of absolute necessity.”

“I see.” Giorno looked thoughtful. The cover on the turtle rattled again.

“Oh my God!” Hol threw himself into the corner of the seat in shock as he pointed at the turtle. “You’re the consigliere!”

“Yeah, duh. Nice to see you too, asshole,” Polnareff grumbled. His partially-transparent head and torso hovered just above the gem in the turtle’s back. “Giorno, I have three leads on your siblings. I’ll keep working on finding Jotaro in the meantime, but what do you want to do?”

Giorno glanced back at Dio. “Is this enemy also looking for them?”

“Yes. We should find them before he does.”

“Then let’s start with the closest one. An address to start, but supplementary information would be appreciated.” Giorno frowned. “They may be my siblings, but we don’t know what kind of people they are.”

“Avon Park’s the closest.” Polnareff peered at the papers. “Should be easy enough to find. Give me a minute.” He slipped back into the gem and the metal lid closed.

“Did he say Jotaro?” Hol Horse asked. “We have that kid around, we beat Pucci easy-peasy.”

“Jotaro’s in a coma, Hol,” Dio answered flatly.

He slumped forward. “I’ll be damned.”

Whatever Polnareff did on the computer was effective, because it didn’t take long for Giorno’s phone to buzz. Mista picked it up and looked at the screen. “We have an address… and a criminal record.”

Giorno nodded. “Put the address in the GPS. What sorts of crimes?”

“Petty theft and drug possession, mostly.”

The GPS started stating directions and Giorno frowned at it. “Distribution?”

Mista scrolled through the file. “Can’t tell. This is kind of a shitty scan.”

“We’ll be getting there pretty late,” Giorno said. “Do we wake him up or wait until morning? I understand the need for urgency, but we’ve been driving all day. It will be important for us to stay sharp if any more Stand attacks come.”

Mista scowled. “I’m tired as hell. There’s no way the enemy knows about the turtle, right? We can sleep on the couches in there.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Dio said. “I’ll just go in and get him. You all can stay out here.”

“You mean kidnap him,” Mista said with a frown. “If there was some creepy vampire busting into my room at the dead of night telling me I gotta go or exploding pigeons were gonna get me, I wouldn’t want to go with him. I’d freak the fuck out and refuse. We don’t want to have to fight this guy and whatever Stand user might get sent after us.”

“That won’t be a problem. I can be very persuasive,” Dio replied. “Right, Hol?”

Hol pulled his hat over his face. “Oh, Jesus.”

They found their way to a run-down apartment and pulled into a pothole-filled parking lot at around 1 AM. Ungalo’s apartment was on the interior part of the fourth floor and was shared with two other people. Based on some old blueprints Polnareff had dug up, that portion of the apartment didn’t even have openable windows, so Dio would have to break his way in from the front door.

Hol declined the offer to relax in the turtle and instead stretched out on the backseat. Mista went into the gem to get some shuteye. Giorno remained in the front seat and peered up at the building.

He rolled down the window. “There are plenty of people in there,” he said to Dio, who was leaning against the front of the car and looking at the building thoughtfully. “Some awake, some sleeping. There is no one in the entrance hallway that I can sense, so you won’t have to deal with a guard or receptionist or anything like that. Unfortunately, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Good to know.” Dio didn’t move from his spot against the car. 

Giorno fell silent for a few long moments before speaking up again. “Well? Are you going in?”

“I’m thinking,” he replied brusquely.

Giorno tapped his fingers against the car door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Dio glared at him sidelong, but there was no judgement in Giorno’s expression. “No,” he finally answered, and Giorno nodded before rolling the window back up again.

Dio wasn’t too worried about how this offspring would react to him. He was a bit more concerned about himself. This was the apartment of the one that had a picture on the printout, the one that had reminded him immediately of Dario. He was hard at work partitioning their identities in his mind, one box for the son and one box for the father, but if they acted anything alike Dio wasn’t sure what he would do. Worst case scenario: snap and kill him? Best case scenario: knock him out, throw him in a bag, and store him in the turtle until he could get rid of him? He growled with irritation and finally took the first step away from the car.

While Giorno’s recon had been vaguely helpful, Dio could feel a smaller version of the same pull that had brought him to Pucci. As he flexed his hand against the handle and snapped the lock on the front door, he hoped that the strange pull would be enough to bring him to Ungalo.

He trudged up the steps to the fourth floor, avoiding the trash that had accumulated in the stairwell corners. He swung open the landing door and the hinges squealed. The carpet in the hallway was a dull brown that had somehow been stained even browner. He heard music thumping from one room, then a muffled television newscast in another. One door matched the room number Polnareff had found. Dio pressed an ear against it; the interior was quiet compared to the other rooms. 

The handle on the door was also already broken. It could have been normal, given the disrepair of the rest of the building, but could Pucci have managed to send someone out ahead of them? He pushed the door open slowly and crept inside. 

The first room was a grimy kitchen and living room combination. Dio spotted three sets of shoes by the front door. He ventured further inward and saw a bathroom that looked like someone had cleaned it halfway but then gave up out of despair, as well as a hallway that had three closed doors. Two had light visible in the space between the door and the doorframe.

He approached the closest door and he felt a pull at his awareness. If his instincts were correct, this was his son’s room.

He opened the door; his sight briefly took in the tableau of strewn sheets, the taut and sweating face of an unattractive young man, and a half-dressed Betty Boop crawling across the bed. He slammed the door shut, heard someone yelp, swear, stumble into something heavy, and then pull the door open again. The disproportionate cartoon head was nowhere to be seen; there was, however, the damp and furious face of Ungalo glaring up at him as he slid his arms through a shirt that was still inside-out and backwards.

"What the fuck, man? At least knock first. You one of Tom's pals? You really gonna bother me this late? I already gave that piece of shit the money I owe him, so don't even fucking try to start shit with me today—"

"Ungalo." The velvety vampiric tone he had perfected over the years quickly stopped his stammering. "You don't recognize your own father?"

Ungalo squinted in confusion. "You...you're gonna have to narrow it down then, man. You know I was one of those foster frequent fliers—hey!" Dio had shouldered past him and now stood in the room, staring at the mess with barely-contained derision.

"Listen, get to the point, would you?" Ungalo spoke with affected bravado even as he scrambled to tidy up, shoving some sort of drug paraphernalia Dio didn't even recognize into a drawer (and Jonathan’s insipid quote returned to him unbidden; Dario had been nothing if not a man owned by his vices, and it seemed Ungalo could be the same way, too.)

Dio was silent. Ungalo squinted at him and crossed his arms. "I don't got all night. Either tell me that someone left me a fat load of cash in their will or get out."

Dio crossed his arms in return, his nails digging into the flesh of his forearm. "Have you spoken with any priests lately?"

"Priests?" Ungalo paused from throwing socks into an overfilled hamper. "That code for something?"

Before Dio could continue, someone slammed their fists on the door. "Open up, you freeloading son of a bitch."

Ungalo's face went pale.

"Tom?" Dio asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"No," Ungalo whispered. "Worse." He took a deep breath, flipped his shirt around so that it was at least facing the correct direction, and opened the door. "Jerry!" he cried with too much enthusiasm. "How can I help you?"

"Fuck off," said Jerry, and he shouldered his way into the room just as Dio had done. "Why are you being so damn loud in here? Also, where's rent? You’re late again."

"Rent?" Ungalo looked genuinely taken aback. "I just paid you rent—"

"You paid Ben's rent," Jerry sneered.

"Ben's rent?!"

Jerry sniffed and smeared his nose against his sleeve. "Yeah, he was short this month. You're a real good samaritan, right? Anyway, now you're short."

"The fuck—Ben's rent? Fuck Ben! That was my money!"

"Now see here, kid," Jerry said, taking on the tone of a kindergarten teacher. "All you did was give me an envelope of cash. Who could ever prove it was really yours? I like Ben more than I like you, and you’re both here on illegal sublets that I just barely allow—" He paused in his lecture when he spotted Dio. "Who's this fucker?"

"My..." Ungalo furrowed his eyebrows. "...dad?"

Jerry gave Dio a once-over before shrugging. "Uh huh. Anyway, no rent, no room. Maybe your sugar daddy can lend you the money—hork."

To Jerry, his solar plexus had suddenly folded in upon itself like a badly made origami crane. To Ungalo and Dio, a powerful yellow hand had just driven itself into his chest and then disappeared. As Jerry fell to the ground and moaned, Ungalo stared at Dio with awe.

"Ungalo." Dio's cheerful tone was dissonant with the vicious kick he was currently driving into Jerry's side. "Why don't you join me for a little family reunion?"

For a moment Ungalo’s face was blank with shock, but then he broke into a grin and slammed his foot into Jerry’s ribs. “Yeah! God, I hate this guy so much. He thinks he’s so great just ‘cause—”

He was about to continue kicking the groaning and confused Jerry in the ribs when Dio grabbed him by the shoulder and began yanking him away. “No time for that,” Dio said, and the affected warmth vanished from his tone. “Where did that woman go? Was that your Stand?”

“Stand?” Ungalo stumbled out of his room and stared at Dio blankly. Then, his face screwed up in confusion. “You could see her?!”

Dio strode out into the hallway and looked both ways before heading to the stairwell. “Do you have any special abilities that have helped you throughout your life?”

“Sometimes I get lucky and find unclaimed lottery tickets in the trash,” Ungalo answered. “But usually they only get me enough money to match the original cost of the ticket.”

Dio scowled in annoyance as he threw the door to the stairwell open. “What did you do to make that woman appear and disappear?”

“Uh.” Ungalo’s face was taut with bewilderment. “I just… I always thought I just had a really good imagination.”

Dio stopped on the landing and turned on his heel. “You can see this, yes?” 

The World manifested and loomed over Ungalo, who stared up at it with his mouth agape. “What the fuck,” he wheezed.

“If you focus, you can bring forth your own. Try it, quickly.”

Ungalo gave a nervous nod, then squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. Nothing happened. He held his breath and furrowed his eyebrows, his face growing red from effort.

Dio heard an odd rustling and he turned to look behind him. On the wall was a sign with rules about the use of the stairwell and the fire escape. Something on it was moving. He squinted and looked closer. 

The little stick figure man atop the illustration of the stairwell fell off of the sign with a metallic clink. It landed on the floor and began walking around in circles.

Dio held up a hand. “Now, stop.”

Ungalo let out the breath he had been holding and the stick figure faded away. It reappeared in its customary spot upon the sign.

“We’ll work on it more later,” Dio said. “Come on.”

“You said family reunion,” Ungalo said as he followed Dio down the steps. His tone suddenly grew terse. “You’re cool, I guess, but I don’t want to see my mom again. Didn’t go well last time.”

“I hold no affection for your mother,” Dio said plainly.

Ungalo wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Makes sense. But who is gonna be there?”

“Your brothers,” Dio answered. “Well, half-brothers. Each from a different mother.”

“Uh.” Ungalo was wide-eyed. “Okay. How… how many?”

Dio shrugged and pushed open the door to the first floor. “At least three.”

Ungalo gawked at him. “At least?!” 

Dio kept walking. He opened the entrance door and looked back. Ungalo had paused a few paces away, his expression uncertain. “I don’t know about this,” he said mostly to himself. “What’s the saying? Never meet your heroes? What am I gonna get out of meeting a bunch of half-brothers that don’t even know me? Or a dad that wasn’t around?” He frowned and looked away. “I just don’t think this could go any better than I’ve imagined it, but it could certainly go worse.”

“You have two very good reasons,” Dio said, his tone firm. “You need to understand the potential of your Stand power before it is taken away from you. You are being hunted by an enemy that could keep you from ever realizing your full potential.” Pucci probably wasn’t really looking to take away his sons’ Stand discs, but he could bluff. “Do you feel satisfied with your life, Ungalo? Are you content to fall ever further downward in this dump ?” He gestured widely at the decrepit apartment entranceway. “If you have no desire for anything more, then you are not my son, and you should stay here.”

Ungalo’s face flashed with anger and his fists tightened at his side. “The second reason?”

“Jerry probably called the police and reported an assault,” Dio responded.

“Oh shit.” His anger melted into panic. He ran forward and ducked past Dio to get out of the apartment building. “Alright, I’ll go.”

(As always, thanks for reading! <3 Please witness the fanart of Dio Considering Stickers made by 1cebear7!!)

Chapter Text

Ungalo took a few bounds into the parking lot and then looked around wildly. Giorno rolled the window down and waved. “Ciao.”

“That’s our ride,” Dio stated. Ungalo wavered and glanced back at the apartment building. Giorno swung the car door open, stepped out, and approached him with one arm outstretched.

When Ungalo tentatively shook his hand, Giorno smiled at him but his gaze flitted down to Ungalo’s forearm. Ungalo tensed and pulled away, shoving his fists into his pockets. Giorno only nodded in response. “A pleasure to meet you. Ungalo, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Ungalo replied. “You one of my half-brothers?”

Giorno nodded. “I’m sure you have questions, but…” He trailed off and glanced at Dio. “Do we need to get back on the road?”

“Yes.” He pulled open the back door and gestured at Ungalo. “Get in.”

“Alright, alright.” He hopped in, blinked in confusion at the turtle resting in the middle of the row of seats, frowned at the barely-cleaned blood splatters left by the pigeon, and then furrowed his eyebrows at Hol, who looked disoriented from having just woken up. “Who’s the cowboy?”

With Mista in the turtle, Dio could claim shotgun. He took his seat and looked back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Hol. “Hey, Hol. Would you like to be a godparent?”

Hol rubbed at his eyes. “What?”

“Now would be the time to become one,” Dio said blithely, “given the situation.”

Hol just frowned at him. Dio turned his attention to Giorno, who had just turned the keys in the ignition. The car engine rumbled back to life. “Do we have our next address?”

“We do.” Giorno pointed at the GPS. “West of Tallahassee.”

“Up in the panhandle?” Ungalo snorted. “Ew.”

Giorno quirked an eyebrow and looked out at the worn-down apartment complex before putting the car in reverse. “It’s also a five-hour trip. Can you drive?” he asked Ungalo.

“Um.” He scowled and crossed his arms. “Too many points on my license. It’s suspended right now.”

The car pulled out of the parking lot. Giorno kept his eyes on the road but spoke to Dio. “I’m not complaining, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive for five more hours. Mista needs to sleep, and he seems exhausted, as well,” he added, gesturing toward the back seat, and Hol nodded in blearily enthusiastic agreement.

“Why can’t he drive?” Ungalo asked, waving his hand at Dio.

The car fell silent. Ungalo stammered to fill the void. “What, is your license suspended, too?”

Giorno raised his eyebrows and gave Dio a pointed glance. Hol grumbled something and looked out the window.

“How old are you, Ungalo?” Dio asked.

“Twenty-three,” he answered. “Why?”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Uh.” He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “It would make the most sense if, uh…” He counted off on his fingers. “Forty, er, no.” He bit his lip and glanced up at Giorno. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” he answered. “But I’ll be twenty-seven next month.”

“There’s no way you’re over forty,” Ungalo exclaimed at Dio. “Unless you got some serious plastic. Jesus, even if you had me when you were sixteen, and him when you were... it still wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Correct,” Dio answered. When Ungalo gawked at him, he clarified. “Not that I got your mother pregnant at sixteen. I’m saying you’re correct that it doesn’t make any sense.”

Ungalo pressed his palms against his forehead. “Are you sure you’re not mixed up about this? Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be another half-brother? You look my age, now that I think about it.” He frowned. “But you act, um. Older, I guess.”

“My best guess as to my current age is two hundred and twenty, give or take a few decades,” Dio stated. He included the extra century in the coffin, but he wasn’t sure how to quantify the time loop in the Joestar mansion.

Even Hol and Giorno looked confused. Dio waved his hand dismissively. “Long story. Anyway,” he said to Giorno, “wouldn’t it be best to save this for when the other two are here? I’d hate to have to repeat myself.”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” Giorno replied, “but it would be rude to leave him in suspense for the next five hours or more.”

He shrugged, twisted in his seat to look back at Ungalo, and then smiled widely. He tapped at his teeth with a fingernail. “I’m a vampire.”

“Bullshit,” Ungalo said breathlessly.

“But you believe it,” Giorno replied. “It’s the only way this all makes sense.”

Ungalo squinted. “But how does that answer the driving question?”

“He just never really needed to,” Hol answered. “Would you deal with traffic if you were a vampire?”

Ungalo hunched forward and stared at the floor. Hol gave him a few firm pats on the back. “Is that why I’ve got a weird power? The Stand thing? Because I’m half vampire?” Ungalo looked up at Giorno. “Do you have one, too?”

“I don’t think we have any vampire traits,” Giorno answered, “but yes, I have a Stand.”

“He can sense where living things are, to an extent,” Dio explained, and then he gestured at Hol. “His Stand is basically a gun.”

Hol clapped a hand to his forehead. “Would you stop telling everyone what—”

Dio ignored him. “The turtle has a Stand, as well. It has a room inside of a gem on its shell. There are two more men in there. One has a Stand that can redirect bullets. The other does not have a Stand, but he is a ghost.”

“Oh, God,” Ungalo said, his head nearly hanging down between his knees. “I just realized I didn’t pack anything. I didn’t even grab money.”

“I take it we can’t go back to the apartment,” Giorno asked Dio. When Dio nodded, he sighed. “It’s a good thing I brought the emergency credit card.” They rolled to a stop at a red light and he poked at the GPS. “Walmart is open 24/7, isn’t it? There is one thirty minutes north of us. We should stop there and get our necessities. I wonder if they would mind us sleeping in their parking lot. We can all take a spot in the turtle. Would you be willing to keep watch?” He glanced at Dio as the light turned green. 

Dio nodded his assent. He looked up at the rearview and spotted Ungalo’s conflicted expression. If he was anything like himself, Dio figured he was balancing two responses to Giorno’s offer. The first would be ‘how dare you try to help me with your pity money, I’ll go through this whole ordeal with just the clothes on my back if I need to.’ The second would be ‘okay, free money, just how much can I get out of this shopping trip?’ He supposed it helped that Giorno had said our necessities, which kept Ungalo’s needs from being singled out.

Ungalo settled for not responding. He crossed his arms and looked out the window.

They found the Walmart, and the interior was vacant and oversaturated with fluorescent light as it neared 2 AM. Hol staggered off, undeterred in his hunt for his preferred jerky brand. Ungalo grabbed a cart and went looking for toiletries and a change of clothes. Giorno picked up a basket and carefully tucked the turtle inside. He glanced back at Dio and tilted his head. “Is there anything you need?”

“Sunscreen. An umbrella.” When Giorno still looked inquisitive, Dio gave him a stern look in return. “I don’t need a meal  if that’s what you’re asking.”

He shrugged. “Good to know.” He glanced around the aisle, pausing to look at a pile of inventory that hadn’t yet been sorted onto the shelves. “Is this your first time in one of these? It’s a new experience for me, too. They haven’t yet claimed any territory in Italy.”

“Cairo had markets,” Dio eventually replied. “They were similarly extensive, but not as…” He pursed his lips and waved his hand as he searched for a word.

“Corporate,” Giorno answered.

“Indeed.” Dio stared at a wall of technicolor labels and plastic packaging.

Giorno was silent for a few moments. They made their way to the rows in front of the pharmacy station and he began considering the first aid selection. “I’m worried about Ungalo,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“Withdrawal.” He picked up the turtle and held it in the crook of his arm, then held out the shopping basket to Dio. “Can you hold this?”

Dio held the basket and Giorno began pulling bandages from the shelf. “Mista and I had enough supplies for ourselves,” he said with a short laugh. “Now that I’ll have up to five extra people in the car, I’ll have to adjust.”

Dio followed as he went to the antibiotics and lidocaine. “Explain what you mean about withdrawal.”

“His arms,” Giorno answered. “I don’t know when he last used.” He turned the corner and peered into the next aisle. “I don’t want him to—”

He fell silent. Ungalo was in this aisle, holding a cardboard multi-tube toothpaste package in his hand. He looked nonchalant but Dio noted the dents in the box when he set it back on the shelf. 

Giorno nodded at him. “Finding everything okay?”

Ungalo grabbed a toothpaste at random and tossed it into the cart. “Yeah.”

Well, wasn’t this dramatic. Dio tilted his head and waited for Giorno’s response.

“Would you like to watch the turtle?” He gestured at the fold-out child seat below the handles of the shopping cart. “It’s a little heavy for me to carry and I don’t want it to get any germs on the first aid. The poor thing is a natural carrier of salmonella, after all.”

“...Sure.” The hinges squealed a little as Ungalo pushed the child seat open. 

Giorno set the turtle down. “Thank you. That reminds me, I should buy it some lettuce.” He looked into the shopping cart and smiled. “I’m sorry you didn’t have the time to bring anything with you. It’s a shame that you’ll be stuck in Walmart couture,” he said lightly, his tone making it clear that he was making a joke.

Ungalo didn’t seem too amused. “Yeah.”

Giorno’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m almost done, but you can take your time. Let’s meet again at the self-checkout when you’re done.” He glanced back at Dio. “Are you familiar with McDonald’s at all? Can you believe they built one inside this place? They’re open all night, too. Let’s all get something quick before going to bed.”

Ungalo shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Sounds like a plan, yes?” Giorno gave a little wave before continuing down the aisle. “See you there.”

Ungalo seemed a bit cheerier meeting them at the checkout. Hol had found the beef jerky he wanted and looked as if he could weep with joy. He at least also had the sense to get a change of clothes and some toiletries. Giorno condensed everyone’s purchases into the cart and scanned them in. Hol made himself useful by taking over bagging. Ungalo looked over the adjacent tabloid stand with bored indifference.

Dio didn’t know much about credit card providers, but whatever kind Giorno pulled out to swipe through the card reader caused Ungalo to go wide-eyed.

Once everything was paid for, they rolled the cart over to the McDonald’s. Giorno marveled at the fact that there was a mock parking lot for storing your cart as you ate. Hol looked up at the backlit menus in awe. “Thank God, they still have Big Macs in the future,” he said quietly. 

The tired-looking cashier took their order without even batting an eye at the turtle Hol was holding and it didn’t take long for a food-laden tray to be shoved at them.

“We have these in Italy, but I haven’t been to one in a long time,” Giorno said happily as he unwrapped his burger. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then smiled. “It’s awful.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Hol said as if he were a smarmy sommelier. He used a french fry to point at Ungalo. “You shoulda started with the basics like your brother.”

Ungalo had scarfed down a box of chicken nuggets and was now tapping his fingers on the table. “Ice cream’s only a dollar and it looks like the machine is actually working,” he said to Giorno. “You want some?”

“I would, actually.” He looked back at the service counter and pursed his lips at the advertisement. “Hol?”

“Pass,” he replied.

Giorno gave Dio a curious look. Dio shook his head.

“Alright, two ice creams. Mista is missing out. I’ll have to make it up to him later.” Giorno grinned and stood.

Once he went up to the counter, Ungalo nodded. “Cool, cool. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He slid out of the booth seat and walked off.

Hol focused on finishing his french fries. Dio turned around and looked out into the store with an expression of amusement. “Hol, are the bathrooms of this establishment located on the outside?”

Hol blinked at him. “Huh?”

Dio rested his chin on his palm. “And are you supposed to take the cart with you?”

“Aw, shit.” Hol smeared greasy fingers onto a napkin and stood.

Dio stopped time. Giorno froze in front of the register, an ice cream cone in each hand. Dio picked him up and balanced him on his shoulder as if he was instead carrying lumber. Hol picked up the turtle and ran off after Ungalo. He found him a few feet ahead of the automatic doors, clinging to the shopping cart as he rode it to the parking lot.

Time began again. Giorno landed on the ground with a grunt but he managed to both keep his balance and hold on to the ice cream. Ungalo shrieked with surprise when Dio put a hand on the cart and brought him to an abrupt halt. “Where are you going, son?”

“I can’t do this,” Ungalo cried. “I knew this wouldn’t go well. You want me to believe all this shit? No way.” His despair flared into anger and he pointed at Dio. “Do you think I’m so stupid as to not realize when I’m being taken advantage of? I don’t really know who you are. I don’t think you’re really a vampire but I still don’t know what you want. There’s no point in robbing me because I’m flat fucking broke but I guess you could steal my goddamn kidneys.”

“We’re telling the truth,” Giorno said softly. “No one is going to take your organs.”

Ungalo only grew more upset. “And you,” he spat, jabbing his finger at Giorno. “Some family reunion this is, you condescending asshole. I’m glad we didn’t grow up together.”

Giorno blinked. “What?”

Ungalo’s waved his hands wildly and affected an Italian accent. “Oh, this fast food is so gross. Oh, the clothes here are so lame. Most of the time that shit is all I can afford to eat and half my closet is from this fucking place.”

Giorno frowned. “I was not trying to imply anything about you. I was just trying to make a joke.”

“Well, ha ha, you’re so funny.” Ungalo scowled and looked at the ground. “I’m done with this.”

“But your Stand,” Giorno said quickly. “Surely you want to know more about—”

“What fucking Stand?” Ungalo curled his hands into fists. “For all I know, I’m just hallucinating them, right? Too high off my ass to tell what’s going on? Or maybe the withdrawal is hitting me so hard I’m losing it.” He leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Giorno. “Isn’t that right?”

Giorno fell silent. Ungalo shook his head and stepped away from the cart. “I’m done. See ya never.”

Dio lifted him up and threw him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Ungalo made a shrill sound of surprise. “Put me down,” he yelped, panic creeping into his voice. 

“Turtle storage plan it is,” Dio said. “Giorno, do you have any rope? Duct tape? Something along those lines?”

Giorno only frowned at him. Ungalo began to scream for help and Hol clamped a hand over his mouth. Ungalo bit him. Hol shrieked and nearly dropped the turtle.

Giorno took a deep breath and looked up at Dio. “Can you just carry him over to the trunk, please?” He held out the ice cream to Hol, who took a moment to figure out how he would carry both cones and the turtle all at once.

Dio nodded and began to walk. Ungalo tried and failed to wriggle out of his grip. “No, no, no, come on, listen. I’m sorry. I really am! But I need my organs to live, right? Right?”

Giorno unlocked the van and lifted the hatchback. There was some normal trunk space before the turtle terrarium began. He flipped up the lid to a storage compartment and sorted through some supplies. Giorno picked up a large plastic case and looked back at the panicking Ungalo. “Let him down,” he said to Dio. Dio shrugged and complied, but he kept a hand on Ungalo’s shoulder to keep him from bolting.

“I only noticed because I run into this a lot in my work,” Giorno stated as he flipped open the latches on the case. “I wasn’t judging you at all. However, I recognize that my words harmed you. For that, I am sorry.” He opened the container and pointed at the contents. “I try to keep a few packs like this with me at all times. There’s a purity testing kit, sterile sharps, alcohol swabs, and some medication that won’t completely remove your symptoms but it will help.” He gave Ungalo a serious stare. “I do not think it is safe for you to be alone right now for several reasons. I want you to know that you are in the company of people that have your best interests at heart. I am sorry that I couldn’t express that clearly before now.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Ungalo said quickly. “I shouldn’t have… I just assumed the worst of you, you know?” He gave a weak grin. “With most of the people I run into, that works out just fine.” His face screwed up with emotion for a moment, but he rubbed at his eyes and shrugged. “You, though,” he said, and he pointed back at Dio. “I still don’t trust your ass.”

Dio looked down at him blankly. “Fair enough.” 

Ungalo rolled his eyes and held out a hand to Giorno. “We good?”

“Not quite.” Giorno closed the case and set it back in the trunk. “I’m not happy that you were about to steal all of our supplies.”

Ungalo grimaced and crossed his arms tightly. Giorno held up a finger. “As punishment for stealing the turtle’s lettuce dinner, you will not get to sleep on the comfortable couches inside of said turtle. You will get the back seat of the car.” He turned to Hol and pulled the semi-melted cones from his hands. 

“Uh, Giorno, I kinda wanted the back seat. I don’t really want to sleep in a room with Polnareff’s ghost,” Hol whispered.

“I’m sure you’ll cope.” He turned back to Ungalo and smiled. “Now, eat your ice cream.” He held out his hand; Ungalo snorted, shook his head, and took the cone from him.

Chapter Text

Giorno and Hol retired to the turtle. Ungalo stretched out in the back, gave Dio a wary look, and then rolled onto his side with his face pressed closely to the seat. He shifted uncomfortably a few times, but eventually his breathing grew low and even. Dio sat in the front passenger seat and stared out into the dimly-lit parking lot. There were a few scattered cars around, probably belonging to the graveyard shift workers. He peered out into the darkness and paid close attention to his intuition. It didn’t feel like there was any danger approaching, so he turned his focus to the dashboard of the car. He pulled at the latch on the glove compartment and sorted through the papers. Reading the owner’s manual wouldn’t tell him the rules of the road but at least he would be a bit more knowledgeable about operating the van.

The first pale hints of the sun were appearing on the horizon when Giorno half-exited the turtle. He gently shoved Ungalo’s shoulder. “Good morning. Turtle timeout is over. If you want to keep sleeping, you can go in.”

Ungalo looked at him blearily, wiped his mouth on his arm, and then blinked at the turtle. Giorno fully left the gem and landed on the seat in a crouch. Ungalo frowned in confusion, but reached out and then disappeared. Mista popped out a moment later and landed on the seat with a thud. He stretched out his arms and his shoulders popped. “Alright. I’ll drive the first half then you can take the second.” Tiny voices chattered and he frowned. “Sex Pistols want breakfast.”

“A drive-through is probably our best option,” Giorno answered. “Any preference?”

Mista held up his palm to his face and consulted his Stand. “They want a burrito.”

“I’ll look up some places on the GPS,” Giorno replied, and he nodded at Dio. “Good morning.”

For having read about Cairo, Giorno was always rather blasé about Dio’s presence. Dio waved a languid hand in return. “Good morning.”

“Would you prefer to sit in the back for this drive?” Giorno asked. “You’ll get less sun that way.”

What a considerate way to reclaim the shotgun seat. Dio nodded and swung the car door open.

They obtained a burrito breakfast, ate quickly inside the car, passed a few extras to Polnareff to distribute when Ungalo and Hol woke up, and then they were off once more. The GPS brought them to the outskirts of Orlando before turning them onto the turnpike at around 9 AM. There were other cars on the road, but the traffic wasn’t awful. It became a slog outside of the city, but once they headed out towards the nearby lake they were able to cruise along the long, straight road.

That was until a motorcycle went tearing past them in the left lane. Mista huffed and watched it zoom out ahead of them. “See, what’s the point of me being good and following the speed limit when you have assholes like that around?”

The motorcycle slowed down. Giorno tilted his head and gave a small smile. “They must have heard you.” His smile disappeared when the motorcycle veered into their lane and continued to decelerate. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Mista pumped the brakes, dropping the speed of the van and keeping ample space between himself and the motorcycle. “The fuck? They drunk or something?”

“This early in the day? I suppose it’s possible.” Giorno frowned as the motorcycle sped up again. “Engine trouble?”

“It looks like it’s working fine to me,” Mista replied. When the motorcycle began weaving between the two lanes he sighed and slapped his hand against the horn. “Come on. Really?”

The latch on the turtle opened and Polnareff’s head and shoulders appeared. “Are we driving on a winding road or something? These two are getting carsick. Didn’t think that could happen inside the turtle, but…”

“Oh, Ungalo might need the kit,” Giorno replied, but then he frowned in thought. “Wait, Hol isn’t feeling well, either?”

“Nope.” Polnareff paused and there was a loud thump from within the turtle. Polnareff winced. “I think he just fell over.”

“Shit!” Mista slammed on the brakes. The motorcycle veered too sharply; it tipped over and the rider was sent skidding onto the berm. The tires squealed as the van stopped just before hitting into the fallen motorcycle. 

“Pull over,” Giorno said.

Mista turned the steering wheel. “Got it.” He pressed the gas and the car lurched forward and to the left. He put his foot back on the brake and the van stopped in the middle of both lanes. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the steering wheel. 

“Mista, did you intend to turn left instead of right?” Giorno asked.

He frowned. “I did not.” 

“Don’t touch the steering wheel.” Giorno thought for a moment, and then began to reach out a hand. His arm smacked into the car door and he frowned. “Stand attack. I think our left and right are switched.” He focused for a short while and his hand hit the door again.

Dio, who had been sitting in the center of the back seat, reached straight forward and shifted the car into reverse. “Is that what you were going for?”

Giorno nodded. “Yes, thank you.” 

Mista pressed tentatively on the gas and the van went back into the right lane and continued to reverse until they were safely on the shoulder. He went to put the hazard lights on but his hand just slapped at the door window.

“It’s not just our perception of left and right, but our intention, as well,” Giorno explained. “Think to yourself that you’re going to lift your left hand and touch the part of the dash closest to the door. That should bring you close to the hazard light button.” 

Mista furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Eventually, his right hand lifted and he pressed his hand against the center of the dashboard. He managed to press the button.

Giorno frowned thoughtfully. “That’s why they’re carsick. We were fine because we were traveling forward in a straight line. We didn’t have the chance to notice that things had switched.” He glanced down at Mista’s legs. “The gas and the brake weren’t confusing for you?”

“No, they were normal.” Mista kicked out one foot experimentally. “I think my feet still have normal directions. But my hands are switched, and…” His head swung to the right. “Eugh. Okay, yeah. Looking left sends me the other way unless I only use my eyes.” He pursed his lips. “I’m starting to feel carsick and we’re not even moving.”

“We’ll need to find the user before we can drive again,” Giorno stated.

“The rider might be the Stand user,” Mista said. “It won’t be safe to shoot them like this until I adjust to how different it is.”

Giorno peered out the window and frowned. “They’re unconscious, so I don’t think that it is their Stand. But it’s like…” He trailed off and his expression grew more confused. “There’s something around them. A lot of things, actually, but they seem to be spreading out. Could two Stand users be attacking?”

“If more cars come, it is not going to be safe here,” Dio added. When he glanced out at the prone motorcycle rider, he could feel some odd pull at his intuition, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He went to move to the left seat. He lurched to the right. He reached out to the center of the car and his hand hit against the door handle. “I’m going to find out what the range is,” he said as he swung the door open. He had applied sunscreen earlier, so if he took the umbrella, he would have several minutes of safety beneath the Floridian sun. He focused to account for the switched directions and he managed to grab the umbrella from the car floor.

Giorno figured out how to open his door, as well. “Mista, cover him. I don’t think this Stand has other offensive capabilities, but the user could have a weapon. I’ll check on the motorcycle rider and take the turtle with me. We should regroup on the other side of the safety rail. That will at least give us some protection if another car is affected.”

Mista nodded in agreement and fumbled at the handle a few times before he was able to get out of the car. Dio stopped time and ran several meters down the road, checking at intervals to see if moving his left arm instead lifted his right. When time began again he was a good distance away from the car, but the effects of the Stand were still active. He turned carefully and looked at the inbound section of the turnpike past the central metal divider and narrow strip of grass.

He sighed to himself. A Port St. Lucie cop car had no business being parked west of Orlando. The vehicle had pulled off to the side of the road but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Pucci must have installed a Stand in one of the officers and sent him out after them.

Pucci knew that bullets wouldn’t stop Dio. Would he allow (or instruct?) the officer to shoot one of his sons? Perhaps not. But Pucci would have no qualms about killing off someone like Hol or…

Mista lifted his revolver and swung it one way, then the other. “Giorno, do you sense anyone else?”

“There are a lot of animals in the wetlands past the road,” he answered. “It’s hard to tell anything beyond that.” He crouched at the side of the motorcycle rider and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s just knocked out. A little scraped up, but nothing seems broken.” He frowned in confusion. “The air around him feels cold.” He carefully set the turtle in the grass before reaching towards the rider’s helmet.

Dio peered out beyond the pavement. Was the Stand user camouflaged in some way? Were they taking aim right now? “Mista,” he called out, and Mista turned to look at him but slapped a hand to his forehead when he went the wrong way. “Can you use your Stand defensively if someone tries to shoot you?”

“I can,” he answered, “but they aren’t too happy right now.” Sex Pistols were floating uneasily, disoriented from the flipped directions. One was weeping while another kept muttering curses under its breath.

Giorno pulled the helmet from the rider’s head. He stared down at a face that was familiar yet unfamiliar all at once. “Ah.”

“So you’re saying you’re defenseless right now, Mista?” Dio asked loudly.

Mista glared at him. “What are you getting at?”

There was a loud bang. Dio stopped time. The bullet ground to a halt a foot away from Mista’s chest. Dio sprinted straight at him and managed to shove him out of the way just as time began again. He threw out his arm and pointed. “The Stand user is…” He paused, rolled his eyes, shifted his grip on the umbrella, and lifted his other arm to direct Mista towards the trajectory of the bullet. “That way.”

“On it.” Mista narrowed his eyes, carefully turned to face the direction Dio had pointed, and raised the revolver. “Not too smart of them to attack in a way where we can respond in a straight line. Then again, if they’re new to their Stand because it was installed like you said, they probably don’t know how to use it well.” He fired twice and two of the Sex Pistols followed. “They aren’t going to be able to ricochet in this state, but they can point out where the user is,” he explained.

Dio used the umbrella to shield his eyes as he looked up the road. “Cars are coming. If they turn to look at us, they’ll probably crash. I’m going to move the motorcycle off the road. On its own, the van shouldn’t be too distracting.” 

Mista began walking towards the metal barrier. “Good plan. I’m going to keep tracking the user.”

Giorno lifted his hand and held up a wallet. “Lucky us. We found another brother. This is Rikiel.”

Mista made the mistake of turning to look. He shook his head and groaned. “What? How? I thought he was in Tallahassee.”

“Maybe he was visiting Orlando.” Giorno hooked an arm under Rikiel’s shoulder and began to pull. Dio ducked down beside him and picked up the motorcycle. He tossed it into the grass on the other side of the barrier, where it landed with a loud crash. He grabbed Rikiel by the ankles and helped Giorno heave him over the metal. They both crouched down on the other side and Giorno pulled the turtle closer just in time. A few cars drove past but none were distracted by the van. They continued driving peacefully forward in a straight line.

Giorno went to stand, but Dio put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “Stay low. Don’t get shot and don’t let any drivers see you.” Dio crawled further into the tall grass, not minding the marshy puddles getting muck onto his pants. He could hear Mista a few meters away doing the same thing, as well as Sex Pistols shouting somewhere in the distance.

Dio heard the crack of Mista’s gun, then the slightly lower-pitched bang of whatever weapon the Stand user had. He stopped time and lunged forward. 

The Stand user was a middle-aged officer with a handgun. His Stand was a greenish-gray camo-patterned shape that was draped over him like a bulky jacket with a hood. Dio flicked the bullets headed for Mista out of the way and then grabbed the Stand user by the neck, all while carefully keeping the umbrella over his head.

Time began again. Mista had managed to get a good shot in. Dio could smell fresh, coppery blood seeping from the man’s shoulder.

Dio dug a finger into the man’s windpipe. “Turn off your ability.”

The man swung up his gun and fired point-blank into Dio’s chest. When Dio only rolled his eyes in response, the man gave a wheezing shriek. His Stand faded away; right and left returned to their rightful (and leftful?) places.

Dio pulled the gun from the man’s hand and held it out to Mista. “So, tell me. What exactly did Pucci tell you to do here? You managed to be a minor inconvenience, sure, but what were you supposed to do?” He began to walk back toward the road and shook the man by the neck. “Kill us off or just cause a scene?”

The man looked confused. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

Oh, of course. If Pucci just put the instructions onto his disc, then the man was probably only barely aware of what he was doing. He probably didn’t even know his Stand’s name.

“Such an indiscriminate Stand power,” Dio thought aloud. “Wielded by someone who will never have the chance to master its use. The same goes for the last one we encountered. Is he just trying to upset me?”

Ahead of them, Giorno put a hand on Rikiel’s shoulder as he came back to consciousness with a groan. The lid on the turtle flipped off and Ungalo fell onto the grass. He was pale with nausea. “Oh, God. I’m so glad you pulled over. I’m gonna fuckin’ barf up my burrito.”

Dio had an idea. Everyone else got to enjoy their breakfast; why not him, too? He held up the struggling man and grinned. “Hey, Ungalo. You said that you didn’t believe that I was a vampire, correct?” When Ungalo looked up at him, he jauntily lifted the umbrella and then swung it to the side.

Rikiel rubbed at his eyes with gloved hands. “What just happened?” He looked back at Giorno, who had blanched and was staring ahead in shock. “Who are you?” Rikiel turned to look at Dio and went wide-eyed. He screamed. “What the hell is that?”

The sun on his skin was agony, but their reactions were delightful. Dio smiled, flashing sharp teeth from beneath his burning skin, and then he swung the umbrella back up to cover himself. His grip on the man’s neck tightened until his hand simply entered him. The man wailed as his blood was drained until he looked like a dried husk. Energized and fully healed, Dio tossed the desiccated corpse to the side.

Ungalo ducked his head into the tall grass and vomited. Rikiel began to hyperventilate. Giorno simply continued to stare at him.

Dio took a defensive tone and rolled his eyes. “What? That was hilarious.”

Giorno looked past him and locked eyes with a tense Mista, who simply gave a concerned shrug.

“As you have so kindly reminded us, you are a two-hundred-or-so years old vampire, so I won’t begrudge you your… odd sense of humor,” Giorno finally said, and he glanced down at the panicking Rikiel. “However, he literally just met you.”

Dio shrugged. “Easing into it obviously didn’t work last time.” He took a few strides forward, dropped to a crouch, and waved hello to Rikiel, who was now kicking his feet against the dirt in an attempt to crawl away. “Rikiel, is it? A pleasure to meet you. I’m your father.”

Giorno frowned and gave Dio a look that clearly said you’re not helping. He returned his attention to Rikiel. Before he could say anything, Rikiel shoved him away and staggered to his feet. His hand swept over his boot as he stood and he pulled something into his palm. He took a few uneasy steps back and brandished a small knife defensively. “Okay. Okay. What the hell is going on?” His gaze flitted around, never coming to rest as he tried to keep an eye on Dio, Mista, Giorno, and the still-ill Ungalo all at once.

When Giorno took a careful step towards him, he swiped the blade through the air. "Don't!"

Giorno was about to say something in return, but he looked down at his hand in confusion. He flexed his fingers uncertainly, and the joints moved stiffly.

“Calm down and don’t do anything stupid.” Mista held up his revolver. “Gun beats knife.”

Dio frowned at him. “Vampire beats knife and gun.”

Giorno held up a pale and somewhat mottled-looking hand to silence them, then looked up at Rikiel. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Rikiel shook his head wildly. “You just killed that guy!”

“And he would have killed you,” Dio replied, “given the opportunity. We’re here to help you.”

Rikiel closed his eyes, then snapped them back open, then closed them again. He broke out into a cold sweat. Giorno looked deeply confused as Rikiel brought one hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t—this is—oh no. Shit!” He dropped to a crouch and his breath was ragged and uneven. The knife was still tightly clutched in his hand.

“There’s something alive,” Giorno said. “Lots of it, but I can’t tell what it is. You two, stay there,” he said, pointing at Mista and Dio. “Don’t scare him. Rikiel, can you hear me?” He stood and held up his hands with his palms facing out. The one hand was now purplish and bruised. “You don’t have to say anything. Just nod.”

Giorno waited for a few long moments. Rikiel had no response for him but his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. 

“We could just knock him out again,” Dio suggested.

Giorno frowned at him but returned his attention to Rikiel. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before,” he said, his voice calm and steady. Rikiel was still struggling to breathe and he kept pressing at his face with his free hand. “I’m going to ask you to do something that might seem silly,” Giorno said, “but it is very important. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

“I can’t see, I can’t see shit,” Rikiel spat. “My eyes—”

“You can just imagine something, then. Pretend you are standing on the side of the road. What are five things you would be able to see?”

“Why?” Rikiel wiped sweat off of his forehead and scrunched his eyes shut. “I mean… I guess I would see the road. The grass. Trees. The safety divider. The sky? I don’t know.”

“No, that’s a good answer. We can move on to the next one. What are four things you can feel? Things like the wind on your face or the warmth of the sun. See, there’s two for you already.”

“Uh.” Rikiel furrowed his eyebrows. “The wind and the sun. The grass is wet. My neck hurts.”

“Okay. You’re doing well. What are three things you can hear?”

Rikiel fell silent as he listened. “Birds. Cars. My heart is loud in my ears.”

“A beating heart is a living heart, isn’t it?” Giorno said lightly. “How about two things you can smell?”

Rikiel snorted. “Grass. Shitty Florida water.”

Giorno glanced at Mista. “Do you still have any of the candy I gave you?”

Mista rooted around in his pockets and threw over a slightly mushed cookie in a plastic wrapper. Giorno caught it and then carefully approached Rikiel. “The last step is to focus on one taste. Would you like to eat this?”

Rikiel opened his eyes and looked surprised for a moment but then looked up at Giorno warily. Giorno gently tossed the plastic package and it landed on the grass at Rikiel’s feet. “Do you feel any better?” he asked. 

“I guess.” He blinked at the cookie but tentatively picked it up and tore off the plastic wrapping.

“Whatever living things were swarming you have dispersed somewhat, but they’re still here,” Giorno explained as Rikiel bit into the cookie. “I think they are drawn to you because of your Stand. If you feel calm enough to try, I want you to focus on yourself. Think of your inner strength. It might feel weak right now, but if you focus on it, you can bring it forth.”

“That’s not...” Rikiel hunched his shoulders and frowned. “I don’t...”

“No more of that,” Giorno interrupted, his voice stern. “This is something that I cannot help you with.” When Rikiel still looked upset, his tone grew calmer. “You have to do this for yourself. If you are strong enough to get this far, you are strong enough to do this, too.”

Rikiel closed his eyes, but this time it looked like he did it of his own volition. Something small and green appeared on his hand. 

He opened his eyes. “Ew, a bug.” Before Giorno could say anything, he slapped his own hand. His head wrenched to the side and he cried out.

“Don’t hit your own Stand, dumbass,” Mista managed to say through his laughter. “Just keep focusing on it.”

“My Stand? My inner strength looks like a little bug?” Rikiel lifted his hand and peered at it. “That’s so goddamn lame.”

“The power of your Stand is entirely dependent upon how you use it,” Dio stated as he began to walk toward Rikiel. Giorno shot him a look of warning but Dio ignored it. “We were able to kill that man because he did not know how to utilize his Stand to the fullest.”

“There are some sort of living organisms following you,” Giorno explained as he watched Dio warily. “I think that your Stand might be communicating with them subconsciously. Now you need to do it consciously.”

“And quickly,” Dio said with a smirk as he approached the increasingly more concerned-looking Rikiel.

Rikiel glanced at Giorno, then at Dio. He frowned fearfully but when Dio came to a stop directly in front of him his expression grew serious. When Dio leaned over him, he lifted his hand.

Something frigid passed around Dio so quickly that he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what it was. He felt the surface of his skin that had been warmed by the sun and the muggy Florida air grow frosty.

Dio pursed his lips and nodded. “On anyone else, that would have been a killing blow. Well done.” He took a few courteous steps back and smiled at Giorno. “Whatever it is, it can steal body heat. I just don’t have much heat to steal.”

Rikiel backed away from him but nearly tripped over his motorcycle. He looked down at it and his mouth fell open. “No! She’s so broken!” He clapped his hands to his forehead. “This sucks so much!”

“Come with us,” Giorno replied, and he nodded towards the van.

Rikiel frowned and knitted his eyebrows together in concern. “I don’t… I can’t ride in a car. It isn’t safe.” 

“Oh!” Mista raised his hand. “If you’re worried about the four tires, we always keep a spare. That makes five tires. So the car still has good luck.”

Rikiel was befuddled. “Huh? I mean, it’s just… I always get sick.”

“Carsick?” Mista asked.

A bleary Ungalo crawled out of the grass and wiped off his mouth. “Okay. Vampire real. Got it. I feel way better now.”

Rikiel glanced at him and frowned. “No, I mean like, how just now I was…” Before Giorno could reply to him, he held up a hand. “I get that it was my Stand making me really sick. But I would always get anxious in the first place and that was what set it off. I rode the motorcycle because the wind seemed to help me feel better. That, and motorcycles are safer than cars, anyway,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Giorno frowned. “I understand that having those organisms around would be harder to deal with in an enclosed space, but why do you think that a motorcycle is safer than a car?”

“It’s simple, isn’t it? I remember reading a statistic somewhere.” He frowned in thought. “Maybe in seventh grade? I don’t know. More car crash victims go to hospitals than motorcycle crash victims. That means motorcycles are safer.”

“Dude. That’s because motorcycle crash victims just go to the morgue,” Mista replied.

Rikiel squinted at him. “What? No. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you sure you are not mistaken about what you read?” Giorno asked carefully. “Was there perhaps further explanation of the statistic?”

“No, no, I remember what I read,” Rikiel replied, but he stared at the ground with growing confusion. “Riding in the car is more dangerous.”

“Florabama education at its finest,” Ungalo muttered. 

Rikiel glared at him. “Don’t remind me. I dropped out of that shit.”

Ungalo wheezed with laughter. “Oh my God. How does saying that help your case?”

“I recognize that you have your concerns, but unless you want to walk several miles in the Floridian heat, you should join us in the van,” Giorno stated. 

He crossed his arms and considered it for a few moments. “You seem okay, but…” Rikiel pursed his lips at him and then gave Dio a dubious glance. “What about this freak of nature?”

Dio only grinned in response. Giorno gave a small nod. “That freak of nature is, in fact, your father. I am your half-brother, as is he,” he said as he pointed to Ungalo. “The man over there is Mista. No relation, but he is an excellent ally to have.” He frowned. “I guess Hol is still sick in the turtle. You can meet him later. Same with the consigliere.”

Rikiel thought it over for a few more moments, but eventually, he gave a decisive nod. "Okay."

"Good." Giorno glanced over at Mista and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I need to get some things out of the trunk, but everyone can get settled into the car now, yes?"

"Yeah. I'll keep driving. We need to figure out where to go from here." Mista holstered his revolver and gestured towards the van. "You can sit in the back and talk to us or you can check out the inside of the turtle. Your choice."

"Um, I'll sit in the back," Rikiel answered. Giorno went over to the hatchback and opened it with one hand. Mista hopped into the driver's seat. Ungalo carried the turtle and slid into the back while Rikiel tentatively followed him.

Dio crept up behind Giorno. He was sorting through the first aid supplies with one hand while holding the other close to his chest. He glanced back over his shoulder and Dio froze. 

"Could you do me a huge favor?" Giorno asked lightly. "I think I left the antiseptic in the passenger seat. It should be in the little pocket on the door. Could you get it for me?"

"What did he do to you?" Dio asked, and he nodded towards the mottled hand Giorno was cradling against himself.

"Nothing too bad," Giorno answered. "I think my circulation is just slightly blocked so it looks much worse than it is." He rooted through the storage container and Dio saw a faint glint of metal. Giorno looked back at him. "The antiseptic, please."

"Sure." Dio ambled up to the passenger door and opened it. There was nothing in the door except for some granola bars. He ducked inside the van and peered under the seat and into the space beneath the dashboard, but there was no antiseptic there, either. Mista gave him a quizzical look but Dio ignored him. 

Dio took a step back and looked towards the trunk. He saw something suspiciously hand-shaped go flying off into the wetlands on the side of the road. He approached the back of the van and Giorno glanced at him as he was wrapping a cloth bandage around his wrist.

"Oh, sorry. I found it," Giorno said with a smile as he held up a small bottle. "I forgot I put it in the other container." 

"That looks much better now," Dio said as he peered at Giorno's hand. The skin looked normal, not mottled with purple and yellow.

"Yes." Giorno finished wrapping the bandage. "Just had to get the blood flowing again."

"Littering will get you fined, you know," Dio said flatly. "What did you just throw away?"

"Throw away?" Giorno asked innocently. "A bird did just fly past. Is that what you saw?"

Dio stared at him for a few moments. A grin slowly grew on his face and he clapped a hand onto Giorno's shoulder. "Of course it was a bird. How silly of me to think otherwise."

Giorno's expression was held carefully blank. Dio laughed as he squeezed his shoulder and then went to open the back door of the van. "I suppose I should get out of the sun. Wouldn't want any more of me to melt off and attract more birds. It's such an ordeal for me to heal back up, you know. But I can actually heal others if I'm careful about it." He tapped his nails against the door handle. "Let me know and I'll give you a hand next time. Then again, if you can just find a hand for yourself on your own, you don't really need my help." He shot Giorno one last grin before pulling open the door and getting into the van.

Giorno didn't respond. He tidied up the first aid and pulled the hatchback shut.

( A chapter in which a Stand inadvertently makes you change your settings to tank controls to cope, Dio continues to have bad taste in 'pranks', and Giorno prepares to give his half-brother a lecture on survivorship bias.

Also I have Decided on some Stand names

Boiling pigeon: Hail Mary Mallon (as previously mentioned, in reference to Dollywood (happy to be on the food chain at all...) which in itself is a reference to Pigeon by Cannibal Ox)

Left and right switched cop: Operation Doomsday (which is by MF DOOM (remember all caps when you spell the man’s name!))

Dio's new Stand abilities currently held by Pucci: still not named! we'll get 'em back and find out someday!

As always, thanks for reading!!! <3)

Chapter Text

Dio entered the van and took a seat. Rikiel scooted away from him, inadvertently squishing Ungalo against the door. “I don’t want to sit by him,” Rikiel said, glancing up at Mista for support. Mista only shrugged in response. 

Rikiel grabbed Ungalo by the shoulders and tried to shove him over, but he scowled and refused to move. “I don’t want the middle seat. Middle seat sucks.”

“I’ll give you twenty dollars to take the middle seat,” Rikiel said desperately.

Ungalo grinned. “Twenty-five.”

“I literally only have twenty dollar bills,” Rikiel cried. “I just took them from the ATM.”

“Forty, then.” Ungalo crossed his arms.

“Fine. Forty. I don’t care. Whatever.” Rikiel pulled out his wallet and started searching through it.

Mista quirked an eyebrow and looked back at Dio. Dio sighed. “Ungalo.” His voice was stern and Ungalo pouted at him. “I don’t care that you’re extorting your brother, but you should know that you are not making a good first impression.”

Ungalo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll take the middle seat and you don’t have to pay me.”

“Where the hell is my money?” Rikiel shook his empty wallet. “It’s all gone.”

“I have it,” Giorno answered as he slid into the passenger seat. “I took it for safekeeping during the Stand attack. I didn’t want it to get lost if more cars did crash.” He held out a wad of cash and a small stack of cards with his unbandaged hand.

Rikiel frowned at him as he snatched them back. “Why didn’t you just take the whole wallet instead of pulling everything out?”

Giorno pursed his lips. “Habit, I suppose.”

As Rikiel and Ungalo undertook a complicated clamber in order to switch seats without leaving the car, Mista poked at the GPS. “So, Rikiel. Why were you here instead of at… 203 East 9th Street in Lynn Haven?”

Rikiel frowned. “That’s an old address. We moved the house over to Pine Grove like two years ago.” His expression grew thoughtful. “We never really signed anything about it though, so…”

“Well, gee, why don’t you give us the updated address,” Mista said. “Let’s see how far off we would have been.”

“Um.” Rikiel hazarded a wary glance up at Dio. “Lot 224, Pine Grove. It’s north of Ocala.”

Mista took a deep breath and whistled as he looked at the GPS. “Damn, we would have overshot so hard. Hey, Giorno, did you know Florida has a Naples?”

“Wait, what do you mean you moved the house?” Ungalo asked.

Rikiel frowned tersely and he stared down at the floor. “It’s a mobile home.”

Ungalo grinned and looked like he was about to crack a joke, but when he happened to glance up at Giorno his expression softened. He elbowed Rikiel lightly. “That’s gotta be fun, getting to just park your whole-ass house wherever you want.”

“It’s my mom’s house,” Rikiel replied. “I don’t get to choose where it goes, unfortunately.”

“Y’know, I always wondered how the bathrooms work in those things,” Ungalo said. “Do you have to, like, attach a tube and everyone hooks up to the same sewer or do you gotta get the house tank emptied once a month?”

Rikiel frowned thoughtfully. “It depends on when you park. You can buy a septic system or—”

“We are way off track here,” Mista interrupted. “Even though I kinda want to know how it works, too. What were you doing in Orlando?”

“Well, I have a grandma in Poinciana,” he answered. “That’s just south of Orlando. She’s been paying for me to visit this specialist at the medical center for my…” He trailed off, made an anguished noise, and held his head in his hands. “Oh, God. I’ve wasted so much money. I could have just controlled it this whole time.”

“You’re not the first person to be made ill by their own Stand,” Dio stated. “Don’t pity yourself too much. Be grateful that you survived.”

Rikiel did not look comforted. Giorno surprised Dio by nodding in agreement. “Stand sickness is no joke. I’m sure that you regret wasting time and effort on something that had a solution you couldn’t have found naturally. But now you know, and you have us to help you with it.”

Rikiel glanced around. Giorno looked genuine, of course, but Dio looked vaguely bored. Ungalo flashed him as winsome a smile as he could manage. Mista was entirely focused on the GPS. “Right,” Rikiel replied flatly.

The lid to the turtle opened. Hol landed heavily on Dio’s lap and Ungalo yelped as his boots hit into his knees. Hol reflexively stretched out his legs and accidentally kicked Rikiel in the ribs.

“Okay. I take it that I missed a lot.” The Emperor twirled in his hand and then disappeared. He nodded at Ungalo. “Hey, kid. Feeling better?”

Ungalo nodded. “Yeah, that was a Stand attack, not their driving. Or a burrito poisoning.”

Hol nodded in return, and then noticed Rikiel and pointed excitedly. “Another one! Which one are you?”

He mumbled an answer. “I’m Rikiel.”

“Good t’meet ya,” Hol replied as he tugged at the brim of his hat.

“Hol,” Dio said flatly.

He tilted his head back to look at him. “Yup?”

“Get back in the turtle.”

Hol nodded. “Yessir.” He picked it up and thumped his palm against the keypad. “Polnareff, it’s me. Just open it.”

There was a mechanical whirr, the door opened, and Hol disappeared.

Donatello’s address was on the southern outskirts of Miami. Since they didn’t have to drive all the way to Tallahassee anymore, it would be a much easier trip. However, the passengers in the van that needed a regular three meals a day outnumbered those who didn’t. They decided to take a break for a late-lunch-early-dinner sort of meal just north of the city. Mista pulled the van into a long strip of stores and looked over the options. “We haven’t tried any of these chains yet,” he said to Giorno. “How bad do you think the pizza is here?”

“I’m sure it’s abhorrent. Oh, that place looks locally owned, actually,” Giorno replied, and he pointed out a place styled after a 1950s diner. “Do Sex Pistols have any requests?”

He shook his head and sighed. “They just keep asking me for sugar. I don’t think this country is good for them.”

Giorno looked thoughtful, but then he frowned and glanced back at Rikiel. “I’m not sure calling those things into the van is a good idea.”

Rikiel lowered his hand guiltily and his Stand faded away. “They were following us, anyway. I kind of just wanted to see if I could grab one to see what it looks like.”

Giorno nodded slowly. “That would be interesting, but I would prefer for you to do it when we are not driving. Let’s just eat at this one,” he said to Mista, and he pointed at the diner again. “It looks quaint.”

Mista squinted at the historical memorabilia plastered over the windows. “Are you sure quaint is the right word? Not tacky?”

“I think the two may be interchangeable here,” Giorno replied. “Anyway, they probably have milkshakes. That should make Sex Pistols happy.”

The sign at the front instructed them to seat themselves, so the group settled into chairs around a large table. The silverware was shoved into ceramic mugs astride paper napkin dispensers that propped up two menus. Giorno shared a menu with Mista and they looked over the options, occasionally asking the rest of the table for clarification. Hol was full of opinions about burgers and knew exactly what he wanted, so he answered most of their questions and passed his menu to Ungalo who shared it with Rikiel. The waitress ambled over to them just as they decided on their orders. Dio settled for a glass of water with lemon.

Giorno pressed the last of his fries into a puddle of ketchup. There was a small pile of lettuce to the side that he had saved for the turtle. “That was a much better burger than the last, in my honest opinion.”

Ungalo nodded. “I mean, half the fun of a burger is putting a bunch of stupid toppings on. This place let me put peanut butter on it like Elvis.”

Hol frowned at him. “Yeah, that’s tons of fun if you don’t care at all about the sanctity of the flavor profile.”

“You put steak sauce on yours,” Ungalo retorted. “A burger is not a steak.”

Sex Pistols were diving into a milkshake as if it was a swimming pool. Mista kept an eye on them to make sure none of them tried to bully each other too much. Rikiel stared at their antics in baffled awe.

The waitress returned. “Y’all done?”

“Yes,” Giorno answered. “Oh, but could I get a box?” He pointed at the pile of lettuce.

She gave him an odd look but nodded and left to grab their check.

Hol leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. “They sure got a lot of movie posters in here. Singin’ in the Rain, The Day the Earth Stood Still… ooh, damn! The Good, the Bad and the Ugly! That’s a classic.”

Mista looked up and grinned widely. “Sergio Leone! Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo! I love that movie. Clint Eastwood’s my favorite.”

“Hell yeah!” Hol leaned forward and held out his fist. Mista returned the gesture and gave him an enthusiastic fistbump.

Ungalo looked up at the movie poster and grinned. “Hey, hey. Check this out.” He squinted, furrowed his eyebrows, and held his breath until his face went a bit red.

For a few moments, absolutely nothing happened. He continued to strain with effort. Rikiel poked his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dio pointed helpfully at the movie poster. The group turned to look at it. The three characters crawled out of the frame and stood on the tile floor of the diner.

Hol stood and nearly kicked over his chair. “Holy shit!”

“Ta-da, that’s my Stand,” Ungalo exclaimed.

“You can make characters real?” Mista asked. He stood and approached Clint Eastwood’s character, who squinted at him as he lit up a cigar. “Do they act like them, too?”

“I haven’t seen the movie,” Ungalo admitted, “but yeah, they generally do.”

“I haven’t seen that movie either,” Rikiel mumbled. 

Hol clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pointed out the characters. “The Clint Eastwood one in the front is Blondie. He’s sort of the good guy and still kind of an asshole, but he does the right thing when it matters. The one beside him is Angel Eyes, a ruthless expert assassin that can track down any target. And behind him is Tuco. He’s a funny guy but he’s smart, too. If you underestimate him just because you think he’s stupid, you’ll regret it.”

“Well put,” Blondie replied before taking a puff of his cigar. 

Hol strode up to Angel Eyes and inspected his outfit. “This is real neat! Every little detail of the costume is there.” Angel Eyes watched him warily, his hand hovering over his holster. Hol laughed. “Guns and all.”

Giorno raised his eyebrows. “Real guns?”

Ungalo frowned. “Um. Maybe? I don’t know. Gonna be real with you, I usually just use this on pictures of hot girls.”

Blondie tilted his chin up and peered at the other two characters. “Two hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. You know, I lied about the name on the grave. You’ll never find the gold without the real name.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone. “I wrote the real name on the bottom of this stone. Let’s have a three-way duel. Whoever wins gets the gold.”

Hol lifted his hands to his mouth in joyful surprise. “Oh my God, they’re gonna do the duel.”

Mista was just as enthused, but then he looked around the diner. “Wait. Maybe they shouldn’t do that in here. What if we move them into the parking lot?”

“Yes!” Hol grabbed onto Angel Eyes and began dragging him along. Tuco and Blondie scowled but followed him.

The waitress tossed the check onto their table. Giorno read it over and then glanced over at Rikiel. “I’m very sorry, but I’m low on cash and this place doesn’t seem to take a card. I will pay you back as soon as possible.”

Rikiel sighed but handed over his wallet. “Yeah, fine. It’s no big deal. This was emergency money anyway and I think all of this counts as an emergency.”

“Thank you.” He folded the bills and set them in the center of the table. It took a little while for the waitress to come back with their change. Giorno sorted through the returned bills. “What’s the tipping percentage? Twenty?”

Ungalo nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. She was an okay waitress.”

Giorno pushed some bills towards the center of the table before handing the rest to Rikiel. “Well, let’s go see this duel.”

Hol, Mista, and the three characters strode out into the parking lot. Dio stood under the awning and crossed his arms. Ungalo, Rikiel, and Giorno stood together a short distance away and watched.

“This is such a good scene,” Hol cheered. Mista nodded in agreement and watched happily as the characters confidently walked to their places.

Every character, that was, except for Tuco. “Hey, you’re like me, right?” He tugged at Mista’s shoulder.

Mista frowned and looked back at him. “Huh? I mean, you’re a good character, but Clint Eastwood’s my favorite.”

“Sure,” Tuco answered, “but you’re like me, aren’t you?”

Mista tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tuco shrugged and walked off.

“Ungalo,” Giorno asked quietly, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’ve never seen that happen.”

“Hm.” Giorno tugged at the hem of his poncho. “Something about this doesn’t seem right.”

Rikiel gawked at him. “When the hell did you start wearing that?”

“What?” He looked down in confusion and pressed his hands against the patterned fabric. “Huh?”

The three characters backed away as they faced each other until they formed a wide triangle. Mista and Hol, trying to keep a good view of the scene, took spaces equidistant between them. When considered with Giorno, they formed two overlapping but mirrored triangles.

Rikiel pointed at the characters. “There’s a good one, a dumb-but-smart one, and a killer one, right?” He glanced back at Giorno. “You’re dressed like the good one now. Blondie.”

“Mista looks different, too,” Giorno replied. “He has Tuco’s jacket on.”

“That makes Hol Angel Eyes.” Rikiel looked over at Ungalo. “What does this mean?”

He lifted a hand to his forehead. “Um. I don’t know.”

The three characters stared each other down. Mista and Hol watched excitedly from the sidelines, but the Emperor was manifested in Hol’s hand and Mista looked like he didn’t even realize he was holding his revolver.

“I think I remember how this scene goes,” Giorno said. “I took the bullets out of Tuco’s gun the night before. I shoot Angel Eyes. Tuco and I share the treasure.”

“You shoot Angel Eyes?” Rikiel asked in disbelief. “Do you mean Hol or the actual Angel Eyes?”

He blinked in confusion. “Yeah, Hol. Right. No. I meant...”

The three characters held their hands over their guns, their fingers twitching.

“Anyway, you didn’t take the bullets away from Mista, right?” Rikiel asked. “And Hol’s gun is a Stand, so it isn’t like it would run out.” He squinted. “What happens if they shoot?”

Giorno held up his gun. “I will probably shoot, as well.”

Rikiel clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle his scream of surprise. “Where did you get a gun?”

“In this world, there are two types of people. Those with loaded guns, and those who dig,” Giorno said, his voice low and serious. He paused and his tone grew lighter. “I always thought that was an interesting line.”

“Ungalo!” Rikiel cried out. “Turn off your Stand!”

Ungalo was pale and sweaty. He hunched over and crossed his arms tightly. “I don’t… it doesn’t want to listen to me, or something.” He grimaced. “I never use it for too long because sometimes it gets kind of weird like this.”

Rikiel gave Dio a desperate look. “Help!”

Dio looked at him blankly. “This doesn’t seem all that dangerous. I want to see if he can figure out how to control his Stand.”

Rikiel scowled fearfully. “Giorno’s gonna shoot Hol! Hell, they might all just shoot each other!”

Dio shrugged.

There was a loud crash from within the diner. Dio, Ungalo, and Rikiel turned to look inside.

Every bit of pop culture memorabilia within the diner had been activated by Bohemian Rhapsody’s inexorable spread. A varied coterie of characters came spilling out the front door. A few accosted Rikiel while others went stumbling out into the parking lot. One tapped Dio on the shoulder and spoke with a thick European accent. “Have you seen Jonathan?”

He twisted away from the touch and glared. A black-and-white Bela Lugosi dressed up as Dracula peered at him inquisitively. “Jonathan Harker. He is late arriving to my castle. I must find him.”

“Ungalo, turn off your Stand,” Dio yelled as Bela Lugosi latched onto his arm.

“I can’t,” Ungalo gasped, and he fell to a crouch.

Giorno’s posture shifted ever so slightly as he prepared to fire.

Rikiel shook off a rather touchy Lucille Ball and tried to get to Ungalo. What the hell was it that Giorno had told him? See five things, smell four? Taste three? He could feel his own breath growing unsteady, his chest heaving as he struggled for air. He stumbled forward blindly as his eyes closed.

Wait. If his eyes were closed, then the creatures were there. If they were there, he could use them. He pointed at Ungalo and the wind rushed past him.

Giorno blinked at his raised but empty hand. Hol noticed that he had summoned the Emperor and frowned in confusion. Sex Pistols wept incoherently and tugged at Mista’s sleeve in an attempt to get him to lower his gun.

Ungalo fell face-first onto the ground. Dio grabbed Rikiel by the collar and lifted until his feet barely brushed against the pavement. “What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t kill him,” he answered quickly. “I knocked him out. I had them just barely affect the vasovagal nerve. I used to get vasovagal syncopes all the time and I remembered the doc explaining it so I just followed what he said. See?” He pointed at Ungalo. “He’s already getting back up.”

Ungalo groaned and rolled onto his side. “Ow. Fuck. My forehead.” His lagging memory returned to him and he scrambled to his feet. “Did it stop? Did anybody get shot?”

Dio gently set Rikiel back down. “Quick thinking. Well done.”

Rikiel frowned at him. “You… you wouldn’t have to tell me well done if you had just helped in the first place.” He waved an arm towards Giorno, Mista, and Hol. “What if they were shot?”

“I would have stopped time,” Dio replied flatly. “No one would have been shot.”

Rikiel clapped his hands against his face and scowled. “But what if they were?”

“You’re an anxious one, aren’t you?” Dio crossed his arms. “I wanted Ungalo to learn from this.”

“There’s gotta be better ways of doing that,” Rikiel retorted. “I want to get better at using my Stand, too. I want to evolve with it. I get that you might want that for all of us but you sure looked like you didn’t even care!”

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Dio replied flatly, “it’s that I’m confident that I would be able to prevent any harm.”

“Yeah, you looked real confident when that Dracula guy grabbed you,” Rikiel muttered.

Dio narrowed his eyes and curled his lip in anger but he was interrupted by Hol, who came bounding up towards them and threw an arm around Rikiel. “Phew. Thanks, kid. And uh, don’t be too mad at your dad. We’re best buds,” he said, and he looked up at Dio with an expression that clearly said we are not, but I am lying to help you out and keep this from becoming A Problem, so back me up, goddamnit. “He wouldn’t’ve let me get shot. Hell, he saved Mista from getting shot earlier today, right? And the way the original scene goes, there’s no way for Giorno to get shot. So we were safe.” He glanced back at the diner and frowned. “Well, maybe not too safe when all the other ones showed up. But it doesn’t seem like Ungalo even knew that could happen.”

“Nope!” Ungalo exclaimed. “I guess that’s what happens if I leave it on for too long. Sorry. Thanks for knocking me out, Rick.”

“Oh my God, don’t call me Rick,” Rikiel said with a weak laugh.

Ungalo wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What about Ricky?”

Rikiel pointed at him. “You want knocked out again?”

Ungalo laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Okay, okay."

Rikiel snorted, but when he glanced back at Dio his expression grew more serious. Dio only peered back at him impassively. Giorno and Mista were talking quietly, but they stopped when Giorno's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked closely at the screen. When his eyes went wide, Mista went around and peered over his shoulder to read it.

"Ungalo," Giorno asked, "do you have any idea what the range of your Stand is?"

Ungalo frowned at him. "Huh?"

Mista looked up in thought. "How far away is the Smithsonian? Pretty far, right?"

"Breaking news, every painting in the Smithsonian art museum empty of human or animal characters for up to fifteen seconds, photographs and video of the strange event in this exclusive report..."  Giorno trailed off as he read the article.

"What? What?" Ungalo stared at him in shock. 

Giorno tapped at the phone a few more times. "Reports in from the Louvre, same event happened for a mere five seconds, no photos but the security cameras captured..."

Mista stared at him. "All the way to the Louvre?"

"It must get larger the longer you have it active," Giorno said. "We spent quite a while waiting for the waitress to bring us our change..."

"Wait, where's the Louvre?" Ungalo ran over to Giorno's side. "How far is that?"

Giorno pursed his lips. "Paris."

Ungalo grabbed Giorno's arm for support. "What! How the hell could my Stand reach that far?"

"What's the longest you've left it on before?" Mista asked.

Ungalo's face screwed up with embarrassment. "Uh. I don't know. I try not to go over like, two minutes. Like I said, it gets weird." He scrunched his eyes shut. "I'm never gonna use it again. This is too heavy."

"No, no," Giorno insisted. "You just have to be careful now that you know you can do this."

Rikiel approached them and put a steady hand on Ungalo's shoulder. "If I can get mine under control, you can do the same with yours, right?"

"Yeah..." He trailed off, but then his expression brightened. "Yeah! You're totally right!"

Rikiel grinned. Giorno finished scrolling through the news and placed the phone back in his pocket with a faint smile. Mista clapped him on the back. "Hey, no fair that you got to be Clint Eastwood, Blondie. I call dibs next time."

Giorno quirked an eyebrow. "Next time?"

Mista only laughed in response.

(dio watching wholesome sibling bonding moments: hm. i don't know what this is and i don't trust it

As always, thanks for reading! Y'all are the best! Also I guess I could have named this chapter The Ecstasy of Gold Requiem)

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to cast vivid orange and pink across the sky as Mista parked the car outside of a tall apartment complex. “Alright. Time to collect the last one, yes?”

Polnareff half-exited the turtle and handed Giorno a sheaf of papers. “I was able to find a little bit more on him. He’s been in and out of correctional facilities for most of his life. When not in one of those, he’s been in the hospital. He was just in there for a pretty major injury after a botched robbery. However, based on that paper Dio took in the first place, I was able to track down his medical information. He was discharged from a Miami hospital a few days ago, so he should be home.”

“Has he ever been kept at Green Dolphin?” Dio asked.

Polnareff shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like it. Oh, the real find was that I was able to get a picture of him.”

“That is very helpful,” Giorno replied.

“Oh, can I see?” Before Polnareff really had a chance to answer, Ungalo leaned over and looked down at the printout. He frowned. “Hey, I think I know that guy.”

Giorno raised his eyebrows. Ungalo took the photo from Polnareff and brought it close to his face. “Holy shit, yeah. We went to the same school. He was two years ahead of me. I remember when he got pulled out of school for a long time for a robbery or something. Total delinquent. Sold me weed once. Weird guy, and I say that as a weird guy myself.”

Rikiel peered at the photo over his shoulder. “Oh! I know him, too! I went to the Cleveland Clinic hospital in Vero Beach for a while because they had a neurologist that my uncle liked. That guy was in the waiting room once. We talked for a bit. Apparently he got sepsis as a teen and he still has problems from it.” He frowned. “I agree with you, though. I got a weird vibe from him.”

“The ‘weird vibe’ was probably the fact that you share a bloodline,” Dio stated. “Your fates have been intertwined for longer than I expected, albeit in a rather mundane way.”

Ungalo pursed his lips. “I guess that makes sense.”

Mista poked at the GPS. “Vero Beach? Isn’t that just north of Port St. Lucie?” He squinted at the screen. “Yeah, they’re pretty close.”

Dio felt a faint dread. If Donatello had been just outside of Port St. Lucie for appointments, then there was a good chance Pucci had already spoken with him. At least one of the printouts Dio had stolen had been new, but he didn’t know how old the other fallen contents of the desk were. “Polnareff, where was the hospital on the original paper I gave you?”

Mista interrupted with a loud laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I looked to the left of Vero Beach and I found… Yeehaw Junction. What the fuck.”

Polnareff allowed himself a pfft of amusement but he returned his attention to Dio. “The paper you gave me was from the Vero Beach hospital. The most recent update is from the Miami hospital.”

Dio narrowed his eyes. “Polnareff, are you sure he was discharged? Is it possible that he was just transferred?”

“It is possible.” Polnareff’s expression grew serious. “Do you think that Pucci could have anticipated us coming here?”

“This is our last stop, so he’s had more time to prepare.” Dio looked out the window and stared at the apartment complex. “This could be a trap.”

“Only one way to find out, right?” Mista grinned back at them. “I mean, not to be too confident, but we’ve got a pretty strong set of Stands here.”

“Don’t underestimate Pucci,” Dio said, a stern defensiveness edging into his tone. Everyone but Polnareff shot him an odd look. He narrowed his eyes. “I know you think that the Stands we have faced so far have been easy to defeat. That was for a reason. Pucci wanted to know where we were, not to kill us.”

“That officer seemed like he was out to kill us,” Mista said with a frown.

“He was prepared to kill you ,” Dio corrected. “You all understand that he can both give and take away Stands, correct? If you die, your Stand disappears with you. He was willing to kill you because Pucci has no use for your Stand.”

“But he wants to steal ours,” Ungalo said quietly. “That’s what you said. That’s why we have to stay away from him. If he gets our Stands he ends the world.”

“Yes.” Better to let them continue thinking that. “I think that Pucci may have already interacted with Donatello because of his proximity to that hospital. If that is the case, he may have convinced Donatello to work with him.”

“The commands, right?” Mista asked. “He can write stuff into the discs. So, he could just be telling Donatello what to do.”

Dio doubted it, but he nodded. “It is possible.”

“Donatello’s apartment is the second one on the left, yes?” Giorno asked. “I can sense someone inside.”

The car fell silent. Dio focused on the building and listened to his intuition. For a while, there was nothing. Then, so faint that he thought he may have been imagining it, he felt an instinctive pull. “He must be here,” he muttered. But why was it so faint? If Pucci really had written instructions into his discs, would it weaken his identity enough to cause something like this?

“Ungalo, go in the turtle. Your Stand will not be suited to close-quarters combat. We should bring Hol out and have him help cover the group. Mista, you know what to do. Rikiel…” Giorno trailed off and gave him a serious stare. “I will not judge you if you choose to go into the turtle. A Stand battle with an experienced user can be terrifying. You know your own limits, and it would be dangerous if you lost control of your Stand during a fight.”

Rikiel thought it over for a few long moments. He nodded decisively. “I want to help.”

Giorno returned the nod and then looked back out the window. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Dio approached the door to Donatello’s apartment and prepared to break in, but then he tilted his head and looked back at Rikiel thoughtfully, which caused Rikiel to immediately take a step back and cross his arms. Dio smirked. “I just realized that you haven’t seen my Stand. Would you like to?”

Rikiel pursed his lips. “Sure?”

The World manifested and it stood menacingly for a moment before Dio stopped time. The World kicked the door in and the dented pieces floated to a halt a few feet into the apartment. Dio pushed the broken door to the ground so that it wouldn’t make any noise by falling once time began again.

Time began again. The World stared blankly down at the broken door. Rikiel pointed at the Stand with wide eyes and a tentative frown. “What…”

“Like I told you, my Stand can stop time,” Dio explained. “While limited to a close range, it also has the physical power to—”

“Er, no, I mean,” Rikiel stammered, “why is it wearing that?”

Dio frowned and turned on his heel. The World was now facing him as if awaiting further instruction. He waved his hand and it turned away from him.

He hadn’t needed The World’s physical prowess for most of his time in Florida; stopping time had generally sufficed. The few times he had brought it forth, he supposed it had been facing towards him. Resting upon the back of The World’s hips was a gray and gold bag emblazoned with a passport-stamp pattern. The top was unzipped but nothing was inside. 

So that was where it had stored his new abilities.

Mista tilted his head. “Your Stand has a fanny pack?”

Giorno raised his eyebrows. Hol gulped. Dio made himself look smug as he looked back at them. “What, you didn’t know that you can accessorize your Stand? Try it sometime. It can be quite entertaining.”

Mista gave him a look of bewilderment. “What? You can do that?”

“Of course.” Dio waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, finding Donatello is a little bit more important, isn’t it? Shall we go in?” The World faded away and he walked into the apartment. “Giorno, where’s the person you sensed?”

“I can tell that they’re in here, but not exactly where they are,” Giorno replied. Mista strode ahead of him and drew his revolver. He cleared the corners of the room before nodding to Giorno. Giorno walked in; Rikiel and Hol followed closely behind him.

Dio closed his eyes and listened to his intuition. The ever-so-faint pull directed him towards a living room. An expensive-looking set of gaming consoles were pushed against the far wall, but there was no television. A leather couch separated the space from a cramped kitchen. A messy shelf was overstuffed with books. A large metal box sat ominously on a coffee table.

The box was mostly black and dull gray steel, but the hinges and corners were a soft, almost buttery-looking gold. The lid was open and the lock mechanism was separated, but it was easy to tell that when they were brought together they would look like a set of golden teeth.

“That looks like some Stand bullshit,” Hol said as he gestured towards the box with Emperor. “This is a trap.”

Dio stared at the box. “It is. But we’re going to play along with it for now.” He approached the box and looked inside. His lips twitched into a scowl. The box appeared to be full of blood.

“What’s in there?” Mista asked.

“Blood,” he answered. He pushed his hand against the surface and took in a small amount. Rikiel made a little noise of disgust. 

This was what his instincts had been sensing: the faint-but-present recognition of his bloodline. “It has to be Donatello’s,” he stated, and he grimaced at an odd taste at the back of his throat. “And there’s something… a painkiller of some kind.” He dipped his hand in deeper and brushed against something thin and papery. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled it out of the container.

He tensed as he recognized a blood-stained calendar page. It dropped from his hand and landed with a wet splat on the floor. He threw his hands back into the container and began pulling out page after page, a growl escaping from his throat as he dug through blood and paper until the container was empty. There were hundreds of torn-out calendar pages, most of them barely readable but clearly recognizable as part of his stolen Stand ability.

Pucci had no interest in going back and changing the past. He had no need to install the discs within himself. However, if he recognized that there was any chance of Dio getting the discs back, and if he still thought Dio would try to stop him…

He had installed it into Donatello, probably with a command to make him summon it, gave him sedatives to keep him from fighting back, and then he had torn most of the Stand apart. Hell, the blood in the container had probably been collected straight from the resulting injuries. Dio shouted in rage as he picked up the bloodied container and then slammed it against the table. He lifted it up and brought it crashing back down again. Blood spattered against the ground and his shoulders began to shake.

“What? What was all that?” Rikiel stammered. “What’s happening?”

Giorno grabbed him by the shoulder. “Stay back.” He glanced over at Mista, who nodded and kept his revolver in a steady grip. He looked over at Hol and was surprised to see that he was about to have a total breakdown, as well. The Emperor flickered uncertainly in his hand as he gawked at the scattered calendar pages.

Dio threw the box against the wall. It crushed into the drywall and hung suspended for a moment until it slipped out of the crumbled material and fell to the floor. It landed with a thunk right on its lid and the box closed. The mouth-shaped lock came back together and the teeth clattered.

“I shouldn’t be closed while empty,” the box said. Centipede-like legs sprouted from its bottom and it rocked until it managed to right itself. “No cheating me out of my meal.” There was a loud creaking and the box doubled in size, the black metal sliding open in expanding segments.

“Keep away from it,” Giorno commanded. He pulled Rikiel back and glanced warily at Dio, who was still struggling to control his rage.

“Want me to shoot it?” Mista took aim. “Don’t know if I can kill a box but I can knock the hinges off or something.”

“We don’t know what it does yet,” Giorno answered. “Just don’t let it get near you.”

Dio dove right at the box and dug his fingers into the lid in an attempt to pry it apart.

“Ouch,” the box said.

“The user has to be in here, right? Didn’t you sense it?” Hol asked Giorno, his voice high-pitched with panic. “If we kill the user, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

The box tried to say something but it was garbled as Dio tore at its lock with his nails.

Giorno kept his voice steady. “Dio. I know that this upset you, even if I don’t understand why. But surely you can recognize that it isn’t safe to—”

The box popped open and Dio attempted to tear the lid off the hinges. When he failed to do so, he grabbed it, pulled his arm back, and slammed the box into the floor.

How much had Pucci destroyed?

If he could no longer go back to the night he killed Jonathan…

He threw the box against the wall with a shout. The box landed on its scuttling insectile feet and the lid fell closed. “Hey.” The teeth-lock chattered. “I said don’t close me while I’m empty.” The box shivered, creaked, and doubled in size once more. When it had first been sitting on the table it had been roughly a gallon in volume. Now it was four. The golden teeth clacked.

Hol bolted forward and grabbed Dio before he could try to attack the box again. “Hey! I’m freakin’ out too, you know? But Pucci wants you to be upset. Save that anger for when we see that bastard again.”

Mista sent Sex Pistols out ahead of him as he stalked over towards the hallway. “Nobody touch the damn box. I’m gonna kill the user.”

“I was trying to tell you,” the box chattered. “I don’t really care if you kill the guy who carried me here. In fact…”

Giorno held up a hand, his face taut with concern. “Mista. Whoever I sensed isn’t here anymore.”

“Yep, they should be long gone. Right out the window like how we got in.” The insectile legs scuttled excitedly. “I don’t really have a user. I’m a very special fully-independent Stand,” it said proudly. “And I’m hungry.”

The group watched it warily, but it didn’t make any sudden moves.

“What are you hungry for?” Giorno asked.

It didn’t answer. It just popped its lid open and waited expectantly.

“The couch,” Giorno said. “Shove the pillows in. Just keep it from doing anything else.”

The box jittered a bit and the lid swung closed, bringing the teeth back together. “Ew! No! I want real food.” It paused and the legs wriggled. “Ha ha. Oops. Shouldn’t close me while I’m empty.” With a loud creak, it doubled in size, reaching roughly eight gallons. “Now I need a bigger meal.”

“You dick!” Mista shouted. “That shouldn’t count!”

“I don’t make the rules,” the box replied. The lid popped back open and it waited to be fed.

“The fridge,” Giorno exclaimed. 

Rikiel ran into the kitchen and checked inside. “How does he not have any food?” he cried. The inside of the fridge was bare except for a few jars of condiments.

“He’s been in the hospital,” Giorno replied. “Is there a pantry?”

Rikiel threw the cabinets open. “He has, like… two cans of beans and a box of crackers.”

Giorno nodded decisively. “Better than nothing. Put them in the box.”

The box made a weird groaning noise as it tried to talk with its lid-mouth wide open. Before it could close again, Mista dove forward and grabbed the lid. “I’m not going to let you close all the way,” he stated. “Just say what you wanted to say as best as you can like this.” He wedged a sports magazine from the coffee table against the hinges in order to hold it slightly open.

“I’ can’ be a sna’,” the box huffed. “Ha’ ‘oo ‘ill th’ whole thin’.”

Mista scowled at it. “What?”

“We have to fill the whole box,” Giorno said. “I don’t want to find out what happens if we can’t. There has to be a restaurant around here. We can—”

The box pulled free of Mista’s grip and shook the magazine from its hinges. The lid flopped shut. “Oh, there’s also a time limit. You have ten more seconds to feed me something or I’ll just get it for myself.” It did a little jump. “Oops! Closed again.”

Mista shouted and scrambled away as it doubled in size. The insectile legs strained as it expanded to sixteen gallons. 

“Hey hey, now you have more time. Thirty seconds to feed me something. If you can’t manage to do that, I’ll choose a meal for myself.” The box swung its lid open and swayed excitedly.

Mista glanced back at Giorno. “What do we do?”

He stared back at Mista. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it.

“No,” Mista said. “We’ll find something. We have to.”

Hol was still doing his best to hold Dio down. Dio stared at the open box with a growing calm. As a vampire, he was all too familiar with the average volume of a human body.

He wouldn’t be able to put Mista inside without turning Giorno against him. He couldn’t let Giorno or Rikiel into the box because he still needed them to get to Pucci and retrieve whatever scraps remained of his new abilities.

Most of the pages around him were soggy and unreadable. If there was even the smallest chance that the first page remained intact…

He had to know.

“Hol,” he said quietly, almost gently. “I respect your dedication.” He lifted his hand and dug his fingers into Hol’s forearm. “You have been very useful to me.”

“What?” Hol went tense and tried to pull away from him.

“I am sorry that I may no longer be able to take you back home.” He brought up his other hand and held Hol by the collar. “Surely you would be happy to be useful one last time.”

The box’s legs wriggled impatiently. Giorno lifted his hand.

Mista gave him a desperate look. “No! Boss! Non vale la pena rubare!”

The box scuttled forward, its lid-mouth yawning open as it ran straight for Giorno.

Dio hoisted Hol into the air and lunged towards the box. Mista shouted as Giorno dropped to a crouch and pressed his palm against the carpet on the floor. Hol yelped and tried to writhe out of Dio’s grip as Dio threw him into the bloodied maw of the scuttling container.

The lid slammed shut before he could fall inside. Hol hit his back against the metal and shouted in pain. Giorno stared in shock as the golden teeth smacked together.

“Delicious,” the box said. “Thank you!” It creaked and shrunk back down to its original size. Hol tumbled to the floor.

“Oh,” Rikiel said quietly. “I’m glad that worked.”

Everyone turned to look at him. He lifted his hand. “I used Sky High. I told all of them to go into the box.” He frowned. “Well, almost all of them. It feels like there’s one or two still floating around.”

Giorno gave him a look of soft concern. “But without them, your Stand…”

Rikiel looked down at the ground and mumbled. “Yeah. I know.” He sniffed, then laughed. “Maybe they’ll reproduce over time or something. It’s not a total loss.” He held out his arm and focused. For a brief moment, his strength wavered and the limb dipped down. “See? There’s a couple left.”

Giorno watched him thoughtfully, but then he frowned in realization and looked down at the carpet that was now much furrier than it had been when he first touched it. He pulled his hand away and quickly looked up at Dio.

Dio wasn’t looking at him. He was instead staring at a very upset-looking Hol.

Hol’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and calm himself. He glared at Dio as he ran a hand across his forehead and adjusted his hat. “I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped just as Dio looked as if he were about to speak. “Don’t say a goddamn thing.” He staggered to his feet, still scowling and uneasy, and he walked over towards Giorno. “Donatello ain’t here," he snapped. "If we’re gonna help him, we have to face Pucci directly. Is that what you wanna do?”

“We have to, right?” Rikiel interjected. “We have to save him from the end of the world and all. And if that was his blood in there, he’s hurt. We have to stop Pucci, right?”

Hol glanced back at Dio and was silent for a few long moments. He narrowed his eyes. “Yup,” he finally replied. “We sure do.”

“Then we find him,” Giorno answered.

“We can’t leave that thing here,” Mista said, and he started going through drawers. “Hell, I say we take it with us and sic it on whoever attacks us next.”

“I’m tired,” the box said. “I need time to digest.”

Mista found a nearly-finished roll of packing tape and ran back to the box. “I’ve never seen a totally independent Stand like this before. I mean, I’ve seen ones that do their own thing, but not ones that are just bound to a box.”

“It can happen,” Hol muttered. “Just don’t let it open again.”

“Way ahead of you.” The tape made a loud, harsh noise as he pulled it off the roll and began to wrap the box. “Hey, box. You got a name?”

“I’m tired,” it said again. The teeth chattered. “But yes. Rattle That Lock.”

“That’s your name? Sounds about right.” Mista turned the box onto its side to finish wrapping the tape around, securing the lid safely closed. “You said someone carried you here. You know who told them to do that?”

“Of course,” the box replied.

Mista waited and stared at the box for a few moments. When it didn’t elaborate, he sighed. “Are you gonna tell me or…?”

“I’m tired,” the box mumbled. “Big meal.”

Mista slapped his hand against the lid. “Just tell us where Pucci is.”

“Oh, sure. Cleveland Clinic Hospital, Vero Beach, Wing D, Room 404.” The inside of the box grumbled and squeaked as it began to digest. “Can I sleep now?”

Mista frowned. As the box’s teeth went still and it seemed to doze off, he looked back at Giorno with a fearful expression. “Okay. I’ve been trying really hard not to bring it up but this is just too much. Ungalo lived on the fourth floor of his apartment. We had the wrong address for Rikiel and it turned out he lived at a lot numbered 224. That’s basically two fours. And now we have to go get Donatello from a room 404 on Wing D. That’s the fourth letter of the alphabet. And finally,” he said, and he counted off on his fingers. “Giorno. Ungalo. Rikiel. Donatello. That’s four sons. I don’t like this.”

Giorno approached him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I understand. Your fears are justified. But this is…” He trailed off and glanced back at Dio, who was staring at the sleeping box with an unreadable expression. He returned his attention to Mista and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “This is unavoidable.”

For a moment, Mista looked crestfallen, but he took a deep breath and steeled himself. “I’m with you,” he said gravely.

Dio stood and wiped splattered blood from his face. He silently strode towards the broken door. Rikiel took a cautious step away from him as he walked past. Hol watched with narrowed eyes and a stern expression as Dio left the apartment.

Giorno and Mista shared a look before walking out after him, with Mista hauling the box along as he went. Rikiel glanced at Hol with fearful confusion before running to catch up with them.

Hol took a deep breath, and he followed.

(Several notes this time:

Mista's translated Italian he shouted to Giorno: Not worth stealing!

Rattle That Lock is from the David Gilmour song/album. (Let's go do it/ have it all our way/ go back to where we blew it/ and lose our heads along the way/ So long Sin, au revoir Chaos/ If there's a heaven, it can wait...)

The whole song/music video is also a big ol Paradise Lost extravaganza and that book certainly feels like a book Dio and Pucci would have geeked out about together.

And for some fun bonuses, here's some Stand overviews. I didn't do one for the pigeon because it is a pigeon.

As always, thank you so much for reading/commenting/etc! Yall remain The Best! )

Chapter Text

Hol ran out of the apartment in order to get back to the car first, startling Rikiel when he slipped past him to grab the handle of the car door. As soon as Mista unlocked the van, he reached into the back and grabbed the turtle. “Car’s stuffy as shit down here. I call dibs on the couch.” He shot a look back at Dio, who only stared at him blankly. “You should join me, pal,” Hol said through gritted teeth.

Dio didn’t respond. Hol jabbed a finger against the lock mechanism. “Polnareff, open up.”

Mista hauled the sleeping box around to the trunk. Giorno pulled open the driver’s side door. Rikiel began to get into the back seat but he paused when he saw Hol and Dio just glaring at each other.

The metal plate slid open; Hol went into the turtle. Dio looked at the gem for a long moment before reaching out a bloodied hand and going in, as well.

Rikiel picked up the turtle and gave Giorno a concerned look. “Are we not gonna talk about how he was totally going to feed Hol to the box?”

Giorno turned the keys in the ignition. “Seems like they’re going to talk about it on their own.”

Ungalo popped out of the turtle and landed on the seat. “Okay, no more turtle time for me, I guess. Jeez.”

Mista pulled the hatchback shut and went up to the passenger seat. “Off to Vero Beach, then?”

“Donatello wasn’t here?” Ungalo asked with surprise. 

“No,” Giorno answered, his voice held steady. “He’s with Pucci.”

“Shit.” Ungalo’s face fell. “I mean… can Pucci still end the world with just one of us? If he only has Donatello, then it’s fine, right?”

“You’re okay with him killing Donatello?” Mista asked. He didn’t sound judgmental, only curious.

Ungalo frowned and rubbed a hand against his face. “Ugh. Yes and no. Mostly no. I mean, I have myself to worry about too, y’know? And even though I guess I’ve met him before, I don’t know the guy at all.”

“I kind of feel the same way,” Rikiel mumbled. “Even though he’s my brother. If we just stay away from Pucci, we’ll be fine right? And the world won’t end. If we go after him Pucci could get us.”

Giorno turned in his seat to look at them. “I understand your concerns. You both want to survive. More than that, you want to live on your own terms. I feel the same way.”

Rikiel and Ungalo both looked surprised. “You do?” Ungalo asked.

He nodded gravely. “Yes. But if you want to survive, you have to understand the nature of your enemy.” His expression grew more thoughtful. “I don’t believe that Dio is telling us the whole truth about what Pucci’s goals are.”

“No duh,” Rikiel replied. “He lost his shit at whatever papers were in that box. That was clearly some kind of message.”

Giorno fell silent. He peered back at Ungalo and Rikiel and then he sighed. A small smile lightened his expression. “We are going to go to Vero Beach. If we don’t, Pucci will continue to hunt you. If he is truly ruthless and dedicated to his goals, as Dio has said, then that is what he would do. If you are being hunted, you could survive, but you certainly wouldn’t be living on your own terms anymore.” He laughed. “And of course, I feel that I should rescue my brother, as well. But any action can have both selfish and altruistic motivations.”

Ungalo furrowed his eyebrows and rested his chin on his palm.  “Ah, damn. You’re right. I gotta save my brother to save my own ass.”

Giorno shrugged and grinned before returning his attention to the road and taking the car out of park. “That doesn’t make it any less good of an action,” he said lightly.

“But you weren’t on the printouts,” Rikiel realized. “Pucci might not even know you’re here.”

Giorno tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “This is true,” he finally replied. “I could run away right now and face no consequences. Though, that would be quite selfish of me now that I know you two.”

Ungalo frowned. “You’re saying it would have been better for you if we hadn’t met.”

“Yes and no.” Giorno glanced up at the rearview. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“...Yeah.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “I do. Sorry.”

“I am glad that I met you,” Giorno replied honestly. “I am only sorry that it happened under these circumstances. My selfless motivation is to help keep you both safe. My selfish motivation is that I am doing so merely because I wish to know more about my family.” He smiled faintly. “It seems that any family I find myself in comes with its own share of dangers. I can accept that if it means I get to learn more about my place in this world.”

“I want to know, too,” Rikiel mumbled. “It’s just that…”

“Dio kinda fuckin’ sucks,” Ungalo answered for him.

Giorno laughed. “Yes. But if he’s here, I’d like to think that it’s for a good reason. And while I would say he’s a bit negligent, he hasn’t threatened us outright. It would be nice to…” He trailed off, sighed, and then continued. “To understand him a bit more, I suppose. Plus,” he said, and he waved his hand happily, “perhaps all of this might be my chance to finally become acquainted with the other side of the family. I’ve never had a good enough excuse before. I think his reappearance should suffice.”

Ungalo blinked at him. “Other side of the family?”

Mista snorted. Giorno shook his head and smiled. “It’s a long story,” he replied, “and I don’t think I’m the one with the right to tell it.”

A few minutes prior, Hol landed in the turtle. Polnareff turned in his chair and quirked an eyebrow at him. Ungalo looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch.

Hol jabbed a thumb towards the ceiling. “Out, kid. I gotta have an adult conversation here.”

Ungalo squinted. “I’m twenty-three.”

“Whatever.” He glared and pointed upward. “Out ya go.”

Ungalo huffed, clambered off the couch, and stretched out his arms with a groan. Dio appeared in the turtle and Ungalo’s eyes went wide at the blood splattered all over him. “What happened?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“Out!” Hol yelled. Ungalo jumped in surprise and quickly left the turtle.

The following silence stretched. Polnareff interlaced his fingers and let his hands rest in his lap. Hol sat on the couch, shook his head, and bounced his knee. Dio stood still and stared at nothing in particular.

Polnareff raised his eyebrows. “So… am I supposed to, like, counsel you guys now, or…?”

Dio crossed his arms and looked down at Hol. “I take it you’re upset.”

“No shit,” Hol spat.

“Because I was going to sacrifice you to save my sons,” Dio stated.

Hol rolled his eyes. “Don’t phrase it like that, you asshole.”

“Then I’m correct.” Dio waved his hand dismissively. “I understand that it was a frightening experience, but thanks to Rikiel, you survived. Be grateful. You should be thanking him instead of being angry with me.”

“You’re not correct!” Hol clapped his hands onto his knees. “Listen, if you would have just been a jerk about it and said 'ha ha Hol, you can die because I just don’t care about you compared to them', then that would have at least been normal,” he explained. “I wouldn’t have liked it, but I would get it. Acting like you were doing me a favor by throwing me in there is what has me angry. I don’t live to be useful to you. That’s… it’s just not...” He trailed off and frowned as he stared at the floor. His leg bounced with nervous energy. “God, I wish I had some cigs.”

Dio looked genuinely confused. Polnareff leaned forward with a curious expression. “What do you mean by that, Hol? I understand you, obviously, but I think he needs clarification.”

“Remember when you took my blood and bitched at me about my diet?” Hol asked. “You said ‘as your friend’. I thought you were just being a dick. Now I realize that you were being genuine and that makes me think that you’re even more fucked up than I thought you were in Cairo.”

Dio frowned at him but said nothing. Polnareff lifted a hand to his chin and looked pensive. “You called a few of the Cairo crew your friends,” he said. “You said it to Kakyoin. Surely it was just manipulation.”

“I think most of it is manipulation,” Hol muttered. He dragged his hand over his face. “That’s the other thing I’m confused about. Back in Cairo, you had the whole infallible god-king thing going on. But here I am now, on a road trip with your estranged kids, and you’re acting like any old deadbeat dad that doesn’t know what to do with himself at a family reunion. Hell, you asked me if I wanted to be a goddamn godparent. You’re just...” He huffed and stared at the floor. “I just don’t know if you’re different or not now and it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts.”

“Oh, is that your problem, Hol?” Dio sneered. “I haven’t put you in your place enough? Would this all have been easier if I just used a flesh bud when I first saw you?" He leaned forward, looming over him. "Shall I act more like your idea of me for you? Tell me, Hol, what parts of Cairo would you like to bring back?”

Hol glared at him and crossed his arms tightly. Polnareff tilted his head and frowned. “You know that isn’t what he meant.”

Dio shot him a furious look. Polnareff only peered back at him coolly. “Dio, what is a friend to you?” he asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “You two seem awfully familiar now,” he said to Hol while gesturing towards Polnareff. “What, have you been sitting in here and gossiping about me this whole trip?”

Polnareff leaned back in his chair and sighed. Hol slapped his hands against his face and made a noise of utter frustration. “You know what? Fuck this. It’s your fault I’m stuck here. We’d still have that calendar if you wouldn’t have had your catfight with Pucci. I’ve helped you clean up your messes for long enough.” Hol faced Polnareff and took a deep breath. “I’m as good as dead now if we can’t get to Pucci, so I don’t care if Dio kills me for this. The World has a bunch of new powers now. When he first found those files that we gave you, Dio said we were going to find something from them and trade it to Pucci to get the abilities back. I thought he was talking about, I don’t know, magical gems or something at first. Not these kids.” 

Polnareff was expressionless. Hol swiped a hand across his forehead and swallowed. “We were planning on handing the kids over to Pucci. We had to trade them to get back the rest of The World’s abilities that he stole.” He sighed, took off his hat, and ran a hand through his hair. “We need those abilities to go back in time. I got pulled here from 1999. Pucci just destroyed most, if not all, of the ability that allowed us to go back. So, now we’re probably stuck.”

Polnareff blinked at him, then slowly turned to look at Dio.

“There’s more to it than that,” Dio said quickly.

“I’m sure there is,” he replied. “But I don’t care. My duty is to protect Giorno, and if he wants me to, his brothers, as well.”  

“Polnareff, I need you to understand this. Giorno and his brothers will be perfectly safe the second my abilities are returned to me.” Dio kept his expression open and honest. “Think about this logically. The ability that allowed us to travel through time was essentially a day-by-day calendar that spans over a century. I don’t think it would be possible for him to destroy it completely just based on its sheer volume. He probably only destroyed,” and at the thought his voice faltered, and he paused. “He probably only destroyed the spans of time relevant to his plans in order to prevent us from changing anything. Once I have the abilities back, I can take everyone to a safe year and we can make our way forward from there.”

“You can’t just assume that,” Hol muttered. “There’s too much that we don’t know. This is all so muddled. And I don’t think this is going to go as well as you think it will. We won’t get any of those discs back unless you take them by force.”

Dio narrowed his eyes and rage boiled at the back of his throat. “I know Pucci. I can convince him.”

Hol scowled. “Yeah, that went so well last time.”

“You do understand that actually stopping Pucci will almost certainly involve killing him,” Polnareff said.

“We can’t kill him,” Dio snapped. “He’s going to succeed no matter what we do.”

“I didn’t think you were such a defeatist,” Polnareff replied. 

“Tohth predicted it,” Hol muttered. “That the world would end. It’ll happen. I get that. But Boingo never said anything about Pucci. Hell, he never even showed me the actual prediction. What if Pucci isn’t the one that ends the world?”

“That’s absurd,” Dio spat. “He’s the only one that could do this. We can’t kill him.”

“He probably just destroyed the thing that would have saved you,” Polnareff said thoughtfully. “You don’t want to kill him?”

Dio leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get presumptuous, Polnareff. Yes, he has forced me to adjust my plans. But I refuse to believe—” that he destroyed the night I killed Jojo, he wanted to say, but the words were caught in his throat. He snarled and waved his hand dismissively. “We know each other. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“He just sent you a break-up letter with that box, you stupid bastard,” Hol shouted. “He’s done with you. We’re just obstacles to him. You’re not going to be able to convince him of anything. The only way we’re getting out of this mess is if we kill him.”

“You don’t know him,” Dio snarled. “Just because you’re a coward who lives his life backed into a corner doesn’t mean—”

“Oh, so now I’m a coward,” Hol retorted. “You know, I might not know Pucci, but I do know you. And you’re fucking delusional.”

“Enough.” Polnareff leaned forward and watched Dio closely. “The only thing I need to know now is what you’re going to do if it does come down to killing Pucci. If that’s what it takes not for the kids to survive, but for you to survive.”

Dio growled in frustration. “That’s a stupid question. We literally will not be able to kill him. He already has a hold on the fate of the world.”

“As a wild hypothetical, then,” Polnareff stated. “Would you?”

“Yes,” Dio finally answered, “and he would understand why.”

“Do you consider Pucci your friend?” Polnareff asked softly.

His nails dug into his palm as his fingers curled into fists. “Yes, Polnareff, I do, if you must know,” Dio hissed. “And apparently, he is my only friend. He is the only person devoted to the same ideals as I am. But I am not so sentimental as to let that hold me back.”

Polnareff sighed. “Here’s our plan, then. You do whatever it takes to convince Pucci to give you the discs back. If your calendar still works, you take everyone to a safe year and we go from there. We run away from the end of the world. That’s the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, the calendar no longer works. If that happens, we will have to try to kill Pucci.” He swiveled the chair and pressed a button on the laptop. 

“You’re going to tell Giorno about all this?” Hol asked weakly.

“Something like that.” The keyboard clattered. “He can choose to open this message, or he can leave it unread. It’s up to him.” He looked back at Dio and his expression softened. Dio felt ill. “Giorno just wants to understand you, you know. It sucks that to do so is such an awful ordeal.”

“Of course he does. He’s insufferable.” Dio dug a nail into his temple in annoyance. “If you’re planning to play psychologist with me I want no part of it. This is obnoxious. Do you think I am so stupid as to not realize that I have a different approach to life than everyone else? You are both wallowing in the insipid depths of human friendships and human plans. I moved beyond that for a reason, and so did Pucci. If you can’t understand that, then that is your problem.” He lifted his hand and drove his fist against the metal cover. Polnareff only frowned at him.

“Let me out,” Dio sneered. “I wish to have my son understand me. It’s what he wants, isn’t it? And you want what my son wants.”

Polnareff narrowed his eyes. “You know, I’d tell you not to do anything stupid, but I kind of hope you do.”

“Enough with the barely-veiled threats, Polnareff. I’m not going to do anything to harm your precious boss.”

Polnareff let out a long sigh but the mechanism whirred and the lid slid open.

Dio landed on the seat with a thud. He held out the turtle to the startled Ungalo and Rikiel. “I am going to speak to Giorno and I don’t want you interrupting. Go,” he commanded.

Rikiel slapped his hand against the gem and disappeared. Ungalo huffed. “Out, in, out, in. Jeez.” He entered the turtle and the metal slid back into place.

Giorno quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the rearview but said nothing. Mista let out a little whistle and looked out the window. Dio sat silently seething in the back seat.

“I received an email from Polnareff,” Giorno finally said. “But I have my principles to follow. No texting and driving,” he said, and he wagged a finger in a mock scolding. “I suppose I’ll have to read it later.”

Dio was still silent. Giorno tsked as the car in front of them made a turn without using their signal. “I was thinking,” he eventually said. “I doubt we will want to stop to rest at all tonight. Better to go straight to Vero Beach. In our circumstances, I don’t think we need to worry about the hospital’s visiting hours. However, we will be getting there fairly late. Taking a short break for refreshments would be quite helpful. A coffee shop would be especially nice.” He sighed wistfully. “I could go for a mocha. The caffeine would be good for all of us, yes? Plus most coffee shops here sell things like pastries or candies. We can restock on snacks for the van.”

“You’re trying to smooth this over,” Dio said incredulously, “with food?”

Giorno smiled faintly. “Yes. I suppose.”

Dio scowled, his sharp teeth biting at the inside of his lip. The car fell silent once more, the only noise being the sounds of traffic and the faint hum of the engine. Eventually, he spoke. “You remind me of him.”

Giorno focused on the road. His gaze flitted to the side mirrors, then to the front window, and then finally to the rearview. “Jonathan Joestar, you mean,” he finally replied.

Dio tapped a finger against his temple. “I’m surprised you know that name. You’ve done your research.”

“Yes, I have.” Giorno steadily braked as the car approached an intersection. “And that’s precisely why I’m no longer on good terms with the Speedwagon Foundation. Well, that and a few other reasons.” He frowned as the light turned green and the traffic advanced. “So, yes. I know of him. Is there a reason as to why you’re bringing this up?”

“I mostly thought that the child of a human and a vampire would miscarry,” Dio said blithely. “I suppose your survival is just another lucky side effect of having stolen his human body. That, and the fact that your mother decided to keep you.” His finger steadily tapped at his temple. “I will never know why some of the women I fucked decided to carry their children to term. Sentimentality? Negligence? Stupidity? I suppose it doesn’t matter, really, because here you are.”

Giorno’s jaw clenched. Mista twisted in his seat to glare back at Dio. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re the oldest of my children,” Dio continued. “It makes sense that you would be the most like him. You would have been conceived when I was the least enmeshed with his body.”

“First of all, gross,” Mista retorted. “Second of all, just shut the fuck up already.”

“Would you like to know how I chose your mother?” Dio asked, his tone goading. “Was she awful? Did she regret having you?”

Giorno’s tense silence was answer enough. Dio tilted his head and smirked. “That is precisely why I used her. From suffering grows strength. Do you understand me now?”

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Giorno asked quietly.

He leaned forward and grinned with bared teeth. “I don’t care that you don’t want to show me your Stand. I don’t need to see it. I know that you’re just like me.”

Mista glared at him. Giorno kept his eyes on the road.

“In the apartment with the box, you were confident. You had a plan. You were about to do something that would have stopped it before Rikiel stepped in. You believed that you could prevent any harm,” Dio said lowly. “Even I was acting rashly, but you were calm. That kind of confidence only comes from having a Stand that reflects a true inner strength. You’ve been rather unbothered by my presence for the entire trip for the same reason.” He watched Giorno closely. “I was right. I chose your mother correctly.”

“You are lashing out because you are hurt,” Giorno replied. “What were those pages inside the box and why did they upset you so?”

Dio scowled and returned to tapping his temple in annoyance. “Just read the damn email. I’m not explaining myself again.”

Giorno shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I’d rather hear it from you, father.”

The pressure against his temple became more insistent. “You have that birthmark, don’t you? Rikiel and Ungalo probably do, too. You’re all resplendent with your Joestar blood.” His nails were harsh against his skin. “I remember the last time I got my hands on Joestar blood.”

Mista gestured at him with his revolver. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Like it, don’t like it, you’re an inconsequential lapdog,” Dio snapped. “Oh, you two and your boss. You’re just falling over yourselves to protect him. Can’t you recognize that you’re just in the thrall of his heritage?”

Mista inhaled sharply and was fully prepared to go on a tirade but Giorno raised his hand. “I understand what you’re saying,” Giorno said calmly. “I don’t mean your threats. Or your insults. I mean beyond that.”

Dio let out a low and irritated growl.

“It’s because I can recognize myself in you,” Giorno continued. “I, too, have had my moments where I wish to make enemies of everyone around me. Moments where I believe that there is nothing else left for me but to do harm. It was a mindset that I held for a very long time.” He fell silent and simply drove for a moment, and then he laughed. “But then I grew up. I found my own family to support me, and for me to support them in turn.” He glanced up at the rearview and the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Neither of us are the type to give up easily, I suppose. We find our own ways through things, for better or for worse.”

“Stop assuming that you know how I think,” Dio snarled. “You can’t read me. I’m two hundred years older than you. Probably more. The human brain was never meant to last that long and I’ve irrevocably changed it with the stone mask. I’ve utterly rejected my humanity. There is nothing for you to recognize in me except for the accident of your genetics.”

“So you’re admitting that your brain is fuckin’ busted,” Mista grumbled, but Giorno shook his head at him.

“You were upset, you lashed out, and now you are growing defensive,” Giorno stated. “It seems like a fairly human chain of reactions to me. What comes next? I don’t take you to be the type to back down or apologize.” His tone was still light, but there was a painfully familiar steel behind his words. “Is the next step more insults, or will you follow through with the physical threats? Which action would you prefer to stoop to?”

Dio glowered. The muscles in his hands twitched. His nail dragged against his skin. “Be quiet.”

“I suppose I am glad that you singled me out. I’d rather you take your anger out on me than either of them,” Giorno said with a shrug. “Tell me, was it only because I reminded you of Jonathan or was it also because I remind you of yourself?”

Dio leaned forward between the front seats, everything about his posture screaming danger. Mista pressed his revolver against Dio’s forehead but then drew back with disgust while still keeping a careful aim on him. 

“Stop presuming to know my motivations,” Dio hissed. His fingers were curled into claws as he dug at the side of his own head. A bit of blood pattered onto the center console.

“You’re only hurting yourself here,” Giorno replied. When Dio looked as if he was about to start shouting, Giorno merely glanced at him and tapped a finger against his temple.

Dio pulled his hand away and looked down. His fingers were slick with blood.

“Oh! There’s a coffee shop!” Giorno exclaimed. As he peered at the storefront, he gave a slight pout and drove past. “Ah, it’s closed.”

Dio leaned back and shot a glare at Mista, who was still keeping a steady aim on him. “This is unbearable,” he muttered mostly to himself. 

“Then leave,” Mista replied. “We don’t need you to get Pucci.”

“No, he should stay,” Giorno said. When Mista shot him a quizzical look he shrugged. “Rikiel and Ungalo weren’t a part of this conversation. He still has the chance to make a better impression on them.”

“That’s a little too optimistic, even for you,” Mista grumbled as he put away his revolver. “You really shouldn’t expect anything from him.”

“I don’t, but he’s proven me wrong once,” Giorno replied. Mista frowned at him and even Dio looked a little confused. “Just now, with the gun to his head, even though being shot wouldn’t do much to him, he let the argument end,” Giorno explained. “My point is that he didn’t go on to attack me or insult me. He merely sat back down.”

Mista squinted at him. “He did insult you. He just said you were unbearable.”

Giorno tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “No, he said that the situation was unbearable. That’s different.”

Dio scowled and leaned his chin against his bloodied palm. “Fine. You’re unbearable.”

“Ah, that’s weak compared to before,” he said as he waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve let the argument drop, and rightfully so. You realized that it was useless. I consider that a step in the right direction.”

Dio closed his eyes and let out a long, annoyed sigh.

Meanwhile, in the turtle, Hol flopped back onto the couch. “Phew. I am amazed that I am still alive right now.”

Polnareff frowned and idly swiveled his chair. “Indeed.”

Chapter Text

The drive continued in tense and uneasy silence. Or, at least it felt that way to Dio and most likely Mista, who was still shooting him hostile looks via the rearview every few minutes. Giorno, however, appeared to be completely unbothered. He tapped out the rhythm to the radio on the steering wheel as he drove. 

They came upon a cluster of fast-food restaurants at the northern outskirts of Miami and he looked them over thoughtfully. “It might not be very good coffee, but it will be good enough,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot.

“Only a dollar a cup at this one,” Mista said as he peered at a promotional sign. “Not bad.”

Giorno turned in his seat and held out his hand towards Dio. “The turtle, please.”

Dio stared at him with his arms crossed for a few long moments. He finally picked up the turtle and handed it to Giorno.

“Thank you,” he said lightly as he pressed the combination into the keypad. The metal lid slid off and he peered down at the gem.

Within the gem’s room, Ungalo went wide-eyed and pointed at the ceiling. “Holy shit, Giorno’s a giant.”

“We’re stopping for coffee,” Giorno said at the gem. “Do any of you want anything?”

“Black with one sugar,” Hol replied without moving from where he was lying face-down on the couch.

“Be sure to enjoy yours for me,” Polnareff said.

“Does this place do mocha?” Rikiel asked. “I’ll take that if they have it.”

Ungalo nodded enthusiastically. “Same for me.”

“They do,” Giorno answered. “Three mochas and one black coffee with one sugar, then.” He glanced over at Mista as the metal slid back over the gem. “Do you know what you want?”

“Not yet. I’ll go in with you and help carry everything out, though,” Mista replied. “Plus, Sex Pistols are gonna want to see the whole menu.”

Giorno nodded and then glanced back at Dio. “I think it would be best for you to stay in the car. It’s generally frowned upon to go into one of these while covered in blood. Save that sort of behavior for the drive-through.”

When Giorno opened the door and began to leave Dio raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask me if I want anything?”

Mista snorted, got out of the car, and slammed his door shut. Giorno pursed his lips and looked back at Dio thoughtfully. “No,” he finally said. He shut the car door and Dio heard the electronic chirp of the lock.

Once within the relative privacy of the coffeeshop, Giorno took a deep breath and Mista clapped a supportive hand onto his shoulder. “I suppose I need to read this,” Giorno said as he pulled out his phone. “A couple of emails came in from Fugo, too. We should call him soon.”

“Yeah.” Mista’s expression grew more serious. “You good?”

“From suffering grows strength, I chose your mother correctly, and you’re just like me, but don’t you dare think we’re anything alike,” Giorno quoted flatly as he tapped in his passcode. “What a convoluted way of telling me he had a difficult childhood.”

Mista was incredulous. “That’s what you think he was saying?”

Giorno gave an atonal hm in response. “It would take far too much energy to unpack that whole conversation right now. There’s not enough coffee in the world.” He opened the email and scrolled, his expression blank. “Well. I’m not exactly surprised, but…I suppose that does explain the fanny pack.” He sighed, turned off the phone, and slipped it back into his pocket. “It’s interesting. Nothing has really changed, and we can approach this encounter with Pucci the same way as we had been preparing to, and yet…”

“Do we tell your brothers?” Mista asked.

“It sounds cruel, but I think it would be better not to,” Giorno answered. “If we are to do this trade with Pucci and then betray him it will need to seem genuine.”

“I think I’m more worried about what Dio said about your Stand,” Mista stated. “If Pucci can take and read Stand discs, that’s one thing we can clearly avoid. But since he can take out memory discs, as well…”

Giorno nodded. “I don’t think that Hol, Rikiel, or Ungalo suspect anything. If he manages to read their memories then I am still safe. You, however, would be dangerous.”

Mista sighed and slumped forward. “Hell, would I? I barely even know how it works.”

“It would be enough to cause suspicion. If he believes I am a threat, there will be no way for me to get close enough to him to strike first.” He frowned thoughtfully. “The same goes for Dio. He doesn’t know and yet he does know all at once.”

“Speaking of your brothers, do you think that they’ll hold up in a fight?” Mista asked. “They’ve got some spirit, sure. But Ungalo’s Stand isn’t suited for quick, close-quarters combat at all, and Rikiel’s Stand is currently being digested by that box.”

“I am concerned about that, yes,” Giorno answered. “But if I told them now that they couldn’t help, that would only make them more determined to do so.”

“Especially after that last pep talk,” Mista begrudgingly admitted. “Gonna be honest, I was kind of expecting them to coward out. You’re too damn good at convincing people to do things.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Giorno said, and sadness darkened his expression. “I’ve found that no matter how much a person may be opposed to your plans, as long as you tell them that you hear them and that you understand their concerns, they will almost always end up following you.” He leaned back against the wall and peered up at the brightly-colored backlit menus. “When it comes to making a group follow your instructions, it doesn’t matter if they agree with you or not. You just have to make them feel as if they have been heard.”

“Should I be taking notes, boss?” Mista asked jokingly, but Giorno shook his head. 

“I’ve been making them feel heard,” Giorno said quietly, “but I don’t know if I’ve actually been listening to them.”

Mista stood silently beside him for a few moments before speaking. “You’re worried that you acted like him.”

“Perceptive as ever, Mista,” he replied with a smile. “People usually don’t say no to me. I doubt Dio hears the word very often, either. And when he does, I suppose he just finds a way around it.”

Mista frowned. “I don’t think you should be too worried. They know exactly what they’re getting into and you have their best interests at heart.”

“I know that I want to keep them safe. But there’s that pragmatic part of me that knows that I will want to save my own skin. And beyond that, I know that if it came down to saving myself or saving them…” He sighed, shrugged, and then walked forward to get in line. He looked back at Mista and grinned. “I would find a third option.”

“That’s why if anyone actually has a chance to actually stop this guy, it’s you,” Mista replied. “We have to avoid what you saw back then at all costs, and I know what being a part of the family means. If the cost includes me, so be it.”

Giorno gave him a wan smile. “While I appreciate that, let’s not jump to such extremes just yet.” He laughed and pointed up at the menu. “You still need to decide on your coffee.”

They made it to Vero Beach around 10 PM. Giorno pulled the van into the hospital parking lot and looked up at the building thoughtfully. “It’s late. Visiting hours will be over and the entrances will have security. We aren’t very familiar with the building, so sneaking in will be risky.”

“I kind of know my way around here, but…” Rikiel shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t think I know it well enough to give any advice on getting in. Sorry.”

“What if we fake an injury and go in through the ER?” Ungalo asked.

“We’re kind of a big group,” Rikiel replied. “I think we’d need multiple fake injuries.”

“Wouldn’t a bunch of doctors be able to recognize fake injuries?” Hol scratched his forehead in thought. “Not that I’m trying to say we should do real injuries.”

Dio sighed. “I can just stop time and carry everyone in.”

Everyone except for Giorno gave him a sidelong look. “I suppose,” Giorno replied.

“Does anyone else have a better idea?” Dio asked, his tone acidic, but as he continued he forced his voice to grow calm. “I will be honest with you all. I understand that I have not made the best first impression. But we need to work together whether you like it or not. Right now, my Stand is our most powerful advantage,” he said without paying too much undue attention to Giorno. “Let’s use it wisely instead of clinging to anger and overcomplicating things.”

Hol was silent but he gave Dio a glare that clearly said that’s fuckin’ rich coming from you. Ungalo frowned and crossed his arms. Rikiel looked out the window and drew his knees close to his chest. To Dio’s surprise, Mista nodded in agreement. “We have to be pragmatic,” he said, and even Sex Pistols looked a bit stoic as he spoke. “Stealth is the priority right now. If Pucci has other Stand users with him, we don’t want to alert them. If we can just skip our way in with the stopped time, then we should do that.”

Hol managed to haul around a frozen Mista in the stopped time; Dio manifested The World and had it carry Giorno, Rikiel, and Ungalo past security. He felt an uneasy strain as he held time until they just barely made it into an elevator. 

“Wing D, fourth floor, room four,” Mista said with a frown as time began again and the elevator doors slid shut. “We’ve got the wing and the floor down. Now we need to find the room.”

The doors opened and they ventured out onto the fourth floor. There was a nurse’s station close to the elevator; Dio stopped time and the group was advanced around the corner and out of sight. Time began again. Mista approached the nearest room and pulled at the numbered label beside the door; it didn’t budge. “It doesn’t seem like he could have switched the room numbers. It should be easy enough to find.”

“A little too easy,” Hol muttered. Mista nodded in agreement.

“I don’t know why, but, um, it’s like I can tell he’s here,” Rikiel mumbled.

Dio gave him a severe look. He could feel the same pull, but it was sharp yet vague all at once. “Who? Donatello or Pucci?”

“...Both?” He winced away and crossed his arms tightly. “I don’t know.”

“Me too,” Ungalo added. He pointed towards the far end of the hall. “Down that way.” He glanced back and his eyes went wide. “Giorno?”

“...I can feel the same thing,” he said slowly, and his face was pale.

Mista nodded decisively and led in the front. Rikiel and Ungalo followed with Giorno close behind. Dio and Hol took the rear. They approached Donatello’s room and--

The door swung open and a nurse came out while coughing and waving a hand in front of her face. Fog billowed out behind her. “I can’t believe they didn’t fix the valve on the nebulizer,” she complained. “I put that request in weeks ago. We’re going to get hit with a lawsuit if they don’t sort this out.”

The group froze and stared at her in confusion. Hol rallied and doffed his hat. “Ma’am. We were just about to visit our good friend Donatello in there. We can help air the place out if you’d like.”

“Good friend?” the nurse asked as she raised her eyebrows. “This patient can be visited by family members only. And it’s rather late, isn’t it?”

“We’re family,” Rikiel said quickly. 

Ungalo threw his arms around Rikiel and Giorno and gave a wide grin. “Yeah, can’t you see the resemblance?”

The nurse frowned doubtfully and glanced back at Dio, Hol, and Mista. “And those three?”

“I’m his father,” Dio said with a glower. “We don’t have time for this.”

Hol approached the nurse and flashed a winsome smile as he gestured at Mista. “Listen, my friend and I don’t know my way around this place very well. I’d be glad to leave if you can show me the way.”

“Oh, um, of course,” the nurse stammered. Hol took her by the hand and Mista rolled his eyes but followed him. Once they were a few paces down the hall Hol looked back at the group and nodded enthusiastically towards the door to Donatello’s room.

Once they were around a corner, Hol gave a pointed glance to Mista, who wrapped an arm around the nurse and held her in place.

Hol narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “There’s no goddamn way you’re not a Stand user. I just wanted to get you far enough out of the way that you couldn’t alert anyone else.” He summoned the Emperor and it twirled in his palm. “Now, I never like to hurt a woman. You can see this, right?”

The nurse shivered in fear. She threw her arms back and tried to wriggle out of Mista’s hold. “What? What are you talking about?”

Hol broke out in a cold sweat. “H-hey. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Jesus, lady, cut it out,” Mista complained as she grabbed at his hat in her panic. He pulled out his revolver. “You can see a real gun, right? We’re gonna walk you over to that supply closet and you’re gonna stay there until we let you out. We don’t need you complicating things.”

“Of course,” the nurse answered. Her hand swiped across Mista’s forehead. Hol inhaled sharply as Mista slumped forward and fell to the floor. Two discs fell out and clattered against the tile.

“Oh shit,” Hol said as the nurse latched onto his arm with an iron grip.

“Indeed,” Whitesnake answered. 

Dio strode into the room first. A machine in the corner that he assumed to be the nebulizer was chugging away and emitting a rather absurd amount of steam. He yanked at it and the plug popped out of the socket. It sputtered and turned off.

A rounded metal track on the ceiling separated the rest of the room with a thick curtain. He twisted the fabric into his fist and threw it to the side. The rollers rattled along the track as the curtain swung open and he saw Donatello lying in the bed and staring at him in astonishment. 

More importantly, sitting beside the bed was Pucci, who held a calm expression, a relaxed posture, and a patiently expectant air. He closed the book he had been reading and set it on the bed. “Well,” he said lightly, “should I introduce myself, or have you already done the honors for me?” His gaze passed over Dio to land on the three behind him. Ungalo and Rikiel were standing behind Giorno. Giorno looked tense, but Ungalo and Rikiel looked as if they were moments away from clinging to each other in fear. Pucci tilted his head at them. “Goodness. What have you been telling them about me? Donatello,” he said, and he glanced at him, his dark eyes flashing with what seemed like joy. “Now that you’re awake, this is the perfect opportunity for you to meet your siblings.”

Donatello cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows. “Um. Okay.” He didn’t seem all that enthused.

Ungalo and Rikiel were much less fearful; now they merely looked confused. Giorno, however, was still watching Pucci closely.

“You know what I’m here for,” Dio said lowly.

Pucci nodded. “Yes, I do. I see that you would like to make a trade.”

Rikiel made a choked sound of concern. “What do you mean, trade?” Ungalo called out.

Pucci smiled gently at them, but he returned his attention to Dio. “I should know exactly what I’m trading for, shouldn’t I? Three discs for three sons. It seems even, but…” He trailed off. A wet, slithering noise reverberated from the ceiling.

Whitesnake dropped down and landed in a crouch at Pucci’s side while holding a silver memory disc. Pucci took it from its hands and nodded. Whitesnake reached out with its other arm; Pucci plucked Hol’s Way to Go! sticker from its hands and placed it upon his own.

“While I don’t appreciate being shot, having that womanizer follow you around has ended up quite advantageous for me,” Pucci said as he patted the sticker against his skin. “I’m sure you’re still very strong, but at least you won’t have the stopped time to lord over me. You could probably still kill me if that is what you wished, but then I suppose you would never find out where your discs are.”

“The calendar,” Dio stated. “How much did you destroy?”

“That information makes for good leverage, doesn’t it?” Pucci asked as he idly bent the memory disc between thumb and forefinger. “I don’t think that I will be telling you that just yet.” 

Dio narrowed his eyes.

Pucci held up the memory disc and gave it a cursory glance. “Let’s see. Hol has been traveling with you this whole time, so he should have seen all of your Stands by now. Ah, here we are. Sky High. Control over a mysterious species known as skyfish. The majority of the skyfish population is currently being digested by Rattle That Lock.” He tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Bohemian Rhapsody. The ability to bring fictional characters into the real world and apply their fates to those who identify with them, but it has a global reach and is nearly uncontrollable, affecting friend and foe alike.” He tsked. “And finally, Radar Love. The ability to sense the presence of living beings in a specific area.”

Giorno allowed himself to relax an iota, but he was still on edge as Pucci set the disc down with a sigh. “I do not think that these would be particularly useful to me, but they are your sons, after all,” he said as he peered up at Dio. “I want you to add something to this trade.”

“What are you asking of me?” Dio replied.

Pucci’s expression grew serious. “Who are you, really?” 

Dio stared at him, his face held carefully calm. “I am who I am, and you know me.”

“I do?” Pucci asked, and his tone veered close to mocking. “Do we still share the same motivations, the same goals? Why do I feel as if we do not?”

“I’m extremely tired from physical therapy today, so can we wrap this up?” Donatello interrupted as he frowned at both Dio and Pucci. “Whatever the hell you two are going on about, can’t you do it somewhere else?”

“Oh, Donatello, thank you for reminding me that you are here,” Pucci said lightly, and Whitesnake grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out of the bed. Donatello yelped in surprise and pain as the IV was pulled from the crook of his arm. He fell to the floor in a heap. Pucci leaned over him and wrapped an arm around his throat.

“I will give the discs back to you,” Pucci stated, “if you can prove to me that you truly are the same man I knew.” His hand swept over Donatello’s forehead and two discs slid out. “If you are the same man, you will not try to stop me. You will not care if I kill him.”

Dio tilted his head and frowned. “Don’t you need my sons to continue?”

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I do not. To tell you the truth, I just thought it would be nice to include them.” Donatello choked against the tight grip of his arm as Pucci spoke. “In any case, I cannot allow you to block my path forward. If you can think of another way to prove yourself, I would be delighted.” The discs slid out further and Pucci's eyes were hard and dark. “To have his Stand and his memories is equivalent to having him at my side for my purposes, isn’t it? If you try to stop me, it is only because you are sentimental.”

Dio stared at him, his expression verging upon anger. How else could he possibly prove his ruthlessness, his dedication to their shared ideal? His memories of Cairo were so muddled by the time loop that he didn’t know what things Pucci would or would not remember. Even then, bringing them up wouldn’t necessarily convince him. Dio had been so careful to cultivate an image of himself that Pucci would cherish, that he would use as a template to trace as he hunted after Heaven.

But… his motivations were different, now. His priority was to escape his double, not to make a new Heaven. He was no longer that idealized image that Pucci held close to his heart. But Dio still considered himself to be the same as he had truly been back then: a man with the utmost drive to survive and succeed.

“Pucci…” He trailed off and his expression grew calmer. “You don’t know what I’ve been through in order to reach this point. If you would let me have the time to talk to you about it, you would understand. I’ve had my Stand taken away from me, given back, taken again. I’ve killed and I’ve been killed, too. I spent another century in complete isolation beneath the ocean just to get here. I’ve faced humiliations and tortures that would have changed me, if I were anyone else. But I am the same man, Enrico.” He dropped his gaze to the terrified Donatello. “If this is what it takes for you to believe in me, then so be it.”

Donatello closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Pucci began to pull.

“I don’t know why you keep complaining about that,” a familiar voice stated. “I only kept you in there for about a year, tops.”

Everyone turned to look at the far corner of the room. Dio’s double gave a little wave. “Ciao,” he said, his tone mocking.

Time ground to a halt. Ungalo went still with one hand latched onto Rikiel’s shoulder. Giorno stood in front of them with one arm thrown out protectively. Across from them, Pucci kept his hold on the half-removed discs as Donatello clung to his arm. Pucci was staring in stark incomprehension at where Dio’s double was standing. The sticker on his hand abruptly disappeared.

Dio found himself frozen as well, but only out of fear. His double strolled over to Pucci and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, looking at the frozen scene as if it were a sculpture in a museum.

“I’ll be honest, this just isn’t dramatic enough,” his double stated. He turned to look at Dio as he patted Donatello’s hair. “Why would you give a shit about him? You only just met.” He dragged a nail across Donatello’s neck, miming at slitting his throat. “There’s barely even a decision to make here.”

Dio only watched him silently. His double shrugged and then tapped at his chin thoughtfully. “I think I know how to make this better.”

Time began again. Ungalo shouted with surprise and Rikiel swore. Donatello fell to the ground in front of them and the discs gradually went back into his head.

Pucci looked down and his eyes went wide at the golden-hued disc that was partially in his grip. Giorno bucked against his hold and kicked his feet against the floor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what it does?” Dio's double asked. “Pucci knows. He just read it.”

“No! Let go of him!” Ungalo cried out. Rikiel began to shiver. He raised his hand, then lowered it, his expression fearful and uncertain.

“Here,” Dio's double said. “Let me show you.”

The world shifted around them, and Dio stumbled. His vision seemed equally split between the hospital room and this new locale, but when he focused, one seemed more real than the other. He was now standing in broad daylight, but his double waved a hand and something was done to keep him from vaporizing. Dio glanced around with growing concern.

He heard a cacophony of shouting in Italian. There were several people he did not recognize scattered and prone across the ground. Wait—one looked like Mista, albeit a bit younger. And not too far from him was the turtle from the van, except it didn’t have the metal latch system. Nobody seemed to notice that Dio and his double were there.

His double tapped his shoulder and pointed helpfully. 

Giorno was crouched on the ground, his eyes burning with determination as he plunged a Stand arrow into a golden humanoid form.

Or, that wasn’t quite what happened. A hole appeared in Giorno’s Stand and a man threw himself at him, a powerful crimson Stand manifesting at his side. The man prepared to land a killing blow.

The surface of Giorno’s Stand cracked apart and bloomed open beneath his fists.

As the attacker leaned back, Giorno raised an arm in tandem with his Stand. The arrow slid up the crumbling golden limb and pierced so deeply that it disappeared.

Things then became very strange. The man attacked and yet did not attack. Mista fired off several shots and yet he didn’t. The man retreated and advanced all at once. Two opposing wills grappled until reality sided with one. Time staggered and condensed into a point around the man as Giorno and his Stand watched.

Giorno stared down at the man with righteous anger. He and his Stand advanced upon him and Dio could recognize the pure intent inside him, the determination to show a seemingly unstoppable enemy that their final desperate efforts were, in fact, useless. The man refused to believe it, but he was defeated. Causality collapsed around him.

Time stopped, but it didn’t stop for Giorno. Gold Experience Requiem was staring directly at Dio.

His double grinned. “See, now that’s a Stand worth stealing.”

Giorno turned to look at them, surprise and shock writ clearly across his face. His double was as nonchalant as ever, but Dio stared back at him with wide eyes. The world wavered between the hospital room and the sunny day.

“Well, let’s not cause a paradox,” his double said with a laugh. The world shifted. “Time to check in on Diavolo.”

The man Giorno had defeated—Diavolo, Dio assumed—was standing in the middle of a highway and shaking uncontrollably. He was plastered by an oncoming truck. Diavolo ran past a construction site and was impaled by wayward rebar. Diavolo fell into the ocean and drowned in the choppy seawater.

“And you thought I was cruel to you,” his double said. “This is the final power of Giorno Giovanna’s Stand. A private little world where there is no real consequence because there is only one outcome. No plan can ever be completed. No goal can ever be reached.” He tilted his head and smiled as Diavolo was crushed by a fallen piano. It would have been more comedic if it weren’t for the hideous crunching of his bones and slow spread of blood beneath the scattered ivory keys. “Our dear Enrico would hate this, wouldn’t he?”

Dio felt a searing flash of panic. His double chuckled. “I doubt Ungalo would be able to stop Pucci quickly enough, but Rikiel could at least distract him. Pucci is going to lose his hold on Giorno. That is when you will have to make your choice.”

The world fell back into place. His double was gone. Ungalo was yelling and nearly in tears. Giorno’s fingers dug into Pucci’s arm as he tried to escape his hold. Rikiel’s uneasy breathing grew steadier. He lifted his hand.

Pucci’s elbow went slack for just a moment and Giorno fell away from him. The disc slid back into his head and Gold Experience Requiem manifested.

Dio launched himself forward and threw his arms around Pucci. He crouched down with him as Pucci stumbled to his knees and Dio curled over him protectively, his back to Giorno. “Wait,” he said, and the pain in his voice was just enough to make Giorno falter.

“Enrico,” he said quietly, and he could feel the man’s heartbeat beneath his touch in the same way he had when he first reached out to heal him in the chapel. “I will not lie to you. I am not the same man that you remember. That is only because that man never existed.” Neither Pucci nor Giorno responded, so he continued. “In Cairo, I considered you a friend, but it was in the same way a craftsman would consider his favored set of tools to be friends. I honed you like a blade. You were useful to me.”

“I know this,” Pucci said quietly.

“Yes.” Dio paused. “But even now, when we are at odds, I find that I do not want you to come to harm.”

“Because I am still useful,” Pucci stated.

“No.” Dio huffed and considered his words. “Because I do not want to see you hurt.”

Pucci fell silent. Dio wrapped his arms around his chest and held him tightly. “I am selfish. I am impulsive. I am quick to anger and I prioritize my own happiness above all others. Surely you must know this of me. I am not perfect.”

“That doesn’t matter. We shared the same goals.” Pucci shook his head and cleared his throat. “The man that I knew…”

“Perhaps I cannot truly convince you.” Dio smiled wanly as he found himself echoing Jonathan. “But to pretend that something isn’t so, just because it hurts… that is not like you, Pucci.”

Pucci was quiet and still. Dio’s shoulders shook with a helpless laugh. “If you still don’t believe me, just ask Hol. I kept you away from Cairo for a reason. He cleaned up my messes then and he does it even now.” He felt a dry tightness in his throat. “I suppose you are both my friends, in different ways. You both know that I take. I took so much from you both, but especially you.” He let his head rest against Pucci’s shoulder. “You do know me. You know that you have always been my friend. But I have never been a friend to you. Not a good one.”

He felt something wet patter against his forearm. He was silent for a few long moments. Pucci sniffed and leaned back against him.

“I didn’t tear out the date you need,” Pucci finally said. “I found that I could only bring myself to remove the days I feared you might use to try to stop me. The night you killed Jonathan Joestar is still there.”

Dio let out a long sigh of relief. “As I thought. See, we do know each other.” His tone grew more sardonic. “Our shared love of the dramatic puts a damper on clear communication, don’t you think? How did you think I was going to interpret that message in the box?”

Pucci’s shoulders briefly shook with something that may have been a laugh. “That I was determined to succeed.”

“The moment I get to tell Hol ‘I told you so’ is going to be exquisite,” Dio said with a chuckle, but then his tone grew more genuine. “I’m not going to stop you from obtaining Heaven,” Dio stated. “There are just a few things that I want to do first. But when I am done, I will stand at your side.”

Pucci took a deep breath. “If you are truly going to see this to the end, then you must stop Jolyne.”

Dio felt confusion seeping into his newfound peace.  He leaned back and loosened his hold on Pucci, who then turned to peer up at him. “Who is Jolyne?” Dio asked.

“Oh,” Pucci said softly. “Oh, dear.” He pursed his lips and then frowned as he placed a hand on Dio’s arm. “One might even say good grief.”

"...You're joking," Dio said flatly.

Pucci gave him an exhausted smile. "I am not."

(as always, thank you for reading! i hope u enjoyed this chapter because i had a very fun time writing it!

here is more spectacular!!! fanart from 1cbear7!)

Chapter Text

Giorno placed a hand against the railing of the hospital bed for support as he let the lingering fear wash over him, the adrenaline souring in his tense muscles as he breathed in, then out. Gold Experience Requiem hovered closely at his side, its intense stare still focused upon Pucci. He focused on allowing the fight-or-flight feeling to dissipate; his expression grew calmer, but his hand ached with the white-knuckle hold he had on the metal rail.

The wind was knocked out of him as Ungalo threw an arm around him and squeezed. “Holy shit, dude. I thought you were a goner.” 

Rikiel put a tentative hand on Giorno’s shoulder. “Donatello’s out cold but I think he’s okay. Are you alright?”

Giorno nodded and managed to smile. “Yes. This went… much better than I thought it would, to be honest.” He gave Ungalo a pat on the back, but then disentangled himself and approached Dio and Pucci. Pucci looked up at him, his expression not fearful but certainly alert; Giorno paused, nodded, and then held out a hand. Gold Experience Requiem was still standing at his side.

Pucci placed a hand in his and gave a firm handshake. 

“You tricked Hol with the nurse, I assume,” Giorno said, not yet letting go of Pucci’s hand. “There was another man with him. What did you do to him?”

“He is not dead,” Pucci replied. “His discs are right beside him. All you need to do is put them back in.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I am sorry that these are the circumstances in which we must meet. If I would have known you were here earlier, I would have reached out to you.”

“I’m not an easy person to find,” Giorno replied flatly. “I only happened to be here because a good friend of mine was looking for Jotaro Kujo.”

“Ah.” Pucci nodded. “I see. I suppose I should give you all a full explanation as to what is happening, but first, you should return the discs to your friend.”

Dio stood and picked up Hol’s disc from the bedside table. “And my additional discs?”

“Right above you, actually,” Pucci replied as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Allow me.”

Whitesnake launched upward and the ceiling tiles clattered. When it dropped down again, it had the three discs in its hands. It delicately inserted them back into Dio’s forehead.

The World manifested. Dio unzipped the pack and pulled out the stickers. He handed the sheet to Giorno. “Choose one. It will allow you to enter the stopped time.” Before Giorno could ask him any more questions he stalked off towards the hallway.

Giorno glanced over the sheet. He quirked an eyebrow and selected one with a ladybug that had chewed out the words Great Job! into a leaf. He passed the sheet along to Ungalo as he left the room, following after Dio.

“Uh, hey,” Ungalo said, his expression trapped between fear and anger as he looked over at Pucci. “They seem real chill about this now but I’m still confused. You’re not trying to kill us?”

“I’m not going to go out of my way to do so,” Pucci replied. When Rikiel and Ungalo squinted at him, he gave them a gentle smile. “I’m a very good friend of your father’s. We simply had a misunderstanding.”

Rikiel leaned forward and sighed. “That explains so much and so little at the same time.”

“Weird guy, weird friends.” Ungalo sniffed and looked down at the stickers. “Huh. Most improved, wow, super…” He laughed and held the sheet out to Rikiel. “You gotta take this one. It’s got fish.”

“I don’t control normal fish, they’re skyfish,” he replied, but he pulled off a sticker that displayed a shoal of minnows over School is Fun! Ungalo pulled off a sticker with an opened comic book labeled Reading! and pressed it onto his hand.

In the hallway, Dio spotted Hol and Mista slumped on the ground with their discs scattered across the floor. He picked up Emperor’s disc and then crouched at Hol’s side. Hol had landed in an uncomfortable-looking heap; Dio shoved at his shoulder, and he flopped onto his back. He set the Stand and memory discs against his forehead, and they slipped back into his skull.

Hol blinked, focused his vision, and made a garbled noise of panic at Dio’s vaguely smug face being the first thing he saw. He squinted and started to say something but Dio held up a silencing finger.

Dio pulled out the calendar and flipped through the pages. “Guess who can still access 1999.”

“I’ll be damned,” Hol muttered.

“Well, most of 1999,” Dio admitted. “It looks like it cuts off in August. But we left early in the summer, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Is Pucci…?” Hol trailed off and watched Dio closely. When Dio only gave him a sharp grin in response he did not look reassured.

“We’re on much better terms now,” Dio answered. “Though he did say that he did not appreciate being shot. I suppose we are quite lucky that he had a grudge against you.” He gestured over towards Mista. “He could have taken his memory disc, instead.”

Hol furrowed his eyebrows. “What difference would that have made?”

Giorno hurried down the hallway and knelt at Mista’s side. He gathered up the fallen discs and pressed them back into Mista’s forehead.

Dio poked Hol’s shoulder with a sharp fingernail. “The kids are in the room and they have the stickers. Go get yourself a new one.”

“Oh, I get to pick mine this time?” he grumbled. He stood, dusted himself off, and stretched out his back with a series of loud pops as he strolled back to the room. 

“Giorno!” Mista exclaimed once he was fully awake and aware. “Did you…?”

“Yes and no,” Giorno replied with a smile. “It was exactly as I saw it, but… the outcome was not what I expected. And I am glad that you were not harmed.”

“Giorno,” Dio stated, and when Giorno looked up at him blankly, his own expression grew similarly unreadable. “I understand why you wanted to keep your Stand a secret.”

“I do not want an apology,” Giorno stated.

“Don’t presume. I wasn’t going to give you one,” Dio replied. “I just wanted to ask if your last name is really Giovanna.”

Giorno blinked. “Giovanna, Shiobana. It changed when I immigrated. But yes.”

A sharp smile twisted Dio's expression. “Do people call you GioGio?”

Giorno didn’t quite frown at him, but he certainly wasn’t amused. Dio began to laugh. At first it was just a chuckle, but it soon grew to the point where he had to wave his hand dismissively and begin walking away, his shoulders shaking.

Mista propped himself up on his elbows. “The hell is he laughing about?”

“Nothing that we would find particularly funny,” Giorno answered with a sigh.

“Hol,” Pucci said with a slight nod as he entered the room.

“Enrico,” he drawled distrustfully in return. He frowned. “Sorry for shootin’ ya.”

Pucci tilted his head and hummed. “I suppose no apology is really necessary. If I were in your place, I would have aimed for the heart.”

“Ha.” He ran a hand over his forehead, tracing the line where the discs had been removed. “I guess so. Don’t think I would have lived if I killed ya, to be honest.” He grinned, but he didn’t look too happy. Pucci looked as if he was deliberating on saying something more, but he was interrupted.

“Do we give a sticker to him?” Ungalo asked as he poked at Donatello’s prone body with his shoe.

“We probably should,” Rikiel replied, but he held out the sticker sheet to Hol. “Which one do you want?”

He pursed his lips as he looked them over. “Well, might as well just pick Way to Go again, now that I actually got a way to go home.”

Dio strode into the room and swung his arm towards the door. “Children, hallway. I’m going to have a private conversation.”

“We’re in our twenties,” Ungalo grumbled. 

He shrugged. “Spawn, hallway.”

“I will give you whatever money it takes to have you never call us that again,” Rikiel said with a grimace.

“Why do we have to leave?” Ungalo asked as he crossed his arms and planted his feet. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Dio managed to smile brightly and loom over them all at once. “I’m in a wonderful mood, and I’ve just reunited with a friend of mine. I am going to speak with him. Privately. You two are going to take your brother Donatello out into the hall and see what our dear Giorno can do to heal him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they both mumbled. Rikiel took Donatello’s legs while Ungalo pulled at his arms.

Hol went to follow them. Dio held up a sharp-nailed finger. “No. You’re staying.”

“Yup,” Hol said nervously as he watched the door to the room swing shut.

“You are familiar and yet unfamiliar,” Pucci wondered aloud as he took a seat in the bedside chair and interlaced his fingers. “It will be nice to get to know you once more, Dio.” He glanced at Hol inquisitively. “I am also curious as to how you have fared during this… ordeal, I suppose. About your time spent with him.”

“Of course,” Dio added, his eyes glinting as he watched Hol closely. “You’ve been speaking your mind a lot lately. You shouldn’t stop now.”

Hol broke into a cold sweat.  “Uh,” he replied. 

“I’m not going to kill you for insulting me, Hol.” Dio's grin somehow grew sharper. “Kings kept jesters around for a reason, didn’t they? At least they told the truth. Speak freely.”

“Well,” Hol said cautiously, “I’ve just been thinking.”

“Oh, you can do that?” Dio asked, but there wasn’t much malice in the jest. He leaned against the side of the hospital bed and tapped his nails against the metal rail.

“You are different, I think,” Hol said quickly. “I mean, I ain’t got much room to judge a man’s ways. I’m sure I got kids I never met out there somewhere, and I can’t bring myself to care all too much about them. I’ve killed plenty and I haven’t really worried about which ones deserved it. But you’ve always had… an atmosphere. An air. Somethin’ like that. It could convince anyone to do anything.” He glanced at the door to the hall. “You’re still kinda like that. But it doesn’t seem so extreme. You’re acting just a bit more…”

“Human?” Dio asked, and there was a dangerous lilt to his tone.

“Ish,” Hol answered, and he waggled his hand uncertainly. “Not really. It’s just that the things you do make more sense to me now.”

Dio stared at him for a moment before lying back and stretching out over the hospital bed with a dramatic sigh. “Of course some of my powerful vampiric allure is gone. There’s nary a spare moment for beauty sleep. I’m in crisis.” His head lolled over the far side of the cushion and he peered up at an upside-down view of Pucci, who was looking down at him with soft amusement.

“I was also kinda thinking,” Hol continued, talking just to cover up his spiking nerves. Seeing Dio make a joke that wasn't at the expense of an arbitrary victim was strange new ground to tread. “About who else could have come. Like if it woulda been someone that had really drunk the Cairo Kool-Aid.”

Dio squinted at him. “What does that mean?”

“I think the history of the People’s Temple is a topic for another time,” Pucci replied.

“I do know about that, actually,” Dio said with a frown. “But what do you mean by ‘who else’?”

“I mean, I guess I’m the only one Boingo would’ve called. But I certainly found myself thinkin’ ‘why me?’ during this trip. Wonderin’ about if it were like, Vanilla, or somebody like that,” Hol stated. “Not me.”

“Well, first of all, Vanilla is twice dead,” Dio replied flatly. He fell silent for a few moments and when he spoke again his tone was more thoughtful. “Vanilla also never would have said no to me.” He lifted himself up to sit upon the bed properly and he gave Hol an intense stare. “The advantage of living your life backed into a corner is that you will start to bite back, consequences be damned. When I first said I admired that about you I meant it. I was correct. Your perspective was very useful to me.”

“Well, gee.” Hol sarcastically doffed his hat. “Glad my gripin’ could help.”

Giorno gave Rikiel and Ungalo a perplexed look as they dragged the unconscious Donatello down the hallway. “We got kicked out,” Rikiel explained. “They’re talking things over. Dio told us to tell you to heal him.”

“Not a great idea to do all this in the hallway,” Mista replied. “Take him over to the supply closet.”

It was a walk-in, but it was still cramped as they all crammed into the small space. Giorno crouched beside Donatello and watched as he breathed. “I don’t think he quite understands how I heal things,” he said. “Anyway, he’s not in terrible shape.”

“Didn’t he lose a lot of blood with the whole box thing?” Rikiel asked.

“I thought so, but…” Giorno trailed off and pursed his lips. “I don’t really see any new injuries.”

“He said he was tired,” Ungalo added. “Is he just sleeping?”

Rikiel frowned. “After we dragged him down the hallway?”

Donatello groaned and turned his head. His forehead and cheek squished against the tile. “Ugh. Shut up. My head is fucking killing me.”

“Donatello, isn’t it?” Giorno placed a reaffirming hand on his back. “Welcome back. What do you remember from before you passed out?”

“Fucking priest tried to kill me,” he grumbled. “My so-called father was gonna let him.”

“Ah.” Giorno glanced up at Mista. “Perhaps it would be best if we took him to the turtle. He is a little dehydrated but I don’t think there’s much the hospital was actually doing for him at this point.” He returned his attention to Donatello, who had rolled onto his side and was itching at the crook of his arm where the IV had been torn out. “Understand that Dio was prepared to try to save you at the last second,” he lied. “It’s just his way. Preventing harm at the final moment possible.”

“Bullshit,” Donatello grumbled. 

“Perhaps,” Giorno replied. His tone grew colder. “You saw the other version of him, correct?”

He glared down at the tile floor as if it had wronged him. “Yeah.”

“For now, play nice. That version of him is our primary threat. Not the priest, and not the Dio we know.” He fell silent and waited for Donatello to make eye contact. When he finally looked up with a scowl, Giorno continued. “We don’t know his motivations, but I think I can safely assume that we are in danger for as long as he exists. As much as we may dislike it, staying with our version of Dio is our safest bet. He managed to defuse this situation. Let’s hope he has the fortitude to do it again if the need arises.”

“He did admit to some personal things in there to get Pucci to chill out,” Ungalo mused. “Not that I really got most of it, but still.”

“There’s a wide gulf between admitting to wrongdoing and actually doing something about it,” Giorno replied.

“Confess to the crime, still do the time,” Mista quipped.

Giorno stood, fished out the keys to the van, and handed them to Rikiel. “It might be best to go back to the van. Get some rest if you can. I think we’ll be meeting the other side of the family very soon.” When Ungalo looked as if he was about to interject, Giorno held up his phone. “You won’t miss out on any explanations. If I get back in the room with them, I will record it.”

Rikiel, Ungalo, and Donatello sat in uncomfortable silence within the turtle. Polnareff was working on the computer but he couldn’t help but listen in on their stumbling attempts at conversation.

“So, uh, how did you end up in the hospital?” Rikiel asked. “I know they said something about a robbery. Were you robbed or were you doing the robbing?”

Donatello crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch cushion. “I’m not answering that.”

Rikiel sniffed, looked away, and idly tapped his fingers against his knees. Eventually, Donatello spoke again. “But if you really want to know why I was in the hospital, we have to go pretty far back.”

Ungalo, who had been so bored he was close to falling asleep, blinked back into wakefulness and paid attention. Rikiel leaned forward and watched Donatello attentively.

“It all started when I was thirteen,” Donatello began. “I was about to run away from home. My stepdad was a real piece of shit and I was tired of my mom putting up with him. But as I was running, a pair of shoes fell from the sky as if dropped by God himself. So of course I was like, great, cool, free shoes from the sky. I’m running away from home and I have nothing to my name. I’ll keep them. Then, I get arrested because it turns out they belonged to some baseball player that was gonna auction them off to raise money for disabled children. The judge was like, what kind of piece of shit steals from disabled children? Of course they didn’t believe that they just fell from the damn sky. So I got sent to juvie—”

“Hold on,” Rikiel said with a frown. “Isn’t that the plot to Holes?”

Ungalo went pale.

“What,” Donatello growled.

“You know, the book. Louis Sachar. It got a Newberry. That's the gold sticker that tells you it’s a good book,” Rikiel explained.

“Oh, God,” Ungalo muttered.

“Stanley Yelnats has a pair of shoes fall on his head from the sky and everyone thinks he stole them so he gets sent to juvie and he has to dig holes for a living.” Rikiel squinted at Donatello. “Are you just bullshitting me? You’re making this up, right? That didn’t happen to you. That’s the plot of a kid’s book. I had to read it in like, sixth grade.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Donatello said brusquely.

Ungalo pressed back against the couch as if he could escape into the cushions. Donatello glared at him. “What are you freaking out for?”

Rikiel watched Ungalo with confused concern but then he clapped his hands over his mouth and made a muffled noise of panic.

Donatello’s hands tightened into fists. “What? What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

“We were in the same school,” Ungalo just barely managed to say. “I remember reading that book. I wanted Zero to be my friend so I drew the characters but I left it on too long and it got weird but I didn’t think that they—”

Donatello lunged forward and grabbed Ungalo by the collar. “What the fuck are you saying? Left what on too long?”

“His Stand,” Rikiel blurted out.

Ungalo shot him a panicked look. 

“What does your Stand do?” Donatello asked, nearly yelling. He twisted his hands in Ungalo’s shirt to get a better grip.

“Pucci explained it,” Rikiel answered weakly.

“I wasn’t fucking paying attention!” Donatello retorted. “What does it do?”

Ungalo tried to shove him away. “Get the hell off me.”

Donatello took a deep inhale and let it out as a long, strained exhale. He released his grip on Ungalo and took a step back. “Just tell me what your Stand does. I promise I won’t be mad.”

Ungalo watched him doubtfully, but he swallowed and began to speak. “I think I made the character real and then it chose you and gave you its fate. By the time I got it to stop it was too late. It was a complete accident.”

“Oh, is that all?” Donatello replied, his tone dangerously light. “Huh.”

Ungalo winced. 

“You know, it’s kinda funny,” Donatello continued. “Our Stands are kinda similar. Want to see what mine does?”

“Nope,” Ungalo replied as he began to sweat.

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Donatello snarled. He grabbed a small table and began bashing it against the floor. “The second I hit dirt your life is ruined, you piece of shit. It’s only fair I get revenge for you ruining mine, huh?”

Polnareff finally intervened. “We’re inside a turtle, you idiot. You aren’t going to reach dirt if that is what your Stand needs.”

Donatello threw the small table against the floor, where it clattered and rolled over. “Fine. I’ll just beat the shit out of you in person.”

Ungalo shrieked and kicked at Donatello as he advanced. “Rikiel, knock him out or something! Help!”

“I’ve only got two skyfish!” he cried. 

Donatello drove a fist into the side of Ungalo’s head. Ungalo yelped in shock but then he frowned. He easily caught Donatello’s fist with his hand after he tried to hit him again. “You’re weak as shit, dude. Did you forget you were in the hospital doing nothing for months?”

Donatello drove a foot into Ungalo’s gut with a shout. Ungalo coughed and rolled off of the couch in order to avoid the next attack.

“Stop!” Rikiel yelped. He pointed at Donatello, who stumbled and smacked his head off the surface of the fallen table. 

Polnareff’s tone was stern enough for Donatello to put his rage on pause. “Rikiel, Ungalo, out of the turtle. Donatello, stay.” He sighed as the metal cover slid off the entrance to the room. “It seems like playing therapist really has entered my job description.”

Giorno knocked on the door to the hospital room. Hol pulled the door open and glanced back at Dio, who gave a begrudging nod.

“Donatello is not injured,” Giorno stated, “which is odd.”

“The box,” Dio said with a frown. “Was that not his blood?”

Pucci nodded slowly. “I can see why that would be confusing.” He rolled up his sleeve to show bandages wrapped around his arm and then leaned forward and pulled at the collar of his shirt. He revealed a wine-red star-shaped birthmark.

Hol rubbed at his forehead in confusion. “How in the goddamn are you a Joestar?”

Dio belted out a triumphant laugh and hopped off the bed. “So that was what I recognized.” He stood at Pucci’s side and peered down at the birthmark with a wide grin. “You used my bone.”

“Indeed,” Pucci replied. “Would you believe that it all began as a plant? I was fascinated by the fact that it chose to receive its first meal as a combination of the blood of dead sinners and sunlight energy.”

Dio’s smile nearly became a scowl. “How fitting.” He tilted his head in thought. “There was also enough sedative in the blood to put a man in a coma.”

“Ah. Rattle That Lock can be feisty. I hoped that it would at least remain calm as it was delivered to you.”

“Couldn’t you have just written a note or something?” Hol groaned. “Damn thing almost ate me.”

Pucci merely smiled.

“You mentioned Jolyne,” Giorno said.

“Yes. I have been fighting a war on two fronts,” Pucci explained. “It was necessary for me to take Jotaro Kujo’s memory disc in order to reach this point. After your… death in Cairo, Jotaro obtained your diary, read it, and then destroyed it,” he said to Dio.

Dio pursed his lips. “The dead are afforded no privacy, I suppose.”

“I was able to read it through his memories. Of course, taking his discs did not put me on good terms with his daughter.” He paused. “Neither did framing her for murder and using her as bait, but that is beside the point.”

“So that is why Jotaro is in a coma,” Giorno said.

Pucci nodded. “Was in a coma. Jolyne reobtained his discs. He is probably recovering now. Who is your friend that is looking for him?”

“Jean Pierre Polnareff,” Giorno answered.

“Fascinating.” Pucci crossed his legs and leaned back. “There were rumors that the user of Silver Chariot had died. Johngalli A practically celebrated it.”

“Oh, he is dead,” Dio replied. “He just had the absurd tenacity to remain as a ghost. Now he is my son's...” He waved a hand at Giorno as he searched for the word. “Computer errand boy.”

“Consigliere,” Giorno answered flatly. “Where is Jolyne now and what are we intending to do with her?”

“Certainly not kill her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Dio replied. When Pucci gave him a curious look he smirked. “Tell me, is she just as insufferably unstoppable as Jotaro?”

“Perhaps even more so,” Pucci stated. “When the obstacles are insurmountable, she finds her own path.”

“Of course. I’d expect nothing less,” Dio replied, his tone wry. “Let’s take her with us.”

“What, back to 1999?” Hol stammered. 

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Giorno added. 

“Safer than letting her continue here,” Dio replied blithely. “I have every confidence that Pucci could defeat her eventually. However, I’d prefer to have her alive. And I’m sure she’d be elated to reunite with her father. It’s just that they’ll be seeing each other in a time that they didn’t expect.”

Giorno furrowed his eyebrows. “If you cause a paradox…”

Dio glared at him imperiously. “There’s only one way to find out if my new abilities will allow me to change the past and that’s to actually attempt to do so. This is a suitable first test. It will work.” He returned his attention to Pucci and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Where is she now?”

Pucci began to respond, but he paused and a smile tugged at his lips. “I was originally planning to test your sons’ abilities by having them face her. Obviously, you forced me to change my plans. I believe that Jolyne can sense where I am, but I was able to waylay her west towards Kissimmee with the last few Stands I installed.” He glanced at Hol. “You may enjoy this. My best guess as to her current location is… well, Yeehaw Junction.”

Hol snorted and dragged his hands over his face. “Great. More road trip.”

Dio pulled out the calendar and flipped to the final page. The mass of overprinted dates was still there. Pucci glanced over at it and nodded. “That one was quite stubborn,” he said. “It may be completely unremovable.”

“I hate to leave you so soon, but from your perspective, we will be back in a few days.” Dio flipped the calendar shut and it faded away. “Jolyne will no longer hinder you.”

Pucci stood and clasped his hands over Dio’s own. “I appreciate no longer having to do this alone.” His expression was open and almost kind as he glanced towards Giorno and Hol. “I hope that you believe me when I say that I do look forward to seeing you again as allies instead of enemies. It is much more favorable to have supportive witnesses as I obtain Heaven than to be bothered by those who only hope to stop me.”

Hol itched at where his forehead met his hat and struggled at a smile. Giorno did not look enthused, but he at least had the grace to nod.

Chapter Text

“The Stand Jolyne will be facing next,” Pucci explained, “will take some care to defeat. It is too late for me to call it back now. However, assisting Jolyne in defeating it will at least give her a favorable first impression of you.”

“What is the Stand and what does it do?” Giorno asked.

“Atrocity Exhibition has a range of one half-mile in radius. It can turn metal into living flesh and create a protective structure around the user. The Stand itself is merely a microscopic cloud, so doing damage to the flesh will not damage the user. The best strategy to defeat it is to find the user, who will be at the very center of the area of effect.” Pucci paused and idly flattened the fabric of his cassock. “As you may guess, the Stand can be very aggressive. It responds to emotions, especially feelings of regret.” He glanced towards Dio. “You understand my concerns.”

“I do,” Dio replied. “And I am glad to inform you that they are baseless.”

Pucci pursed his lips. Dio grinned and tapped a finger against his temple. “I don’t regret anything, Enrico. I’m not going to change things because of shame. I have complete confidence in every action I have taken. I’ve even said it to myself: I set greater things into motion with my deeds. It is those past actions that have given me the ability to now go back and enact further influence. Of course, I’m still planning exactly how I’m going to go about it,” he said with a sigh. “But the time will come. I am sure of it.”

“I see.” Pucci smiled faintly. “It will try to provoke you. I am sure that it will fail to do so.” He turned his attention to Giorno and Hol. “It will not be safe to drive your van too close to the Stand’s range. You will also have to contend with your own emotions if you face it.” His smile grew a bit more sardonic. “It will be dangerous. I will pray for you, if you’d like.”

“I’d ‘preciate it,” Hol grumbled.

As they prepared to leave, Dio set his hand upon Pucci’s shoulder, his thumb coming to rest on the familiar star. “I will see you again,” he said.

Pucci smiled. “You will.”

Giorno slid into the passenger’s seat and Mista turned the key in the ignition. Dio and Hol went to go into the back seats but with Rikiel and Ungalo already sitting there, there was not enough room to fit them all.

“Children, turtle,” Dio said as he waved a hand dismissively.

“The turtle is kind of the Donatello containment zone right now,” Rikiel mumbled.

“And I wanna talk to you,” Ungalo insisted. “This might all be cleared up for you, but you really kept us in the dark about what was going on.”

Dio hummed lowly as if considering what they had said, but then he pointed at the turtle. “I don’t care. In you go.”

“I’ll go in the turtle. Someone can have my seat,” Giorno said. He pulled out his cell phone and opened the car door. “My associate is an early riser. He may be awake right now. I’ve been meaning to call him, anyway, and I’m sure Polnareff would appreciate joining the conversation.”

Ungalo grabbed the turtle and held it up over his head. “No turtle for anybody! I’m trusting you right now pretty much just because Giorno said I should,” he said to Dio. “I’m sure you had your reasons or whatever and I get that you like Pucci more than you like us. But could you just say something?”

Dio stared at him. His cheerful mood had completely dissipated. “Hol,” he stated, “remember the time you tried to kill me?”

That earned Hol several strange looks from the others in the car. Hol gave Dio a look of oh sweet Jesus, don’t drag me into this in return. “Uh. Yup. Why?”

“Do you remember why you thought you would be able to do so?” Dio asked.

“Um.” He frowned. “I didn’t know how your Stand worked.”

“Precisely,” Dio replied. “My Stand is my primary advantage above all others. I do not entrust just anyone with the knowledge of how it works. Now, Ungalo, what is on your hand right now?”

“Sticker,” he muttered.

“And what does that sticker do?”

“Let me into the stopped time.” Ungalo sighed and lowered the turtle.

“Correct,” Dio hissed. “With one unfortunate exception, the stopped time is mine and mine alone. It is what enabled me to surpass all others. Now, at the risk of sounding trite, sharing the stopped time with you all,” he said as he narrowed his eyes, “is a big deal for me. I am trusting you enough to let you into it. All I ask is that you trust me in return.”

Ungalo frowned at the turtle. “Trust, sure. A little respect would be nice, though, too.”

Rikiel winced. “Jeez, kid, don’t push it,” Hol whispered.

“Respect,” Dio hissed, “is earned . None of you have achieved that yet.” He paused. “Except Rikiel.”

Rikiel sputtered. “What?” 

Dio shrugged. “You tried to kill me, too. You were able to control your Stand because of it. I respect that.”

“Oh, is that what it takes?” Giorno said lightly. He reached around Dio to take the turtle from Ungalo. “I’ll have to keep it in mind.”

Before Dio could say anything, Giorno punched the code into the cover and disappeared.

Within the turtle, Donatello was lying on the couch with his face pressed into the cushion. Polnareff was back at the computer but he gave Giorno a nod of recognition. Giorno leaned against the desk and began the conversation in Italian. “What happened with Donatello?”

“Turns out Ungalo’s Stand went out of control as a kid and led to Donatello going to juvie and apparently throwing off the trajectory of his whole life,” Polnareff answered. “He isn’t as angry now, but I don’t recommend letting him near Ungalo any time soon.”

Giorno tapped his fingers against the desk. “How unfortunate. When Dio said their fates were intertwined, I do not think he meant it like that.” He retrieved his cell phone. “I’m going to call Fugo. There’s a few things I want to set up before we go to the past. I do believe that our path will bring us back here eventually, but it is better to be careful.” He gave Polnareff a small smile. “I’m also thinking of opening three positions up, nepotism be damned. Of course, it will be up to them as to if they decide to take it, and they will have to work hard. But they will be taken care of.”

Polnareff grinned. “Of course.”

Giorno tapped in a phone number and called. The tone beeped a few times, but it was eventually picked up. “Fugo,” he said happily. “I do hope that I’m not waking you up.”

“Been up for an hour,” Fugo replied. “How’s the Everglades?”

“That’s not quite where I am,” Giorno said.

“If I find out you guys did Disneyworld without me, I’m gonna be pissed."

Giorno laughed. “Not there, either. Listen… you know our contingency plans better than anyone, and that includes me.”

“That’s an ominous thing to bring up."

“It is. Don’t pull the trigger just yet, but… if you don’t hear from us within a week, you know what to do.”

The line was silent for a long while. “What the hell is going on?”

“Family reunion,” Giorno answered.

Another silence. “Fuck,” Fugo said.

“It’s going better than I thought, to be honest,” Giorno said airily. “You might like my brothers. My father, not so much.”

“Fuck,” he repeated despondently. “I should have gone.”

“No,” Giorno replied. “Your job is to keep things under control. I know that you have what it takes to do so.”

Fugo sighed. It sounded like static. “Well. Speaking of which. Bad news from Agnano. The new addition to their team seems to be rocking the boat.”

“The old addition, more like. He’s been in and out of that team since the nineties.” Giorno leaned against the desk and glanced at Polnareff. “Surely he knows the consequences by now.”

“Not an honorable track record, that’s for sure,” Polnareff muttered as he clicked through a spreadsheet.

Giorno placed his hands flatly upon the desk and leaned against it. “Make sure that our message to him is clear. He needs to make up his mind. If he keeps trying to jump back and forth then he is going to be killed. I’m surprised the team hasn’t reinforced that already.”

“Seems that more than a few of them still miss the old boss,” Fugo replied. 

Polnareff snorted.

“If they were still under the old boss they would all be dead,” Giorno said. “I had hoped that they did not need to be reminded of that. I trust that you will find a way to prompt their memory.”

“Of course,” Fugo replied. His tone softened. “I hope you’ll call back within a week.”

“So do I. Tell Trish I said hello if you get the chance.”

“She’s in Paris, last I heard. But I’m sure I can send over the hello. Any other information with that or no?”

“Hm.” Giorno frowned. “You can tell her I ran into my father, but emphasize that it is going well.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “All in all, she’s had a worse go of it than I have.”

“Right.” Fugo sighed. “Just…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Well, later.”

“Later,” Giorno and Polnareff echoed. The call ended. Giorno glanced back at Donatello, who quickly turned away and looked entirely disinterested. Giorno approached the couch and took a seat; Donatello glared at him. “I know how it feels when an accident appears unforgivable,” Giorno began. “You have every right to be upset.”

Donatello was silent. Giorno leaned back against the cushions and watched him carefully.

“I just…” Donatello trailed off and scowled. “Already talked about this with Polnareff, kind of. Pucci gave me all this shit about having to live up to Dio’s legacy. Now I find out my life sucks because of dumb shit my brother did when he was a kid. And I’m stuck in a turtle or whatever this room is and I don’t know what’s going to go wrong next.” He crossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just want my life to be mine to live.”

“I hope it doesn’t sound trite when I say I feel the same way,” Giorno responded. “We are who we are, despite what others may expect of us. Fate certainly seems to be wound around us like a leash, but you can still choose things for yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled. “You seem like you got your life together already.”

“I suppose I’ve done well for myself,” Giorno mused, “but if Dio begins projecting on me any harder I’ll have to shield my eyes.” He held up a hand and splayed out his fingers repeatedly, pantomiming rays of light streaming from a bulb.

Donatello let out a noise of frustration and scratched a hand through his hair. “Pucci did the same shit to me. So goddamn annoying.”

“I’m sure it was,” Giorno replied. “But now you’re with us. I hope that it will be a better experience for you.”

He let out a sound that might have been a laugh. “The hell are you, Mr. Rogers? You’re too damn nice, you know that? It’s actually a little suspicious.”

“Let’s just say that my job is to manage people,” Giorno stated. “I am very good at my job.”

Donatello huffed and threw himself back against the couch. “I think you’re the only one of us with a job.”

“...I do not mean this as an insult, but all three of you seem like lonely people,” Giorno said carefully. “Ungalo doesn’t seem to interact with his mother’s side of the family. Rikiel does, but he’s left them now without much thought. And you consider your own life to be cursed. I was the same way for a long time. I just had incredible luck in finding a support system. A new family, if you will.”

“Big ol’ Italian crime family, you mean."

“How could you possibly have guessed,” Giorno replied dryly. 

He tapped his temple. “I know a little Italian. Thought it would impress chicks.” He huffed. “Gotta say, I’m pretty rusty. Hearing ‘brother’ and ‘taken care of’ followed by a lot of ‘kill’ had me worried until I got a better handle on things.”

Giorno grinned. “I bet.” He grew more serious, and he locked eyes with Donatello. “I don’t much care for the constraints of heritage, or even fate. I want us all to be able to live on our own terms. If you will let me help you with that, I would be glad to do so.”

Donatello peered back at him for a few long moments, but then he shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“That does not look good,” Hol muttered as he looked out the window.

It certainly did not. Yeehaw Junction was a small town just off the turnpike. A metal sign would have proudly claimed a population of 240 but it was currently covered in grayish, cancerous-looking flesh and pulsating disconcertingly.

“It’s late, so most of the people here should just be sleeping. Hopefully, they will be unaffected by this,” Giorno said with a frown. 

Mista looked down at his revolver and huffed. “I won’t be much help. I take my gun in and it’ll turn into a spleen.”

“You should stay out here and keep an eye on the circumference of the Stand’s effect,” Giorno replied. “That will tell us if the user moves. Ungalo and Rikiel, it will probably also be best if you remain here. Help Mista and make sure that the car does not enter the Stand’s range. Also, keep an eye out for anyone that comes by. They could be a local, or they could be Jolyne or one of her allies. In any case, help them.”

“Could we feed this stuff to Rattle That Lock?” Ungalo asked.

Giorno frowned. “Possibly, but it’s too unpredictable. We don’t want it deciding to eat one of us instead.”

“Will Donatello be joining us?” Dio asked.

“No,” Giorno answered. “He isn’t in the best physical state right now. Also, his Stand could technically generate a large amount of metal. If it contributed to the effect of this Stand, it would not be to our advantage.”

“What is Donatello’s Stand?” Rikiel asked.

“You should ask him,” Giorno replied. “I believe he is more open to talking to you both, now.”

“So you, Hol, and I are the only ones going in?” Dio said. “Grand.”

“Do you have an actual reason to disagree with me or are you only doing so because it is my plan?” Giorno asked.

Dio narrowed his eyes and went to say something but Hol swung the car door open. “Let’s not pitter-patter here. We got a Joestar to rescue, right?” He snorted. “That’s not something I ever really thought I would say.” The Emperor twirled in his hand as he strode forward. “And it ain't often that I get to work with two other people to bring somethin’ down, and certainly not folks of your caliber. Hell, I’d say we’re unstoppableeeuugh.” He made a high-pitched noise of panic and hopped backward. His belt buckle and a few buttons fell to the ground and squirmed, moving inchworm-like away from him as they transformed.

Giorno rooted through his pockets. “Phone, spare change, pen. Belts. Leave any metal in the car. I have some road flares in the trunk for light, since taking flashlights would not work. Just be sure not to stare at the flame directly.”

“I have night vision,” Dio stated, and he pressed his tongue to his fanged teeth. “I will lead the way.”

“Where the hell are they going?” Hol muttered as he watched the transformed clumps wriggle down the road.

“Pucci said it would build something to protect the user, yes?” Giorno asked as he searched through the trunk of the car. “Perhaps we can follow them right to it. Here,” he said as he tossed a roll of twine to Hol. “Since your belt broke. Keep it with you. I may also be able to use it to heal us if the need arises.”

Once they were prepared, Giorno threw a few spare quarters into the Stand’s range. They transformed, wobbled uncertainly for a moment, and then began squirming their way down the road. The group followed, with Dio watching the little clumps closely while Giorno and Hol followed a few paces behind. Giorno held the road flare out and away from himself. 

There were odd smears on the road, rusty and dark, followed by piles of debris. “Cars,” Giorno guessed. “The cushions and non-metal parts were left behind.”

“This is spooky,” Hol griped. Giorno couldn’t help but nod in agreement.They came upon a broad intersection. At the far corner was a small wooden building emblazoned with Desert Inn Motel and Good Food Bar, but the metal fixtures such as the flagpole were slumped and squirming. The recessed space beneath the wooden awning was thick with the transformed metal flesh, but the front door was open. The transformed quarters rolled inside and disappeared into the darkness.

“Gonna take a wild guess and say the user is holed up in there,” Hol grumbled.

“Jolyne must be in there, too,” Giorno added.

Dio strode through the doorway and peered at the dark interior. The reception area was overrun with stringy meat. A hand-painted sign directed them to the bar and restaurant portion of the building, but the entranceway was overtaken by a thick wall of flesh. Some items from the reception desk were trapped inside: wooden pencils, scattered receipts, and an entire potted plant jutted haphazardly out into the air. One portion of the wall was outlined as if it was a door. Several chunked-out portions looked as if they were imitating deadbolts. A yellowed plastic phone emerged where the handle would have been. 

“Where the hell does Pucci find these things?” Hol muttered as he stared at the door.

“He’s been collecting Stands for years,” Dio replied. “I am curious as to what the original user of this one was like.”

The phone rang, high-pitched and resoundingly annoying. Giorno frowned at it.

“He said it would provoke us or something, right?” Hol asked. “It bothers you about regrets. I know how bad it sounds, but…” He grimaced. “I really want to answer that damn phone.”

“That might be the only way to open the door,” Giorno replied. “The phone is the handle. If you answer it, it might open. Just keep your emotions under control. I’m sure that whatever it has to say isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“I’ll answer it,” Dio insisted, but Hol had already made his move. He picked up the phone, which made an awful, wet sucking noise as it was removed from the wall. He held it up a few inches away from his ear and the spiral cord swung idly. A tinny voice rattled out of the speaker and he grimaced. “The hell? Nena?” he exclaimed. The voice warbled. “Oh, Jesus, you heard that?” Hol whispered as he blanched.

“Hol, it’s not a real telephone call. It's the Stand,” Dio said, to no avail.

Hol wasn’t paying attention to him. He swiped a hand across his forehead. “Yeah, um, it was pretty hypocritical of me, usin’ you like that,” he admitted with a pained scowl. “And after all this… I guess I do regret it.”

The voice on the phone careened into a deafening shriek and the phone bashed into Hol’s head. He yelped and the meat on the wall began to twitch. Hol fell to the ground in a heap. A sharp metal spike emerged from the wall and began to slash downward. The phone rang again.

Dio stopped time. Giorno dashed to Hol’s side and pulled him away from the wall. Time began again and the spike lashed out wildly, but they were safely out of its reach. However, Giorno was close enough to hear the voice on the fallen phone. The low voice garbled and he frowned.

“No, I do not regret cutting you out of my life,” Giorno replied. “And I don not think you were too upset about it, either.”

The wall calmed. One deadbolt on the door slid open with a thunk. “My stepfather,” Giorno explained.

Dio approached the phone and crouched at Giorno’s side. “I understand. For each thing we admit to not regretting, one lock on the door opens. Allow me.”

“I don’t think you are the safest option here,” Giorno replied. “The Stand is just making you want to answer it. I can feel it, too. But if you hear Jonathan Joestar—”

“I stand behind every decision I have made, including that one,” Dio said. “Especially now. I will prove it.” He pulled the phone from Giorno’s hands and lifted it to his ear.

“My son,” a familiar voice said. “I forgive you for killing me.”

Dio sighed. “You’re going to have to narrow it down."

“I always wanted you to be a part of the family,” George continued. “For you to have a safe environment in which to excel. I was so proud of you.”

Dio rolled his eyes and tapped his nails against the plastic casing of the phone. “I could never respect you. You were too stupid to notice what was happening beneath your own roof. To let you die for your son was practically a gift. It was the first thing I ever saw you do that actually meant something. I do not regret killing you.”

The phone buzzed atonally. Another deadbolt opened. 

“Dio?” A kind voice. Familiar.

Well, that was to be expected. Dio huffed. “Jojo. I don’t regret killing you because how else would I then be able to save you? We shall both live. You will see. There is no regret.”

The phone rattled. Another bolt clunked.

“Dio, smart boy,” a voice slurred. “Too damn smart.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Dio replied. “No regrets there at all.”

The audio buzzed and warped. Two deadbolt slots remained.

“Via Dolorosa.” A woman’s voice, soft and light, followed by a faint humming. “Rhinoceros beetle.”

He was statue-still. Giorno watched warily. “Dio…?”

“I didn’t kill you,” he said lowly. “If this is trying to imply that—”

“I know you killed your father,” the voice said. “It’s okay.”

The plastic creaked in his tight grip.

“I only wondered,” the voice continued softly, “how different things might have been if you had done so earlier. If perhaps it would have saved me. I would have forgiven you.” The sound of a loving sigh. “You know that I always forgive.”

His teeth were bared. His fingers tore into the mottled carpet.

“Dio, give me the phone,” Giorno said quietly.

The phone's plastic casing shattered to pieces in his hand but he could still hear the sound. “You were right. It needed done,” the voice said. “But do you regret not doing so earlier?”

“You were so stupid,” he said, his voice trapped between a snarl and a whine. “Why were you so kind to him? To everyone? That was what killed you. The world could spare no room for someone like you.”

Giorno scrambled to pick up the fallen pieces of plastic and wiring.

“Dio, dearest,” the voice said gently. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes? Hello?” Giorno pressed the mess of phone parts to the side of his head. “Hello, mother. No, I don’t regret going no-contact with you. Yes, the checks are from me. If I see you again, it will be on my own terms. Goodbye.” The next lock slid open. Only one remained.

“Give it back,” Dio hissed. “I wasn’t done.”

“No.” Giorno’s tone was like steel. “Just remember. It isn’t a real call. It’s manipulating you.”

“She has to know,” Dio continued, his voice deepening into a low, prowling growl. “I never had the chance to tell her how much I hated her for it. Give me the phone.”

“I will not,” Giorno replied.

Dio glared at him coldly, every muscle tensed as if prepared to snap into violence at any moment. Giorno knew that he was now being seen as no more than an obstacle. He kept the broken phone at his ear.

“Giorno.” The voice was far too familiar; the real owner was kneeling right beside him. “You’re so desperate for independence, yet your blood is the only reason you can live your life as you please. Your blood is also what brought you to me. How long did you think your freedom would last? How long do you think I will let you last? Tell me, do you regret meeting me?”

“No,” Giorno answered flatly. “Meeting you allowed me to meet my brothers.”

“I’m not asking you about your brothers, GioGio.”

He locked eyes with the real Dio, who was still trembling with rage. “No,” Giorno answered.

“Oh?” the voice asked, lowering to a dangerous purr. “Is that really so?”

“You don’t require an explanation,” Giorno said with a short, dismissive sigh. “Only an answer. And the answer is no.” He dropped the broken phone pieces to the floor. The final deadbolt slid away and the door popped open. The phone fell silent.

Dio’s hands clamped onto his shoulders, his nails sharp and harsh. Giorno instinctively pulled away from him, and he felt a painful scrape. “You are unbearable,” Dio growled. “You inherited the worst of us both. How could you possibly not regret meeting me? What are you planning? Do you believe that patricide runs in the family? Do you think it is your turn to carry on the tradition?” He laughed and it was empty and cold. “Do you really think that I would allow that?”

“I do not,” Giorno answered. “Let go of me.”

“Answer me.”

“I am trying to help you,” Giorno stated, his expression held carefully calm. “But my patience is not infinite. Let go of me.”

Hol rolled over and groaned. The tension broke. “Oh, Nena, I’m sorry. You were really ugly as sin but I shouldn’t'a’ been mean to you.”

Dio dropped his hands to his sides. Giorno felt the slight chill of air on blood. He lifted a hand to his shoulder to check the damage; it felt like the scrapes had only broken the surface of his skin. “We have to find Jolyne,” Giorno said quietly. “This is something that we will talk about later.” He got to his feet and pulled out another road flare. The nearly-blinding light sputtered and grew steady. As he pulled the unlocked door open, the room flooded with the sounds of combat.

The ceiling of the restaurant had collapsed, letting in the moonlight. The transformed lumps of former cars had congealed into a central dome, presumably to create a protective shell for the user. Scattered structures wavered between sharp metal and lurching meat. One toppled over and crashed against the ground. A shining white string had wrapped around the base and pulled through, slicing it apart.

“Listen, I don’t give a single fuck about what you have to say,” a voice said. “None of that matters to me right now. All I care about is finding you and then beating the absolute shit out of you.”

A body zipped from one side of the room to the other. Silken strings glinted in the light. More of the aggressive pillars fell before they could congeal into walls and doors. A few phones clattered to the ground.

“I hope you’re afraid,” the voice continued. “I bet you’re pissing yourself in there right now. You better know that you have really, truly…”

She dropped down and landed on the central structure in a crouch. She pulled her arms close to her chest, drawing the strings tight, which then yanked at the broken wooden beams of the ceiling. A bleating plastic phone was held in place as she tilted her head against her shoulder.

“Pissed me off!” she finally shouted, and she pulled at the strings with a grunt. The broken beams came loose and fell towards the dome like javelins. They pierced into it and after a long moment, the Stand deactivated. Piles of de-transformed metal clattered to the ground, the loose hubcaps and wires and scrap tumbling loudly.

Jolyne slid down the pile of smashed cars and landed on the wooden floor. She caught sight of the bright road flare and wiped a streak of blood from her face. She squinted over towards the junk-covered entranceway in confusion, but anger and adrenaline kept her expression dangerously sharp.

Giorno opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. Hol gave a smile that was more like a grimace and held up a hand as if to wave. Dio took a step back and wondered if he was experiencing the same instinctive reaction a cobra would have upon spotting a mongoose.

“It just doesn’t end, does it?” Jolyne asked as she took a step towards them. She tilted her head and her neck popped. “Three is a bit much, though. Doesn’t really matter. You aren’t going to stop me.”

“We’re here to help,” Giorno finally managed to say.

“Huh?” She paused, halfway through pressing a fist against her palm to crack the knuckles. “Damn, really? You guys with SPW?”

"Totally," Hol squeaked. He cleared his throat and his tone dropped back to normal. "We're gonna take you to your dad."

At that, her expression went soft with surprise. "What? He's awake?" Her eyes widened. "Wait, do any of you know how to heal?" She pointed off towards a far corner of the room, where metal had piled up against the wall. "My friend is in bad shape. I can stitch her up, but I think she needs more."

"I can," Giorno replied. 

Jolyne grinned. "Good. Come on. We can do icebreakers later." She dashed off towards the pile of scrap. Giorno hesitated for a split second, but then he followed her.

(as always, thank you for reading!

atrocity exhibition is named after the danny brown album. literally no lyrical relevance to the plot at all but it's one of my favorite albums and i do what i want.

please witness this amazing fanart by moistgoblin that i'm currently mcfreakin losin it over

if you ever want to visit yeehaw junction it looks like a fun place.)

Chapter Text

Giorno followed Jolyne to a pile of fallen metal scrap, where she yanked a car door to the side and fell to her knees. “Hermes. You can hear me, right? Say something.”

“Ah, shit,” Hermes replied from her prone position on the floor. She weakly pushed off coiled cables and other metal that had fallen onto her stomach; her palms and abdomen were wet with blood. “You got the user?”

“Shish-kebabed or tenderized, I’m not sure,” she answered, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder to point out the mess of wooden beams and debris. “Either way, they’re not getting back up any time soon.” She glanced at Giorno. “Healing?”

He crouched at her side and peered down at a large gash in her gut with concern. “One of the walls slashed you?”

“Yeah, the phone call got me good,” she replied, but she broke down into a hacking cough. “Rib. Ugh. Also.”

“You gotta stop losing your organs in Stand attacks,” Jolyne said as she tossed a hunk of metal off of some fallen entrails.

“Oh hey, that’s my liver,” Hermes replied. “Get that back in here.” She was smiling, but her face was pallid.

“You can donate a liver, right? So you should be fine without it,” Jolyne quipped, but her tone was growing frantic. “This one’s pretty, uh, squished.”

Giorno looked back over his shoulder at Dio, who was a few long paces away and watching the scene with a blank expression. “Should I be worried about you around blood?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“Then come here and help. You told me you could heal.”

Dio tensed. “I was merely—I can reach in and move things around. I can’t heal something like this.”

“Can you stop her bleeding while I make a new liver and some skin? Pinch off some arteries or something?”

With a slow, measured exhale, Dio approached stood at her side. “I can try. She mentioned a rib?”

“If it broke, it might have pierced her lungs. Can you check that?”

“Yes.” Dio looked down at Hermes’s chest and frowned.

“Hol, can you find me a hubcap or something about the size of a human liver?” Giorno asked.

“Uh, Jesus, I can try,” he replied, and he began rooting through a nearby pile of debris. Jolyne ran off towards the bar portion of the restaurant.

Hermes blinked and tried to keep her vision focused as she squinted at Dio. “Are you fixing my rib by staring at it or what?”

“Now is not the time to worry about decency,” Giorno added.

Dio rolled his eyes and pulled at Hermes’s vest, bunching the fabric up towards her neck. “Can’t say I’ve ever cared much about that.” Hermes let out a garbled and confused noise as he slid his hand directly into her ribcage. He could feel the sweet pull of blood, but he ignored it; his fingertips slipped past streaks of muscle and ligament until they pressed against solid bone. The first few ribs were normal; then, one was fractured. Hermes let out a choked sound when he pulled it back into place. He pressed further upwards, towards the top of the lungs, and his wrist brushed against something odd. Figuring debris from the wall had pierced her chest, he pulled it into his palm and drew back his hand.

He peered down in confusion at a tightly folded wad of bills. He had seen women store items in their cleavage, but he sure as hell had never found cash inside a woman’s chest.

She laughed, but it sounded more like a wheeze. “Ha. If I survive this, you guys can have it.”

“Liver delivery,” Hol said, and he handed a hunk of metal to Giorno. 

Once in his hands, the metal began to slowly transform. He dropped it onto a pile of gradually growing skin and muscle and he pressed his hands against it. “I apologize. This is going to hurt.”

She huffed. “It hurts now. I’ll be fine.”

Jolyne slid into a crouch beside her head. “Hey, hey. I got vodka. We can use some for disinfectant and the rest should be for you to get blitzed.”

“Dunno if I should drink without a liver,” Hermes replied with a strained grin.

“Manage her bleeding,” Giorno said to Dio.

“I am.” He swept his hand across the gash in her abdomen and felt a slight jolt of energy as he took in some of the blood. That drew the arteries towards his hand; he stopped the pull as soon as they were pressed against his skin. He felt the weakened but insistent pulsing of her heartbeat, but the bleeding stopped at his palm.

“It’s almost done,” Giorno said. “Ready?”

“Give me some,” Hermes said to Jolyne. She took a gulp of vodka straight from the bottle, inhaled through gritted teeth, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Giorno lifted the replacement liver, connective tissue, and skin. It landed on her abdomen and squished into the wound. He held his hand against it and the flesh began to meld and heal. Hermes swore so loudly that some debris shook loose from the nearest pile and tumbled to the ground. “Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding,” she spat.

“More painkiller shots?” Jolyne asked as she held up the vodka.

“You’d be better off just hitting me in the head with the damn bottle,” Hermes retorted.

She lightly bopped her on the forehead with it, and the vodka sloshed. “Yeah, keep bitchin’. I think it’s making you feel better.”

Dio pulled his hand away and felt the major arteries and veins snapping together with the new ones as the healing continued. Some vibrancy returned to her skin. The wound sealed, leaving a wavy line of abrupt scarring. Hermes lolled her head back against the wooden floor and shimmied her vest back into place. “Well, I hated that. But thank you,” she said, her tone growing more sincere. “Who are you guys? Speedwagon Foundation?”

“Uh,” Hol replied. “Well, we’re just—”

Jolyne put a steadying hand on Hermes’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I know who you are,” she said, her voice low but not threatening. “My dad didn’t get the chance to tell me much but Pucci certainly wouldn’t shut up about you. Plus, there’s that feeling. Fate, gravity, spidey sense, whatever you want to call it.” She locked eyes with Dio, her expression deadly serious. “Hermes is more important to me than whatever nonsense blood feud thing you have going on with my family. Thank you for helping us,” she said, glancing towards Giorno and Hol, “but I want an explanation. Why and how are you here?”

Giorno began to speak, but Dio held up a hand. “I will be honest,” he began. “I know that if you find that I have lied to you, you will probably find a way to kill me.”

“One hundred percent correct,” Jolyne replied.

“I understand that you are hunting Pucci because of what he did to your father.”

“Two for two,” she said with a nod.

“If you fight Pucci, you will die,” he continued. “He has a tight hold on fate. It would side with him, not you.”

She scowled and tilted her head. “Doubt it. But go on.”

“There is also a bigger threat to you than Pucci,” he added.

Giorno’s posture shifted slightly and he looked away. Jolyne noticed and she frowned at him. “And that is?”

“A version of myself that did not lose to your father,” Dio answered.

She leaned back and peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Okay. Parallel universe stuff. Got it. If that’s the case, then what’s up with you? Are you like, the chill Dio from a world where Cairo didn’t happen?”

“No. As far as I know, I am the same self as the one this world has known,” he replied. “I did die in Cairo. The other version of myself brought me back and intended to have me defeat you all as entertainment, and then he would kill me. But I now believe that your family is no longer antithetical to my existence.” Conviction strengthened his voice. “That other version of myself cannot be allowed to exist. I want your help in killing him.” He paused. “The catch is that Pucci must be allowed to continue unhindered. He must access Heaven in order for us to reach the other version of me.”

She watched him carefully. “Cowboy over there said you were going to take me to see my father,” she stated. “How true was that?”

“Partially,” Dio answered. “I need more time to prepare. You and your friend obviously need time to recover. Thankfully, we have all the time in the world.”

She squinted. “Stopped time?”

“Not quite. Time travel. I’ve been using Morioh in 1999 as a safe gathering place.”

“That’s when dad was writing his thesis,” she said with a frown. “You were going to take me to see him, just in the past.”

“Correct.”

Jolyne stared at him for a few more long moments, her eyebrows furrowed in thought, but then she nodded. “I’m in.”

He restrained his surprise. Hermes did not. She pursed her lips and gave Jolyne a doubtful look. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I’m very glad you guys healed me, don’t get me wrong. But this is a lot to take in.”

“We could keep pressing forward, but we’re exhausted,” Jolyne admitted. “It’s been a nonstop battle ever since we left Green Dolphin. Hell, really more like ever since we got into Green Dolphin. If we can just hop right back into the future later, then we can pick up right where we left off.” She glared at Dio. “I’ll still need some convincing on this allowing Pucci to do whatever he wants part of the plan. But I am very good at listening to my instincts. They’ve kept me alive this far. You know, your reputation is pretty hyped up,” she said, and her expression grew more sly. “I mean, the Speedwagon Foundation might as well be renamed to the Dealing with Dio’s Fallout Foundation. But right now, even ignoring the fact that you helped me, I feel as if going with you is the right thing to do.” 

She held out her hand. Dio stared at it blankly for a moment, then reached out with his own.

Her hand collapsed into a pile of string before he could shake it. She laughed. “Sike. I’m still gonna go with you, but I’ll be keeping an eye out for even the slightest hint of an ulterior motive. You can get a real handshake when I actually trust you. You, though,” she said, and her hand reformed as she held it out to Giorno. “Thanks for taking charge during the scrapyard surgery. Who are you?”

“His son,” he answered flatly. “Giorno Giovanna. It is nice to finally meet you.”

“Hoo boy.” She shook his hand vigorously. As soon as she let go, Hermes reached up and did the same. “What does that make us?” Jolyne asked. “Half cousins slash uncle niece twice over?”

Giorno gave a curt nod. “Let’s just go with cousins.”

Hermes swung her arm and pointed at Hol. “And that one?”

“Hol Horse, ma’am,” he said as he tipped his hat. “At your service.”

Hermes choked back a pfft that turned into a full-throated laugh which then turned into coughing.

Hol shrugged and grinned. “They do say laughter is the best medicine. Want me to carry you outta here? It’d be an honor.”

“Nah, I’m on it,” Jolyne said. She turned her back to Hermes and parts of her unraveled to form a makeshift carrying sling. 

Hermes groaned as she sat up and threw her arms over Jolyne’s shoulders. Her legs hooked up over the cords and she jokingly jabbed at Jolyne’s sides with her heels. “Yeehaw.”

“If I never have to see or hear that word again I will be so-o happy,” Jolyne replied. She swayed as she turned, adjusting to the weight, and she grinned at Giorno. “Where to? Got the time machine parked out there somewhere?”

“We could leave right now, actually,” Dio answered. “But we will regroup first and double-check that everyone is prepared.”

Jolyne nodded. “Got it. Lead the way.”

Once back at the van, Jolyne pulled open the back door and waved her hands at Ungalo at Rikiel. “Hi. Scoot. Injured person coming through.” She turned and leaned back, allowing Hermes to fall onto the seat. “What have you been eating, rocks? You’re heavy,” Jolyne teased as she stretched out her back. 

“We’ve had the same meals as each other every day for months, dummy,” Hermes sniped back. “And technically, I do have a gut full of metal right now.”

“Maybe he gave you two livers on accident,” Jolyne replied.

“Um.” Rikiel cleared his throat. “Jolyne, right?”

“Yup,” she answered. “Who are you?” She squinted. “Oh, wait. You kinda look like—”

“Yeah, we’re Dio’s kids,” Ungalo answered. He pointed at the turtle. “My other brother is in there but he’s not really talking to anyone right now.”

Hermes blinked at the turtle in confusion. Jolyne frowned. “How many Diolets are we talking, here?”

“Consensus seems to be at least four,” Rikiel mumbled.

Ungalo stared at her in confusion and then tapped at his own shoulder. “Hey, I have the same thing.”

“Huh?” She looked at her own shoulder and then her eyes went wide. “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

“You have the same birthmark as us?” Rikiel asked. “We’re related?”

“Cousins,” Giorno said helpfully as he opened the passenger side door.

“Turbocousins,” Jolyne added with a decisive nod.

Rikiel squinted at her. “What does that even mean?” 

Jolyne scrunched her nose. “I don’t wanna be the one to explain it,” she said to Giorno.

“I’ve been considering developing an informative pamphlet,” he replied dryly.

Dio manifested the World and pulled out the stickers before approaching the car. “Who doesn’t have a sticker yet?” 

Hermes propped herself up on her elbows. “Sticker?”

“It will allow you to follow me both through time and into the stopped time,” he explained. He handed Jolyne the sheet. “Choose one and put it on your hand.”

Jolyne immediately peeled off a smiling butterfly and slapped it onto her wrist. Hermes considered the sheet deeply before pulling off a soccer ball emblazoned with Sports! and a few scattered stars.

“Did Donatello get one?” Dio asked.

Rikiel shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

He sighed. “Will one of you go in and give him one? Apply one to the turtle, as well.”

“I’m not doin’ it,” Ungalo said as Hermes tried to hand him the sheet. Rikiel took it, put Awesome! onto the turtle, and then tapped at the metal cover. “Donatello needs a sticker,” he said loudly. “Let me in.” The lid slid off and he disappeared.

“Wait, are we going to leave soon?” Jolyne asked. “We got separated from our other friends during the fight before this one. If we can bring them along—”

“Are they Joestars?” Dio asked.

Jolyne squinted at him. “No. They’re just my friends.”

“Then no,” Dio replied. “It will be safer for them to stay here. The more people we take back, the more complicated things will become. Just imagine that once we leave, time is essentially paused at this moment. When we return, we will be able to help them.”

Rikiel hopped back out of the turtle. “Okay. Donatello is stickered.” 

Jolyne glared at Dio. “I don’t want to have to leave my friends behind.”

“Be grateful I’m allowing you to bring this one,” he said as he gestured at Hermes. When Hermes furrowed her eyebrows and began to speak he held up a finger. “Don’t. You’re on thin ice.” He grabbed the sticker sheet back from Rikiel. “Is everyone ready?”

“Ah! I didn’t get one,” Mista exclaimed.

Dio sighed and pulled off a sticker at random. “Here.”

Mista grimaced at a chalkboard that read 2 + 2 = ?. “I would like a different sticker, please.”

“And you’re not on thin ice, you’re treading water,” Dio snapped. “Just take it and we will leave before anything else can go wrong.”

“Wrong side of the bed this morning?” Hermes muttered.

“Wrong side of the coffin,” Jolyne corrected.

Dio ignored them as he retrieved the travel atlas. He circled Morioh on the map and then flipped through the calendar. There was a gap in the dates from when he had used a day to bring Erina there; he selected the next page. He grabbed his umbrella from the car door, tucked it under his arm, and then pulled the pen from the calendar’s binding and circled the date.

The world shifted around them. The van disappeared. Jolyne caught Hermes before she fell, but Rikiel and Ungalo landed in a heap. Ungalo managed to grab the turtle before it hit the floor. Mista landed in a crouch beside Giorno.

“This is the safest time and place available to us,” Dio stated. “Your father is here, as are several of your other relatives. I also know exactly where you can stay while you’re here. Consider it a well-earned vacation in a nice city. Well, nice aside from the whole serial killer situation,” Dio admitted.

“The what,” Hermes stammered.

Dio shrugged. “The last time I was here, the Joestars were hunting down a prolific serial killer. I’m sure they’ll catch him eventually. I’ll probably even end up helping them. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“You consider a town currently under attack by a serial killer to be the safest time and place to bring us?” Giorno asked.

Dio waved a hand dismissively. “There are five or so Joestars here now. This is the safest place on the planet.” He glanced around; they had been transported into what looked like a home office. The decor was simple and muted. He turned to look behind them and saw a startled man sitting at his desk and holding a pen. He had been writing something over and over on a sheet of paper, but it was interrupted by a long streak of ink smeared by his surprise. He stared at them; the rest of the group stared back.

“We’re in Japan, right?” Jolyne asked. “Just do what I do.” She made eye contact with the man, clapped her hands together, and gave a slight bow. “Sumimasen!”

Mista, Hermes, Ungalo, and Rikiel mirrored the gesture and repeated after her. So did Giorno, but his pronunciation was much clearer. Hol doffed his hat. 

Dio tilted his head and watched as the man gripped at the pen so hard the metal casing began to creak.

(as always, thanks for reading and I hope you are doing well! here's some fun stuff. here's a stand overview.



i feel as if i could name this next plot arc Jolyne and Hermes Bully Dio For Fun and Profit.)

Chapter Text

“I think we freaked him out,” Hol whispered.

Dio stopped time. The man’s expression of shock was frozen in place. Dio waved towards the door and ushered the group out. “We have eight seconds to get out of this man’s sight. He’ll just write this off as a very vivid hallucination.” They were halfway down the steps when time began again. “Just keep going,” Dio said. 

There was a yelp from the bottom of the steps. A young boy stared at them with wide eyes.

Dio stopped time again. “Quickly,” he hissed, and the group trampled down the steps. Jolyne helped Hermes stagger along while Giorno ran to the door and pulled it open. They poured out into the front yard and Dio remembered to flip his umbrella open just in time.

Time began again. The boy turned on his heel and gawked at them through the open doorway. The man from the office ran to the upper railing of the staircase and gave them a severe glare.

Time stopped once more. Dio fought to contain a pained wince. “Go down the road. Let’s not begin our time here with having the police called for trespassing.”

They ran off. Back within the house, Hayato looked up at the man he doubted was actually his father. When he saw how angered and confused Kosaku was, his fear only grew. Kosaku’s intense gaze slid from the doorway and focused upon Hayato. They locked eyes for a few long moments. How were they able to do that, Hayato wanted to ask, but his questions were superseded and silenced by his fear. He managed to tear his gaze away from Kosaku and look out the open door. The strange group of people was nowhere to be seen.

The group continued down the road at a steadier pace once they were out of sight. “You said you knew where we could stay,” Giorno asked. “While I’m sure we would all appreciate a hotel or even an apartment, we have no money that would work in Japan or in the past.”

“I’m aware,” Dio replied. When he did not explain any further, Giorno frowned.

“Nice place, nice weather, not a mosquito in sight,” Hermes said as she stretched out her arms. “Can’t say I’m gonna miss Florida too much.”

“Morioh has a beach, too,” Jolyne replied with an almost overly happy tone. “Maybe we’ll have the chance to go swimming.”

“Oh, Hol, I just realized. I could have just dropped you off at your home,” Dio said as he flipped through the atlas. “I still can. Where should I circle?”

Hol squinted at him and gave a strained grin. “Ha ha ha. I’m not giving you my address.”

Dio smirked. “Hmm, correct response. I wanted to make sure that your decision-making faculties were still intact after finding out you were romantically involved with Nena.”

“In my defense, she was able to shapeshift,” Hol replied flatly.

“I don’t know Japanese at all,” Rikiel said mostly to himself. “What if I have to ask someone for directions or something?”

“I can teach you some,” Giorno replied.

“Same,” Jolyne added. “But Morioh’s a tourist hotspot during the summer. Most places should know some English.”

“Have you been here before?” Mista asked.

Her smile faltered. “Not really,” she answered. “I just looked stuff up.”

Dio spotted a familiar set of houses and figured out where he was. If he turned along the next road and walked a few blocks he would be able to find—

Someone was waving and calling out to them. He saw Joseph Joestar walking arm-in-arm with Erina. He nearly stopped time again out of surprise.

“Good morning! We got up early and did some clothes shopping so that I no longer stick out like a sore thumb,” Erina explained, her tone a bit too cheerful. She did a little kick. “Jeans! They’re quite popular now, but I feel as if I’ve costumed myself as a railway worker.” She waved at the rest of the group. “Who is all this?”

Hol tipped his hat and smiled. “Ma’am. Looking lovely today, if you don’t mind me saying. Excellent choice in denimwear.”

Dio grinned and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, Hol, let me introduce you. This is my sister-in-law. She’s here from the early 1900s.”

“Ohsweetjesus,” Hol breathed.

Joseph squinted at them. “Is that Hol goddamn Horse?” He leaned to the side to get a better look at the rest of the group and he stared at Jolyne in stark incomprehension. “Who…?”

“I’ll explain this to you later,” Dio quickly said. Time stopped.

“Great grandpa Joseph?” Jolyne murmured. “He honestly doesn’t look any different from the last time I saw him.”

“Now is not the time to catch up,” Dio replied as he ushered them along. 

They finally made it to his intended destination. Ungalo squinted doubtfully at a decrepit-looking house. “This is the place you want us to stay at?”

“Yes,” Dio answered. “This is the home of the person I respect most in Morioh. He was both successful in killing me, albeit while I was in a very weakened state, and he saved my life by dragging me out of the sunlight to safety.” He strode up to the door and knocked.

Loud footsteps thudded towards the door. “Josuke, you’re way early. I thought we were hanging out at—” The door swung open and Okuyasu blinked at them in surprise. “Uh. Hey, Dio. What’s up?”

“Okuyasu,” he began. “Your house is very large and very empty. It is only you and your father living here, correct?”

“Yeah,” he answered as he frowned in confusion.

“I have several individuals in desperate need of housing,” Dio continued as he gestured to the group behind him.

“You mean… have them live here?” Okuyasu stammered.

“I will pay you,” Dio replied. “Name your price.”

“Um.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I’d have to research the average rental rate in this part of town. Wait. Hold on! Who are these people?”

Dio crossed his arms. “You’re the man of the house, given your father’s affliction. I trust that you would be a good role model for my sons.”

“Your what?”

“Anything that you need done, they will be at your command,” Dio continued. He gestured up towards the boarded windows of the house. “Chores. Repairs. Etcetera.”

“What are they saying?” Ungalo whispered to Giorno. Giorno translated it back and he frowned. “Wait a second,” Ungalo called out to Dio. “This guy’s just a teenager.”

Dio glared back at him. “He’s the most responsible person I can think of here.”

Ungalo squinted. “You’re trying to pawn us off as like, indentured servants to him.”

“Did you think I would allow you to freeload? To take this as charity?” Dio hissed. “Absolutely not.”

Jolyne raised her hand. “Where am I in this trade?” Hermes nodded in agreement and looked at Dio inquisitively. Mista looked as if he would say something, but he merely frowned.

Dio shrugged. “You’re not my child. Fend for yourself or go stay with your father at the hotel.”

“Everyone can stay here,” Okuyasu insisted. “I mean, especially if you’re paying me. There’s plenty of room.”

“Grand.” Dio clapped a hand onto his shoulder, maneuvered him out of the way, and entered the house. “We can draw up a contract later.”

Okuyasu stared at the group, completely befuddled. “Uh. Do you want a tour?”

Giorno nodded. “It would be appreciated.”

Okuyasu watched them curiously as he led the way through the first floor. “So those ones are American?” 

“Yes,” Giorno replied as he gestured toward them. “Rikiel and Ungalo, as well as Donatello, who is inside this turtle.”

“Gotcha,” he said as he looked at the turtle in utter bafflement. “Well, maybe they can help me with my English. What about the rest of them?”

“The man with the cowboy hat is Hol Horse. He’s about as American as you can get. This is Mista. He and I are Italian but my mother was Japanese,” Giorno explained.

Mista tapped at his shoulder. “Hey, can you explain to him that I’m not one of Dio’s kids? I feel like that wasn’t made clear.”

“Mista would like to inform you that he and Dio are in no way related,” Giorno stated. “Also, over there is Hermes, who I believe is also American. Jolyne is…” He trailed off and pursed his lips.

“Yeah, hi. Jotaro’s my dad,” she explained.

Okuyasu made a choked noise of surprise. “Jotaro Kujo?!”

“Yeah, that one,” she replied.

He frowned and counted off on his fingers, then stared at her.

“From the future,” she said.

“Ohh,” he replied, but his confusion only grew.

Rikiel shrieked and jumped back from the stairway. “What the hell is that?!”

There was a loud gurgle as Okuyasu’s father slumped his way down the last set of stairs. He stumbled when he reached the ground floor, but as he tottered he managed to keep his balance.

Okuyasu laughed loudly to cover his discomfort. “He’s doing pretty well today! Um, everyone, meet my dad. Dad, meet everyone.”

Jolyne stared at him in concern as he wobbled over towards the kitchen. “That’s your dad?”

Okuyasu shot a glance at Dio, who was standing by the window and looking at the many tiny holes bored into the wood paneling with interest. Giorno caught the look and he frowned. “What did he do?”

“Uh! Well!” Okuyasu stammered. “It was an accident, sort of. Not really. But he did try to help,” he insisted. 

Jolyne shouted over towards Dio. “Hey, care to explain to everyone why this guy’s dad is like that?”

“He did that to him?” Rikiel asked in disbelief as he watched Okuyasu’s father slap his hands against the fridge. Okuyasu ran over to him, pulled open the door, and watched carefully as he began rooting through the contents.

Ungalo crossed his arms. “Could you just explain things in general? Like the whole cousins thing? Or why you’re a goddamn vampire?”

“Jolyne and Giorno seem to be well versed in the story,” Dio said. “Ask them.”

“It’d be better to just hear it from you,” Ungalo grumbled.

Dio merely stared at him blankly. Ungalo’s frown deepened, and he crossed his arms tightly, but he refused to look away.

“Of course,” Dio finally said, his tone ominously calm. “Okuyasu, could I perhaps borrow a pen and paper?”

Okuyasu closed the fridge as his father waddled off with a hunk of cheese. “Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute.”

The group gathered in the living room. Jolyne and Hermes were sprawled out on the sagging couch. Rikiel and Ungalo managed to squish onto the couch, as well. Giorno leaned against the armrest and held the turtle with the lid open while Mista sat cross-legged on the floor. Hol held back and leaned against the doorway. Okuyasu excused himself and encouraged his father back up the stairs.

Dio held the paper up against the glass surface of a boxy television and began to write. “Jolyne here is Jotaro Kujo’s daughter. Jotaro is the son of Holly Joestar. Holly is the daughter of Joseph Joestar.” He paused, frowned, and added another line. “Josuke is the son of Joseph Joestar, as far as I can gather. Joseph is the son of George Joestar II. George is the son of Erina and Jonathan Joestar. Jonathan was the son of George and Mary.” He slid the pen further upwards. “And so on. The Joestars before that point aren’t really relevant.”

He wrote his name in all caps, drew an arrow, and pointed it towards the top of the family chain. “I was adopted into the Joestar family in 1881. Years prior, these two were in a carriage crash.” He drew an X over Mary. “My father attempted to rob Jonathan Joestar’s father, George Joestar. George was too stupid to realize that he was being robbed and instead thought he was being saved from the carriage crash. He gave my father a large sum of money and still believed that he owed him a debt, so when my father died, he took me in.”

“When you killed your father,” Giorno corrected.

“Oh, was that in the Speedwagon Foundation files?” Dio said lightly.

“No,” he replied. “The phone call. Remember?”

Dio scowled and pressed onward. “The Joestars were completely oblivious as to the power they held in the world. Oblivious and careless. I would argue that they still are, but let’s not get off track.” He drew an X over George. “My original plan was to legally wrangle the Joestar fortune into my hands, but certain events transpired that led to me becoming a vampire.”

“By ‘legally’ you once again mean killing your father,” Giorno said. 

“That’s irrelevant,” Dio retorted. “Once he was dead, the fortune would legally be in my name. And even if it hadn’t gone to me—” he would have ruined Jonathan’s life further in order to obtain it, he knew, but he merely rolled his eyes. “Anyway. After that—”

“Wait, wait. More details on the vampirism, please,” Ungalo insisted.

“I’m okay without more of that, actually,” Rikiel mumbled.

Dio sighed and drew an approximation of the stone mask. “I never met Jonathan’s mother, obviously. But during her travels she somehow came across an artifact from an ancient society. If you wear the stone mask and activate it, it will pierce your brain and turn you into a vampire.”

Ungalo raised his hand. Dio only stared at him, so he decided to go ahead and ask. “So we’ve seen the no sun and drinking blood parts. But what about other stuff? Like, can you turn into bats?”

Dio tried to recollect the honestly absurd list of abilities that the stone mask unlocked. “I don’t age. I can heal my own wounds quite easily. My senses are highly attuned. I can freeze parts of my body at will and transfer the cold to others. My hair is prehensile. I can turn corpses into zombies. I can create other, lesser vampires. I can hypnotize others into obeying my will, and if that doesn’t work, I can implant a flesh bud to weaken their psyche. I can manipulate and graft flesh to an extent.” He paused. “I can also shoot eye lasers made from pressurized blood plasma, but it isn’t particularly pleasant to do so.”

Hol raised his hand. Dio gave him a bemused look. “What, Hol?”

“Did you need the coffin in Cairo or was that just for fun?” he asked. 

Dio squinted at him. “It’s comfortable, and it keeps out the sun.”

Hermes raised her hand. “Is it safe to be around you if I’m on my period?”

“I’m not a shark,” he replied flatly. “Also, if I could refrain from taking your blood when elbow-deep inside you, I’m not going to want to do so when you’re on your damn rag.”

She tilted her head back thoughtfully. “Ahh, yeah. That does make sense.”

Rikiel looked as if he were about to keel over. “What? What?”

“He helped Giorno give Hermes a liver transplant.” Jolyne leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm. “Let’s move on.”

“Let’s,” Dio agreed dryly. He drew a circle around Jonathan’s name. “Erina is the woman you saw as we were on our way here. She married Jonathan. Jolyne, you are descended from her.”

“Great-great-and-so-on grandma,” she stated.

“Correct.” He drew another arrow and connected his name to Jonathan’s. “Jonathan nearly defeated me when I became a vampire. My original body was completely destroyed except for my head. So, I killed him and grafted my head onto his body.” He drew four more lines down from his own name. “When I was in Cairo, I copulated with your mothers. That is where you come from.”

Rikiel pressed his face into his hands. “Please don’t say it like that. Actually, just stop talking.”

“So you…” Ungalo gestured vaguely and then gave up. “Yeah. Turbocousins is right.”

“And Cairo is where my dad beat your ass,” Jolyne said.

“Sure,” Dio replied with a scowl and a shrug. “He stumbled his way into victory, as Joestars are wont to do.” 

She quirked an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”

“You should know that I do respect your father, Jolyne. I also just happen to not like him. Do you understand why your father killed me?” Dio asked.

“Grandma Holly was gonna die otherwise,” she stated.

He tilted his head. “Understand that I was not actively trying to kill your grandmother. Her illness was a highly unfortunate side effect of me acquiring my Stand. I didn’t want Jotaro to pursue me. I was merely fighting to survive. Every form of life comes with its own share of exploitation,” he said as he glared at her imperiously. “You can think as highly of yourself as you like, but surely you recognize that.”

“Holly deserved to live more than you did. You had the chance to live your life and you fucked it up,” she retorted. “What are you, a hundred something? More? And where has that gotten you, exactly?”

“Two hundred something, I thought,” Ungalo added.

Giorno frowned. “You were… twenty-two when you became a vampire. Then a hundred years in the ocean. Then five years in Cairo. Now, this…” He waved his hand expressively. “You said there was another hundred years in the ocean, but your double said—”

“A year, tops,” Dio's double replied helpfully. “Though I wouldn’t consider the original century spent doing nothing but attempting to heal and barely being conscious to be ‘living’. However, there are the time loops to consider, and while the perception of time within them is rather condensed I believe they should still be included. I would say, all things considered, his age is around…” He shrugged. “Thirty.”

Mista had drawn his gun but looked as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Hol looked prepared to begin running and never look back. Rikiel made a muffled noise of panic. Ungalo grabbed onto Hermes, but she was so alarmed that she didn’t even notice. Jolyne’s arm had already unraveled and she leaned forward while watching the double closely. Giorno forced himself to relax. His nails had pressed into his palms so harshly he expected blood. He peered at Dio’s double coolly. “Should we expect your sudden appearances to become a regular thing?”

“Hm.” The double smirked at him. “No.” He disappeared.

“Okay. You were serious about the two of you thing,” Jolyne said as her arm reformed.

Dio’s fingers pressed against his temple and he scowled. “My age is irrelevant. What is important is that the stone mask allowed me to transcend humanity, and acquiring my Stand allowed me to ascend higher still. That remains true no matter what.”

“Dunno. Seems like you were just as much of a dick before slapping on a mask,” Jolyne stated as she watched him closely. “You had a body count before you had to start eating people. Two dead dads.” Her eyes narrowed. “What about your—”

“Question,” Giorno interrupted as he held up his hand. Jolyne and Dio both frowned at him. “Well, several questions. You may prefer to answer them in private, however.”

“Just ask,” Dio said, his tone heavily laced with exasperation. 

“So,” Giorno asked, “during that last Stand battle, what made you jump to the wild conclusion that I want to kill you? Further projection?”

Dio glared at him. “It’s the only explanation I can think of as to how you were able to truthfully answer the version of me on the phone. And you all but said so earlier when I was explaining why I have some respect for Rikiel.”

“Ah.” Giorno sighed. “See, that was a joke, and perhaps one made in bad taste. I was merely attempting to speak your language. Next question. How many Stand battles have you actually been in?”

Dio gritted his teeth. Well, there was Jotaro and by extension brief encounters with Polnareff, Kakyoin, and he supposed Joseph. He had tested the limits of his stolen body and his Stand in controlled situations, but most other Stand users had just fallen under his sway or ran away out of fear before a true battle could begin. The problem with vastly outclassing most other Stand users was that not many were willing to fight you. That, and he had been rather determined to keep the World’s ability a secret. He had studied dozens of Stand discs with Pucci, but of course that wasn’t the same. “Several,” he answered.

“I only ask because you’ve acted rather rashly in the last few we had,” Giorno replied. “The man on the road wasn’t much of a threat, but you made the encounter with the box much worse than it needed to be, and the last Stand was able to easily upset you. Next question. When was the last time you ate or slept?”

Dio looked confused. “The guy on the road,” Rikiel mumbled. “But that was just to heal yourself after being in the sun.”

“Do you need to sleep?” Giorno asked.

“Beauty sleep,” Hol said quietly. When Dio glared at him, he held up his hands defensively. “You said it, not me!”

“Basic needs will tear a team apart if left unfulfilled,” Giorno said. “Food. Water. Shelter. Sleep. Those are things necessary for both humans and vampires, no? Even if you just consider your food and water to be blood. I appreciate that you have found us shelter, but I think we all need to realize that we have reached a point at which we need to rest. We are all tired. We are all frustrated. I respect that you have powered through this experience, but you do seem like you are on edge.”

Dio’s glare was sharp enough to slice. He tossed the pen and paper to the ground before stalking off towards the doorway.

Ungalo twisted in his seat to watch him warily as he left. “Where are you going?”

“To fulfill my basic needs,” he replied, his tone too light and dismissive for comfort.

Rikiel watched him warily. “You mean…?”

“What do you think?” Dio snapped as he picked up his umbrella.

Jolyne glared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Do you go to the Serengeti and lecture the lions for eating gazelles?” he asked. As her arm began to unravel and she looked as if she would begin a tirade he held up his hand. “Goodness, could you all have a little faith in my ability to eke out a sustainable existence here? If I were going out and killing people for food, the Joestars wouldn’t be hunting down some piddly serial killer. I’d be the top priority. I get donated blood from the hospital.”

“Why wouldn’t you just say that in the first place!” Rikiel exclaimed.

Dio shot a pointed glare at Giorno. “It isn’t my fault if you assume. Perhaps try becoming more fluent in ‘my language’.”

Jolyne’s lip curled in disgust. “What, in being a bully?”

Giorno just looked exhausted. He watched as Dio stormed out. Mista sighed and fiddled with his revolver. Hermes leaned against Jolyne and frowned thoughtfully.

“Well, none of us are dead,” Hol said with forced humor. “Gotta say, that is an improvement.”

Everyone but Giorno glared at him.

Okuyasu peeked around the corner. “Hey. Uh. So I heard the bit about you all being tired and stuff. I’ve got a shower and a washing machine but we’ll have to dry clothes outside. I need to do some grocery shopping but there’s a good amount of food. There’s a linen closet by the bathroom with a bunch of like, toothpaste and stuff like that because, um, couponing. Which is really fun, by the way. And I don’t have many spare beds but I have some sleeping bags.” He paused, frowned, and then nodded. “I have some clothes that should fit most of you guys. Don’t have any girl clothes, though.”

Jolyne sighed and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “You’re a saint, Okuyasu.”

Ungalo frowned. “Wait, Dio never explained why his dad is like that. Why is he a blobman?”

Hermes smacked him upside the head.

There was a knock at the door. Okuyasu dashed over to open it. “Oh, hey Josuke! Hey, Koichi! You’re early!”

Josuke shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, apparently everyone is meeting at Rohan’s at noon to talk about some Dio time travel stuff or something.”

Koichi nodded. “Jotaro does not seem very happy about it.”

“Neither does Dio,” Josuke added. “Dude just walked right past us.”

“Oh!” Okuyasu exclaimed. He swung the door open wide and gestured towards the group. “They must be talking about this, then.”

Giorno inhaled sharply and slapped his hand against the turtle. He disappeared and the turtle landed on the arm of the couch. 

Within the turtle, he took a deep breath and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. Donatello and Polnareff watched him in confusion.

Giorno looked up at Donatello and smiled wanly. “You didn’t want to join the lecture?”

“I already heard all that shit from Pucci,” he replied. “Didn’t really want to sit through it again.”

Giorno nodded. “Understandable.”

Donatello tilted his head. “What’s up with you?”

“Hopefully avoiding a paradox,” he answered.

Outside of the turtle, Josuke went wide-eyed. “Hi?!”

“Oh my God, little teen Josuke,” Jolyne exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Adult you, I mean.”

Josuke clapped his hands against his cheeks and squinted at her. “What?!”

“Too many new people,” Rikiel mumbled. “I want to just sleep.”

Hermes leapt to her feet, then staggered uneasily and placed a hand on her abdomen. “Somebody said shower, right? Dibs.”

“Shower is upstairs,” Okuyasu answered in English as he pointed towards the ceiling.

“Itadakimasu,” Hermes shouted as she walked as quickly as she could manage.

“You say that for food,” Jolyne called out after her. “Arigato gozaimasu is the more fitting thank you.”

“Gracias,” she shouted back as she clambered up the stairs.

“But yeah, hey, Josuke. We’ll go over this all at that meeting, I guess,” Jolyne said with a strained grin. “But it is nice to see you.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “You kinda look like…”

She scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, Jotaro’s my dad.”

Josuke blinked at her. “Jotaro has a daughter?!”

Her grin became more of a grimace. “Yup.”

“Who are these guys, then?” he asked, waving towards Ungalo, Rikiel, and Mista.

“Dio’s kids,” she answered flatly.

Mista lifted his hands and crossed his fingers in an x as he shook his head. “Tell him not me, though.”

“He has…?” Josuke pressed a hand to his forehead. “Heavy. I have to like, go lie down.”

Koichi frowned thoughtfully. “I thought I saw another person in here.”

“Oh, he went in the turtle for some reason,” Ungalo explained. Koichi furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“They’re all super tired from time travel or something,” Okuyasu explained. “Let’s go out to the café like we were planning to. Then we can all meet at Rohan’s or whatever.” He pushed at Josuke’s shoulders. “Also I just want out of the house. Come on, Koichi.”

“Ohhh,” Josuke said as he was steered out the door. “Can do, can do. Let’s get us some coffee.”

After they had left, Rikiel peered into the turtle. “They left, if that was what you were worried about. What are you doing?”

Giorno warped back out of the turtle. “The shorter boy,” he answered. “I met him in Italy before. I’m a little worried about what might happen if he saw me now.”

“Well, I’m gonna go crash,” Ungalo said as he hopped off the couch. He glanced back at Rikiel and Giorno. “What about you guys?”

“I want to brush my teeth and stuff beforehand,” Rikiel replied. “What about Donatello?”

“He can leave the turtle when he wants to,” Giorno answered.

“Speaking of which, can I go in there?” Hol asked. “I wanna talk to Polnareff.”

“Sex Pistols are hungry,” Mista said as he got to his feet. “Time to see what kind of food situation we’re in.”

Jolyne stood and gave Giorno a pointed glance. “I’m not too tired. Still hopped up on adrenaline. Want to go on a talk-walk?”

“Are you asking me to or telling me to?” he replied, his tone light.

“Asking,” she said with a frown. “Nicely, even.”

He nodded. “Then, sure.”

Dio trudged into Rohan’s house and went straight to the basement. He was halfway down the steps when he remembered he had used the last of the blood to heal himself after the encounter with the killer. He glared off into the darkness, wanting nothing more than to break something, but something caught his eye and he frowned. 

At some point, Rohan had gone back to the hospital. Three bags heavily loaded with packaged blood were set on the floor. He crouched and slashed his nails through the plastic. The stale blood spilled in a facsimile of a real bleed. He pressed his hand against the bag and absorbed it.

Well, he did feel better. The muted iron sting at the back of his throat was accompanied by a sense of calm. His sight grew hazy and he leaned to the side. He dipped his hand further into the bag and closed his eyes.

Giorno walked patiently and silently at Jolyne’s side. She was wound up with aimless energy and seemed as if she would break into a run at any moment. She had said that it would be a talk and walk, but she mostly had just been pointing out innocuous things around town as they meandered down the road.

“Nice garden,” she said as she pointed towards someone’s front yard. Giorno nodded in agreement.

“Sorry if I’m not getting to the point,” she said plainly. “I just haven’t had the chance to enjoy anything normal in a while.”

“I understand,” he replied. “And I don’t mind.”

She glanced at him sidelong. “So you know I was in prison, right?”

He nodded. “But you were framed, yes?”

“Totally,” she huffed, but her expression grew thoughtful. “I mean, I was pretty dumb beforehand. Acting out a lot. I might have ended up in trouble anyway, but yeah, getting framed for murder didn’t help.” She shrugged. “But being in Green Dolphin taught me some important things. Everything in there is simplified, but also intensified. You can see the flow of power real easily, for guards and prisoners alike. You learn real quick who needs bribed, who needs flattered, who needs intimidated. Who needs beat up. And even who you should actually be kind to,” she explained.

“Which am I?” Giorno asked. “Not someone who needs beat up, I hope.”

“Nah,” she answered with a laugh. “I don’t think so.” She sniffed and crossed her arms. “My point is that I can spot the sort of dynamics that happen between people. Your two brothers are terrified of him,” she explained. “You’re wary, but you’re also considerate. Well, maybe considerate isn’t the right word. You know how to handle him,” she concluded.

“I like to think that I am good at handling people,” he replied.

“You are.” She laughed. “I know we just met but I think we’re both good at recognizing things about other people.”

“Yes.” He gave her a careful look. “With no intention of being rude in saying so, it seems that we both have difficult relationships with our fathers.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” She stretched out her arms and her shoulders popped. “Yeah. I’m a little worried about meeting my dad here.”

“Not for paradox reasons?” he asked.

“Nah. It’s just…” Jolyne trailed off. “It’s strange. The closest I’ve ever felt to him was when he was in a coma. That’s what it took for me to really understand him.”

“He was distant?” Giorno asked tentatively.

“Emotionally. Physically. Geographically,” she said flatly. “When he divorced my mom I figured he just didn’t like us or didn’t care about us anymore. It made me really angry. I held onto that anger for a long time.” She laughed. “I think I’m still mad about it, even though I know he did it because he thought it would keep us safe. Old habits die hard and all.” She sighed, sniffed, and looked to the side. “When I see him here, I know I’ll have to try to let go of that anger for good. Because I’ll finally see why he did what he did. I don’t like what he did, but I’ll have to understand it.”

“And letting go of that anger is scary,” Giorno replied.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She pushed some stray strands of hair away from her face. “Hell, maybe now I’ll be the one trying to protect him from things. I’m old enough and strong enough to do it.”

They walked on in silence for a few long moments before Giorno spoke again. “Which type of prison person is Dio?” he asked.

She grinned. “I think he’d like to believe that he’s above all that. What do you think of him?”

“He certainly puts a lot of weight on blood,” he said with a sigh. “And I don’t mean in the vampiric sense. I’m just not sure what he was expecting of us as not-quite-Joestars. He acts as if he hates it, but if we didn’t share our heritage, I believe he would have left us behind in Florida.”

“Sounds like he wanted some mini-me’s to boss around,” she replied.

He frowned. “Not quite. I’m still trying to figure it out. He certainly expects something of me. But it’s as if as soon as you attempt to understand him beyond his tightly controlled narrative, he grows defensive.”

“Offensive, more like,” Jolyne grumbled.

“Yes,” Giorno laughed. “I’ll be honest. I was a little worried about meeting you. The history of our family looms so heavily that I thought we would instinctively hate each other or something silly like that. But I am glad that was not the case. And it even seems that Dio has grown more...tolerant? Accepting? Pragmatic, perhaps, when it comes to you and your father.” 

Jolyne shrugged. “That’s only because he thinks he’s getting our help right now. I know that maybe I should be a little more, I don’t know. Somber. Respectful of the history. I mean, Pucci acted like Dio was literally God. And Jotaro distanced himself because he was so worried about his fallout. But I won’t act like that for him. I’m not gonna treat Dio like some unstoppable eternal threat. I know that will piss him off. I personally don’t care if he gets mad at me, I can defend myself and he knows it. So, to me, he’s just some guy.” She stopped walking and gave Giorno a serious look. “I know you’re his son and that my family might have been weird about it. But I don’t care.”

Giorno stared at her with wide eyes. She crossed her arms. “I’m not a mini-Jotaro and you’re not a mini-Dio. Sure, our families have some heavy-ass baggage to inherit. But that doesn’t stop us from being ourselves.” 

It took him a moment to be able to reply. He gave her a genuine smile. “I appreciate that.”

Someone called out; they both turned and looked down the road.

“Hey!” Josuke waved and grinned nervously. “Uh, so Joseph said Jotaro’s saying the meeting is gonna be a Joestar-only affair. Want to go over with me?”

Giorno nodded. “Please, lead the way.”

Rikiel slapped his hand against the bathroom door. “Hermes, come on. You’ve been showering for an hour.”

“This is the first I’ve been able to wash up without getting yelled at in months,” she replied, her voice muffled by the running water and the door. “Do not ruin this for me.”

“I just want to brush my teeth and go to bed,” he whined.

“Use the bathroom downstairs.”

“Donatello got sick of being in the turtle and now he’s isolated himself in there,” he explained. “He isn’t letting anyone in.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Door’s not locked. Just do it. There’s a shower curtain, so I don’t care.”

He grimaced. “I care!”

The sound of running water shut off abruptly and the hooks of the shower curtain shrilled against the metal bar. Hermes stomped over to the door, and Rikiel winced away when she swung it open. 

“There you go, ya big baby,” she huffed as she finished tucking her towel around herself. “I was running out of hot water anyway. Where’s Jolyne?”

“Dunno, she went for a walk with Giorno or something,” he said as he squeezed past her.

She rolled her eyes and walked down the hallway. Okuyasu had kindly set out a few folded piles of clean clothes for everyone. They appeared to be standard men’s high school uniforms, some with fairly ostentatious lettered detailing along the collar, but she wasn’t picky. Bad Company sounded kind of badass, anyway. She ducked into an empty room and changed.

Dio awoke to the sensation of something jabbing into his shoulder. He opened his eyes and stared at a bloodied bag full of empty plastic packaging. He sat up, and whatever was poking him stopped.

“What happened to you?” Rohan asked as he pulled away the long wooden handle of a broom.

“Ate a snack. Took a nap.” Dio ran a hand over his face and frowned. “I capitulated to the body’s needs.” He shot Rohan a sly look. “It is fortunate that you brought me more blood.”

“Yes, well. I might not like you but you are my guest,” Rohan sighed. “Also, I have a herd of Joestars at my front door saying something about a meeting.”

“Ugh.” Dio swept his forearm across his mouth. “I suppose I did say we would meet here.”

“And by at my front door I mean Joseph and Jotaro already forced their way inside and are sitting on my couch,” Rohan continued. “The nice English lady was at least polite enough to remain on the porch until I actually invited her in. Josuke was here but he ran off to get apparently more Joestars.”

Dio stood and glanced down at himself. There was a spattering of rusty dried blood across his shirt, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. If anything, it added a splash of drama. Rohan frowned as he stalked past him and began ascending the steps. He swung the basement door open and looked into the living room. Joseph was hunched on the couch and scowling; Jotaro was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Erina was sitting in an armchair and sipping at a cup; at some point, Rohan must have made her tea.

The front door opened and Josuke strolled in. “Hey, hey. Unless there’s more time travel I’m missing out on, then everyone is here.”

“My brothers are going to rest,” Giorno said to Dio as he entered. “I’ll catch them up later.”

Jolyne stood a few steps outside the doorway and did not move. She locked eyes with Jotaro, whose hands had dropped to his sides. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Jolyne looked as if she were about to speak as well, but the words were caught in her throat.

“Can you come in and shut the door? The light is annoying,” Dio said as he lifted a hand to shield his eyes.

Jotaro slowly turned to look at him, his already harsh expression deepening into rage. “What did you do?”

Dio just stared at him blankly, his hand still held at his brow.

“What did you do?” Jotaro repeated, his volume just barely restrained from shouting.

Dio furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you going on about?”

His fists were tightly clenched. Star Platinum arced over him, its enraged glare set upon Dio.

Rohan scowled at them as he came up from the basement. “Fight outside. I am begging you.”

Star Platinum threw the first punch; Dio merely frowned as the World used one arm to deflect the impact. The blow sent a deafening crack through the room. Rohan inhaled sharply and retreated down a few stairs.

“No no no, no. Dad. It’s okay,” Jolyne insisted as she took her first step inside. “It’s okay.”

As Jolyne approached, Jotaro shot her a look sharpened by anger and terror. Star Platinum crossed its arms in defense, expecting a retaliatory blow; Dio and by extension the World merely stared at it impassively. 

“It’s okay,” Jolyne insisted. “Look.” Portions of her arm unwound and the string coalesced into a humanoid form that draped its arms over her shoulders. Stone Free peered at Jotaro through its sunglasses.

Jotaro’s expression was completely inscrutable. Jolyne smiled and ignored the watering of her eyes and tightness in her throat. “I know. You're not really happy to see me like this. This is like, exactly the opposite of what you would ever want. It sounds crazy but it’s way safer for me to be here right now. I'm happy to finally..." She gulped down a breath and shrugged. "I know every time we meet, something bad seems to happen. I know it's because you're almost always in danger. But this time, we'll both be ready for it. We'll take it on together." She forced herself to grin and drove her fist into her palm. "I'll get to show you what you taught me."

Jotaro did not speak. He shot a glance back at Joseph, who had hunched his shoulders and clamped his hands to the sides of his head as he watched the exchange with wide eyes. "Hey, uh. Teen Jolyne. Come sit with your great-grandpa and meet my grandma," Joseph called out. Erina gave a strained smile and waved politely.

"You. Kitchen," Jotaro finally managed to snap at Dio. "You too," he said as he pointed at Giorno. Giorno nodded and pursed his lips, as if to say fair enough.

"And you," Jotaro added as he glared at Josuke.

"Me?!" Josuke exclaimed.

"You left to go get them. You knew," Jotaro stated. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Josuke winced. "I thought that was what this whole meeting thing was about! Why didn't you ever tell us you had a daughter?"

Jotaro made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"Cuz I'm a kid somewhere else right now," Jolyne answered. "He doesn't want some Stand user finding me and using me as leverage." She rubbed a wrist against her eyes and sat on the couch. Joseph's robotic hand creaked as he gently put it on her shoulder.

"Kitchen. Now." Jotaro grabbed Josuke by the shoulder and pulled him along. Giorno followed closely, his calm expression belied by his tense posture. Dio used the World to finally pull the front door shut before going after them.

"Well." Rohan closed the basement door behind him and looked towards Jolyne. "I'd offer you a drink, but I fear for the state of my kitchen if I were to interrupt whatever's happening right now."

Jolyne giggled and pressed her face into her hands. Joseph's expression became strained with concern as her shoulders shook and her laughter began to sound more like sobs. Her hands dropped and she wiped her face with her forearm. Erina moved to take a seat beside her; she placed her hand over Jolyne's and squeezed reassuringly.

(as always, thank you for reading! huzzah for almost 100k words and almost 400 kudoses! also please witness this prescient fanart of jolyne and jotaro by 1cbear7 because it is Very Good

also the intended visual of the group sitting on the couch is 100% that jolyne and hermes are manspreading super hard meanwhile rikiel and ungalo are both like squished onto a single cushion)

Chapter Text

“He’s exactly the same,” Jolyne said mostly to herself. She felt her breath growing calmer and while a few tears were still rolling down her cheeks, the tight feeling in her throat had dissipated. The metal hand upon her shoulder and the warm real one upon her own were both reassuring. She stared down at Erina’s hand and blinked as her vision grew clearer. “I don’t know why I would expect him to be different when this is the past. He’s just so…” She sniffed. “Tactical. You know, right, gramps?” She sniffed and glanced up at Joseph.

“...Yeah,” Joseph replied weakly.

“No hug or anything like that,” she continued. “Just straight to business. Come in this other room and tell me what you did. No Jolyne allowed though,” and she wagged a finger as if she were scolding someone. “So much safer if she doesn’t know what’s happening. Even though I’m an adult now. He still just sees me as a kid. I guess it makes sense, but...”

“Well, you can get a hug from me,” Joseph said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

She laughed. “Thanks, gramps. You got any of your old man butterscotch candy on you?”

“Fresh out, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m taking care of baby Shizuka right now. Don’t want to have any choking hazards.”

“Oh, lil’ Shizuka,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “I haven’t seen her in ages.” She turned towards Erina and smiled. “Uh, hey. I guess I’m your great-great-great granddaughter. It’s kind of wild that I get to actually meet you.”

“Yes!” Erina replied enthusiastically. “It’s really such a delight to see you.” She patted Jolyne’s hand and her expression grew more thoughtful. “I am sorry that it is under these circumstances, but… it doesn’t seem that any of us have had particularly normal lives.”

“Understatement of the century,” Jolyne replied with a wavering grin.

“You’re from the future?” Erina asked softly.

“Yeah, 2012,” Jolyne replied. “You?”

“1915. Right in the middle of the Great War,” she answered. “I was so, so worried about my family and friends making it through just that. So, despite everything, being here now… it is nice to see you all,” she said with a smile. “I’m astounded by how dear Speedwagon’s company is still working so closely with the family. I don’t know your Jotaro very well yet, of course. And I only met Joseph’s Josuke briefly. And I haven’t met… Holly, isn’t it?” she asked as she glanced over at Joseph. He nodded. 

“And we just met,” Erina added with a laugh, and she bumped her shoulder against Jolyne’s. Her gaze happened to drop to the star-shaped birthmark along the lower curve of her neck. “But I feel as if…” Erina trailed off and found that her eyes were watering. “I feel as if I already know you very well,” she said as she peered at Jolyne’s face. “You’re very strong, but you feel very strongly, too. I believe your father does, as well. He just may not express it as well as you.”

“Aw jeez, great-great-great gram, you’re gonna make me cry again,” Jolyne said with a choked laugh.

Erina dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve and shrugged. “Goodness. Well, as long as they are happy tears this time.”

They were interrupted by the sound of a pen scratching against paper. They both looked up at Rohan, who had begun sketching on a small notepad. He glanced between them and the page repeatedly. “Pardon me, just… wanted to catch… there.” He held out the page and stared at it critically, then smirked. “Turned out quite well, if I do say so myself.”

Joseph gave him an exhausted glare. Rohan tore off the page and approached them. “I just wanted to capture the unique feeling of the moment. I have the expression of the lines in my memory, so you can have this if you like. No Heaven’s Door or anything,” he said when Joseph frowned at him. “You can just have it.”

Jolyne took it from him and raised her eyebrows. “Ooh. This is really good, dude.”

Rohan leaned back and crossed his arms. “I know, but thank you.” 

“Oh!” Erina exclaimed. “At some point, we should all take a picture. Especially since cameras are so much faster and better now.”

“Yeah, we really should commemorate the strangest Joestar family reunion imaginable,” Joseph huffed. “I certainly have the spare cameras for it.”

Josuke leaned back against the counter on his elbows and frowned. Giorno stood stiffly a few paces away from him. Jotaro ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath as he glared at Dio, who was merely watching him blankly.

“Josuke,” Jotaro stated. “I’m not mad at you.”

He slumped against the counter. “Whew.”

“You’re here because if I decide to beat this man to death, you’re going to fix him so that I can do it again.”

Josuke winced.

“That seems unnecessary. I don’t understand why you’re upset,” Dio said as he crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Shut up,” Jotaro snapped. He pointed at Giorno. “Who are you?”

Dio quirked an eyebrow. “It isn’t obvious?” 

“May I speak for myself, please?” Giorno said, his tone cold. He tried to sound friendlier, or at least calmer, as he turned his attention to Jotaro, but the murderous glare he was receiving was causing him to slide into a tactical defensiveness. He attempted to push the feeling away. “Yes,” he stated. “I am his son.” 

Jotaro couldn’t even bring himself to say good grief. He gripped the edge of the counter and braced his arms as he leaned against it.

“In the interest of honesty, I will tell you that I have three brothers,” Giorno continued. “They are staying at Okuyasu’s house for now. I also have two others that traveled here with me. One is a close friend of mine. Another is a close friend of Jolyne’s.” He paused. “Polnareff is here, as well.” He diplomatically decided to leave out Hol; while the man now got along well with Polnareff, he doubted Jotaro had a positive opinion of him. He also seemed prepared to leave Morioh as soon as the opportunity presented itself, so he considered it unlikely that the two would end up coming in contact.

At that, Jotaro’s tense expression shifted slightly. “Polnareff?”

Giorno nodded. “Yes. If you’d like, he can vouch for us. You, however,” he said as he glanced at Dio, “can speak for yourself now.”

“You Joestars are all loving, family-oriented people, aren't you? You may not have the decorum of your ancestor but you certainly have the sentimentality,” Dio stated. “A person without a caring heart would not have fought their way to Cairo just to save their ailing mother. I figured you would care just as much about your daughter. I thought you two would be delighted to see each other.”

“Did you lose part of your brain when you were brought back to life or were you always this stupid? You know there is a serial killer on the loose and a rogue Stand arrow still being used here,” Jotaro snapped.

Dio shrugged. “Honestly, it’s a safer situation than the one she was facing in 2012.”

Jotaro let out a frustrated growl and gripped at the surface of the counter.

“I know that what I did was right. It is far better for her to be here than for her to be in the future,” Dio explained. “I suppose I can see why you are upset about it. What would make you feel better? Do you still feel the need to hit me?” He leaned forward and turned his head as he tapped a nail against his cheek. “Here. Go right ahead.”

“Shut up,” Jotaro snapped. “You are the most annoying person I have ever met.” He pointed at Giorno. “How honest is he being? What happens in 2012?”

Giorno hesitated.

“Explain,” Jotaro commanded.

“I will,” he replied. “I am just worried about how to phrase it, and how you will respond. If you do something to change the future that makes it so that I can no longer be here to tell you about it, I do not know what will happen.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.”

Giorno glanced down at Jotaro's clenched fist and then looked up at him coolly. “Please, do not threaten me.”

“I’m not,” Jotaro replied. “But I can start if you don’t start talking.”

“If I can just like, say something real quick,” Josuke said as he raised his hand. He frowned nervously when Jotaro shot him a severe look, but he rallied and continued. “Why don’t you just ask Jolyne about it? If she says it was dangerous, then it was dangerous. You’re not gonna trust these two any time soon, so…” He shrugged. “I mean, she was there. Obviously. And it’s not like she’s gonna lie to you.”

At that, a flash of surprise passed over Jotaro’s tense expression. He pointed at Giorno and Dio. “Stay here.” He glanced at Josuke. “Watch them.” He strode over towards the living room and peered in through the doorway.

“Now that’d be quite a fight,” Dio said with a smirk as he looked at Giorno. “I wonder which of you would win.”

Giorno gave him an exhausted and exasperated look. “I’m sorry, which of us was the insufferable one again?”

Dio grinned. “Oh? Are you getting upset? Do you need a nap, as well?”

Josuke grabbed a glass and turned on the sink. He filled it to the brim and then carefully set it on the countertop. The water on the top of the glass wobbled with surface tension but did not spill. When he noticed that Dio and Giorno were watching him curiously he shrugged. “Listen, I don’t want Jotaro to beat either of you up, so I’m gonna referee the rest of this. The next person to instigate something is gonna get a cup of water to the face.”

When Dio looked as if he was about to say something snarky, Josuke jabbed a finger at him and held the glass tightly. “I mean it!”

Dio quirked an eyebrow. “Even if Jotaro is the one to do it?”

“Second warning,” Josuke replied. “There won’t be a third.”

Meanwhile, Jotaro stared into the living room. “Jolyne.”

She blinked quickly and wiped at her face. “Yup?”

He paused. “What was happening in 2012?”

“The end of the world, pretty much,” she said with a shrug. “It sucked. Like I said, it really is safer here.”

His expression was unreadable. When it seemed as if he were about to leave and go back to the kitchen, she called out. “Hey, uh. I was thinking that there’s another advantage to me being here. If some Stand user is like, ha ha Kujo, I’m gonna go kidnap your daughter to get to you! They’ll just find me instead of the real kid me and they’ll be like oh no! That Jotaro must have just adopted an older child! What a nice guy, older kids almost never get adopted! Also, she’s an adult now and can fend for herself so I can’t kidnap her! My plan is ruined!” She waved her hands expressively. “Right?”

Now, he just looked perplexed. He stared at her for a few long moments before retreating back to the kitchen.

She leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “Wow. Yeah. Still nothing.”

Joseph patted her back. Erina pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Jotaro returned to the kitchen. He glanced at Josuke and the glass of water and frowned.

“Well?” Dio asked.

“You do not talk to her,” Jotaro stated. “You do not interact with her. You do not look at her.”

“Gladly.” A smirk began to pull at his expression. “I may have done her a favor, but she is quite annoying. I’d be happy to leave her alone. Is this little argument over? Since I doubt any further conversation would be productive today, I would like to go back to sleep.”

Josuke’s grip on the glass of water shifted and Dio stopped time. Giorno inhaled sharply when Dio grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him to the side. When time began again, they had switched places.

He was prepared to laugh but water sloshed onto his face. Dio sputtered and blinked at Josuke.

“I mean, it was pretty obvious that you were going to do that,” he explained as he put the glass back under the spigot and refilled it.

Jotaro let out a sigh and shot Dio an exhausted glare. “Could you just be serious about this and take responsibility for what you’ve done?” 

Dio had expected anger or annoyance, but something else had entered Jotaro’s tone that made Dio narrow his eyes and watch him closely. “If this meeting would have gone the way I intended, you would see that I am trying to take responsibility,” Dio said. “You simply aren’t allowing me to. All you need to do is support me in doing so. If I could explain to you what I’m planning—”

“The first and only priority right now is finding the killer. This conversation is over.” Jotaro pulled at the brim of his hat and left the room.

“I suppose you did warn me,” Dio said to Josuke with a sigh as he snatched a kitchen towel from the counter and patted his face. “And I should expect that level of cleverness from one of Joseph’s children.” He paused and shot Josuke a curious glance. “Pity you weren’t an only child. Things would have been so much easier.”

“Do you ever think before you say things?” Josuke asked. He didn’t throw the new glass of water; he merely glared at Dio as he set it down in the sink.

“Hmm.” Dio pretended to consider the question deeply. “I think that your reaction was amusing.” When Josuke squinted at him, he merely shrugged and went to return to the basement.

Giorno leaned against the counter on his elbows and pressed his face into his hands. “That was not how I wanted to introduce myself to Jotaro Kujo.”

“Aw, jeez.” Josuke crossed his arms tightly. “I mean, he is kind of a hard-to-read guy. And yeah, this sucked as a first meeting. But you seem… nice?” 

“What a confident assessment,” Giorno replied dryly. He paused. “Sorry. I think I am quite tired.”

“I can’t imagine the jet lag you’d get from time travel,” Josuke said with a forced laugh. “Must be pretty bad.”

Giorno’s chuckle was genuine. “Yes,” he replied. “It is.”

Jotaro pulled Rohan aside and spoke to him for a few minutes; when he was done, he returned to the living room and stared at Jolyne.

“I’ll get you a room at the hotel,” he stated. “If you need clothes and toiletries, Joseph can take you shopping.” He paused. “You can also stay with Joseph and Erina, if that is what you prefer.” Another pause. “Do not go anywhere alone. It would be best for you to stay inside as much as possible until I figure this out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jolyne grumbled. “Got it.”

Jotaro took a deep breath. “I have to meet a reporter for the local newspaper. They have information on the missing person cases. I will probably be back at three o’ clock.”

“Yup,” she said flatly.

Jotaro hesitated once more, but then he turned towards the door and opened it.

“Jotaro,” Erina said, her voice somehow powerfully polite yet stern all at once. Joseph even sat up straighter, as if on reflex. Jotaro looked back at her and furrowed his brows.

“I understand that you have your priorities,” Erina stated as she placed a hand on Jolyne’s arm. “But your daughter deserves a hug.”

Jolyne’s shoulders shot up to her ears and she grinned nervously. “Um. You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly,” Erina replied, and as she stood she pulled Jolyne up with her. “Go ahead.”

Joseph winced; if Jotaro snapped at Erina he felt as if he might just wither away and die on the spot. But thankfully, after a few long moments of silent staring, Jotaro approached Jolyne and wrapped his arms around her.

Jolyne sniffed and patted his back. “I know you’re not a big fan of these so—”

He hugged her tighter. She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I’m gonna cry on your coat,” she shakily admitted.

“...It’s okay,” he stated. Jolyne laughed, sniffed, and squeezed him tightly.

Once the house had grown quiet, Donatello ventured out of the bathroom. He felt stale after the long stay in the hospital and then the turtle. His muscles were still stiff and sore. Everyone seemed to be asleep or away; it was the perfect time to get a shower and perhaps some food without running into anyone.

He slipped into the upstairs bathroom and turned on the faucet. He gave it the chance to warm up as he peered into the mirror. He had definitely lost weight while in the hospital; it wasn’t severe, but it was noticeable.

He ducked into the shower and then shrieked. The water was still frigid. He jumped back out and held a hand at the edge of the spray; it didn’t seem to be warming up any time soon.  He swore and dried off before getting back into his clothes.

A few rooms away, Ungalo sat up in his sleeping bag and blinked blearily. “Who screamed?”

“Mnghnmgn,” Rikiel replied, his face buried in his pillow.

Ungalo grumbled and stretched. His throat was dry and scratchy. He crawled out of the sleeping bag and staggered out of the room. He ventured down the stairs and went into the kitchen. He froze fearfully when he saw the abnormal form of Okuyasu’s father looking at the fridge wistfully.

He jumped when the front door swung open and Okuyasu came in. “Oi, dad. Just hang on a sec.” He kicked off his shoes and strode forward but paused when he saw Ungalo. “Uh. Hello,” he said, shifting to English. “Sorry if he was in the way.”

“Oh it’s totally fine, I just wanted a drink,” Ungalo stammered. He glanced back at Okuyasu’s father. “Is he hungry or something?”

“Maybe. Sometimes he just wants ice because I think it feels good for his teeth,” Okuyasu explained.

“If he’s hungry I can make him something,” Ungalo quickly said. “I’m kinda hungry, too.”

“Uh.” Okuyasu stared at him for a few moments but then he smiled. “Sure!”

Ungalo grinned in return and started throwing open the cabinets. “I can make… uh, here we go. Instant ramen.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Do you have peanut butter?”

He had to search through his vocabulary for a moment before being able to respond. “Peanut butter...no. No peanut cream, either. I might have just peanuts somewhere, though.”

Ungalo squinted at him. “What the hell is peanut cream?”

Okuyasu furrowed his eyebrows and thought it over. “Sort of… if peanut butter was instead peanut jelly? It’s super sweet.”

“Wild.” He gathered up his ingredients and swung the cabinet shut. 

Okuyasu hoisted his dad up to sit on a chair at the table, then took some ice molds out of the freezer and emptied them into a tall glass. He handed the glass to his father, who began happily chewing on the cubes.

Ungalo clattered through another cabinet as he looked for a pot. He pulled one out and began filling it with water.

“Could you be any louder?” Hermes grumbled as she came into the kitchen. “I was trying to catch some z’s on the couch.”

At first, Okuyasu gave her a wide-eyed look as he glanced at the collar of her outfit, but then he managed to give a genuine smile and wave hello.

“Hey, are you hungry, too?” Ungalo opened the cabinet back up and pulled out more instant ramen. “I can make you some.”

She squinted at him. “What are you making?”

“...Food?” he answered tentatively.

Her gaze flitted over the odd array of ingredients he had pulled onto the counter. She raised her eyebrows. “I mean, I’ll try it.”

As he set the water to boil he glanced at Okuyasu. “So, what’s up with your dad?”

Hermes glared at him. “Dude.”

“It’s fine!” Okuyasu insisted. “I mean, I’d be confused as hell about it, too.” He sniffed, frowned, and shook his head. “My dad used to work for your dad. Crazy, right? Small world and all.” He shrugged. “My dad wasn’t really a good person. I do know that. Getting all sorts of money from Dio totally went to his head. Plus for whatever reason Dio didn’t really trust him so he gave him one of those brain meat bug things. So when Mr. Kujo killed Dio in Cairo, it freaked out and grew out of control and yeah. Now he’s like this.”

Ungalo stared at him. “...You know, if I see anything weird anymore, I’m just gonna assume it’s Dio’s fault.”

Hermes nodded in agreement. “Yup.”

At that, Okuyasu winced. “I mean, I was super pissed when he showed up here. I kinda killed him but then it didn’t work for some reason. Still don’t really get that but he did try to…” He trailed off and gestured vaguely. “He did try to fix it. It probably won’t work. But he did try. It’s not like he knew that him dying was gonna do this to him,” he said as he crossed his arms. “I guess it was a mistake.”

Hermes pursed her lips. “Yeah, nah. You have every right to still be pissed at him if you want to be. This is a big deal.” 

Ungalo leaned against the counter and frowned thoughtfully. “Do you guys think he’s just trying to store all of his mistakes here?”

Hermes and Okuyasu blinked at him. “First of all, that’s a super sad thing to say,” Hermes replied. “Second of all, might’ve been better to save that thought for when he and his dad aren’t sitting like, right here.”

He huffed and drummed his fingers against the countertop. “Yeah. Sorry. Sometimes I just say shit.” He shrugged. “It’s just… it’s not like he likes us. Well, except Rikiel, maybe?” He squinted in confusion. “But I guess it was nice that he got us here and away from all the bullshit happening in Florida.”

“Your water is boiling,” Hermes pointed out.

“Aw shit, thanks,” he said as he turned down the heat. He tore open the ramen and dumped the packets into the water. As the noodles cooked, he pulled open the fridge. 

He started picking out condiments and Hermes snickered. “What, you need more ingredients?”

“It’s a very add-what-you-have kind of dish,” he replied. “Oh hey, maple syrup.”

She grimaced. “If you put maple syrup in this, it will be a crime. You will be a criminal.”

“Tofu?” he asked as he held up a packet and glanced back at Okuyasu.

“Yeah!” he replied. “I’ve been meaning to use that before it goes bad, so go ahead.”

He dumped an eclectic assortment of ingredients into the pot. When he started grating in cheese, Okuyasu grit his teeth. “Wait, wait! Save the good parmesan for like, if we do Italian or something.”

“Got it,” he replied as he set it aside.

A floorboard creaked. Okuyasu jumped and turned to look towards the living room. He pointed at Donatello and frowned. “Wait, who the hell are you? When did you get in here?”

Donatello froze. “...I was in the turtle,” he finally replied.

Ungalo hunched over the pot and focused on stirring the noodles. Hermes lifted her eyebrows and looked back and forth between him and Donatello. “So, uh, you hungry?” she asked Donatello. “He’s over there making some sort of abomination, but we’re gonna give it a try.”

“No,” Donatello said as his stomach growled.

“...Right,” she replied with a nod. “Your loss.”

He frowned at her and left. Ungalo let out a heavy sigh and searched through a drawer for a ladle.

“You two have beef?” Hermes asked.

Okuyasu screwed his face up in confusion. “Beef? Um… maybe in the freezer.”

“No, figure of speech,” she explained. “Like they fought over something.”

“Yeah, I fucked up big time,” Ungalo answered as he scooped some of the food into bowls. “It’s not really something I can fix, so it sucks.” He picked up the bowls and carried it over to them. “Oh man. What do we do about utensils? I’m shit at chopsticks.”

“Oh, I have forks and stuff,” Okuyasu answered as he pulled open a drawer.

They all sat at the table. Okuyasu’s father stared at the bowl. Hermes sipped at the broth and squinted. “It is certainly a flavor,” she said. “And it sure is edible.”

Ungalo pumped his fist in the air as he scooped from his own bowl. “Edible!”

Okuyasu nodded thoughtfully as he slurped up some ramen. “I don’t hate it. But I also don’t think I’m going to have any more.” He smiled widely. “Oi! Dad likes it!”

His father was enthusiastically pulling food into his mouth. He paused and glanced up, seemingly noticing that everyone was watching him. He stopped eating and reached out a hand.

Hermes glanced at Okuyasu. “What does that mean?”

Okuyasu grit his teeth. “Uh. Not sure.”

His father stood up on his chair and reached over further. He slapped his hand against Hermes’s fork.

Okuyasu jumped up. “He wants a fork!” He dashed over to the drawer and pulled it open. He grabbed a fork and ran back to the table. His father pulled it from his hands and held it tightly. He dipped it into the bowl and dragged it through the noodles. As he scooped up the food, most of the noodles slipped off, but he pulled what remained into his mouth and began to chew.

Ungalo pursed his lips. “Huh. Maybe a spoon might’ve been better.” He glanced over at Okuyasu and his face screwed up with confused worry. “Gah! Why are you crying?”

“This is the first time he’s asked for a fork,” he managed to happily say as he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

Sleep was pleasant, but something jabbed at Dio’s shoulder again. He stopped time and stood. Rohan was once again standing as far away as possible while poking at him with a broom. He went over to stand behind Rohan just as time returned. “Stop that,” he said lowly, and Rohan nearly jumped out of his skin. Rohan reflexively swung the broom back. Dio caught the handle and his nails gouged into the wood. They frowned at each other, and the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“What time is it?” Dio finally asked.

“You’ve been asleep for three days,” Rohan responded.

Dio stared at him.

“...Kidding. It’s been about five hours,” Rohan said. “I just wanted to tell you that I want to make a deal.”

Dio tilted his head and watched him curiously.

“Jotaro has a pretty exhaustive and also redundant list of rules for me to write into you,” Rohan explained. “However, I am sick of you being in my house. My work schedule is suffering. I’ll cut down the list if you leave.” His tone became dismissive and he set down the broom. “You can go inflict yourself upon someone else. Your children are staying with Nijimura, aren’t they? Go be with them.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How many rules?”

“Twenty four,” Rohan answered. “I can cut it down to twelve.”

“Hm.” Dio watched him carefully. “Are you really writing less rules, or did you just find a way to phrase them more effectively?”

He shrugged. “You can see the original list, if you’d like.”

Dio tilted his head. “Fine. I will leave. But I will only allow three rules.”

Rohan pursed his lips. “Too low. Ten.”

“Five.”

“Five and I can read a few more of your pages.”

Dio made a low sound of annoyance. “Hm. Perhaps no rules.”

“No need to threaten me. No pages. Six rules.”

“Six rules and I get to pick them from the list.”

“We each choose three.”

“Deal,” Dio replied.

Dio flipped open his umbrella and walked out into the evening light. The various cosmetics from the late Cinderella were stored in a bag Rohan had begrudgingly given him, as well as a few more spare bags of blood that would tide him over until the next time Rohan deigned to bring him another delivery. He stopped in a convenience store and easily shoplifted a few other basics; he felt oddly proud that it was still incredibly easy to do so without activating the World.

He had gone through the rule list and stuck with a few of the originals for the sake of simplicity: no blood except from the hospital, no harming the citizens of Morioh unless he knew they were the killer or another threat, and even then he was only to incapacitate them, not kill them. 

Rohan had chosen ones that best reflected most of the new rules Jotaro had added to the list (the ‘no breathing Jolyne’s air’ rules, Dio thought.) He was not allowed to visit the Morioh Grand Hotel unless invited and he was not allowed to visit Joseph’s apartment unless invited. Rohan had noted that those rules were close to what the traditional idea of vampires had to follow anyway and Dio would have liked nothing more than to smack him with the World but limiting his Stand had been the third rule he picked. The World could once again only be used protectively if someone’s life was in danger.

He was somewhat lost in thought as he walked towards Okuyasu’s, enough that he nearly walked right into a man headed in the opposite direction. As Dio peered out from under the umbrella at the man’s face, he frowned and furrowed his eyebrows.

Kosaku, or rather Kira, went stock still and stared back at him.

Well, no need to address the fact that he had invaded this man’s house. Better to just move on and pretend nothing had happened. “Hm. Pardon me,” Dio said, and he began to move to the right. So did Kira. He paused and instead moved to the left. So did Kira. Dio stopped trying to sidestep and instead just stared at him balefully. He took one long step directly to the left, and then another. Now he was standing on the road. He gestured widely towards the sidewalk. “Please. Go on.”

Kira stared at him as he took a step forward, then another. He returned to a normal stride and walked away. Dio rolled his eyes and returned to the sidewalk.

He did not notice when a black-gloved pink hand brushed against the edge of his umbrella.

Something odd hit his highly-attuned senses when he entered Okuyasu’s house. He followed the scent to the kitchen and leaned over the dishes left in the sink. Then, he reared back and scowled down at it. Whatever sort of culinary tragedy had occurred here needed to have all evidence of its existence erased. He turned on the hot water and squeezed dish soap over the plates. He frowned when the water only topped out at a lukewarm temperature, but at least the soap was sudsing and the astringent scent was covering up whatever had been in the bowls.

He stopped and listened when he heard an odd creaking. Something was moving behind the back door. He leaned back and watched as strings slipped through the doorframe and pulled at the handle. The door swung open, and Jolyne poked her head inside. She peered into the living room and frowned before sliding into the house the rest of the way. She noticed Dio at the kitchen sink and grimaced. “What are you doing?”

“Hm.” He turned off the water. “I’m not supposed to talk to you, but I feel that I must answer such an exceptionally stupid question. I’m washing dishes. What are you doing?”

She squinted at him. “Hotel room got boring. Jotaro said he’d be back by three but he probably got stuck in another Stand battle or something stupid. I want to hang out with Hermes.” 

“Then why are you sneaking in?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, I just felt kinda paranoid. Guess it makes sense because you’re here. Why are you here, by the way? I thought you lived in that artist guy’s basement.”

“I’ve just been evicted,” he replied. “Rohan has decided to inflict me upon a different household so that he may return to his busy schedule.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Makes sense. Bet you’re a shitty roommate.” She gestured towards his shirt. “What happened there? Accident at the ketchup factory?”

“You know, I was in a good mood after a long rest and several pints of blood,” he replied. “Go bother your friend with your inane questions. Let me tidy this mess in peace.”

She tilted her head back and watched him carefully. “Okay. Legit question. What’s up with you and Pucci?”

At first he felt a flash of anger, but when he looked at her it was clear that she was asking with at least some genuine curiosity. “You don’t like Pucci,” he replied simply.

“Obviously.” She crossed her arms and shrugged. “He’s an unrepentantly awful person.” She frowned. “Actually, no, you two being friends makes total sense. Nevermind.”

“You say unrepentant, I say determined. Pucci is the only person who understands my ideals,” Dio stated. “We are both aligned towards the same goals.”

“Is one of the goals literally annoying my family to death?” Jolyne asked.

“Hmm.” His tone cooled, and he turned his attention back to the dishes. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“They are friends because they enable each other,” his double stated as he leaned against the counter. “Pucci would have done the same to his sons, as well. Enabled the worst in them.”

Dio nearly dropped the dish he was washing. Jolyne tensed and corded string coalesced from her arm, but when the double made no suspicious moves, she tilted her head. “So were you lying to Giorno earlier about not popping up randomly or…?”

The double shrugged. Dio clenched his teeth, and he felt his incisors digging at his lip.

Jolyne grinned. “Hey. Is this version of you actually a problem or do you just not like him?”

“You’re planning something,” Dio said to his double with a severe glare.

The double shrugged once more. “I merely answered her question because you were unwilling to.” He smirked. “I’ll leave, since I seem to upset you so.”

He disappeared. “Aw,” Jolyne said. “Away he goes.”

And good riddance, Dio wanted to say, but he found that he wasn’t even willing to joke about it.

Two loud thuds came from the living room. Jolyne turned on her heel, went tense with surprise, and then slipped back out the back door. A few strings against the doorframe kept it from making noise as it shut. In the living room, a very nervous looking Hol held the turtle and nodded at Jotaro. “So, yeah. I’m really not the best person to ask but Polnareff seems to know what he’s talkin’ about, so…”

Jotaro grunted dismissively. He lifted his wrist and checked his watch. He sighed. “Shit.”

“They’re good kids,” Hol insisted. “Well, adults. Whatever. They’re a little strange, but, I mean, who isn’t.” Hol set the turtle on the couch and shrugged. He happened to look over towards the kitchen, and he gritted his teeth when he spotted Dio.

Jotaro caught the look. He turned and gave Dio an exhausted glare. “Why are you here.”

“Oh, am I not allowed to spend quality time with my children? I don’t remember that being on the list of rules,” he said as he crossed his arms. “I’m being very kind by cleaning up whatever crime against flavor they created here. Perhaps later we shall play board games and watch a movie or whatever it is that happy families do.”

“Stop talking.” Jotaro turned his glare towards Hol and looked as if he would say something more, but he only sighed and began walking towards the front door. Hol let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Dio happened to look out the window and caught sight of Jolyne sprinting out of the backyard.

“So, uh…” Hol trailed off into uncomfortable silence. “Welp! Gonna go back in the turtle.” He put his palm against the gem and disappeared.

Once the dishes were clean, Dio turned the water back on and tested the temperature. The hot water had made a comeback. Due to the fact that he had literally fallen asleep while eating earlier, he was forced to admit that he looked like a bit of a mess. He went over towards the steps but paused when he spotted Donatello coming out of the downstairs bathroom.

They stared at each other, Dio doing so blankly, while Donatello attempted a matching blankness even though anger and fear still tugged at his expression.

Dio began to speak. “Don’t talk to me,” Donatello quickly snapped.

Dio tilted his head. “Have you been hiding in the bathroom all day?”

Donatello glowered. Dio shrugged. “The kitchen is vacant now,” he stated as he started up the stairs. “And clean. Feel free to muck it up again.”

One of the upstairs rooms was loud, letting out the sound of conversation and laughter. He figured Hermes and some of the others were in there. The bathroom was unoccupied; outside were a few leftover folded outfits. He frowned at his options: sweatpants. A t-shirt with a cartoon character on it. A gold-embroidered button-up emblazoned with Bad Company, whatever that was.

At some point he would have to go shoplifting, but until his current outfit was laundered these clothes would have to suffice.

After his shower, he retrieved the pen and paper he had used during his history lecture and secluded himself in one of the unused upstairs rooms. He peered down at it and tapped the pen against the paper.

Someone knocked at the door. “Enter,” he said without looking up.

“I’m gonna start a load of laundry, so…” Okuyasu, who was carrying a hamper of clothes, trailed off and looked at him with a pained expression. Dio watched him curiously.

“Yeah, uh, hm. Hrm.” Okuyasu huffed and crossed his arms. “Can you… You gotta wear a different shirt.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at the gold-embroidered button up. It had been the best thing remaining in the pile. He didn’t know what Okuyasu was upset about, but he felt no desire to bother him about it. He shrugged, unbuttoned the shirt, and then tossed it over to him.

Okuyasu nodded gratefully and left, closing the door behind him.

Dio returned his attention to the paper. He stared at George Joestar II and frowned. Time passed and he thought.

He was interrupted once more as a voice approached the door. “I dunno, maybe he’s in this one.” The door was pulled open to reveal Rikiel and Hol. 

“Ah!” Rikiel held up a hand as if to shield his eyes. “Wear a shirt!”

As he quickly left, Hol shrugged. Compared to Cairo, the no-shirt-sweatpants look was modest.

“I wonder where he got his squeamishness from,” Dio mused. “Certainly not from me, and certainly not from his mother.” He glanced at Hol. “What do you want?”

“Uh,” Hol replied. “Just wanted to say, uh…” He squared his shoulders. “The Fort Knox break-in is a bad idea because I’d never be able to fence the gold. It’d be too suspicious. So, uh, if you’re actually gonna pay me, just pay me with normal cash.”

“Understood.” Dio tilted his head. “Is that all?”

Hol hesitated. “Yup,” he answered. He retreated out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Dio frowned thoughtfully, then grabbed the bag of his belongings. He searched through the items he had stolen from the convenience store.

Hol sat on the couch and bounced his leg nervously. Donatello had scarfed down a dinner and returned to his self-imposed seclusion in the bathroom; Polnareff, as per usual, was in the turtle; the others all seemed to be upstairs. He looked down at the Way to Go! sticker on his hand, frowned, and then peeled it off. He set the sticker on the table, stood, stretched his arms, and then went to the front door. Hol swung the door open, took a step out onto the porch, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Dio spoke. “Leaving so soon, Hol? Without getting paid and without saying goodbye? The kids will be devastated.”

Hol spun to look back; Dio leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I ain’t one for goodbyes,” Hol stammered. “Don’t think they’ll care all too much, either.”

Dio tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I see.” His nails tapped against his elbow.

“Plus, I did pay for my return flight,” Hol said with a nervous laugh. “Almost forgot since for me, it was so long ago.”

“Of course.” 

“And I was gonna check in with Boingo,” he added. “I have Jotaro’s number in case anything comes up with Tohth.”

Dio made a noncommittal hm.

“Listen, uh…” Hol trailed off and scuffed his boot against the peeling paint of the wooden porch. “I hope this all goes well for you.”

His eyes widened for a mere moment, but Dio quickly returned to his customary smugness. “How touching.”

“I mean it. I learned a lot about you on this trip. But I also know that whatever comes next is probably gonna be dangerous. I didn’t sign up for dealin’ with two of ya. So yeah, I’m leaving to cover my own ass, but still. I actually hope it goes well. If anyone can make it through, it’s you. Plus,” he said with a dry laugh, “I know exactly where you’re gonna be in thirteen years. Maybe I’ll have to plan a trip to Florida just to see how it all ends.” 

Dio smirked, but it was rather close to a genuine smile. Hol took a deep breath, took off his hat, and leaned forward. “Since I’m leavin’ and all, I figured I could entrust you with somethin’,” he said conspiratorially.

Dio quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It’s somethin’ I’ve never told a single soul,” Hol continued, his drawl thick and pulling at his words. Dio leaned forward with interest.

“I’m actually Canadian,” Hol said, his southern drawl completely disappearing. “I’m from Toronto. Never even rode a horse.”

Dio stared at him. “...Really?” he finally asked.

“Pfft. Of course not. That was a lie,” Hol said and he put his hat back on. He jogged jauntily down the porch steps. “Or maybe I’m not lying. Or not-not lying. I ain’t tellin’.”

“Hol,” Dio called out. When Hol looked back at him he held up a box of cigarettes and shook it.

He tossed the box and Hol caught it with a whistle. “I’ll be damned.”

“It’s no Fort Knox gold and I haven’t had the time to rob a bank,” Dio said with a sigh. “If you give me your real address I can send you a cheque—”

“Absolutely not,” Hol replied. “This is payment enough.” He tipped his hat and began walking away. “Sayonara, you weird bastard.”

"Sayonara," Dio echoed with a smirk. Hol strode out onto the road; Dio went back into the house and closed the door.

Chapter Text

Dio peered down at the diagram of the Joestar family tree once more.

He knew very little of the circumstances around the death of George Joestar II. He knew that one of his zombies had earned a position of military power. George had discovered him and was killed trying to defeat him. Joseph might know more about it. The Erina in Morioh would not.

He supposed it was callous, but the son would make a good test subject before moving on to the father. While his double had allowed him to change the past in some specific ways, Dio didn’t know if he would begin to actively oppose him once he began bringing all the Joestars together. Trying to rescue George would be the safest way to test the waters.

But how to do so without causing a paradox? If he knew more details, he could perhaps fake George’s death in the past while really pulling him into the present in Morioh.

It wouldn’t be too hard to do. But when it came to the others he was planning to go back and find… Would fate be with him, or against him?

Okuyasu looked out the backyard window and pouted. “Aw. Rainy day.”

Rikiel sat at the kitchen table and rubbed at his eyes. “Hm. Good day to stay inside. I kinda wanted to check out the beach, though.”

Condiments jostled as Ungalo opened the fridge. “What do we want for breakfast?”

“No no no. You are not cooking breakfast,” Hermes said. “Who here actually knows how to cook?”

“I know how to cook,” Ungalo insisted.

“You can cook for my dad,” Okuyasu said. 

“You can certainly put ingredients together in one location,” Hermes said.

Ungalo shrugged and shut the fridge. “I think my palate may just be more refined than yours,” he said with exaggerated snobbishness as he sat down by Rikiel. “You just don’t appreciate the avant-garde.”

Hermes snorted. “I don’t think that’s the case, but sure. What about you?” she asked Rikiel.

He leaned his elbows onto the table and rested his cheeks in his palms. “I dunno. The kitchen at home kinda sucks. I make a pretty good grilled cheese, I guess.”

“I like cooking,” Okuyasu exclaimed. “I mean, I’m still learning how to do it well.”

Hermes wagged a finger. “You can cook if you want, but we’re supposed to be your helpers while we’re here.”

“I gotta unleash my new pasta skills on somebody! Do you like to cook, though?”

She half-frowned. “I can, but I kinda just have the basics down. And that’s another thing, huh? We all have different basics. Like, my dad was big on Yucatan and Caribbean food. So most of what I know is from that, plus some American food. You two have American food backgrounds, right?” she said, gesturing towards Ungalo and Rikiel. “And you have Japanese,” she said to Okuyasu.

He nodded excitedly. “Yes, but I’m learning Italian!”

“Who is learning Italian?” Mista asked as he entered the kitchen. He lifted a hand to his head in mock salute. “Buongiorno.”

Giorno followed close behind. “Good morning,” he said, and he held up the turtle. “Polnareff says good morning, as well.

“Good morning,” everyone echoed back, some with more confusion than others.

“Right!” Okuyasu exclaimed. “You guys are Italian! Do you like to cook?”

Mista nodded. “I mean, I tend to burn shit by accident. But I’m pretty alright at it. Plus, if you burn some things, it actually makes them better because it makes fond.”

Ungalo squinted at him. “Makes what?”

“Fond,” he repeated. “Like when you cook meat and there’s brown stuff on the pan after. You actually want to eat that even though it can look funky. It’s the best part of the dish. You can just deglaze the pan with some wine and bam! You got some good sauce.”

Rikiel snickered. “You sound like Emeril.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mista replied. “You know that guy designed food for astronauts?”

“What about you?” Okuyasu asked Giorno.

He tilted his head. “I think I cook fairly well. I think I prefer baking, though. It’s a little more precise.”

The floorboards in the living room creaked. The group turned to witness Donatello, who looked back at them, frowned, and then walked away.

“Jesus, it’s like a Bigfoot sighting,” Hermes sighed. “When do you guys think he’s gonna give it up? Is he pissed at just Ungalo or at everyone?”

Giorno hummed as he rifled through a cabinet, seeking coffee. “I’ll try talking to him later.”

“I can cook,” Dio said. The group turned to look at him. He leaned against the kitchen entranceway and peered back at them blankly.

“When the hell did you sneak up on us?” Hermes grumbled as she watched him walk over towards the stove.

Ungalo furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you… you don’t need to eat real food, right?”

“Did you pay so little attention to my lecture that you believe I was born a vampire?” Dio asked. 

Rikiel winced. “I mean, even before...you’re a guy from the 1800s. And from a rich family. You woulda had a chef or something.”

Dio pulled a knife from the knife block, held it up, considered it, and then slid it back into its slot.

“...Are you gonna give us more lore or are you just gonna be spooky?” Ungalo grumbled.

Dio set a pan on the stovetop and retrieved a carton of eggs and a stick of butter from the fridge. “How do you all prefer your eggs to be served?”

He was answered by vaguely nervous silence.

“...Sunny side up with toast!” Okuyasu finally exclaimed.

“Duly noted.” Dio retrieved the bread and looked closely at the toaster before figuring out how it was used. He put a pat of butter into the pan, and it sizzled. “Are the rest of you not hungry?”

“Uh. Scrambled for me,” Hermes stammered. Rikiel and Ungalo nodded in agreement.

“Hm. No thanks,” Mista said, but he was then met with screams of despair from Sex Pistols. “Fine, fine. What do you want?” he asked with a sigh. There was a small clamor of disagreement. “Hardboiled,” Mista called out.

Dio quirked his brow, but he grabbed a small pot and began filling it with water. “And you, Giorno?”

“Just toast for me, thank you,” he replied.

Dio made Okuyasu’s dish first. The toast sprung up just as the whites of the eggs were firm and the outer edges had crisped with the butter. The group watched him cook in uneasy silence.

“When my father ‘saved’ George Joestar from the carriage crash,” Dio stated, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “he was given a large sum of money. He used that money to start a sort of hotel, complete with a bar and a limited food selection. Of course, he had zero experience in managing such an endeavor, nor did he have any interest in actually doing so. He merely set it up and hoped that it would start raking money in.” 

He slid the eggs onto a plate and plucked the toast from the toaster. “Obviously, it failed. He had to shutter the building, but he didn’t give up on the idea. Our own house became more of a hostel as he attempted to pay off his debts.” He handed the plate to Okuyasu and then returned to the stovetop. He placed more bread into the toaster and cracked several eggs into a bowl. “He had exactly one faithful employee that followed him from fortune to failure. Every responsibility fell to her. Every customer complaint and threat went to her, as well.” 

He paused. “Did I mention he was a raging alcoholic? I suppose it isn’t too relevant. Anyway, the stress and the overwork ended up killing her. Now, how was the family business to stay afloat?” 

He poured the eggs into the pan. “The 1800s are not congratulated for their child labor laws. I had already been assisting in whatever small ways I could, so it was easy to shift many of the responsibilities to me. Things needed to be done. I was there to do them.” He ran a spatula through the eggs; some parts were still runny. He flipped them and let them cook a bit longer. The pot of water with the hard-boiled eggs began to bubble; he turned off the heat. “So, yes. I don’t have quite the hubris to call myself a chef, but I do know how to cook.”

The scrambled eggs seemed to be done; he partitioned them out onto three plates. “Now, this is a question I find quite interesting. Who was at fault for the death of the employee?”

“What?” Hermes asked, and her eyebrows were furrowed in baffled concern. 

He distributed the plates. “The employee that was overworked. Was it her fault for not quitting?” The toast popped up; he set it on a plate, handed it to Giorno, and then placed the butter dish on the table. “Or was it my father’s fault for not managing the business properly?” His tone now had a sharp edge. “Or is it better to travel all the way up the chain of causality? If George Joestar had not been foolish enough to give my father money, then the business would not exist. There would be no mismanagement. Perhaps then, she would not have died. What do you think? Does the fault lie with the Joestars?”

“Hey, hey, hey. You can’t drop a bombshell like this over breakfast,” Hermes said. “You have beef with the Joestars because you think it’s their fault your dad was a total asshole?”

“I ‘have beef’ with the Joestars for several reasons, most of which are now resolved,” he replied with a shrug. “This is more of a thought experiment than anything else. I was simply curious as to what opinions you all might hold.”

Okuyasu was frowning and repeatedly dunking his toast into his eggs. “Um. I mean. Money can go to people’s heads,” he said. “But I don’t know…”

“It was a societal problem,” Giorno answered flatly as he buttered his toast. “Like you said. The 1800s did not have child labor laws. There was no protection for employees, either. If a better support system was in place, it would not have happened.”

“How optimistic,” Dio replied dryly. “And idealistic. But I find that I do agree. Human societies have many points of failure. Some people are shunted out from safety, deservedly or undeservedly. The world does not make room for them.” He gave Giorno a sharp look. “Some, however, will find that the world has reserved room for them.”

Giorno raised his eyebrows. “What are you implying, exactly?”

“Some people seem to have the winds of fate at their back, don’t you agree?” Dio said dismissively. “The Joestars are like that. You are, too.” He tilted his head. “How lucky it is that fate sided with you and not Diavolo.”

Mista's chair scuffed loudly against the floor as he stood. His face darkened with anger, and he began a tirade in Italian, but Giorno put a steadying hand on his arm.

“You’re done preparing breakfast, aren’t you?” Giorno stated. “And you’ve made your point. May we now eat in peace?”

“Kicking me out of the kitchen?” Dio replied lightly. “I suppose I won’t be washing the dishes, then.”

“Yeah, I think we can just wash them,” Hermes grumbled. “Thanks for the breakfast, I guess.”

Dio shrugged and left at a leisurely pace. The stairwell creaked as he ascended to the second floor.

Giorno set down the butter knife. “Well, I suppose that’s his version of opening up about his childhood.”

Mista pressed his face into his hands. “I truly don’t know how you’re getting that out of this. I think he just likes fucking with us.”

“It’s probably both,” Giorno said as he bit into his toast.

“Well, I’m gonna get outta the house after this,” Hermes said. “Gonna find out what Jolyne’s up to. What about you guys?”

“I’m meeting up with Josuke and Koichi to play video games,” Okuyasu said happily.

“I think I might just stay in and relax,” Rikiel replied.

“I have a VHS player and some movies if you guys want,” Okuyasu added. Rikiel nodded with thankful enthusiasm.

“I was kinda wondering if you two could help me with something,” Ungalo said to Giorno and Mista.

“Of course,” Giorno replied with a nod.

Mista held up his gun. Rikiel sat on the couch and observed. Ungalo stared at the cover of a VHS case and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You sure about this?” Mista asked.

“Totally,” Ungalo replied. “I wanna get better at it. And Rikiel still hasn’t found any more skyfish so he can’t really knock me out. So if it won’t turn off I give you my permission to straight-up pistol-whip me.”

“I mean, if you say so,” Mista replied with a shrug.

“Let’s aim for thirty seconds to start,” Giorno said. “Ready?”

Ungalo nodded. “Ready.” He stared at the case and focused; Indiana Jones clambered out of the cover illustration and stood in the middle of the living room.

“Okay, ten more seconds,” Giorno stated. “How are you feeling?”

“Still got a good handle on it,” Ungalo answered; the character seemed, if anything, a little bit confused as to why he was in a worn-down living room and not an ancient temple full of treasure.

“And off,” Giorno said.

Indiana Jones disappeared. Ungalo huffed and sat on the couch.

“I gotta figure out what point is best to turn it off but still do the whole story switching thing,” he explained. “But that’s gonna be really hard.”

Giorno tilted his head. “Why do you want to find that, exactly?”

“I mean, I want to get better at using it in general, but…” He shrugged. “It sounds kinda dumb. But I was thinking I could choose a character Donatello really likes and is maybe like super rich or cool or something so he can have that for himself. It wouldn’t fix what I did but it would be something.”

Giorno frowned thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think he would like that.”

“Shit.” Ungalo frowned. “How come?”

“He wants his life to be his own,” Giorno answered. “I think more than anything else, he would like to choose his future for himself. Not by doing what Pucci expects of him, not by doing what Dio expects of him, and certainly not by following someone else’s script.” When Ungalo’s face fell, Giorno reached out and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It was a kind idea. But I think there are other ways to mend the gap.”

“Yeah, well, it would help if he actually talked to us,”  Ungalo huffed. “Like, I get it when it comes to me. But not when it comes to you guys. Like, this is all a big weird situation, but… eh, whatever. I think I’m done practicing for now. Thanks for helping for uh, thirty seconds.”

“No problem,” Mista said with a shrug as he holstered his gun.

“Do you want to just watch a movie the normal way?” Rikiel asked.

Ungalo nodded. “Yeah, sure. You guys?”

“I think we may head out,” Giorno replied. “The rain isn’t as heavy now.”

Rikiel sorted through the pile of tapes. “There’s Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, a bunch I’ve never heard of… oh, Titanic.”

“Kate Winslet is super hot in that,” Ungalo replied. “The story is good too, I guess.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Rikiel admitted. “I’d be down to watch it. Looks like it’s just subtitled in Japanese, so it won't be too confusing.”

“You’ve never seen it?” Ungalo said in disbelief. “Then we gotta watch it. Let’s go.”

Jolyne woke up, stretched, and blinked blearily at the drawing of her and Erina. She had propped it up on the bed stand, struck with the irrational fear that it would disappear when she woke up, that any of the events that had transpired the day before would disappear as well, that she would be back in Florida and trapped watching as more and more was taken away—

She pushed the thought away and smiled at the drawing.

The hotel served a complimentary breakfast; she ran down while still in her pajamas, filled a plate with muffins, and ran it back up to her room as if someone would scold her for taking them. That wasn’t an entirely irrational fear; her mealtime routine for the past few months had been highly regulated. She was halfway through a muffin when someone knocked on the door. She swiped a napkin across her mouth and went to open it.

She looked up at Jotaro. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” he replied. He glanced back at the plate full of muffins, then back to her.

“Yeah, yeah, not the healthiest breakfast,” she said with a huff.

His posture shifted slightly. “I didn’t—hm.” He paused. “Are you willing to share? The lobby is busy.”

She grinned. “Yeah. I don’t even really know why I took so many. I’m not gonna eat them all.” She stepped back and Jotaro entered the room.

He took a seat on the couch and stared at the muffins as if considering them deeply. He picked one up and took a bite.

“So, uh…” She trailed off and pursed her lips. “How’d the reporter thing go?”

“Good,” he answered.

“Rainy day today, huh?” she added.

“Yes,” he replied.

“You know, if you ever answered me with more than one word at a time, I’d have to punch you and make sure you weren’t really an alien impersonator,” she said with a laugh.

He frowned. Jolyne sighed and picked at the wrapper of her muffin.

“If I was an alien impersonator,” he said, “I wouldn’t know that the chocolate chip muffins are your favorite ones.” He pointed at the plate. “I like them, too. But I took a blueberry muffin so that you could have them.”

“Ha. I guess you’re right,” she said with a wan smile as she looked at the plate. “So I don’t have to punch you.”

“Of course not.” He paused. “I’m really Jotaro just like you’re really… Jolaine. Yes, that’s your name. Jolaine.”

She pointed at him in exuberant accusation. “Ha! Alien! I knew it!”

“My cover is blown,” he said flatly.

They continued to eat in silence, but it was more comfortable now.

“I’m meeting with a doctor out of town,” Jotaro stated.

“Is something wrong?”

“They did autopsies on some of the early victims of this killer,” he answered. “I’ll be interviewing them.”

“So, you won’t be around much today."

Jotaro nodded.

“Well, it’s a crappy day out,” she sighed as she looked at the window. “You shouldn’t worry. I’m probably just gonna chill in here.”

His posture relaxed slightly. “Good.” He folded the paper muffin wrapper and set it back on the plate. “Maybe your friend can visit you.”

“Yeah, probably. We can watch TV or something.” She grinned. “You’d like Hermes. She’s great.”

He nodded. “If she came here with you, she must be.” He sighed, stood, and brushed a few stray crumbs from his lap. “I have to catch my taxi.”

“See you later,” she replied.

He paused at the doorway. “Do you want another hug?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” she said with a laugh.

They briefly embraced. “Stay safe,” Jotaro said.

“Yeah, yeah. Stay safe, be careful, and make good choices yourself,” she replied with a grin.

He nodded, adjusted his hat, and left.

Donatello figured he could ignore whoever was in the living room as he ventured into the kitchen to make his own breakfast. However, as he took bread and placed it in the toaster, it became very difficult to ignore them.

“Ah! Why are you fast-forwarding!?”

“I don’t like it!”

“It’s—it’s artistic!”

“It’s uncomfortable!”

“Just—stop stop stop! You’re gonna skip over—there’s still some actual plot before the second tape!”

“Would you two shut the hell up?” Donatello stated. “I have a headache.”

Rikiel jumped and turned to look at him over the back of the couch. Ungalo tensed. The tape continued to fast forward.

Ungalo stood, swallowed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and faced him. “So, uh—”

“No,” Donatello said preemptively. He stared at the toaster as if that would force it to toast faster.

Ungalo furrowed his eyebrows. “But—”

“Not hearing it,” Donatello interrupted.

Ungalo crossed his arms and frowned. “Aren’t you the second oldest? You’re acting like a toddler.”

“I wonder how hard it is to get to Hiroshima from here,” Donatello mused as he watched the toaster.

Rikiel frowned at him. “What?”

“Listen, I get that I fucked up and you’re mad about it, but it’s not even good for you to be so mad about it forever,” Ungalo said quickly. “You’ll pop a blood vessel and die or something. And you’re really only inconveniencing yourself by acting like this. We don’t have to be all brotherly and shit if you don’t want to be,” he said as he pointed at Rikiel. “But you could at least talk to like, everyone else. Like Rikiel! He’s cool. Or Hermes, who is the coolest. No offense,” he said to Rikiel.

“None taken. I agree,” he mumbled.

“Like if you were just avoiding Dio, I’d get it, because out of all of us you have the most reason to really hate him,” Ungalo continued. “But this just sucks.”

Donatello grabbed his toast, set it on a plate, scraped up some butter, and then spread it. He took the plate and left.

Ungalo threw up his hands. “Alright! Whatever. I don’t care.” The couch creaked as he sat back down.

Rikiel stood and approached the VHS. “I’m just gonna put in the second tape.”

Donatello shut the bathroom door, sat on the floor, and bit into the toast. He scarfed it down, looked at the bathroom door, looked at the remaining slice of toast, and then sighed.

If he gave up his anger, he thought, what did he have left?

Jolyne put on a TV show that required very little brainpower and sat on the couch. When someone knocked on the door, she leapt to her feet, swung the door open and beamed. “Hermes! What the hell, did you drown on your way here or something?”

“Went for a run in the rain,” Hermes replied, and she grabbed some of her hair and wrung it out towards Jolyne. Jolyne laughed and hopped back from the splatter of water.

“You want a muffin?” Jolyne asked as she pointed towards the plate.

“I already had breakfast,” Hermes replied. She paused and her expression grew more sly. “You’ll never guess what I had.”

“Donuts,” Jolyne instantly replied.

“Nope.”

“Cereal?” she asked.

“Nada.”

“Pancakes,” she declared.

“Scrambled eggs,” Hermes replied.

Jolyne gave her a bemused look. “Wait, why did I have to guess? That’s a totally normal breakfast food. Hell, that’s what we had at Green Dolphin like every day.”

“Scrambled eggs,” Hermes clarified, “that were cooked by your weird great-great-whatever-uncle.”

Jolyne stared at her. “Wha-a-at.”

“Yeah, it was an experience,." She jabbed her thumb towards the bathroom. “Can I shower here? I already did last night, but I just want to again.”

“Go for it,” Jolyne replied. “I have some new clothes if you want to wear ‘em so that those ones can dry.”

Hermes clapped her hands together and made a slight bow. “You’re the best.”

Dio grew tired of staring at the family tree diagram and thinking, so he went downstairs and meandered into the living room. Ungalo was cocooned in a blanket and curled up on the couch while Rikiel was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. Dio squinted at him and leaned forward. “Are you crying?”

Rikiel shrugged and wiped at his face with his sleeve. “Ugh. This part of the movie is way too stressful.” 

“I don’t ever want to be on a sinking ship,” Ungalo grumbled. “With my luck, I’d never get a lifeboat.”

“What movie is this?” Dio asked as he pushed Ungalo’s legs to the side to make room in the middle of the couch. Ungalo huffed and sat up properly.

“Titanic,” Rikiel answered. “About the boat that sank in 1912.”

“I know what the Titanic was,” Dio replied. “I just haven’t seen this documentary.”

“S’not a documentary. It’s like a romance drama thing,” Ungalo replied. 

“Then what’s happening here?” Dio said as he peered at the screen. “Who are the characters?”

“You can’t just hop in when there’s like fifteen minutes left of the movie and ask us what the plot is,” Rikiel grumbled.

“Then I’ll just rewind,” Dio replied, and they both shouted out as he got up from the couch.

“Just wait until we’re done and we can start it over!” Rikiel exclaimed.

“Also, it’s on two VHS tapes,” Ungalo added. “If you rewind this one you’ll just hit the halfway point.”

Dio rolled his eyes and sat back down. The movie continued. The ship sank. Passengers got into lifeboats or clung to the wreckage. Leonardo DiCaprio froze and drowned while Kate Winslet wept. Kate Winslet grew old, reminisced, dropped a gem into the ocean, and passed away. They reunited in an afterlife version of the ship and were applauded by the cast. The credits rolled.

“There,” Rikiel huffed. “Now you can rewind.”

“No matter how many times I watch this film, the ending will remain the same,” Dio stated.

Ungalo squinted at him. “That is kind of how movies work, yeah.”

Dio leaned forward and rested his chin on his palm. “There’s no doubt that her husband died during the disaster. They show his frozen corpse and they show his soul in the afterlife.”

“Oh, they weren’t married,” Rikiel explained. “It’s a whole thing about how she’s engaged to this awful rich guy but DiCaprio is a poor guy from Wisconsin that falls in love with her and—well, just watch the movie.”

“I will not.” He stood and went to the front door. “I’ll be going out.”

Ungalo looked out the window. “Guess it’s a good day for it for you. No sun.”

“Astute observation,” he replied as he picked up his umbrella. He looked at it with vague amusement; for once, he would be using it for its intended purpose.

Hermes finished showering, dried off, and changed. She joined Jolyne on the couch and watched whatever was on TV; that was entertaining for a while, but then she stood and went over to the window. She stretched out her arms and legs, then poked at the part of her belly that had scarred. There was some residual soreness, but she was feeling much better.

Jolyne let out a little sigh as she shifted her position on the couch. Hermes came up behind her and leaned her elbows onto her shoulders. “Jolyne. Hey. Jolyne. Jolyyyyne.”

Jolyne didn’t respond. Hermes smacked her hands lightly against the top of her head as if she was playing a drum. “Jolyne, stop ignoring me, you can’t do it forever.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” she replied. “I just wanted to see what you would end up doing to get my attention.”

Hermes lightly smacked at her braided buns. “Is it working?”

Jolyne struggled not to grin.

“Jolyyyyne,” Hermes whined once more. “I’m boooored.”

“Sounds like a personal problem."

“Come on, what are you even watching?” she said as she pointed at the TV. “I know you’ve gotta be bored, too.”

“I’m not bored,” Jolyne lied.

“Should I be worried about another belly button piercing showing up?” Hermes asked.

Jolyne snorted. “Alright, alright. I’m pretty bored. What do you wanna do?”

Hermes slumped over the back of the couch. “What is there to do around here? I don’t really care that it’s raining. I want to go out.” 

“Well, there’s the beach. There’s some cool cliffs. There’s a couple public park areas. There’s food.”

Hermes slumped so far forward over the couch that she began to slowly slide face-first towards the cushions. “A snack or something might be nice.”

“There’s a café,” Jolyne replied.

Hermes was muffled now, with her face pressed flat against the seat cushion. Her legs swung up and she idly kicked at the air. “Hmm. That might be good.”

String zipped out of Jolyne’s arm and she pulled at Hermes’s ankles. She flipped over with a yelp and would have landed on her butt on the floor, but the strings latticed to catch her.

“Rude!” Hermes exclaimed. Jolyne only laughed.

Yoshikage Kira wanted a quiet life. A peaceful life. A life in which he could do what he pleased.

A vampire and a gaggle of Joestars suddenly appearing in his home did not mesh with his carefully maintained lifestyle.

Of course, fate tended to bring those with powerful Stands together. His father had gushed about Dio to him as he swung the Stand Arrow around triumphantly, but something about his story seemed off. The Dio he had encountered had been helping the Joestars. The one his father had met seemed opposed to them.

But when he had appeared within his home, his suspicions had been confirmed. Dio would be hunting for him. He didn’t seem to realize that Kira was Kosaku; at least, he hadn’t acted that way when he ran into him on the street.

But if he was as clever as his father insisted he was, Dio would realize who Kira was at some point. That could not be allowed. Their coincidental meetings must have had some greater meaning; Kira decided that the winds of fate were blowing at his back.

He knew he could delay the ignition of Killer Queen’s bombs, but he hadn’t yet attempted to delay one for a full day. He could feel the queasy strain that came with pushing a Stand ability towards its limit. He hadn’t dared to try to erase Dio as soon as he ran into him on the street; even if the chances of his survival were slim, if Dio lived through the attack, he would immediately be able to deduce who Kira was.

So, Kira had bided his time. He would ignite the bomb when Dio had no reason to believe that the man he had just happened to run into was the killer. He walked in the rain, an umbrella propped against his shoulder, and he decided that the winds of fate were with him once more. He spotted Dio walking up the road ahead of him. His father had used his captured crow to keep an eye on the vampire; now, all Kira had to do was activate the bomb.

He watched carefully. Dio turned a corner; perhaps he was headed towards the café. Kira maintained a safe distance as he followed him, but then he stopped in his tracks.

There was Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi; all three of them were looking cheerful as they came onto the road from the right. Josuke spun his umbrella and was talking excitedly while Koichi nodded and Okuyasu grinned. Okuyasu spotted Dio, called out to him, and gave a cheerful wave. Koichi and Josuke did not look nearly as enthused.

Kira hesitated. He heard more talking and he looked to the left. There were the two girls that had appeared in his office; they were sharing an umbrella and talking. Hermes looked up and waved at Okuyasu. Okuyasu waved back happily.

Kira bit at his nails. His window of opportunity was slipping away. What would be better? To wait and perhaps lose the perfect bomb, or to attack now and hope for the best?

He had to be decisive.

The umbrella exploded, and Dio disappeared.

Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi stopped walking and stared in shock. Hermes and Jolyne went-wide eyed. Jolyne looked around, searching for whoever had been the source of the attack, her arm beginning to unravel.

They all jumped when Dio reappeared. Or, a Dio reappeared. He stood a few paces away from where the bomb had gone off and he looked as if he was struggling to contain his amusement. Then, another Dio appeared exactly where he had been erased, looking disgruntled. The double all but pointed and laughed.

Kira turned and began to slowly walk away. The Joestars and their friends were too distracted by the two Dios to notice him leave.

“What the fuck,” Jolyne exclaimed.

“Two,” Josuke said as he pointed. “There’s really two of him.”

“Oh, goodness,” the double said as he waved a hand dismissively. “That was funny.”

Dio seethed.

“Hey, uh, mysterious second Dio,” Jolyne said. “What just happened?”

“A Stand attack, of course,” the double replied. “But I would not be too worried about the user. They’re long gone by now. You should now worry about him,” he said as he nodded towards Dio.

She frowned. “What?”

“He was limited by Rohan’s rules,” the double explained. “But now that he has died and returned, I have decided that the rules are no longer active. Would you like to know something interesting? Based on my prior experience, he is now statistically ninety-seven percent likely to go on a rampage and convert most of the inhabitants of Morioh into zombies.”

“I have no reason to do that,” Dio snapped. 

“Do you really need a reason?” the double asked with a shrug. 

“He’s lying,” Dio said to Jolyne. Jolyne only squinted at him. The double disappeared.

Josuke frowned. “Uh… how about we talk about this over coffee?”

Jolyne and Josuke took a seat at an inside table. Jolyne tapped one finger against the table as she squinted at Dio, while Josuke leaned against the back of his chair and let out a slow, whistling exhale. Okuyasu, Koichi, and Hermes got in line and considered their orders while also keeping a wary eye on the table from a distance.

“So...you’re Jolyne’s friend, right?” Koichi asked.

“Yup,” she answered. “Hermes Costello. Nice to meet you.”

Koichi nodded in agreement, but his expression was deeply thoughtful. “We were gonna play video games, but we kinda ended up just talking about you guys the entire time,” he admitted. “This is a really crazy situation. Josuke knew about the two Dios thing because Jotaro talked to him about it, but to see it in person...” He trailed off and shrugged. 

“You’ll have to meet all his kids sometime,” Okuyasu said cheerfully. “They’re pretty fun. Except for bathroom boy. But the other ones are cool. I’m learning a lot of English from them.”

“Your English is already really good,” Hermes replied.

Okuyasu grinned. “Oh! You think so?”

“I don’t know why you don’t just ask Rohan to write in that you know it,” Koichi said with a shrug. 

“Well, I have thought about that,” Okuyasu admitted. “But then I had a nightmare that I was at a super important meeting and I had to present to a bunch of business guys. I knew how to talk to them because Rohan wrote that I could. But then Rohan got abducted by Mikitaka’s spaceship and Heaven’s Door deactivated and I forgot how to speak English in the middle of my speech! I was so embarrassed I woke up crying! So I want to learn it for real so that doesn’t happen.”

Koichi couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. That is a pretty good reason.”

“So, uh…” Josuke said nervously. “Jotaro did talk to me about the whole danger double situation. Okuyasu, Koichi, and I were kind of brainstorming ways to get rid of him earlier.”

Dio stared at him blankly. “Do tell.”

“So plan number one is we use Koichi as bait and then sic Yukako on your double and she kills him with the unstoppable power of her obsession and/or love,” Josuke explained. When Dio only looked confused, he explained further. “She’s his girlfriend. She’s, uh… intensely protective.”

Dio quirked an eyebrow. “And Koichi agreed to this plan?”

“He came up with it,” Josuke replied. “Plan number two is Mr. Kujo punches him until he explodes, since that worked the first time.”

“While still very stupid, that sounds much more reliable than plan number one,” Dio replied.

“You don’t know Yukako very well,” Josuke said with a shrug.

Jolyne leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Here’s a plan three. We ignore the double.”

Dio narrowed his eyes, and Jolyne smirked. Josuke leaned his elbow onto the table and rested his chin on his palm. “Why do you say that?”

“Dunno. From what I’ve seen of him, I kinda like the other version of Dio better than this one. Plus, it seems like the only person who has beef with him is you,” she said as she watched Dio closely. “And I think that’s just because he calls you out on your bullshit.”

He felt rage boiling at the back of his throat as he leaned forward. “Are you so stupid as to not see that he is doing some sort of act in order to gain your favor? I don’t know what he’s planning. But whatever it is, it will be far more cruel than anything I have ever attempted to do to your family. I am sure of it.”

She gave him a look somewhere between doubt and disgust. “How do I know that you’re not planning something? Your double said—”

His nails dug into the surface of the table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to him,” he snapped.

“Has anyone else interacted with this double that we could ask about it? I mean, this is my first time seeing him, and I don’t think Jotaro’s seen him in person, but anyone else?” Josuke asked. 

Dio’s eyes went wide. “Exactly,” he exclaimed. “Jolyne, you would believe Giorno—”

“Now, why would we do that?” his double replied. “Surely it would be easier to just ask me to my face.”

Dio's nails gouged into the tabletop. His double smiled and turned to Jolyne. “What would you like to know?”

She laughed triumphantly and slammed her hands flat against the table. “Alright!” She pointed at Dio. “What’s he really up to?”

His double hummed thoughtfully and his eyes glinted as he turned to look at Dio. “I do believe he’s planning on fighting fate in an attempt to defy me,” he answered, “though he may not know or care what the consequences may be.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps it is time for a demonstration.”

Dio disappeared, but the double remained. Jolyne broke into a cold sweat. Josuke gulped.

“Say, Jolyne,” the double said. “Would you like to see a world in which Dio really is just some guy?”

The nervousness flared into fear. She scowled at him. “Hold on a second—”

She disappeared. Josuke clenched his teeth and looked up at the double.

“Hm.” The double considered him deeply. “I think I will bring you along because it would be funny.”

His shoulders hunched, and he grabbed onto the table. “Wh—”

Josuke disappeared.

The world shifted severely. Dio landed in a place completely unfamiliar to him.

A young woman walked blearily through her living room. She was wearing pajamas, but she had parted her hair into several ponytails. While it didn’t seem like she was paying much attention in the first place, Dio figured that his double had made it so that she was unable to see him. As she wiped sleep from her eyes, she approached a couch. An older woman was resting there, with empty beer bottles scattered around a gaming controller beneath her. The younger woman lightly touched her shoulder; the older woman kept sleeping.

The younger woman frowned, and the shoulder poking grew harsher. The older woman swatted her hand away and rolled over so that her face was pressed against the couch. The younger woman watched silently for a few moments and then sniffed. She swept her forearm across her face and reached into the pocket of her pajamas. She pulled out a phone and tapped at the lit-up surface.

Dio turned to his double. “What’s this? Did I miss a child in Florida?”

His double sighed. “No. We came here by mistake. Her Stand is merely tangled in causality and possibility. Annoying.” He glanced back over his shoulder and waved a hand dismissively. “Off we go.”

Jolyne held out her hands and felt her way through the darkness. She was inside some sort of building, but there was little to no light. She could see thin beams of sunlight cutting through gaps in the wood in the distance. She knocked her shin against something metal; she grunted in pain and scowled.

She heard movement, and she paused. The building seemed like a barn or some other sort of large storage structure, so perhaps there were rats or other critters scuttling through the darkness.

There was more movement, now from a different direction. She tensed and listened closely.

She felt an instinctive, creeping fear as she heard the sound of reptilian chittering. She steeled herself for a fight.

Josuke stared up at a wide blue sky. He looked around and saw nothing but vast, grassy plains. The wind whistled emptily.

“Well, shit,” he said to himself.

(as always, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!

fan art roundup!!! we have What If He Was Purple ultimate dio from 1cbear7!

we have dio having his bad time in the car while giorno and mista are Done from cebms!

we have hermes in the bad company getup also from cebms!

check em out! and as always thank you for your comments and such bc they bring joy 2 my day! have a good one!)

Chapter Text

The world shifted again; Dio was now standing upon a road at night. Time was stopped and there were ginko leaves frozen from fluttering through the air. Ahead of him was a twisted pine tree growing out of the stony ground; a small cave was formed beneath its roots. To his left was a young child gripping a suitcase tightly as he sat on the ground.

Beyond that was a man with his head completely crushed by a boulder. Dio’s throat tightened and he felt a sickening awareness of the man’s identity, as if he was trapped in a dream and his subconscious was screaming the meaning at him. The two looked nothing alike, but—

“The Jonathan Joestar of another world,” his double answered, confirming his suspicions. “He didn’t even need your help in losing his head, here. Now, now,” he said as Dio bristled with anger. “I am showing you this because if you truly want to change fate to serve your own ends, you need to know how to do it properly.” He pointed at the boulder. “Your job is to prevent this from happening.”

The world changed once more. “It shouldn’t be too difficult for you,” his double said. “If this was a real challenge, I’d have you save the Zeppeli. Now there’s a family entangled in fate. But don’t take this lightly. The consequences for failure will be severe. And the price of your victory…” He grinned, shrugged, and waved a hand dismissively. “Well, I suppose you’ll see.”

Something, or perhaps several somethings, were circling Jolyne. She could hear little hisses and clicks as they tightened their radius around her. She stood still as she let string out of her shoulder and sent it straight up. It eventually brushed against a beam; she wrapped the string around it and prepared to jump.

The reptilian chittering went ominously silent. Small footsteps pattered towards her. She zipped up the string just in time—or, almost just in time. A small, sharp mouth latched onto her leg. She grit her teeth and kicked at whatever it was. Her heel hit against a scaly surface and the creature fell to the ground.

She swung up to the ceiling beam of the barn and balanced atop it in a crouch. The wood above her seemed old and brittle; she punched at it and it easily broke. Sunlight poured through the hole.

She looked down and furrowed her eyebrows with befuddled surprise. Three small dinosaurs looked up at her and chirped. She waved her hand at them as if to shoo them away. They merely tilted their heads.

Jolyne tore off a few more panels of the roof to the barn. She stood up on the beam, lifted her head above the roof, and looked around. There was farmland around her, but it seemed to be in disrepair; there were large patches of mud and piles of rusted equipment overgrown with weeds. There was a pattern of semi-circular tracks in the dirt, and she wondered if they were from a horse. She carefully turned, mindful of the narrow width of the beam, and she followed the tracks over towards the barn doors. 

Well, there was the horse, and so was the rider. A man was hunched over his saddle and holding something in his hands; after a moment, whatever it was kicked out scaly legs and chittered. He briefly scritched it on the back of the head, said something, and then tossed it to the ground. The small dinosaur landed on its feet, wavered for a moment, and then dashed into the barn.

She squinted as the man sat back up and looked into the dark interior of the barn. The resemblance was certainly there, but the name nailed to the hat made it pretty damn obvious.

Jolyne broke off a chunk of wood from the rotten roof and threw it at him. It came close to clattering against his hat but he moved so quickly he seemed to blur; the wood careened past him and splashed into the mud. He twisted in his saddle to look up at the roof of the barn. She waved her arms. “Yo,” she called out.

He peered up at her blankly.

“Dio, right?” she said.

“I suppose,” he answered carefully. “And you are?”

“Jolyne Cujoh,” she replied.

The dinosaurs chirped up at her. He tilted his head and gestured towards the barn. “Is this yours?”

“No,” she answered. “But I’d super appreciate not being bitten by miniraptors.” She slapped a hand against the roof of the barn. “You’re telling them what to do, right? Let me come down.”

He watched her for a few more moments and she felt an odd chill; the look was familiar, but not because it reminded her of the Dio she knew. It was more that it reminded her of Pucci. She could see the mental gears turning as he calculated the costs and benefits of continuing to speak to her.

He finalized his decision and shrugged. “Go ahead.”

She ducked back down into the barn and looked at the ground; where there had been three dinosaurs there was now a trio of very dazed looking raccoons. The fourth dinosaur remained, but it only stared at her and backed away.

Jolyne let out a corded string and slid down it. The new Dio watched her carefully as she strode out of the barn. She crossed her arms and tilted her head as she considered him back.

“So,” Diego said. “You don’t live here.” He sniffed. “There’s no scent of another horse.” Something about his posture shifted unnaturally; he leaned forward and his gaze roved over the rest of the barn. “There was nothing here,” he said, but at this point he was talking mostly to himself. “You just… appeared.”

“Yeah, you’ve got that right,” she replied.

His gaze slid back to her; something about his pupils was wrong. “Are you with Valentine?”

“Nope,” she answered. “No idea who that is.”

“Now, even if you were trying to lie, that’s just silly,” he replied, and he lifted a hand to his chin. “Have you been living under a rock? You don’t know who the president is? You sound American.” He tapped a finger against his jaw; his nail looked sharp. “I suppose I am in the outermost fringes of civilization, here. But you don’t quite look like a country bumpkin.” He tilted his head. “What the hell are you wearing, by the way?”

“This outfit is very fashionable where I’m from,” she replied flatly.

“What do you look like?” he asked as his head tilted a bit further, the angle becoming unnatural. “What am I being reminded of?”

“Well, you look like a weirdo,” she retorted. “You turn your head any more and it’s gonna fall off.”

“I’ve got it!” Diego abruptly exclaimed. He lifted a finger to his own cheek and poked it. “Joe Kid. You both have baby faces.” He inhaled and puffed them out with air for emphasis. “Chipmunk cheeks.”

Jolyne frowned at him and he only laughed. “Yeah, there you go. Same angry little face, too. Just like him.”

“Joe Kid?” she asked.

“Johnny Joestar,” he replied.

Her eyes widened. “Oh boy.”

“You know that name, but you don’t know who the president is?” he asked with a smirk. “Interesting.” He looked back up at the barn. “I think I will stop here.”

Josuke had no idea what else to do so he began to walk. He knew that he was in a wide expanse of grassland, that the weather was pleasant, and that the wind was at his back; other than that, he was completely lost.

He scanned the horizon for any signs of life; he felt a growing tide of disappointment and worry as he saw nothing, nothing, nothing, but then he spotted a thin wavering column of smoke in the distance. He let out a sigh of relief and began to jog, but he faltered when he heard rustling in the grass ahead of him.

“Don’t take another step,” someone shouted at him.

He stopped in his tracks and peered ahead into the thick grass. As it wavered in the breeze he caught sight of two large shapes. They were horses, lying as flat as possible against the ground, and upon each flank was a metal ball spinning in place. Josuke blinked in confusion, but then his attention was grabbed by more movement; there were two men lying on the ground, as well. One was looking out towards the distant smoke; the other was staring directly at Josuke and pointing at him as if his hand was a gun.

Josuke dropped to a crouch while also holding his hands up with his palms forward. If they were hiding like this, there must be a good reason. The look on the man’s face was also too serious for his finger-gun pointing to be a joke. “Hello,” Josuke said tentatively.

Johnny only squinted at him. “Gyro,” he said. “Hurry up with those stitches.”

“I’m doing what I can here,” the other man replied. “Zombie Horse isn’t the fastest thing.” He pulled at his thigh and a thick cord followed; his hand dipped back down and he pierced his skin with a needle, looping the cord back through his skin as he closed up a bleeding gash.

“Do you need healed?” Josuke quickly asked. “I can do it.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows. Gyro twisted around to look at him. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Josuke Higashikata,” he replied.

“Higashikata?” Johnny asked. “You’re with Norisuke?”

Josuke frowned. “Huh?”

“Maybe Higashikata’s just a common last name in Japan,” Gyro said as he pulled at the cord. “Like Smith or Jones.”

“Listen, I think I just got teleported here,” Josuke stated. “I don’t want to attack you or anything. I can help you, even.” Crazy Diamond shimmered into being and crouched at his side. Based on their expressions, Johnny and Gyro were able to see it. “Can I get closer?” he asked.

Johnny nodded but he kept his finger pointed right at him. “Don’t get up. Just crawl over,” he stated. “There’s a Stand user about three hundred meters ahead of us. That’s how he got hurt. If he can see you, he can cut you.”

“Got it,” Josuke replied. He crawled through the grass and Crazy Diamond followed. Gyro stopped stitching up the wound and he watched Crazy Diamond curiously. 

Crazy Diamond set a hand upon the wound. The blood that hadn’t yet dried slipped back in, the skin melded back together, and soon, the only evidence that anything had happened were the stitches Gyro had already made.

Gyro whistled. “Hey, kid. I think we’re gonna kidnap you. That’s a damn good Stand power to have around.”

Josuke laughed nervously. 

“We need to get to the user,” Johnny said. He leaned against the side of his horse and nodded at Gyro. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Gyro grinned. “Josuke. Can you heal a man that’s been cut in half?”

He grimaced. “If I get to them quickly. I can’t bring someone back from the dead, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His grin only grew wider. “Oh, this is gonna be good.” Gyro reached out and pulled the spinning ball off of his horse; the horse whinnied and rolled so that it could begin to stand. “His ability will get stronger the closer we get, but it seems like he can only attack one person at a time,” Gyro said as he slid onto the saddle. “You’re gonna sit behind me and heal me if I get sliced. And you should be quick about it, because if he gets through me, he’ll move on to you.”

When Josuke hesitated, Johnny jabbed his finger at him. “Go,” he stated. Josuke gritted his teeth and clambered onto the horse.

“Get ready,” Gyro said with a laugh, and he spurred the horse forward. Josuke winced and held onto him tightly; Crazy Diamond hovered around him and did the same.

In the distance, Gyro could see the silhouette of the user right beside the thin trail of smoke coming from their fire; he was standing still and looking directly at him. He held up his right hand, his thumb and pointer finger at a ninety-degree angle, and he held it in front of his face and adjusted the placement until Gyro and his horse were framed by his fingers. His glove-like Stand curled along his arm; he slashed his left hand through the air until it knocked against the vertex created by his right.

Gyro let out a choked sound and a gash opened up on his chest. Crazy Diamond immediately closed it. They weren’t close enough to see the man’s face, but his posture tensed with surprise and confusion. He swung his hand again. The gash reappeared and this time it was deeper. Gyro grunted in pain but Crazy Diamond immediately healed him.

The Stand user lowered their hand slightly. This time, the gash appeared across the horse’s neck.

“It hit Valkyrie,” Gyro shouted. “Josuke—”

“On it,” he replied. Crazy Diamond held a hand against the horse’s flank and the wound healed.

They were quickly approaching the Stand user, who was now panicking and repeatedly smacking his hands together.  He backed away fearfully and almost fell into his own firepit. “What the fuck,” he shouted. “Why isn’t my Clipping working?!”

The gashes appeared, disappeared, and appeared again on Gyro’s chest. It sliced severely when they were only a few meters away and Josuke heard bone cracking apart. Crazy Diamond kept Gyro in one piece. Josuke felt a bit faint from the strain.

Gyro brought his arm back and flicked his wrist. The steel ball spun in his hand. He swung his arm forward and the ball drove into the Stand user’s chest. Bones crunched and he hacked out a cough.

“Johnny,” Gyro called out. “Now!”

Josuke twisted to look behind him; he had been so focused on keeping Gyro alive that he hadn’t noticed Johnny following them, his horse galloping at the exact same pace as Gyro’s in order to mask his approach. Johnny slumped forward to steady himself against the horse’s neck and he pointed at the Stand user. His fingernail flew off and shot right through the man’s neck. The man gurgled and fell to the ground.

“You killed him,” Josuke stated, and he immediately felt like an idiot for saying it out loud. 

Johnny shot him an odd look. It wasn’t quite cold but it certainly wasn’t friendly, either.

“He would have killed us,” Gyro stated. “You, too.” He looked back at Josuke and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Josuke frowned. “You guys are a little scary, you know that?”

Gyro laughed. “Good!” He clambered off the saddle. “You seem like a good person, Josuke. If you hadn’t been bothered, I would’ve been a little worried.” He walked past the dead Stand user and searched through the grass; he picked up a few knapsacks of supplies. “There. We got our food back.”

Johnny’s horse lowered her head and he slid down to the ground. He looked up at Josuke, his stare intense. “You can heal things,” he stated simply.

“I can,” Josuke replied as he carefully made his way down from Gyro’s horse.

“Johnny,” Gyro said, his tone carrying a careful warning.

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” Johnny snapped.  He used his arms to pull himself forward, his legs dragged along in the grass, and Josuke hunched his shoulders as he realized what was wrong.

“I can try,” Josuke quickly said, and he crouched at Johnny’s side. Crazy Diamond set its hands upon his shoulders. Johnny had plenty of small scrapes and bruises; they disappeared and he inhaled sharply but then he furrowed his eyebrows and let out a noise of frustration. His legs did not move.

“I’m sorry,” Josuke said.

“Don’t apologize,” Johnny snapped. He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand against his forehead. “I shouldn’t have expected it to work. I’m still in the negative.”

“Can I…” Josuke trailed off and frowned. “I want to know why it didn’t work. How long ago did this happen? If you were born with it, then that’s why. I heal things by putting the pieces back together. I can’t make new pieces appear.”

“It was a while ago,” Johnny said with a sigh. “Got shot. I’m sure I’m missing parts and it scarred itself over by now. They had to remove the bullet and anything that had died.” When he looked at Josuke his gaze was finally a bit softer. “We’re lucky you showed up. But I guess walking again will take a real miracle.” He held out his hand; this time it was for a handshake instead of as a threat. “You’re kind. That’s rare out here. That jackass you kept in one piece is Gyro Zeppeli. I’m Johnny Joestar. Let’s work together while we can.”

Josuke clasped his hand in his own and his eyes went wide. “Joestar?!”

Johnny smiled, but it looked tired and vaguely annoyed. “What about it? You know my family or something? Then you know that I’m pretty much disowned.”

“No no no,” Josuke said quickly. “Johnny Joestar? Jonathan Joestar?” He pointed at him. “You’re my great-grandpa from another universe.”

Gyro laughed in disbelief. Johnny squinted. “I know you gotta be a little stupid to be this nice, but did you get hit on the head or something?”

“No, here, look. Do you have this, too?” Josuke asked and he tugged at the collar of his school uniform. He pulled away his shirt and jacket and showed Johnny his birthmark. Johnny stared at it with growing confusion. 

“Wait!” Josuke let go of his shirt and clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Do you know a Dio?”

At that, Johnny’s expression darkened. “Yeah, we don’t like him much,” he said plainly. “You don’t seem like the type he’d hang out with unless he was trying to scam you. How do you know him?”

“He’s why I’m here,” Josuke replied. “Well, a version of him. There’s like… three of him now if you know him, too.”

Gyro snorted. “One Dio was already more than enough. What an asshole.”

Jolyne sat on a stump and watched as Diego set up camp. The way he took care of his horse was considerate and almost gentle; Silver Bullet was given water, fed, and briefly groomed before he did anything for himself. The one remaining dinosaur had run off into the forest behind the barn, presumably to look for food.

Jolyne checked the bite on her leg. It wasn’t too deep but it was bleeding. “You got any bandages?” she asked.

“Yes,” Diego replied. “Not for you, though.”

She shot him a glare. He merely blinked back at her. “I’m in the middle of a months-long horse race, here,” he explained. “I can’t afford the luxury of sharing. Everything I have I am going to need for myself. I’m not trying to be mean,” he added when her glare only grew harsher. 

“It was your raccoonasaurus that bit me,” she retorted.

“I suppose,” he replied, but he merely returned to attending to Silver Bullet. 

Well, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t patch herself up. Most of the cuts looked as if they would scab over and heal themselves but a few looked as if they needed stitches. She pulled a string from her finger and pushed it through her skin as she clenched her teeth. Who knew how many germs were in a raccoonasaurus’s mouth; she hoped that the bite wouldn’t get infected.

“So, what’s your Stand?” she asked, talking to distract herself from the discomfort of stitching the bite shut.

He frowned at her. “I know that you were spontaneously manifested within a barn, but were you raised in one, too? That’s a rude question to ask.”

She shrugged and finished sewing one cut shut. “Well, I’m rude.”

He frowned as he picked through his supplies. “Scary Monsters,” he eventually replied. “You can know the name. You’ve seen some of how it works. The rest I would prefer to keep to myself.” He narrowed his eyes and paid closer attention to what she was doing; the string pulled taut and the next incision was sealed. “Is that yours?”

“Weird,” she said quietly. “Stands represent your spirit. I know another version of you that has a totally different Stand. For some reason, I thought you would have the same one.” She glanced up at him and frowned. “Seems like you’re just as much of a jerk, though.”

He took a step back and gave her a wary look. “Ah. So you are with Valentine.”

“Seriously, I don’t know who that is,” she said flatly. “I’m here because of another version of you sent me here.”

There was that cold look again; Diego was doing some complicated internal arithmetic to decide whether or not she was to be talked to, ignored, or attacked. “Well, I suppose Scary Monsters isn’t really my Stand,” Diego eventually admitted. “I stole it.”

Jolyne narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you’ve got a Pucci in this world, too?”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell,” he said with a shrug. “Someone used their Stand on me and I simply had the will to retain the effects after they were defeated. Anyway, you know Johnny? Are you his sister in the other world or something?”

“No,” she replied. Her expression grew more curious. “What do you think of the Joestars?”

“What, just in general?” He pursed his lips. “No real opinion.”

She leaned back and looked up at the sky. “Whoa.”

“They’re bloody rich, so it isn’t as if I like them,” he continued. “Johnny’s a complete maniac, but I think it’s funny how he’s ruined his own life and yet still tries so hard to regain what he’ll never have again. I’d call it endearing if it wasn’t so sad. But he’s likely to try to kill me the next time we meet, so...”

“Wait, he’s trying to kill you?” she asked.

Diego shrugged. “Not actively,” he answered. “Much like how I wouldn’t go out of my way to kill him. It’s just that we are both chasing after the same goal and only one of us will be able to claim the victory. Why, what was happening in your world?”

“Oh boy,” she said as she leaned forward and pressed her fingers against her temples. “You really are the chill Dio from where Cairo didn’t happen.”

He peered at her inquisitively. “Cairo?”

“Long story,” she said with a frown.

“Well, for once, I have time,” he sighed. He sorted through the supplies in his pack again. “I’ll trade you something for what you know. If there’s someone else dropping people in from other universes, I’d prefer to know about it. It’s become quite a problem here lately.”

“Well, I don’t need the bandages anymore,” Jolyne said with a frown. “But all I’m running on right now is a chocolate chip muffin. What kind of food do you have?”

“Hm. Perfect timing.” He glanced up just as the small dinosaur came scurrying out of the forest. Its jaws were clamped upon the neck of a dead rabbit. It ran up to Jolyne and dropped it at her feet. Diego watched her reaction closely.

She picked up the rabbit and looked it over. She knew he wanted to see if she was squeamish about it, but the fact that she had just stitched up her own bite wound should have answered that question. “Is it safe to start a fire or are you worried about smoke?” she asked.

He hummed thoughtfully. “You can cook it. I’ll send that one off to keep watch.” The dinosaur scurried away.

Jolyne gathered up dried wood from the barn and tried to remember what she had seen on survival reality shows and nature documentaries. She sorted the wood into a small pyramid with the larger boards broken up and propped up over a center of dry splinters. She situated one board flat and found a suitable stick; she wrapped string around it dozens of times, took a deep breath, and rescinded all the string as quickly as she could. The stick spun like a top and some smoke drifted out, but nothing happened. She repeated the process and a few embers glowed in the groove it dug out of the board. She quickly used dry brush and shredded wood to spread the flames. The fire grew, and in her opinion, she had a pretty damn good bonfire started.

Now for the rabbit. She frowned at it and idly ran a hand over the fur. She had no experience in preparing a dead animal for a meal. She didn’t even have a knife. Maybe she could break a rock and sharpen an edge until it was good enough to cut—

“Just give it to me,” Diego said. 

“I’m fine with cooking it,” Jolyne stated defensively. “I just don’t have a knife to get it started.”

“Well, I don’t even need a knife,” he said smugly. “Just hand it over.”

She rolled her eyes but tossed it at him. He caught it with hands like claws. With a few expert slices the fur was off, the offal was removed, and the rabbit was speared with a suitable stick. He tossed it back to her; she slammed two boards into the dirt astride the fire until they could stand vertically. She balanced the stick across them and the rabbit began to roast.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Diego stated. “What were you doing in the other world? Were you a part of the race?” He frowned. “Don’t tell me you are Johnny, somehow. That would be obnoxious.”

“I was in prison for murder,” she replied, and now it was her turn to watch his reaction.

“Oh?” He was more amused than anything else. “Were you framed or should I be worried?”

“Framed,” she answered, “but you should still be worried.”

“You are a lot like him,” he said after a long pause. “How odd.”

“In my world, I guess I’m Johnny’s great-great-great granddaughter,” she replied with a shrug. Her expression grew more sly. “And you’re my great-great-great-great uncle. A really shitty one, mind you.”

Now the distant smugness finally turned to confusion. “You’re from another world and the future?” Then, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, Johnny and I were brothers?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You were adopted.”

Diego looked both confused and disgusted, but he shook his head. “Then in your world… you said you knew me.”

“Yup. You’re a very highly-strung century-or-so old egomaniac vampire,” she answered.

Diego stared at her blankly for a few moments. “This is nonsense to me. I’m beginning to regret giving you that rabbit.”

“Well, there’s another version of you that’s basically a god,” she said as she turned the rabbit on the spit. “That’s the one I guess we really need to be worried about. He’s how I got here. I think he evolved his Stand so hard it became a super-Stand and now he just does whatever he wants.”

Now his look was a bit more avaricious. “How did he do that?”

“Hell if I know,” Jolyne replied.

He tsked. “What a useless conversation. At this point, I think you owe me a rabbit.”

Jolyne let out some string and pursed her lips. “Dunno if it would be worthwhile to make a snare for one, but I’d probably be really good at fishing.”

“Do you at least know something about the race? Or about President Valentine?” he asked with a sigh.

“Not a damn thing,” Jolyne replied. “Why don’t you tell me?” 

He made a pointed glance at the rabbit.

“Listen. Unlike some people, I’m not a toddler. I know how to share.” She leaned forward and turned the spit. “But it’s not my fault if you assumed that I knew about the President and stuff. You paid for it with this rabbit and it’s mine now. I’ll give you half of it if you tell me what’s happening in this world. I need to find a way back to my own.”

This was a gamble; he could easily grow tired of the facade of peace between them and just try to take the rabbit. Jolyne could tell that he was considering it. But once he was done adding up his thoughts, he only grinned. “I suppose you’re right,” Diego said. “My fault for falling for it.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you,” she said with a frown.

He merely shrugged and looked through his pack. Seemingly unable to find what he was looking for, he glanced around and then crouched. He pulled a few small stones from the dirt, brushed them off, and then ate them.

“Why,” Jolyne said flatly.

“Gastroliths are good for you,” Diego answered as he waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway. As far as I can gather, President Valentine uses this world as his dumpster. Whatever Stand ability he has allows him to take people from one world into another. Anyone he seems to have a problem with, he sends here. If they come in contact with the version of themself from this world, they die in quite a spectacular and awful fashion.” 

He frowned thoughtfully. “However, in my dealings with Valentine, I’ve noticed something odd. He does have an inner circle of confidants that he moves from time to time, but they don’t seem to suffer from the effects of coming close to themselves. My current theory is this: the Valentine family obtained a set of priceless diamonds. The lucky few that he trusts receive one of those diamonds. The diamonds actually have a Stand bound to them. Run The Jewels gives you the ability to travel between worlds with him unharmed.” He smirked at Jolyne. “Unless you can send an interworld telegram to whatever version of me threw you here, your best bet at getting home is asking President Valentine very nicely to take you back.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t be the type to do that,” she replied flatly.

“Exactly.” Diego sighed. “There is another rumor about those diamonds. If you gather them all, you could travel to another world on your own. The First Lady of this world tried it, once. It certainly didn’t end well for her. If you believe the story, the true First Lady was executed for treason. The one living here now is simply a replacement.” 

“You want those diamonds, huh,” Jolyne stated.

“Of course,” Diego replied. “As far as I can tell, the President prefers another world. He merely uses this one to extract resources and get rid of his trash. This world grows smaller and more worthless by the day. Perhaps it is trite of me to say that the grass is greener somewhere else,” he said, and his expression sharpened as he stared into the fire. “But I feel as if there is nothing for me here. I want to find a world for myself.”

A new world. A new Heaven. Jolyne frowned at him. “And what are you going to do there?”

“Surpass Valentine and live however I please,” he answered. “This world is filled with useless and discarded people. They’re all beholden to their own human habits. I’m sure it’s the same in any world, but here it is especially so. I will go to a new one and make it mine.” His expression grew more sly. “Though, if you are asking in the realistic sense, to get what I want I’ll probably have to do some more scheming. Climb up the social ladder and all that nonsense. Lie, cheat, steal, and so on.” He paused. “And grow older while doing it. What was it you were saying about a century-old vampire?”

“Stop that,” she said as she pointed at him. “I did not come here to give you the same wild crisis about mortality you must have had in my world.”

He sighed and crossed his arms. “I feel so silly about it now. I demanded that Valentine give me the mayorship of New York City when I first tried to make a deal with him. I should have known to set my sights higher. I wonder if he knows how to become a vampire.”

“Just so you know, being a vampire comes with a ton of dumb weaknesses. Like, no sunlight,” she said with a frown. “And part of how you do it involves literally putting holes in your skull. I’m convinced that it makes you dumber.”

He squinted at her. “You can become a vampire by trepanning?”

She threw up her hands. “Basically! But the world needs another vampire Dio like it needs a hole in the head. As in, not at all. So how about you don’t do that.” She shook her head. “Listen, so far, you really do sound a lot like the you that I’m used to. I’m trying really hard to understand you, because otherwise…” She frowned. “Yeah. I’m still pretty pissed about Florida.”

Diego frowned. “Now, I don’t know what I did, but blaming me for something a different version of me did seems wrong.”

“Let’s just say that your actions have consequences,” Jolyne replied flatly. “Try to keep that in mind or I’ll end up having to make you remember it.”

He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed, but he paused and fell silent. His head tilted further. “Someone is here,” he said quietly. “Probably looking for easy prey. Supplies are scarce at this point.”

Jolyne scanned the horizon; the sun had dipped low and the sky was glowing orange. The barn and surrounding structures were casting shadows across the ground. She couldn’t see any signs of a person approaching, but it was possible that they were coming from behind the barn.

As she stood she noticed something odd about the dark shadows cast by the sunset. Most were normal but some shifted when she moved her head, as if they were three-dimensional instead of two. “Where do you think they are?” she asked Diego.

“Not sure,” he stated. “My lookout is dead now, and neither of us can see them, so most likely on the other side of the barn.”

As the sun dipped lower, the shadows grew longer. The flickering ones cast by the firelight were normal, but the shadow of a storage silo stretched out towards them and Jolyne could hear faint rumbling in the dirt.

The shadow was moving far too fast to be natural. She jumped up just as the edge of it approached the bonfire. The wood came apart with a clatter and disappeared into the darkness; Jolyne could see the embers of the flame falling into what seemed like an endless abyss. The rabbit fell and careened away into nothingness.

“The shadows,” she said. “Keep away from them. It seems like it’s only working on the ones from the barn or the silo.”

She only heard a low, rumbling growl in response. The shadow veered forward again and she dashed back from it. Silver Bullet whinnied and shied back, but Diego ran to the horse’s side and it grew calmer. He pulled at the reins, guiding the horse back and away from the approaching shadow.

The edge of the shadow abruptly changed. Rocks clattered as they fell into the resulting pit. Jolyne looked up towards the roof of the barn.

“The user must be on the roof,” she said quickly. “They’re moving the boards and that changes the shadow—” She inhaled sharply as the ground fell from under her feet. She plummeted and the air felt as if it grew more dense, the pressure of it crushing at her chest. She unfurled her arm to send up string and she could feel the pull of the Stand’s ability trying to keep it from reaching the top of the pit.

How far had she fallen? She felt an uneasy strain as more string reeled out. She sensed that the edge of it had reached the top of the pit but she didn’t feel any relief just yet; she sent it out towards where she had seen the piles of rusted equipment. She just barely managed to wrap it around a heavy hunk of scrap and the string went taut. She grunted in pain but she did not fall any further.

Diego looked down at her, wide-eyed and surprised, but there was that damn calculating look again. He glanced up at the barn, then back down to her. This time, she knew exactly what his conclusion would be.

“You’re going to leave me here?” Jolyne exclaimed.

“Well, yes,” he replied as he looked back into the pit. “If I approach the barn, they’ll shift the shadow and I’ll fall in. I can jump quite a distance, but not that high and not that far. I suppose it’s funny that you don’t have any supplies. They’re expecting to steal from you but they’re going to find nothing. So, better you than me.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

He nodded. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just have some more pressing priorities that I would like to attend to, and this,” he added as he gestured towards the pit, “is very dangerous. So.” He shrugged. “Bye.” He retreated from the edge of the hole.

“You can’t just throw me a rope or something?” she shouted.

He peered back over the edge. “I don’t want pulled in,” he replied. “I saw how difficult it was for you to send your own rope up here.” He frowned thoughtfully. “And if you can’t find a way to get out on your own, then I don’t think you deserve my help.”

“That’s—” she interrupted herself with a frustrated noise. “You know that’s total bullshit, right?”

He shrugged again.

Jolyne grit her teeth. “Just help, you asshole. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Hm.” He pursed his lips. “Can’t say I really care.”

“I’d do it for you if you were stuck down here!” Jolyne shouted as she focused on slowly moving some of the string; not by bringing it back into herself to hoist herself up, but instead by lengthening it and gradually creating a wide loop on the ground above.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Then you’re weird.” He sighed. “Seriously. It isn’t as though I hate you or anything. You’re someone I only just met, you’re a bit annoying, I have a race to win, and I have diamonds to find. So.” He waved. “Bye.” He walked away from the edge of the pit once more. 

“You son of a bitch!” she shouted.

The footsteps paused, and then tramped back. He peered over the edge. “I’ll have you know that my mother was a delightful woman.” He frowned. “Perhaps it would be more fun to cut this string.”

“I’m glad you’re just as much of a jerk in this world,” Jolyne stated. “Grateful, even.”

Diego squinted at her, but then shouted in surprise when the loop of string she had fashioned into a snare snapped taut around his ankle. He let out a reptilian hiss and reared back. Jolyne felt the crushing pressure relent incrementally as he backed away from the edge of the pit and pulled her up. She used the resulting slack to create a few more loops; even if he slashed at the string she had enough to simply ensnare him again. 

Diego pulled himself away from the edge of the pit, the string around his ankle tight enough that it risked slicing off his foot. He brought a clawed hand to his mouth and whistled. Silver Bullet approached and he grabbed onto the stirrups as the horse began to gallop away from the barn. The string cut harshly into his ankle. 

Jolyne was pulled from the pit. She released the string from the pile of rusted equipment and focused upon Diego. He had managed to pull himself up onto the saddle, but he was at an uncomfortable angle and his leg was twisted back from dragging Jolyne along. His horse was fast; as he approached the forest and prepared to weave between the trees, the string went taut. He swung one clawed hand down and tried to snap the string.

She broke the snare and pulled the string back before he could do so. She was out of the pit, now; she didn’t want to be dragged through the forest behind him as he tried to flee. She took a few deep breaths and staggered forward as her string returned to her. She looked back at the barn; the shadows no longer seemed to be moving. She could see the hunched-over silhouette of the Stand user watching her.

Jolyne picked up a hefty rock, wrapped it in string, swung it like a discus, and flung it towards the roof. It crashed through the wood and the Stand user yelped. Parts of the abyssal shadow fell apart and returned to being normal ground.

“Cut it out or I’ll knock the whole thing down board by board,” she shouted.

They held up their hands. “You ain’t got shit to steal, right? I’m leavin’.”

She picked up another rock, swung it around, and sent it flying towards the barn. More wood splintered apart. The Stand user yelped again, the shadows returned to normal, and after a few long moments she heard a horse galloping off in the other direction.

She sighed and looked off into the forest. She was alone now, but at least she knew what she had to find.

“And that is why we’re all on this wild chase for the mummified corpse of Christ himself,” Gyro finished explaining to an astounded-looking Josuke.

Josuke leaned forward and held his head in his hands, careful not to mess up his pompadour. Who knew when the next time he would be able to fix it up properly would be. “Heavy,” he replied with a sigh. Gyro let out an odd little chuckle and patted him on the shoulder.

(as always, thank you for reading and I hope you are doing well!

this chapter has 3?! new Stands which are: 

The distant-cutting Stand Clipping. which like another group on this list has a song about "what if the civil rights movement also had vampires/and/or/ghosts" and it's great

The shadow-of-a-building-becomes-a-death-pit Stand Carpenter Brut

And yeah remember how in D4C President Valentine yoinks a Hot Pants and Diego from a world where they're chasing after special diamonds? My city now. Run the Jewels.

And just in case it isn't totally clear: Jolyne is in the diamondheistiverse. Josuke is in the 'base' world with the corpse. Dio's location has yet to be revealed.)

Chapter Text

Dio hissed. Wherever he had been placed, the sun was brightly shining. His umbrella appeared, clattered to the ground, and then popped open. He snatched it up and ducked beneath it; the discomfort lessened. He squinted out at his surroundings and frowned.

A group of men with oddly similar builds and faces stared at him. They each wore matching jackets with a tattoo-like pattern. They did not look friendly.

One held up a gun. “Is that…?”

“Could he have already obtained the diamonds?” another asked.

A third pulled their revolver from their holster very slowly. “I thought he was shorter. Aren’t professional jockeys short?”

A fourth appeared out of another man’s back and slowly crept to the side. “Don’t forget the dynamic vision. Keep your movements slow.”

Dio grinned. “Oh? For once, I’ve given myself something fun to do? What a pleasant surprise.”

One man fired. Dio grunted from the impact of the bullet and some blood swelled from the hole, but the wound sealed itself shut. He took a step forward; two more men fired. Dio’s grin only grew.

“How wonderful. Dinner and a show.” Dio spun his umbrella over his shoulder as a few of the men backed away. Others reloaded while yet more began to fire at him as he approached. “You’re the dinner,” he said, and his smile revealed sharp incisors. “I’m the show.”

Jolyne pressed onwards, wary of the barn drawing the attention of any other thieves, and looked for a suitable place to stop for the night. She couldn’t see too well in the dark and once the day broke, perhaps she could follow Diego’s tracks to wherever he was headed. In the meantime, she could clamber up a tree and rest upon the branches; she could leave a snare as she slept and hope that food would arrive; she could lattice more strings along the grass to catch the dew for drinking water. She would find a way to survive. She was used to doing so, but to press on alone, with no Hermes to crack jokes with, no Anasui or Weather Report for support, no Emporio to protect… well, it sucked.

She found a tree with broad, easily-climbable branches close to the edge of the forest; a few meters past it, the trees opened up to a grassy plain. She was more tired than she expected herself to be, but she supposed she had unraveled herself to her limit within the pit. The night slid by and she dozed until she heard an approaching horse. She snapped back to awareness and crouched upon the branch as she watched carefully.

Whoever it was was several meters away and moving at a decent pace. Jolyne didn’t want to let them pass by; they might know where the closest town was. However, there was still the possibility that they were a threat.

Well, when in doubt, throw something. The tree beside her had a few branches laden with crabapples. She grabbed one and hurled it. “Hey!”

The apple bounced harmlessly off the man’s side, but he jumped with surprise and looked around. He tugged at the reins and his horse slowed. His hand hovered over a holster; Jolyne noted that he didn’t have a gun, but instead a heavy-looking steel ball. Gyro spotted her in the tree and gave her a careful look. “Hey?”

“Listen, I won’t attack you if you won’t attack me,” Jolyne said simply. “I just want to know where the closest town is.”

“Well, that’s refreshing,” Gyro replied. “There’s one just ahead of the quarry. Just go due east. That's all you need to know?”

Jolyne dropped down from the tree and approached him. She winced at the pain from the bite on her leg but pushed through it. Gyro watched her with an openly suspicious expression, but he didn’t make any threatening moves. “I can’t take you there,” he said preemptively. “One, I’m in the middle of a race and I need to get going. Two, no ladies on Valkyrie. No offense. It’s just bad luck. Three, the quarry isn’t the safest thing. I’m going through it, but you should go around it.”

“Will going through it get me to town faster?” she asked.

“...Yeah, by a few hours,” he admitted.

“Then that’s the way I’ll go,” she replied.

He glanced down. “What happened to your leg?”

She flexed her ankle and frowned at the soreness in her muscle. “Raccoonasaurus bite.”

Gyro let out a long sigh that turned into a growl of frustration. He hopped off his horse and started sorting through his supplies. “You ran into Brando, huh? I figured he came through here first. Good on you for staying in one piece.” He pulled out a small pot of salve and a strip of cloth. “Listen. You need to get to town and get that properly taken care of before you get dino rabies or something. I’ll guide you through the quarry but you’ll need to keep up. After that, you’re on your own.” He scooped some salve out of the pot and gestured towards her; Jolyne held out her hand. She wrinkled her nose at the harsh scent when he smeared the glob onto her palm. “Here. You stitched it well, but that should keep it from getting worse. Wrap it in this.” He handed her the cloth. Jolyne leaned over and slapped the salve onto the bite, then wrapped the cloth tightly around it. 

When he noticed that she was looking closely at the horse he frowned and went to say something, but Jolyne interrupted. “No chicks on the horse, I got it,” she stated. “I was thinking of something.” She held up a hand and pointed a finger in the air; the breeze was cool against the wet remnants of the salve. She glanced out at the edge of the forest; once the grassland began there would be few obstacles to run into. “Walking or running is gonna suck. But maybe…”

She set out some string and it latticed together in a loose shape. She frowned at it. “Needs more air resistance.” She glanced down at the ground, the strings zipped apart, and then they spread out and weaved through the fallen leaves. Once they were done, she hoisted the contraption up triumphantly. The strings and leaves had weaved together to create something akin to a large paper airplane. “I can glide along on this,” she exclaimed.

Gyro laughed. “Alright, what the hell. Let’s go.”

While on the grassy plain, Gyro kept a steady pace with Valkyrie; Jolyne kept up easily by leaping forward, kicking off the ground, and allowing the breeze to push her and the strung-together leaves along. The next time she jumped up, she caught sight of the quarry and went wide-eyed.

It was so expansive that it was almost hard to fathom. The ground had been gouged out and at the bottom was sickly-looking mud and sludge. A few piles of rock and debris interrupted a winding path through the canyon-like gap, but she could see the trail Gyro would be taking. He had been right; going around would be safer but would also take much more time.

She landed back on the ground and bounded along beside Gyro. “Holy shit. That’s a big quarry.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it is. I have a good friend from Kentucky that would’ve been here with me but he got separated at the last checkpoint. You should hear about how bad it got there.” He frowned. “I don’t think your president cares much for this part of the country. They brought up so many miners to these places and took everything they could, but then nobody saw a cent for what they did and now the ground is just rotted and dead. Hell, nobody even really knew where the oil and coal went after they took it out. It was like it disappeared.”

“He prefers another world,” Jolyne replied thoughtfully. Gyro quirked an eyebrow. “The Dio here knows about it,” she explained. “The president can go between universes. He likes another one better. He must have taken the resources from here and moved them over there with the diamonds to keep them from exploding or whatever.”

Gyro tilted his head back. “Ohhh. So that’s what he was going on about.” He shrugged. “Glad I’m not caught up in that. I’m just here to win the race and take the prize money back home.”

They began the descent into the quarry; Valkyrie slowed down and picked through the path carefully. Jolyne held back for a moment and stared out into the empty space.

Gyro glanced back at her. “Hey, hey. You look like you’re gonna try something. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“I can glide ahead pretty far,” she replied. “As long as I’m careful about where I land, I can get a good look at the path and tell you if there’s like, snakes or anything.”

He considered her for a long moment, but then nodded and continued down the path. “You know what you’re capable of. Do what you want.”

She took a few long paces back, then dashed forward and kicked off against the ground. The makeshift glider caught the air and she swooped up and over the quarry. She felt her gut instinctively drop with fear at the sudden change in height; the bottom of the quarry was very far away. The glider wobbled. The air patterns over the quarry were different. She grit her teeth and adjusted the string as needed, keeping it from dropping too quickly. Jolyne stared down at the path far below and saw—

“Bodies,” she called out. Gyro looked up at her. “There’s bodies. Be careful.”

He pulled out a steel ball and it spun in his hand. Gyro scanned his surroundings for any threats. The starkly cut stone and gravel slopes didn’t offer many places to hide. He looked down towards the path at where Jolyne had pointed out; he could see the slumped-over corpses to the side of the path.

As Jolyne approached the ground her velocity veered too quickly; she pulled at the strings and the glider tilted up, resisting the air as she fell. She landed on the path and converted her momentum into a roll, flinging the strung-together leaves ahead of her to soften the impact against the rocky ground. Once she came to a stop she staggered to her feet and glanced around warily; she caught sight of Gyro, who had brought Valkyrie to a stop right beside the bodies.

“Miners,” he called out. “Back from when this was still being worked. Long dead.” He re-holstered the steel ball and peered down at the corpses. “Must be from the strike.”

She rolled the glider up and carried it with her. “Strike?”

“It was big in the news, but it took a while for the story to reach Italy,” he explained. “Lots of the mines went on strike once the pay went bad. Valentine broke them up with the military. It got brutal.”

Jolyne frowned down at the corpses thoughtfully. Gyro let out his odd chuckle. “Hey. You’re not gonna catch any wind with that down here. Just tie that thing to the saddle and I can drag you up the path like a sled.” He tapped a finger to his nose. “Technically, you won’t be riding the horse. So you’ll be fine.”

She grinned and looped some string around the saddle. Gyro spurred the horse forward and she was easily pulled along, the interwoven leaves protecting her from the rocky ground. “I figured I gotta give you some help somehow,” he explained. “On a real windy day you wouldn’t’ve even needed me to get you through the quarry.”

“You gave me a history lesson,” she replied. “That was helpful. I think I now have a pretty good handle on what kind of person Valentine is.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“He’s someone who could learn a lot from getting beat up,” she replied.

Gyro laughed. “I bet you’re right.” He glanced back at her, his expression more thoughtful. “You remind me of somebody.”

“Johnny Joestar, by any chance?” she asked flatly.

“How’d you know?” he replied with surprise.

She put her hands against her face and squished her cheeks. “I’ve been told we look alike.”

“I mean, maybe,” Gyro said with a chuckle. “It’s more like…” He trailed off and shrugged. “You both get a look in your eyes. You know exactly what you want to do and everyone better be damn sure that you’re gonna do it.”

Jolyne let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a huff. “Huh. Sounds about right.”

They continued up the path. The makeshift sled veered along the switchbacks but Jolyne held it steady. Valkyrie crested the top of the quarry and Gyro let out a sigh of relief. “Damn. Maybe you are good luck. Not a Stand user in sight. I’m not gonna jinx it by saying any more.”

Jolyne glanced back at the quarry and nodded. “I get what you mean.”

“But I’ve got Lady Luck with my horse,” he said as he clapped a hand against his saddle. “And I’m not going to town. All you need to do is go straight that way. You’re capable. I think you’ll make it there just fine on your own.” Gyro pointed off towards the horizon; Jolyne looked over and let out a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you and see you later at the same time.” She stood from the makeshift sled and rescinded her string from the saddle.

Gyro briefly doffed his hat. “Sure. See you later, uh…” He grinned. “You gonna share your name?”

“Jolyne Cujoh,” she answered.

“Gyro Zeppeli,” he replied. He lifted a hand to his head in mock salute. “I hope you find a way to beat up the president, Jolyne.” With one last wave, he spurred Valkyrie to a gallop and left.

Jolyne watched him leave. Once he was just a speck on the horizon, she began to walk, alone once more.

Josuke watched with interest as Gyro and Johnny took care of their horses and set up camp. Johnny set a fingernail to spinning and sliced the lid off of a can. He set it on a metal grate over the bonfire to cook the contents. Gyro whistled and sang an odd little song as he took care of Valkyrie; Josuke caught scraps of what sounded like a recipe as he belted out the tune.

“So…” Josuke said as he frowned and trailed off. Johnny gave him a curious glance. Josuke shrugged and tried to come up with something to talk about. “I’m just really curious about what else is different between our worlds,” he explained. “I mean, I’m a couple of generations down from you, so I don’t know much about what you were like in my world. And I guess you wouldn’t know about…” he trailed off again and frowned. “About my dad, I guess.”

“Well,” Johnny replied, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t comfortable talking about this sort of thing; not alternate universes, Josuke figured, but about his family, or even himself in general. “Like I said. I don’t talk to my family anymore. So there’s not much for me to tell you.”

“In my world, you and Dio were brothers, so that’s kind of wild,” Josuke said with a shrug.

Gyro laughed so hard he nearly choked. Johnny looked both confused and disgusted. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope! It’s a whole big thing,” Josuke replied. “I don’t know too much about it, but it had, uh… pretty far-reaching consequences.”

“I can’t see you two living in the same town, let alone the same house,” Gyro said with a laugh. “It’d be a bloodbath.”

Josuke winced but nodded. “I mean, that’s pretty much how it was, as far as I know.”

“You got any world-famous, successful, and incredibly handsome Zeppelis in your world?” Gyro asked.

Josuke laughed and shrugged. “Probably! I don’t know. It’s like…” He sighed and shook his head. “I mean, I don’t wanna dump all my woes on you guys. We might be kind of not really related but we just met.”

“Go ahead and talk it out,” Johnny said flatly as he pulled the can away from the fire and stirred the contents. “It’s something to pass the time. Unless you want Gyro to tell you a story or something.”

“I’ve got some good ones,” Gyro replied. “But I think Johnny’s heard them all already. So it’s your turn to keep us entertained.”

“Well, it’s like… back home, I haven’t talked to my friends about this because one already has a really messy dad situation and I don’t know if my other friend has ever had a problem with his family. So I don’t want to bum either of them out with it. And then I have a nephew who is older than me and he’s all business and ‘here’s what you must do in a Stand battle, Josuke’,” he said, and he made his voice dramatically lower-pitched and stoic. “So I can’t talk to him about it, either.”

Gyro tilted his head. “Your nephew is older than you?”

Josuke sighed. “Yeah. My birth dad cheated on his wife with my mom when he was like… sixty? Sixty-one? Somewhere around there. And he didn’t raise me or anything but he did put me in his will. He’s not dead,” he said quickly when Gyro’s expression grew more concerned. “He’s a stubborn old man. I think he still has a few decades in him. But the reason we met was that his actual family was doing all his legal stuff and they found my name in it so that really threw them for a loop.” He crossed his arms. “It’s like… I want to get to know him more, but I was still figuring out how to go about it. I know he’s been on a lot of wild adventures. But I don’t really know anything about them except for what Jotaro has told me. That’s my nephew,” he clarified when Johnny raised an eyebrow. “So it’s weird to be here in this world before he even exists. Meeting some alternate version of his grandfather.”

“Is he at least a friendly guy?” Gyro asked. “My father’s a real hardass. Most of what I know of him didn’t come out easily. But he’s proven himself to me, and I have to prove myself to him. So there is a respect there.”

“That’s surprisingly open and direct of you to say, Gyro,” Johnny stated as he scooped up steaming-hot food from the can.

“What can I say, I like this kid,” Gyro replied with a wide grin. “I’ll adopt him if his old man won’t have him. Especially if he keeps us nice and healed up during the rest of the race.”

“I mean, I do have a mom to get back to in my original world. And my dad is nice,” Josuke admitted. “And kind. I know that. Talking to him was something I was going to try to work on more, but…” He threw up his hands and shrugged. “Here I am.”

The group fell silent. The fire crackled. Johnny stirred the contents of the can. “Your dad reached out to you first because of the will situation?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” Josuke answered. “Well, he had a couple of reasons. His Stand can show him pictures of dangerous things sometimes. It kept telling him about a serial killer in town. So he came to help with that but also to talk to me.” He leaned back on his elbows and sighed. “Of course, we have a second serial killer on the loose now, and I was helping with tracking him down but…” He rested his cheeks on his palms and his voice grew sarcastically sing-song. “Here I am,” he repeated.

“So he’s nice, he’s helpful, and he wants to talk to you,” Johnny replied flatly.

Something in Johnny’s tone had gone sharp, almost acidic; Josuke frowned at him. “Yeah.”

“Then don’t be an idiot by wasting the opportunity,” Johnny stated. “And don’t give him the chance to change his mind. When you get back home, talk to him.”

At first, Josuke looked hurt, but as he thought it over his expression grew more serious and he nodded. “You’re right.”

Johnny didn’t really respond. He returned his attention to the can of food.

Dio looked at the bloody carnage around him and huffed. He sat down on the back of a corpse, rested his chin on one hand, and held the umbrella with the other.

“Not as fun as I thought it would be,” he said to himself. “Didn’t even need to stop time.”

He tapped his nail against his chin. Stopping time was something else that had been bothering him. He knew that the last few times he had done so, he had pushed the ability to its limit by using it in rapid succession; he also didn’t know if bringing more people into it via the stickers made it more difficult to use.

But for whatever reason, the strain was there, and he could feel it sorely. 

Had the food and rest prescribed by Giorno really been the solution to his general malaise? He supposed it had helped, but not quite enough. Of course, the main source of his stress was his double, and that wasn’t going to be solved any time soon.

The most significant thing that was different about him now was something he had been avoiding thinking about, but the experience in Florida and the history lesson demanded by his offspring had rubbed it in. He was back in his original body. There was no familiar star upon his shoulder.

When he had taken Joseph’s blood to fully heal his stolen body in Cairo, he had reached the prime of his power. Of course, that still hadn’t ended well, but…

Well, he certainly wasn’t here to steal the conveniently beheaded body of another Jonathan Joestar. That would just be silly. His own body was in perfect shape. He was just out of practice with it.

But would fate be with him or against him?

He sighed and stood. He felt fairly energized after having drained ten men of their blood. Now he could steal whatever he felt he needed of their supplies and set off for whatever it was fate or his double or both wanted him to find.

As he stood, he heard an odd shifting behind him. An eleventh man formed into being out of the tattoo-like pattern on the jacket of the dead man. He plunged a knife deeply into Dio’s back.

Dio turned and grinned at him. “Oh, that’s cute. You really thought that would work? Were you not paying any attention? Or could you not see anything while hiding inside the coat?”

“You can’t be Diego,” the man stated. “Who are you?”

Well, if there was another Jonathan Joestar, there must be another Dio Brando. Or Diego. Close enough. If he was being hunted down for stealing something, then perhaps Dio had been right before; he really would be the same even if raised beneath a different roof. 

Dio rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I am Diego, just not quite the one you were looking for.” He waved dismissively. “I’m feeling generous. You can live. But give me your coat. The other ones are all filthy, now.” He held out his hand and twitched his fingers in a give-me-that gesture. The man stared at him in stark incomprehension as he slid off the patterned jacket and handed it over. Dio snatched it from him and shrugged it on, careful to keep the umbrella over his head as he did.

“Is that your only horse?” Dio asked as he gestured towards it. “You all could ride it at once by hiding within the jackets? How fun.” The man watched with wary confusion as Dio approached the horse. It shied away from him at first but eventually it calmed and allowed him to place a hand upon its flank. He had minimal experience in riding a horse, but he couldn’t stay in the sun comfortably for long. He needed to find a town or a cave or some other form of shelter and wait for nightfall before making his next move.

“Um,” the man stated uncertainly.

“I’ll be taking this,” Dio said as he clambered up onto the saddle. “And the supplies. Tell me, how afraid are you? How far away is the closest town? Can you still reach it if I take all of this?”

The man stared at him. Dio grinned. “You don’t look too worried. That’s good. I won’t have far to travel. Which way should I go? North, south, east, west? Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

“...East,” the man stated. “Follow the river upstream.”

“Now, this Diego you’re looking for,” Dio continued. “Is he also traveling towards town?”

The man had a decent poker face, but his eyes shifted uneasily. Dio nodded. “I see. Thank you,” he replied lightly as he spurred the horse to a trot. “Do try to not get eaten by a bear or something while you’re stuck hiking out here. At least I’m quick about it. Wildlife, not so much. I’m sure that what’s left of the rest of your companions will attract some hungry scavengers, so you better get to walking.” He raised a hand to his temple in a mock salute. “Bye.”

The man stared blankly as Dio galloped away.

Josuke offered to keep watch while Johnny and Gyro slept. While it was nighttime here, he had left Morioh around noon, so he wasn’t all too tired just yet. Thankfully, the night passed without incident.

“Well, we’ll make it to Philadelphia with a good time,” Gyro said as he started packing up the campsite. “I’d say we have two more days of riding.”

“We’ll have to be careful with food now that there’s three of us,” Johnny said with a glance towards Josuke. “There hasn’t been much wildlife through here for us to stock up on.”

“I can hunt,” Josuke said quickly. 

Johnny quirked an eyebrow. Josuke brought forth Crazy Diamond and looked around for a suitable rock. “Jotaro showed me how to do this,” he explained. “Since my Stand has pretty high-speed movements I can flick a rock and it kind of works like a bullet over a short range.”

Crazy Diamond picked up a pebble, positioned it carefully against its fingers, and then flicked it. The rock shot off into the distance. Gyro whistled. “Damn, now we have two sharpshooters in the group.”

Josuke glanced at Johnny, who was looking out towards the trajectory of the pebble with an unreadable expression. Josuke felt a small flash of nervousness and he sent Crazy Diamond away.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, Johnny,” Gyro stated, teasing in tone. Josuke winced.

“I’m not,” Johnny stated flatly. “I’m just thinking. A lot of the people we’ve run into use their Stands like…” He trailed off and frowned. “Like a can opener. They use it for one thing and one thing only. It makes them easy to beat in a fight. It’s people that can push their Stands to their limits in new ways that are really dangerous.”

“Oh, you’re callin’ Josuke dangerous?” Gyro said with a laugh.

“I’d say Jotaro is dangerous,” Johnny replied. “Since he’s the one that taught him how to do it.”

Josuke frowned, but Johnny’s expression was still hard to read. Gyro’s customary lightheartedness shifted towards something more serious as he watched them closely.

“I’ve come up with new ways to use my Stand on my own, too,” Josuke stated carefully.

Johnny was silent for a few long moments. Eventually, his stony expression broke into a strained, wan smile. “I’m not trying to insult you. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about a lot when it comes to evolving my own Stand. And it’s good that you’ve had a mentor like your Jotaro.” He rolled his eyes and jabbed a thumb towards Gyro. “So, maybe I am a little jealous of that. Trying to learn things from this guy is almost more effort than it’s worth.”

“Hey, I never signed up to be your teacher. He just latched onto me like a spider monkey and refused to let go,” Gyro explained to Josuke. “He’ll regret it once I send him the tuition bill for Gyro Zeppeli’s Pan-American Spin Academy.”

“It’ll be easy to pay you when I win the race,” Johnny replied.

“When you win the race?” Gyro exclaimed with mocking incredulity. “You mean when you eat my dust in New York?”

Johnny hummed thoughtfully. “Getting first place and getting the rest of the corpse is a tall order. I suppose I can settle for second.”

“Yeah, right,” Gyro said with a laugh.

They returned to packing up the campsite; Josuke helped as much as he could but as they tended to the horses he was left with little to do. He fussed over the dirt on his shoes, tried to flatten the creases in his pants, and poked at the edges of his pompadour as much as he dared.

“You want a comb or something?” Johnny asked as he finished adjusting Slow Dancer’s saddle.

“No,” Josuke replied quickly.

“You’re not gonna pick up a hot date out here, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Gyro said with a chuckle.

Josuke pressed his lips into a firm line. “I’m not… hrm.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

“Hey, hey. We’ll be hitting one of the pop-up settlements soon so you’ll have a better chance to freshen up. But in the meantime, do you wanna ride with me or do you wanna ride with your not-quite-great-grandpa?” Gyro asked.

“I’m lighter than you, Gyro. Slow Dancer can take the extra weight,” Johnny stated before Josuke could respond. “He can ride with me. We’ll switch off when she gets tired.”

Gyro pulled a face at him. “You callin’ me fat?”

“Nah, I’m callin’ you dense,” Johnny replied.

Gyro gave one of his customary chuckles and climbed up onto Valkyrie. “I think you’ve got me there. I might as well be full of lead.”

Jolyne trudged along, the glider slowly losing effectiveness as the leaves crumbled. The pain in her leg was low but insistent. The grassland gradually became dotted with a few more sparse trees. She looked down at the grassy ground; in a few patches of mud she could see the tracks of a horse. She idly wondered who it was. If Gyro was in the race and wasn’t headed to town, then Diego probably didn’t go that way, either. 

It took an hour, perhaps two, to reach the outskirts of the town. Her stomach growled and she frowned. She didn’t want to, but she supposed she could pickpocket someone or just steal food if she really needed to. She also needed to start asking around about where she could find President Valentine. Right now, either he or the diamonds were her only path back to Morioh.

The town was large yet empty; she figured it was another effect of the abandoned quarry. People had probably lived there in order to work and once the quarry closed, they would have left in search of other jobs. Many of the buildings seemed abandoned. 

Jolyne smelled something delicious cooking. Her stomach growled again. She sighed and crossed her arms over her belly. She followed the scent until she found what looked like a campsite set up in the middle of a road, close to the broken-down remains of a large building. There had been food cooking over a fire, but it looked like something had gone on a rampage through the middle of it. Jolyne cautiously approached. There were big tracks pressed into the dirt and whatever had been in the pot over the fire was strewn across the ground.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone spoke. “You’re not a thief, are you?”

Jolyne looked back and locked eyes with a person wearing a furred cap over choppy hair and an intensely serious expression. They held their horse’s reins in one hand and something that looked like a cross between a lighter and a spray can in the other. They looked prepared to use it; Jolyne did not want to find out what it would do to her.

Jolyne held up her hands with her palms out. “Not a thief. Sorry your soup got spilled, but I didn’t do it.”

“Then you need to leave,” Hot Pants stated, “so that I can find who did.”

“These look like dino tracks, don’t they?” Jolyne quickly said as she pointed at the ground. “Looks like yet another Dio problem.”

Hot Pants blinked at her. “You know Brando?”

“Unfortunately."

Hot Pants considered her for a long while before speaking. “I didn’t see his horse tracks come this way. But he may have created a dinosaur to fight for him. He’s being hunted.” Hot Pants looked up the street; the ground was packed in and the footprints were hard to follow. “I only left the bonfire for a few minutes. It must be close by. I will kill it before it attacks me or my horse.”

“I can help,” Jolyne insisted. Hot Pants gave her an unreadable look. “It has to be a pretty big dino based on these tracks, right? Do you have a glass of water I can use or something? I’m not gonna drink it,” she clarified when Hot Pants shot her a dubious glance. “I think I can use it to track the dinosaur.”

“...I have a bottle of communion wine,” Hot Pants answered. 

Jolyne grinned. “There’s a bit in a movie where they have a glass of water and they can see the footsteps put ripples in it so they know that the big dino is coming for them—ah, shit. You don’t even know what a movie is, huh. But this might work. Just pour it into a mug or a glass or something.” 

Hot Pants removed the wine bottle from a sturdy leather saddlebag and poured it into a ceramic mug before handing it to Jolyne.

Jolyne set the mug on the ground. Once the wine settled, she pulled some string out of her finger and she let it drift in looped circles around the surface of the liquid. She stared at it closely. “Now, if we stay as still as possible, this could catch the vibrations of its movement and tell us how far away it is and maybe where it’s headed.”

Jolyne felt the faint vibrations through the strings; she pointed in the general direction they seemed to be coming from and then picked up the mug. “That way. Let’s get closer.”

“Don’t spill that wine,” Hot Pants stated. “I’ll be wanting it back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jolyne replied. “I promise not to lose a single drop. Man, is everyone out here so stingy?”

Hot Pants made a noncommittal grunt in response.

Jolyne took a few long strides up the road and set the mug down again. “Up and to the left. Maybe inside of that building over there,” she whispered.

“You were bitten by one already,” Hot Pants stated with a glance at Jolyne’s leg.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Jolyne admitted. “But I got some goop on it. So it should be fine.”

Hot Pants crouched, tugged at the bandaging, and then sprayed Cream Starter on the bite. Jolyne clenched her teeth and pulled away instinctively, but the meatlike spray only filled in the wound and healed it.

“You owe it to me now to not get bitten again. Stay here,” Hot Pants stated. “I will go check.”

“Seriously, I can help you,” Jolyne replied. “Let’s go together.”

Hot Pants gave her another hard-to-read look, but this time there was something surprisingly soft about it. “You aren’t involved in the race. I haven’t seen you on the roster.”

“No, I’m not in the race,” Jolyne replied. “Are you?”

“Not anymore,” Hot Pants answered. “But if you are not in the race, you do not need to get involved. Or get hurt. Stay here.”

Jolyne frowned. “See, now you’re reminding me of someone.”

“Stay here,” Hot Pants repeated. “I prefer to fight alone. I will be fine.”

Before Jolyne could say anything, Hot Pants dashed off and ducked inside the building. After a long moment, Jolyne heard a sound like shaving cream foaming out of a canister, a booming roar, strange muffled noises, and then a loud thud. Hot Pants emerged from the building and holstered Cream Starter.

“So, uh… how’d the dino fight go?” Jolyne asked.

“Good,” Hot Pants replied.

“The dino’s dead, then?” she added.

“Yes,” Hot Pants replied.

Jolyne smiled wanly and held up the mug. “Ha. Do you want your wine radar back now?”

“Yes,” Hot Pants answered. When Jolyne pulled away the string and handed the mug over, they took a deep gulp and passed the mug back. 

“A toast,” Hot Pants stated. “To the defeat of a dead dinobear.”

Jolyne grinned and took a small sip before passing the mug back. “Cheers.”

Back to business; Hot Pants strode back to the mess of a campsite and began to load up the horse. “I will be gathering up my supplies and leaving,” Hot Pants stated. “This town was abandoned. You will not find food here. There is a pop-up settlement nearby made by those watching the race. Go north and follow the river upstream. You will reach it within an hour on foot. There will be food and shelter for you.”

“Is that where you’re going?” Jolyne asked.

“No,” Hot Pants replied.

Jolyne sighed. “Well, thanks for the heads up. You don’t happen to know where the president is, do you?”

Hot Pants frowned. “No. I do not.”

Jolyne watched with an odd tightness in her throat as Hot Pants finished packing up and clambered onto the horse. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” Jolyne said with a smile. “Stay safe, be careful, make good choices. See you later.”

“This is not see you later,” Hot Pants stated. “For your own safety, I pray that this is goodbye.”

Jolyne stared as Hot Pants spurred the horse onwards. Almost as if on instinct, Jolyne began to run after them, but she knew that she would be unable to follow. Hot Pants and the horse rapidly receded from sight. Jolyne slowed to a staggering jog and then a walk. She took a few deep breaths, stared at the ground, and then steeled herself and reoriented herself north. She pressed on, alone once more.

Chapter Text

Jolyne trudged up the riverbank and her stomach growled. She stared at the shimmering water and idly wondered if it would be worth stopping and trying to fish.

Her wondering was interrupted by snickers and rustling movement. She frowned as a gaggle of old-timey bandits popped up from wherever they had been hiding in the underbrush and began to approach. Well, she supposed they weren’t old-timey here. They were time-appropriate bandits. That didn’t stop them from looking rather ridiculous as they began to circle her.

“Fan of the race, huh? Got plenty of bettin’ money on you? Gonna try to double it at the next settlement?” one bandit asked. 

“Must not be too rich,” another added. “Lady can’t afford a whole shirt.”

Jolyne tilted her head and rolled her shoulders. Her joints popped. She pointed at each of the men and began to count off. “One...two, three, four...five. I see. Five of you, one of me. What was that about a bet? You want to bet that I can beat each of you into the ground within five minutes? That’s a minute, each. What do you think? Is that a good bet?”

The men only snickered. One held up a pistol and waved it lazily. “Big talk for a lady all alone and without a gun.”

Stone Free formed into being and rested its arms against her shoulders. The men did not seem to notice. Jolyne quirked an eyebrow. “Good grief. My odds just went up. I almost feel like this is gonna be too mean.”

Josuke had vague memories of riding a horse at a birthday party when he was around ten years old, but that brief experience did not prepare him for riding doubled up on Slow Dancer for hours. Johnny was comparatively slight and the way he kept his legs up high on modified stirrups kept him close to the neck of the horse, so Josuke had plenty of room and even additional cushioning from the rolled-up bedroll, but he could tell that by the end of the day he was going to be sore and awfully chafed.

Gyro had noticed his obvious discomfort but there wasn’t much he could do about it. While both he and Johnny were focused on the horses, Gyro still found ways to pepper their brief conversations with jokes. Most of them were incredibly obtuse; Josuke had no idea what about them was funny, but Gyro’s exaggerated delivery had him grinning and at least partially distracted from how uncomfortable he was. Gyro was now on some sort of extended spiel about a trip to a market gone wrong and the ingredients to a dish being switched out with inedible objects; Josuke figured that the wordplay made much more sense in Italian. Gyro completed the tale by pulling a face and tugging at his hair. To Josuke’s surprise, even the seemingly permanently stone-faced Johnny broke down into muffled laughter as he pressed his face into Slow Dancer’s mane.

“Ha! So that was a good one, huh? You gotta remember it so you can write it down later,” Gyro insisted as he pointed excitedly at Johnny.

Johnny leaned back and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Yeah, that one was good. How long have you been sitting on it for? Or did you make it up just now?”

“Oh, I’ve been workshopping it for months,” Gyro replied. “I figured it was finally polished enough to unleash it upon the public.”

Johnny shook his head. “A deep cut, then. Oh man. You gotta be careful with those. You’re gonna make me fall off my horse.”

Gyro’s expression grew more thoughtful. “Speaking of your horse, do you think we can get Josuke his own at the settlement? I mean, we can’t buy one directly without breaking the rules. But riding double is gonna tire out our horses. The healing is a huge advantage, but we still have to be mindful of speed.”

Johnny stared off towards the horizon and thought it over. “Yeah. You think you can handle your own horse, Josuke? You’ll have to learn it quick. I suppose it does help that you’ve got two pro jockeys with you. Well, one pro jockey and whatever Gyro is.”

“I am a man of many talents,” Gyro replied as he held up a finger.

“Still think that you shoulda gone full-time with the comedy and joined the circus,” Johnny stated flatly.

“You think I could be a real clown? I’m honored,” Gyro said as he held a hand to his heart. “Professional clownery isn’t an easy job, you know.”

Johnny nodded. “I do know. But you’d be the circus’s King Clown by the end of the week, I’m sure. That’s just how skilled you are.”

Gyro leaned back and whistled. “Damn. Forget the race. Now I just wanna be King Clown.”

Josuke snickered and shook his head. “Well, with what you said earlier, horses like to follow other horses, right? If I stick with you guys and at least know how to stay on the saddle, I should be alright.”

“You’re right, but the real problem is how are we going to pay for another horse?” Johnny replied. “What are your thoughts on that?”

Josuke frowned and mulled it over. He could steal a horse but that would be both wrong and likely to get him shot if he was caught, seeing as how he was now in a world where everyone seemed to be a cowboy. “What’s the cheapest way to get a horse? Aside from stealing it,” he quickly added when he saw Gyro ready to crack a joke.

“Buy a horse that hates people,” Johnny replied. He patted Slow Dancer. “That’s how I got this one. If I would have been patient enough to haggle they would’ve paid me to take her.”

“Whaaat? Slow Dancer’s a mean horse? I wouldn’t’ve guessed,” Josuke replied.

Johnny hummed thoughtfully. “She’s been thinking about bucking you off this whole time.”

Josuke gritted his teeth and frowned.

“She won’t, though,” Johnny added. “Just give her an apple at the next stop and she’ll forgive you for being heavy.”

“I’ll give her all the apples she wants! Especially because…” Josuke trailed off, tried to look serious, failed, and then snorted. Johnny looked back at him and quirked an eyebrow. 

“It would behoove her to keep carrying me,” Josuke managed to say. “‘Cause she be hooved. She’s a horse.”

Johnny stared at him for a few long moments, his expression unreadable. He turned to look at Gyro. “Gyro. How long have we been travelling? You’re gonna tell me you never used behooved in a joke yet? Josuke wins the trophy for using it first?”

Gyro threw his hands in the air. “Josuke wins the trophy! First use of behooved in a joke during the Steel Ball Run!”

“I have to write this down,” Johnny said as he twisted in his seat to reach for a small journal in the saddlebag. “This is history in the making, here.”

Josuke rubbed the back of his neck and grinned.

“So what all were you up to in your original world, Josuke?” Gyro asked. “Aside from hunting down serial killers, that is.”

“School, pretty much,” Josuke replied. “Summer vacation started, though, so I was mostly spending time with family and friends and relaxing. Well, trying to relax.” He frowned, shook his head, and then nodded towards Gyro. “What do you do outside of the race?”

“I am a medical professional,” Gyro replied with such a straight face that Josuke figured that he must be making a joke again.

Josuke played along and nodded seriously. “Doctor professor Gyro Zeppeli MD, got it. What about you, Johnny?”

Johnny finished writing in his journal and tucked it back into the saddlebag. He glanced back and Josuke hunched his shoulders uncomfortably; his look wasn’t hostile but it was certainly cold. “Nothing much,” Johnny finally answered.

Well, Josuke knew not to press that line of questioning any further. He frowned thoughtfully and returned to focusing on not falling off the horse.

Gyro leaned against the counter of the shop and sighed. “Johnny. You’ve been staring at the damn thing for ten minutes. Just buy it.”

Johnny shook his head. “Can’t afford silly stuff right now.”

“It’s not silly, it’s a morale boost and a good source of energy. Just buy it.”

Johnny sighed, hesitated, but then reached out and picked up a chocolate bar.

“There you go,” Gyro said with a chuckle. 

Once they finished stocking up on the small selection offered by the pop-up settlement shop, Johnny slung an arm over Gyro’s shoulder and they ventured outside. They met up with a somewhat crestfallen-looking Josuke.

“None such luck with the horse?” Gyro asked.

“Nope,” Josuke sighed. “None for sale. It’s only two days or so to Philly, right? Maybe I’ll have better luck there.” He did some shallow squats and frowned. “My thighs are killing me. You guys did this all the way across the country? Jeez.”

“We shouldn’t make camp here,” Johnny stated. “People get on your case. Ask for autographs and shit. And there’s more openings for other racers to try and sabotage you. You think you can ride for another hour or so?”

Josuke nodded emphatically. “Yeah! I’ll be fine.”

Johnny tugged at Gyro’s shoulder and they began to head towards the horses. “Then we’ll go further east. We’ll be getting close to Gettysburg. Won’t have too big of a head start but it’ll be more than most will have.”

“Oh! Right!” Josuke reached into a pocket and pulled out an apple. “I was able to get this. Fixed a guy’s busted saddle for it. Now Slow Dancer won’t be mad at me.”

Johnny gave him a look that wasn’t quite angry but it was harsh enough to make Josuke worry. “You used your Stand?”

“Yeah,” Josuke carefully admitted. “Not in a super obvious way, though. I putzed with the saddle for a while but put the pieces all back together after.” When Johnny still looked concerned, he felt the need to explain further. “The guy was super nice. Poco-something. He wasn’t paying too much attention to what I was doing.”

“Be careful with that,” Johnny replied. “If people find out about your Stand…” He trailed off and frowned. 

“You’re kind of our secret weapon,” Gyro whispered conspiratorially. “We were nice about kidnapping you since you’re sort-of-family. Other people, probably not so much.”

Josuke pursed his lips. “Man, it really is the wild west out here, huh? Everybody’s ruthless.”

“Wild east, now,” Gyro corrected. “We’re nearly in New Jersey. But you’re right. Everyone’s looking for the next thing to take advantage of. Be careful not to make yourself a target.”

The sun dipped down into dusk as they left the settlement and made their way down the trail. A sudden steep slump in the ground offered some protection from the wind and would limit the visibility of their campfire.

“So I was thinking,” Gyro began as he shuffled some cards. “Your Stand can heal because it can put things back together the way they were originally. You used it to put a broken saddle together, so it works on things that aren’t alive, right?”

Josuke nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… if you mix up a puzzle, Crazy Diamond can put it back together as long as all the pieces are there and you can still consider the pieces part of the puzzle. If he had like, burned away parts of the saddle, then they wouldn’t really go back together very well.”

“What about the corpse?” Gyro asked.

Johnny sat up from where he had been leaning against his bedroll and watched Josuke intently.

“I can try,” Josuke replied. “But I don’t want to disappoint you guys if it doesn’t work. Aren’t a lot of the pieces, like, miles away? I don’t know what would happen if it’s like that. And the smaller parts will probably just go towards the larger parts, so I don’t want the ones you have to get lost.”

“We probably have the largest parts,” Johnny stated. “Dio has one eye. Other people have the arms, the spine, and the other eye. We have the legs and part of the spine.” He pulled himself forward and pressed a hand against his own legs. “We have to try.” With an oddly dry crumbling sound, the corpse’s legs began to lift up and out of Johnny’s own.

Gyro tensed and held up a hand. “Wait.” Johnny shot him a severe look. Gyro stared off into the darkness around the campfire. “I heard… it could just be an animal.”

Johnny gritted his teeth, shoved the legs back in, and set his fingernails to spinning. “It’s never just an animal. What’s our worst-case scenario? What other racers would have left the settlement?”

Josuke turned and squinted into the distant grass. He could hear the grass moving, but he wasn’t sure if it was merely shifting in the wind or if it was being rustled by someone or something. Then, further in the distance, he saw movement. Someone on a horse was galloping down the field. He pointed. “Out there?”

“Hot Pants,” Gyro stated. “Really bookin’ it, too. Where the hell are they going? Bastard isn’t even in the race anymore.” He stood and started to kick dirt onto the fire.

“Hot Pants stole some of our corpse parts,” Johnny added as he pulled himself towards Slow Dancer. “The arm and the spine. If they’re going that fast this late, they must know something.”

Josuke clambered to his feet. “More riding? Should I get on Valkyrie or Slow Dancer?” He took a step forward but something scurried past his ankles and he jumped. “Holy shit! What was that?”

Gyro let out a growl of frustration and spun a steel ball in his palm. “I’d say our worst case scenario is coming through.”

Josuke hopped to the side as something else slipped past his legs. He clenched his teeth and stared down at a small, snarling dinosaur. “Eeesh! Get away get away get away. Nice lizard. Back it up.” He took a tentative step back, but more scuttled out of the grass around him and he ended up tottering on his tiptoes. He scrunched his eyes shut. 

“Josuke! Just hit them!” Johnny shouted as he shot a few nails off at one dino. It managed to dodge two, but the third pierced its belly and it fell to the dirt. The other dinos hissed. 

“I do not like reptiles,” Josuke said as Crazy Diamond manifested. He steeled himself and directed his Stand to punch at one of the dinos, but they had excellent reaction times. Most were able to dodge his blows. Only one was swept aside by Crazy Diamond’s fist and sent flying off into the field.

Gyro threw one of the steel balls into the dirt; it kicked up rocks and debris, blinding most of the dinos. “Josuke! Quick! Just get on a horse!”

“We’re gonna lose track of Hot Pants,” Johnny added as he landed a few more shots. “I’m also gonna run out of nails.”

Josuke hunched his shoulders as he heard something significantly larger approaching. He began to sprint forward towards Valkyrie but he was sideswiped by what seemed to be the halfway point between a horse and a velociraptor. He yelped with surprise as it bit into his collar and began to drag him along. 

Johnny pointed at the horse-dino and prepared to shoot. But if this one was anything like the others, it would easily dodge the nail bullet.

“Johnny!” Josuke shouted. “Don’t try to shoot it! Shoot me!”

Gyro stared at him with worry, but Johnny locked eyes with Josuke and nodded. He fired off a nail that landed in Josuke’s shoulder. Josuke grunted in pain. The light of the bonfire rapidly receded from his sight as the horse-like dinosaur sprinted away.

“We have to get him back,” Gyro stated as he caught his steel ball. “Come on—”

“No,” Johnny interrupted. “We go after Hot Pants. If Diego’s stealing Josuke, then he must have found out about his Stand somehow. He’ll have the same idea you did. But he only has the eye. That’s a small part. If he makes Josuke try to put the corpse back together, it’ll bring the eye to us.”

Gyro glowered at him. “Johnny, I know you’re real goddamn dedicated to finding the corpse, but are you sure you want Josuke hanging out with Diego fucking Brando?”

“Josuke can take care of himself,” Johnny snapped. “That’s why he asked me to shoot him. He can fix the nail back to my hand. He’ll find us as soon as he gets the chance to. Even if he can’t get Diego the corpse, his Stand is too useful. Diego won’t hurt him. He’s the worst kind of person, but he isn’t stupid.”

Gyro still didn’t look convinced. “We have to follow Hot Pants,” Johnny insisted.

Gyro’s mouth was set in a firm line, but he spurred Valkyrie forward. Johnny set Slow Dancer to a gallop and the two headed towards Gettysburg.

Josuke tried and failed to reach for the dino-horse’s reins so that at least he could hold up some of his own weight. He could feel the seams at the back of his uniform beginning to pop and tear. When Crazy Diamond attempted to hold the dino-horse by the neck and at least slow it down, the creature let out a bone-chilling hiss in an obvious warning. Its teeth pulled at his collar as if it was about to start shaking its head.

“Yeesh, got it, got it,” Josuke replied, and Crazy Diamond relented its grip.

The distance between himself and the last campsite grew worryingly large. Asking Johnny to shoot him had been a spur-of-the-moment idea and he hoped that it would actually work. If he ‘healed’ the nail to go back to Johnny’s hand, he could follow it back to wherever they were. In the meantime, he could try to steal the corpse’s eye from this world’s version of Dio.

Johnny and Gyro had already explained Scary Monsters to him to the best of their ability, but that hadn’t quite prepared him for the reptilian onslaught. The fact that they were only sort-of-reptiles honestly made it worse. The horse-raptor thing dragging him along was one of the freakiest looking creatures Josuke had ever seen in his life.

While the dinosaurs were admittedly terrifying, Josuke felt a lot more confident dealing with them compared to dealing with something like The World. With this, he could at least strategize without worrying about the staggeringly large advantage of the stopped time. The dinosaurs had split-second reactions, but Crazy Diamond had plenty of tricks up its sleeves.

He also had the advantage of sort-of-already knowing Dio. While his interactions with him in Morioh had been somewhat limited, Josuke knew his thought process well enough to predict where to throw his anti-instigation cup of water. If the Dio here was about the same, he would be a huge pain in the ass, but if Josuke stayed sharp about it he might be manageable.

The dino-horse finally came to a stop, its claws gouging into the dirt as it slowed. It let go of Josuke and chittered. Josuke heard the faint sound of a match being struck to light and he saw the tiny flame tossed towards the ground. A bonfire lit up and Josuke raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.

“I’ll be nice and accommodate your lack of night vision,” Diego stated as he approached the dino-horse. Josuke twisted around to keep track of him and was surprised to see that the dino-horse had returned to being a completely normal horse. Diego patted the horse’s neck. “Clever girl! Wonderful work keeping the little ones in line. I’ll give you two apples.”

Josuke glanced around the bonfire and spotted yet another horse. Silver Bullet stood several paces away, nibbling at the grass.

“Mean horses are cheap and I was in the market for a very mean horse,” Diego stated. “I couldn’t buy it myself, but those settlements are full of fans that are eager to please. I technically bought up every horse for sale there just to be sure that somebody,” he said, and he finally turned his attention towards Josuke, “didn’t make a quick getaway.”

Josuke just frowned at him. Diego tilted his head. “Are you curious as to why I brought you here?”

“Totally,” Josuke said flatly. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well, there were several injured riders that passed through a Stand user’s territory,” Diego explained. “They left blood all over the place. Joestar and Zeppeli’s tracks went through the same area, and yet they were perfectly fine. Now, I know from experience that they’re quite adept at defending themselves. But to not even receive a single scratch? That’s unusual.” 

He gave the horse one last pat before putting his hands on his hips and frowning thoughtfully. “I was especially curious after I noticed Slow Dancer’s gait had changed, as if she was carrying significantly more weight. Now, unless Johnny took my advice on gastroliths very seriously, that meant that he was once more riding double with someone, and that someone was heavy. Now, why would two of the leading contestants of the Steel Ball Run risk their speed by overworking their horses? There must be some other advantage to doing so.” 

Diego’s expression grew more sly. “Were you simply a fan of the race that ventured out from the settlement to catch a glimpse of your favorite jockeys? Were you offering to purchase their supplies at the settlement as a kind gesture? It was possible. But then, to see you scurrying around the settlement looking for your own horse? This was a longer-term engagement. I then had a simply delightful conversation with Pocoloco about how he was just so lucky to find someone who knew how to fix his irreparably broken saddle. Why were Johnny and Gyro able to get here without a scratch? Why was Pocoloco’s saddle so easily fixed? Of course! A Stand user with the ability to put things back together. What an incredibly useful Stand to have around.” He grinned and his teeth were a bit too sharp. “And how especially useful when everyone is trying to put something very important back together, don’t you think?”

He finally fell silent. Josuke waited for a few long moments before speaking. “Oh, you’re done? Okay. Yeah, you pretty much hit the nail on the head. I can fix things.”

“But not yourself?” Diego asked lightly. “What happened to your shoulder?”

Josuke glanced down at the blood around the hole left by the nail and frowned.

Diego hummed thoughtfully and took a seat by the fire. “Listen. I’m not going to threaten you. For now. I’m only asking very nicely for your cooperation. Just like how I’m sure Joestar and Zeppeli were very nice to you, as long as you were helping them.”

“Gyro and Johnny are nice,” Josuke replied.

Diego shot him a look of both amusement and pity. “Do you really believe that? How naïve are you?”

“They’re nicer than you, I bet,” Josuke retorted.

“Oh, please,” Diego said as he waved a hand dismissively. “By this point, I think Joestar has a higher body count than I do. He can pretend to be going after some noble ideal, but people don’t change. He’s just wildly grasping at anything that could return his life to the way it was before. And the way it was before was still a waste.” He sighed. “I’m less familiar with Zeppeli, but I’m sure he’d squander the corpse, as well. But for Johnny to have the corpse? Nothing good would come of it.” He leaned forward and watched Josuke closely. “And they haven’t come galloping in to save you from Scary Monsters, either. Do you think they left you for dead? Surely you know that Johnny thinks I am the ‘worst kind of person’,” he said mockingly. “What do you think? Was it nice of them to abandon you?”

Josuke bit his lip. Johnny was prickly and hard to read, sure, and he had threatened to shoot him the first time they met, but… 

When Johnny had shot him as the dino-horse dragged him away, Josuke could recognize the look in his eyes. It was the kind of look Joseph had when he cut himself to bloody the water to find Shizuka, or the kind that Jotaro had when he took a hit from a flesh-melting dart to reveal the rat’s location. It was a familiar decisiveness and confidence in the outcome, no matter the risks.

Johnny might not like him much, Josuke decided, but he knew that Josuke could take care of himself.

Diego knew that Josuke could put things back together but he had no reason to believe that Crazy Diamond had other skills like strength or speed. Like Johnny had said, many people seemed to use their Stands like can openers. So, better to play dumb, let Diego underestimate him, and look for the perfect opportunity to escape.

Josuke shrugged. “Meh.”

Diego gave him a bemused look. “Meh?”

“Yeah, sure, they’re total assholes,” he replied with a huff. “You’re right. Those guys suck. How rude of them to leave me behind. Man, what did I ever do to deserve this? What a drag,” he said, and he jammed his thumb at the horse. “Since, y’know. I got dragged here.”

Now Diego was beginning to look suspicious. “That was… an awful joke. Did my raptor give you whiplash or something? Did you hit your head on your way here?”

Josuke poked at the edges of his pompadour; miraculously, it hadn’t been damaged much on the way over. “Nope. I’ve got a totally functional brain. That’s why I’ve made my decision. You want the corpse to take over the world and get rich or whatever, right? I wanna get rich, too. Count me in.”

Diego squinted at him. Josuke stood and brushed off his pants as he spoke. “All I want out of life is nice new things. I mean, check out these shoes. They cost me a few months’ allowance and look at them now. Just a day on the trail and they’re totally grody. You think the corpse could magic me a new pair?”

“Oh, I see,” Diego said as he rested his chin on his palm. 

“And your dino horse totally messed up my jacket,” Josuke said with a pout as he reached back and felt the tears in the fabric. “You basically owe me a new one.”

“I suppose,” Diego said carefully.

“Then let’s go,” Josuke said as he clapped his hands together. “Now’s the time to do it. Johnny and Gyro are chasing after Leg Warmers or whoever to take their parts back. We can jump in and get them all while they’re fighting.”

“Hot Pants?” Diego said in disbelief. “Hot Pants was there?”

“Yeah, that one,” Josuke replied.

Diego watched him doubtfully. “You’re planning something.”

Josuke shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m the only way for you to put all the corpse pieces together, right? So let’s work together.”

“I wouldn’t say the only way,” Diego replied dryly. “Merely the easiest.”

He shrugged again. “I’ll be totally honest with you. For me to put the corpse pieces back together, my Stand will have to be holding whatever part you have,” Josuke said. “And it probably won’t bring the other pieces to us. We’ll have to follow it to the rest of them.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Lucky for us, we have two horses, so we’ll be able to follow it pretty quickly.”

“And how can I ensure that you won’t simply run off with my corpse part?” Diego asked. His expression abruptly brightened and Josuke froze. “Wait. I’ve had an idea,” he said with a grin.

Josuke barely had time to yelp as a ratlike dinosaur scurried up his back. He swatted at it and it dodged and leapt up onto his shoulder. Tiny teeth latched onto his neck and he winced.

“Don’t look so worried!” Diego happily exclaimed. “They’re very well behaved. It won’t bite down and chew through your jugular unless I tell it to.”

Josuke hunched his shoulders and felt the tiny dinosaur hiss against his neck. Diego swept a hand over his own face; a decrepit-looking eye rolled into his palm. He approached Josuke and held it out. Josuke let him place it on his palm with a grimace.

“Remember,” Diego stated as he wagged a finger, “don’t do anything useless like running off with it or trying to destroy it. That little raptor will bite down in less than a second. I’m going to pack up and prepare Silver Bullet. You will get yourself on that horse and get ready to go. Don’t jostle your shoulder around too much or you’ll frighten the poor thing and it will bite on reflex.”

Josuke glowered at him but turned and gingerly tried to approach the second horse. He held out a hand and let it sniff him; it flicked its tail and looked vaguely unimpressed. It took a few failed attempts to clamber up onto the saddle but he eventually made it and let out a strained sigh.

He looked down at the corpse’s eye and frowned. It was pretty gross looking, like a yellowed old marble attached to a faint scrap of papery optic nerve. 

When Diego seemed to be distracted by gathering his supplies, Josuke steeled himself and dug into the shallow cut left by the nail bullet. He pulled the nail out and hid it in his palm with the eye.

Diego finished loading up Silver Bullet and gave him a curious glance. “Do you have any experience in riding a horse at all?”

“Just a little,” Josuke admitted.

Diego hummed thoughtfully. “You’ll learn quickly, I’m sure. At the very least, that horse doesn’t hate you. Lead the way.”

Josuke brought forth Crazy Diamond’s arms and let them hover just above his own. He focused not on the eye, but on the nail. If Johnny and Gyro were in a confrontation with Hot Pants, he didn’t want them to suddenly lose control of the parts they had and then lose them to Diego. Better to follow them via the nail and find a way to ditch Diego along the way. He curled his fingers around the eye and the nail and felt the pull of his ability lift his hand. “That way,” he stated. “Let’s go.”

They went at a steady pace. Josuke was glad that the horse seemed to naturally follow the pull of Crazy Diamond’s ability. Diego followed closely beside him and scanned the dim horizon as they went. 

“So,” Josuke said, because sitting in tense silence with an alternate universe Dio watching his every move and a murderous lizard latched onto his neck was driving him nuts. “You’re a professional jockey, huh?”

Diego shot him an odd look. “Perhaps the most famous jockey in Britain, if not Europe and a majority of the world.”

“Oh, totally, totally,” Josuke replied. “I knew that. I was just, uh… working my way up to asking for an autograph!”

Diego stared at him.

“I mean, since you’ll be getting the corpse parts and all, you’re gonna end up even more famous, right?” Josuke added. “So getting an autograph now would be super worth it.”

Diego stared at him for a few more long moments, his expression unreadable. Then, he reached down into a pocket and pulled out a wallet. Inside was some money, a few scraps of paper, and a strip of tiny signed photographs separated by perforated lines. He tore one off and held it out to Josuke.

“Wow, so you just have these ready to go, huh,” Josuke said as he took it and looked it over. 

“It’s a common request,” Diego replied dryly.

The nail guided them into Gettysburg, where the streets were dark but a few late-night stragglers were still walking beneath oily yellow street lamps.

The pull was getting stronger; Johnny must be close by. Josuke and Diego pulled off to the side as a carriage rattled up the road. Diego sniffed and looked back at it. “That scent… It was something like…” He narrowed his eyes and peered up the street. 

Josuke looked the other way and tensed. He saw a glimpse of Johnny and Gyro on their horses, crossing the road several blocks away. They looked bloodied, exhausted, and certainly not in any state to be dealing with Diego.

Diego was still looking towards the carriage. This might be his chance; Crazy Diamond had a powerful and fast punch. If he knocked Diego out while he was distracted, the dinosaur on his neck would turn back into a rodent and leave him alone. But if Diego had just as fast of a reaction time as his dinosaurs, the punch wouldn’t land.

Josuke tightened his grip on the eye and the nail. He felt the nail sever a tiny scrap of the optic nerve. It stuck to the sweat on his palm.

When Jotaro had used Star Platinum to remove the poison rat dart from Josuke’s neck, it had hurt like hell but he had been fine. If the dinosaur on his neck was latched onto him, it might not be able to move out of the way fast enough to avoid a blow from the side. It might tear at his neck, but it might not be deep enough to really hurt him. It was the might part of the statement that was giving Josuke pause.

It was a risk he would have to take. 

Crazy Diamond manifested fully. With a loud shout, it swept its fist in a powerful uppercut just along Josuke’s neck. The tiny dino squealed and was sent flying into the street. Josuke grunted in pain and clapped a hand to the resulting wound; there was blood but it wasn’t an unstoppable gush like he had been worried about.

Diego turned and stared at him in complete bewilderment. Josuke grinned and held up the eye. “Yo, Dio. Fetch.”

Crazy Diamond hurled the eye as hard as it could in the direction opposite of Gyro and Johnny. It careened off into the darkness beyond the road, disappearing from sight while it was still in the air.

Diego looked at him, then at the full form of Crazy Diamond, and then off towards the trajectory of the eye. His face began to twist with rage and surprise, with flakes of skin cracking away at the corner of his mouth. Josuke wasted no time in spurring his heels into the horse’s sides and running the hell away. He ducked down and stayed as close to the horse as he could as it galloped down the street.

Well, now Diego had a choice to make: go get the eye or go bite Josuke’s head off. Josuke knew that Diego would probably like nothing more than to do the latter, but if he was really dedicated to finding the corpse for himself, then he would go for the eye. Josuke hazarded a glance back. 

Diego was already going as fast as he could in the other direction, chasing after the eye.

Josuke grinned faintly and kept one hand tightly on the reins while he held the other on his neck. He could feel the tiny scrap of optic nerve tucked between his fingers. He didn’t want Diego to realize he had taken a bit of the eye just yet, but there was something else he could use Crazy Diamond on. As the horse cantered down the street he focused on the small autographed photo and held it tightly. “Yo! Johnny! Gyro!” he called out.

Gyro tugged at Valkyrie’s reins and turned to look at him. “Josuke! The hell happened to your neck? Are you okay?”

“You weren’t kidding about being a doctor, right?” Josuke said with a weak grin. “I just got a little dino bite. Might need a stitch or two.” He caught sight of Johnny’s expression and his smile faltered. 

Johnny was caught somewhere between total despair and chilling rage. He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the cut on Josuke’s neck. 

“I couldn’t get the eye,” Josuke said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” Johnny rubbed a hand against his forehead. Gyro shot him a careful glance. “I’m not…” Johnny trailed off and cleared his throat. “We just…” He trailed off again. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

“There’s a creek right east of here,” Gyro replied. “If we ride up for a short while we won’t leave any trail for Diego to follow. But the horses are tired. We need to be careful.”

“I do have some good news,” Josuke insisted. “I don’t have the eye but I do have a piece of it. Is there a safe place we can put it?”

Johnny blinked at him. “What?”

He held up the tiny scrap of the eye. “I cut a piece off. Diego probably won’t notice. We can use it to find him and the other parts, too.” He held up his other hand and Crazy Diamond’s hand followed. “I might also have...oh, there it goes!”

Diego’s wallet came hurtling down the road. It smacked against Josuke’s hand. As he uncurled his fingers, the signed photo slipped inside and rejoined the others on the perforated strip.

“I’m glad that worked,” Josuke said with a weak laugh. “The wallet was light enough that it could be pulled here. Looks like we’ve got… a lot of autographs and a whole four dollars. Though I guess that’s worth more in this time, huh?”

“Next stop, dinner on Dio’s dime,” Gyro said with a laugh. “Just the pick-me-up we need.”

Johnny just looked empty. He took one last look at the blood on Josuke’s neck before urging Slow Dancer down the road.

Josuke quickly healed them both, and once they were a safe distance away, they set up camp. Johnny immediately curled up and fell asleep. Now that the adrenaline had left him and the time-and-space travel jet lag had caught up, Josuke could barely keep his eyes open as Gyro bandaged up his neck. Gyro insisted that he would keep watch and switch off with Johnny later on.

Morning came and Josuke woke up to the smell of coffee. Gyro stirred a pot of espresso and poured in a hefty amount of sugar. “Mornin’,” he said with a nod.

“Mornin’,” Josuke replied.

“You think of what you want to name your horse yet?” Gyro asked.

Josuke blinked in surprise and glanced over towards it. “Oh. Huh. I’m honestly surprised it stayed here.”

“She didn’t have a good reason to leave,” Gyro replied. “Plus, we’re feeding her.”

“How do you name a horse?” Josuke asked as he wiped sleep from his eyes. He poked at his pompadour; it was getting loose but still holding its shape. He would have to bathe at some point and then it would be gone but he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to think about what to name his stolen horse.

“She’s not a thoroughbred, so you could name her just about anything you want,” Gyro replied with a chuckle.

Josuke considered it deeply. The horse seemed to consider him back. “Morioh-cho Radio,” he finally answered.

“Morioh-cho Radio,” Gyro repeated thoughtfully. “How come?”

“It’s a local news show back home,” Josuke replied. “I’d like to hear it again some day, that’s for sure. So that’s the name I’ll give her.”

Gyro stirred the espresso and pulled the pot off the fire. “We lost all of our corpse parts last night,” he stated simply, and Josuke stared at him in shock. “That’s why Johnny won’t be talking much. It’s tearing him up. We’re both glad that you were clever enough to get that bit of the eye, but getting the rest of it back is gonna be a real ordeal.”

Josuke frowned and looked at the ground. “Got it. I won’t bring it up.”

“We’ll be a little late getting to Philadelphia no matter what we do, now,” Gyro said as he poured the espresso into mugs. “I say we stop in a town tonight and have a real dinner. Let’s live it up on Diego’s money.”

Josuke offered a small smile and nodded. “Great.”

Dio didn’t quite control the horse he was on; it was just fortuitous that the horse decided to travel to the river and start heading along the bank upstream without needing much of his input. He couldn’t put much effort into the reins, anyway; he was too busy hunching over the saddle and keeping the umbrella over his head to block as much sunlight as possible.

The river rushed water over broad, smooth stones, the horse clip-clopped over packed-in dirt, and Dio heard faint shouting carried by the wind. He hazarded a glance out from beneath the umbrella.

He could see people in the distance running around on the riverbank. It looked like they were fighting. The sunlight glinted off of something but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He squinted and tried to get a better look.

Two men were down, three other men were circling and moving in on—

Dio felt a flash of panic.

Jolyne? 

What the hell was Jolyne doing here?

He tried to spur the horse forward by jamming his heels into its flank. It begrudgingly began to pick up speed.

Dio had been prepared to let fortune guide him to whatever it was his double wanted him to find. That tended to be how these “surprise, you are now here” events played out, anyway. He had not been prepared for Jolyne to have been thrown into this world, as well.

One man lifted a pistol and fired. A corded string shot out and skidded the bullet along its trajectory, curving it out and away from Jolyne. Jolyne ducked down and dashed forward, diving right at the second man’s knees. More string entangled the third man and he stumbled. Stone Free coalesced and punched the second man in the face.

Jolyne turned and prepared to attack the third man but went wide-eyed with surprise when Dio nearly trampled him. The man managed to roll out of the way just in time as hooves thundered past where he had been lying.

Dio pulled at the reins; the horse didn’t care much for his directions. It circled the fight in a wide arc. The man with the pistol yelled with surprise and fired at him. Dio stopped time. He disentangled his feet from the stirrups and simply threw himself off the horse. He spent the momentum in a roll, threw out one arm to avoid destroying the umbrella, and as time began again he went for the man with the gun in a dead sprint. The man shrieked and Dio pounced.

As the man quickly perished Jolyne squinted over at Dio with suspicion. “You’re helping me?”

“If Jotaro finds out I let you get killed in some knock-off alternate universe he will not allow me to live,” he snarled.

She scowled at him. “Oh, goodie. Super reassuring. Thanks.”

Dio ignored her and moved onto the next man, who shouted and tried to crawl away through the mud. The man Jolyne had been punching managed to scramble to his feet and begin running away.

As Jolyne swung her arm forward, her elbow unraveled and her arm went flying off. Her fist hit the man in the back of the head. “Ha! Zoom punch!” she yelled. The man stumbled and fell to the ground in a heap.

Dio paused in the middle of crushing the other man’s throat to turn and stare at her blankly. “...I beg your pardon?”

“Zoom punch,” she replied nonchalantly. “I just turn my elbow into string and I can send my arm zoomin’ over. Whoa! What the hell are you doing? That guy’s head is off.”

Dio glanced back down and realized his hands had fully separated the man’s throat and his head had rolled off towards the river. He leaned back and wiped his hands off on his coat.

“I mean, thanks for helping, I guess, but I pretty much had this under control,” Jolyne said as she reeled her arm back in. “These guys didn’t even have Stands. It was a total curbstomp. I wasn’t really planning on murder today, I was just gonna teach them a lesson. But uh, here you are.”

“Why are you here?” Dio asked her exasperatedly, but it was directed more rhetorically towards his double than to Jolyne.

Jolyne answered anyway. “The other you brought me here. Duh. Before you go and say ‘I told you so’, yeah, I agree with you now. That guy sucks.” She frowned. “So does the other other version of you that lives in this world.”

He adjusted his umbrella as he stood. “You ran into the other version of me?”

“Yeah. Super unhelpful. Was gonna let me die in a pit.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “He was a bit shorter than you. Otherwise, pretty much looked and talked just like you, though. Oh! And he had a different Stand.”

Dio furrowed his eyebrows. The concept of himself without the World was baffling. “How could I possibly have a different Stand?”

“He stole it from someone else somehow,” she replied with a shrug. “The wildest thing was that you didn’t care about the Joestars like, at all. Like, you knew of them but you didn’t really give a shit.”

Dio looked both confused and disgusted. 

“I know, right? No blood feud body stealing murderfest or anything,” Jolyne added, her tone sharpening. “Probably no vampire parties in Egypt, either. Vampirism doesn’t seem to be a thing, here. The Joestar family probably just ends up having super happy normal lives. Maybe in the future there’s even another me just havin’ a blast.”

Dio narrowed his eyes. “Jolyne, you are fundamentally misunderstanding my stance on your family. There is no blood feud.”

“Well, to me, it sure feels like there is,” she stated. “Pucci might have acted impartial and all ‘oh, sorry Jolyne, you are merely an obstacle on my path to higher things, nothing personal, enjoy dying in the isolation ward’ but I could feel it. He hated me. And he was like that because of you.” She shook her head and sighed. “Look. I’ll shut up about it for now. We need to figure out how to get back to Morioh and I have a lead. We have to find the president, beat his ass, steal some diamonds, and use them to get back.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “I also gotta find lunch. I’m probably hangry.”

Dio approached his horse and started sorting through the stolen supplies. There was a bag of hard biscuits, dried meat, and even a few apples. He tossed the satchel to Jolyne.

She squinted at him. “You’re sharing?”

He shot her a glare. “I don’t need to eat that.”

She frowned but pulled out a biscuit and attempted to chomp into it. She scrunched her eyes shut. “It’s like a damn rock. I gotta dip it in water or something.”

Dio looked over the saddlebags. How had they not packed water? Were the men carrying it on their person instead of on the horse?

Well, they were right beside a river. But this was the late 1800’s. A 2012 immune system certainly wouldn’t be geared towards drinking any old river water.

Oh. A 2012 immune system wouldn’t be geared towards the late 1800’s in general because the 1800’s were an unsanitary death trap. How would he explain things to Jotaro if Jolyne got cholera, malaria, dysentery, tuberculosis, etcetera, and died?

He turned on his heel. Jolyne was already approaching the water. “Don’t drink from the river!” he snapped.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not a total idiot. I’ll boil it first. I just need a pot or something.”

He rummaged through the pack. There was a small, shallow pot. There was also a flint striker. A folded-up newspaper would work to start a fire. He glanced around for branches. Once he had a flammable bundle gathered he turned and saw that Jolyne had already constructed a small pile of wood and was in the middle of spinning a stick until it sparked. Once the flame grew, she plopped a kettle presumably stolen from one of the bandit’s packs atop a metal grate. She pulled a tightly-woven bag of string from the river and wrung it out, squeezing the water into the kettle.

Dio dropped his bundle of sticks to the ground and frowned. He unfolded the newspaper and looked it over. Luckily, the Steel Ball Run was plastered all over the front page, complete with a detailed map of the route. A side column commented on the president’s interest in the race, with him and the First Lady following the progress closely. “You said we need to beat up the president?” he asked.

“Yup,” Jolyne replied. “He has diamonds that let you go between universes safely but it seems like he can just do it on his own with his Stand, too. I guess we gotta go to the White House or whatever to steal the diamonds.”

“He won’t be there,” Dio replied. He traced the route of the race on the newspaper. “The next major checkpoint appears to be Philadelphia. He’ll be going there to watch the race.”

“Philly it is,” Jolyne stated. “Does your atlas still work? That would make things way easier. The other you is after the diamonds, too, and he isn’t the type to share. We need to beat him there.”

Dio brought forth the World and retrieved the travel atlas. He frowned down at the cover. There was an odd piece of stationery stuck to it. He peeled off the post-it note and read it with narrowed eyes.

It’s more about the journey than the destination, don’t you think?

I strongly recommend not using this unless you really would like to spend a full century on a coffin cruise.

- ❤ The better DIO

He crumpled the note and threw it to the ground with a snarl.

“Gonna take that as a no,” Jolyne replied flatly. 

The travel that day was blessedly uninterrupted. Josuke was getting better at handling Morioh-cho Radio, but he was glad that the horse seemed happy to just follow Slow Dancer and Valkyrie. As they passed through a small town, Gyro pointed out a tavern. “Anyone want some dinner? That place looks popular. Let’s go there.”

Johnny didn’t look too enthused, but he guided Slow Dancer over to an open post and slid down from her neck. Once Gyro was done securing Valkyrie, he went over and crouched down so that Johnny could sling an arm over his shoulder. Josuke dismounted and followed them inside.

The food was hot, filling, and cheap. Josuke scarfed down his portion and so did Gyro. Johnny got through about half of his before leaning an elbow onto the table and resting his chin on his palm. “I need a drink,” he stated flatly.

“I bet we all do,” Gyro said with a chuckle. “I gotta go use the good ol’ water closet first, though. This place has actual plumbing. What a novelty.” He slid out of the booth and shouldered past the crowd around the bar. 

Johnny glanced over at the bartender and frowned. “You want anything, Josuke?”

“I mean I’ve tried drinks before but the drinking age where I’m from is twenty,” Josuke said with a nervous laugh. “I can get something for you if you want it, though.”

“My family started me on bourbon when I was like, twelve,” Johnny replied. “Go on up and get something if you want. I’m still thinking about what I’ll get.”

Josuke paused, looked at the impassive and perhaps unimpressed look on Johnny’s face, and then nodded and stood. He went up to the bar, caught the eye of the bartender, and asked for a beer. He did not specify what kind. The bartender seemed to sense his distress and chose a simple lager. He pushed Josuke the glass; Josuke slid over some of the change from their meal in return. He leaned against the counter, sighed, and then took a sip.

It tasted awful. He frowned at it. He could only be peer pressured by his not-quite-great-grandpa so far. 

He wished that Johnny wasn’t so hard to read. Was he mad that Josuke hadn’t managed to get the eye from Diego? Or was he just especially cold today because of the loss of the corpse parts? Or was he just that prickly towards everyone all the time (with the exception of Gyro, but even then the two mostly communicated in complicated jokes and insults)?

A man jostled at his shoulder. “Hey, kid. If you’re done ordering, make some space for the rest of us.”

“Sorry.” Josuke took a step away from the bar, but then stepped back up. “Hey. I decided I don’t really like this. Do you want it?” he asked the man.

The man gave him a deeply dubious look. “What, you piss in it or something?”

His eyebrows shot up. “What? No. I just don’t like it and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“Bullshit. You trying something? You trying to trick me?”

“No,” Josuke replied. He picked up the glass. “Sorry. I’ll just take it and go.”

The man was perplexed and quickly veering towards anger. “What?”

“It seems like you want a fight,” Josuke replied. “I don’t want one.”

“Oh, you know what I want, huh?” the man said, now bristling with anger. Josuke could smell the alcohol on him; he probably wasn’t thinking clearly and he seemed to be a confrontational person in the first place. He would have tried to pick a fight whether or not Josuke had offered him the beer, but now was not the time to get into a bar brawl. Better to deescalate. Josuke shook his head and backed away.

“You a coward? What, you won’t even throw one good punch like a man? Come on,” the man continued, his tone goading. “I’m asking nicely. You tried to pull a fast one on me and I caught it. I should be able to punch you at least once.”

Josuke shrugged. “Okay. One punch. Go ahead, if that’ll make you feel better.”

The man blinked at him, but then his expression contorted with anger. “The fuck… what’s wrong with you?”

Josuke glanced back over his shoulder; Johnny was watching the exchange with an expression that was, as always, hard to read. It didn’t seem like he would be helping Josuke any time soon. 

“Maybe I want more than one punch,” the man insisted. “Maybe you gotta learn your lesson the hard way.”

“There’s no lesson to be learned,” Josuke replied. “I apologize sincerely for the misunderstanding.” He gave a small bow. “Please accept my apology.”

The man grabbed him by the hair and wrenched him to the side. Josuke stumbled but caught his balance. He went very still.

“People like you make me sick,” the man said. “Pretendin’ to be all nice and shit. Pathetic. That’s why I’m gonna hghhgt.” He let out a choked sound as Josuke launched forward and grabbed him by the throat.

Johnny’s eyes widened and he sat up in his seat.

The man struggled, his hands digging into Josuke’s shoulders, and he managed to take them both stumbling away from the bar. He drove a fist into Josuke’s side but it was as if Josuke didn’t even feel it. Crazy Diamond manifested, its arms hovering closely over Josuke’s; Johnny realized that the man could not see the Stand at all.

Josuke drove a fist into the man’s face; the man returned the blow but Josuke completely ignored it. Josuke kneed the man in the gut and the man fell to the floor. Josuke began to punch him over and over, with Crazy Diamond mirroring his movements. People began to shout and back away from the scene. The bartender reached under the counter.

Johnny pulled at the edge of the table and slid out of the booth. He shoved people out of the way by their knees as he tried to get to Josuke. “Move. Fucking move! Paraplegic coming through.”

“Stop that or take it outside. This is your first warning,” the bartender called out.

Josuke didn’t respond at all; Johnny wondered if he had even heard him. He was punching the man over and over and Johnny noticed something odd; part of the man had melded into the floorboards. He struggled in a wild panic as his back refused to move from the ground.

Johnny pulled himself over to Josuke’s side. “Hey. Josuke. Let’s just go outside.” Josuke was still completely unresponsive. He drove a fist into the man’s face.

“Second warning,” the bartender shouted. “You won’t get a third.”

Where the hell was Gyro? Probably taking his sweet time in the first real bathroom they had seen in weeks. Johnny frowned and put his hands on Josuke’s shoulders. Josuke was strong, but Johnny was in a spot where he had leverage; he wrapped an arm around his neck in a loose chokehold, avoided the bandaging over the dino-bite cut, and pulled back. Josuke wheezed.

“Can you hear me yet? We have to go outside,” Johnny stated. “I’ll drag you out there if I have to. But I would very much prefer not to. Calm down.”

Josuke grabbed at his wrist and tried to wrench his arm from his neck; Johnny did not release his hold. “I’ll go outside,” Josuke choked out.

Johnny lowered his arm. Josuke staggered to his feet and practically sprinted out of the bar. Johnny began to crawl out after him, but he glared back at the wary crowd. “Show’s over. If you see a guy with a big dumb hat, tell him we’re outside waiting.”

He pushed the door open and pulled himself out onto the stoop; Josuke was crouched on the ground with his fingers running through his now-unruly hair. Johnny leaned back, unsure of what to say. “What the fuck was that?” he finally settled on asking. “I was hoping you would defend yourself but you completely lost your damn mind in there.”

“He messed up my hair,” Josuke said weakly.

Johnny stared at him. “That’s why you’re mad?”

Josuke sniffed and said nothing.

Johnny peered at him and furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re crying?”

“It’s not just my hair,” Josuke said quickly. “I’m stuck here and all my friends are at home and so is my mom. If time is passing there while I’m here then I’m not there to protect them—”

Johnny grit his teeth. “Hold on—”

“And the other Dio said that me being here would be funny and I know that guy has just an awful sense of humor so the funny thing is probably that I’m stuck here while they’re all there and Jotaro almost died the last time he fought the serial killer and so did Koichi. So if I’m not there to heal them there isn’t anyone—”

Johnny winced and felt a sympathetic tightening in his throat that surprised him. “Josuke—just take a deep breath, go through one thing at a time.”

“So maybe if I had done something differently I would still be there and not here, and I would be able to keep them safe, and my hair, my stupid hair is because someone kept me safe and I wanted to hold on to that for as long as I could because I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know how to get back!” Josuke yelled, his voice escalating with both fear and anger.

“Breathe, man,” Johnny insisted. He crawled over to Josuke and sat at his side. “Just breathe for a minute.”

Josuke stopped pulling his fingers through his hair and pressed his face against his palms. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again. His shoulders shook from the residual adrenaline, but eventually, the pattern of his breathing grew steady. “And everything yesterday, too,” he added shakily. “I’m sorry you lost the corpse parts. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more than what I did.”

Johnny hesitated for a moment, but then reached out to put a reassuring hand on Josuke’s shoulder. Something zapped his finger and he drew back. “Ouch. Shit. I’m probably covered in static from crawling past all those people. But here,” he said, and he reached up to pull off his star-emblazoned knit cap. He lifted it and his hat hair was spectacularly awful; some was pressed flat against his head while other stray ends floated up with static. He placed it over his hands, stretched it out, and then pulled it over Josuke’s head. Josuke went very still; Johnny fiddled with the hat until the horseshoe was centered and then he tucked a few of Josuke’s stray hairs up and under the brim.

“There,” Johnny said. “No one will know that it got messed up.”

“You’re giving me your hat?” Josuke asked.

“Well, you can borrow it, at least,” Johnny replied. His expression grew more thoughtful. “It just… it felt like something Gyro would do. So. There you go.” He frowned and looked down at the ground. “And… Don’t say sorry. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Gyro’s more of a goddamn saint than the corpse ever was for sticking with me this long. But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I never thought I would ever say this, but I expected too much of Diego. I thought he wouldn’t risk hurting you. So, to see you show back up with a goddamn gouge in your neck… I hated myself a lot in that moment. If I would’ve lost the corpse parts and gotten you killed all in one night I’d really be an irredeemable fuck up.” 

“And when it comes to your world…” Johnny sighed and ran a hand across his forehead. “I don’t know what to think about this whole weird family tree across worlds thing happening. To tell you the truth, hearing you talk about it bummed me the hell out because I never risked putting thought into… into having a family and all that shit. And seeing you is like…” He huffed out an empty laugh. “I wish I would’ve been more like you when I was younger. My life would’ve been a hell of a lot better if that were the case. So yeah, I’d say I’m jealous. I’m jealous that you have a real life to get back to. And we are going to find a way to get you back,” he stated decisively. “Hell if I know how. But we will.”

The door flew open and Gyro strolled out. “What the hell happened in there? Some guy is part floorboard now.”

“Josuke happened,” Johnny replied.

“Whaaat?” Gyro said as he crouched down beside them. “Josuke did that? And he thinks we’re the scary ones?”

Josuke nodded, swept his forearm across his face, and let out a strained laugh.

“Well damn, I want in on the commemorative hat sharing for baby’s first bar fight,” Gyro said. He pulled off his wide-brimmed hat and plopped it atop of Johnny’s knit one. 

Josuke’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “I know I just got done complaining about being here,” he said, “but I’m really, really happy that I got the chance to meet you guys.” He rubbed a sleeve against his eyes. “Sorry I’m getting all sappy about it.”

“Oh, don’t apologize for that. We get all weepy all the time,” Gyro insisted. “Right, Johnny?”

Johnny sniffed and nodded stoically as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “Yup.”

Josuke pointed at him and gave a tearful smile. “Ah! You’re crying?”

“Yup,” Johnny repeated with a sniff.

Gyro squeezed between them and threw an arm over each of their shoulders. “Let’s go keep up the waterworks on the horses. Don’t think we’re too welcome in this town anymore.”

Johnny nodded and Gyro lifted him up. “I’m not gonna make you drink to it,” Johnny said with a faint grin to Josuke, “but how about another toast to the next part and to the goal?”

Gyro chuckled. “We sure did lose just about everything again. But we’re all alive and we know where to go. I second the toast.”

As they returned to their horses, Gyro retrieved his water flask and held it up. He grinned and took a swig. Once Johnny was up on Slow Dancer, he copied the gesture. Josuke clambered up onto his horse, retrieved a flask of water, and took a sip. “To the next part and to the goal, right?” he asked.

Gyro nodded. “To the next part and to the goal.”

Chapter Text

Thankfully, the settlement was just a few minutes up the river. Jolyne took the stubborn horse by the reins and walked it while Dio huddled under the umbrella and scowled.

The bandits had some cash on them, likely taken from whatever poor Stand-less race fans had traversed up the riverbank before. Jolyne sorted through the twice-stolen money before shoving it into her pocket. “You know old-timey prices, right? How much is a carriage?”

Dio flipped through some incredibly vague recollections of what the US dollar was worth compared to the pound in the 1880s and did some mental math. “To own a small one for yourself, not including the horses to drive it? Fifty dollars.”

“We have fifteen,” Jolyne replied. “But we can’t expect to get anywhere fast with just one horse. How much would another one cost?”

“Depends on the horse,” he replied. “Certainly more than fifteen dollars. But why bother with buying it? I have the World. We can easily steal anything we need.”

“I guess,” she huffed. “But I was going to use buying stuff as a chance to talk to someone and get more details on like, where we are, the best way to get to Philly, stuff like that. How about I use this money on some basics and you can go wrangle the transportation?”

He frowned. Dio honestly didn’t want to let Jolyne out of his sight. He had an uneasy feeling that his double would engineer something stupid and harmful to happen to her if he did, like a Stand attack or a stampede or cholera. He had decided to approach his double’s challenges with a Murphy’s Law mindset: if it could go wrong, it would go wrong, and he needed to be prepared. “We will shop and then we will steal a horse,” he stated.

“Alrighty,” she replied.

The settlement seemed subdued; Jolyne wondered if most of the racers had already passed through. She spotted a general store, quickly guided the horse over to a post, and ducked inside. Dio paused beneath the awning to flip the umbrella shut before following.

Jolyne looked around the store and pursed her lips. “Looks like clothes, food, horse stuff, and... oh!” She dashed up to the counter and looked at a candy display. “Lancaster Caramel Company by Mr. Milton Hershey… Oh, Hershey’s!” she exclaimed as she pointed at the candy selection. “I know that!”

The shopkeep nodded. “That’s a new local specialty.”

She blinked in confusion but then the realization hit her. “Oh, yeah. We’re in Pennsylvania, huh.” She glanced over the selection again and frowned. “Where’s the chocolate stuff, though?”

“Chocolate?” The shopkeep tilted his head. “As far as I know, they only make caramels.”

Jolyne slumped against the counter. “Aw.”

“I do have chocolate available, though,” he replied as he pointed to another rack.

“Alright! Let’s do one of those bars, two of the ration packs, and one of the sleeping bag things,” she said, pointing out the objects as she went. She looked at a shelf and noticed a few rolled-up printed maps. She glanced back at Dio. “Can you still use your atlas like a normal atlas or is that off-limits, too?”

He crossed his arms, frowned, and let out an uneasy hrm. Jolyne turned back to the shopkeep. “And one map, please. Could you tell me the best way to get to Philadelphia?”

The shopkeep nodded, flattened a map out on the counter, and began to outline the route. Once he was done, Jolyne nodded thankfully, and the shopkeep started adding up the total.

“Buy a coat,” Dio interjected. “You’re going to get hypothermia.”

“We’ve had a warm spell lately, but it is winter,” the shopkeep said with a nod.

She flipped through a few sheepskin coats on a shelf. “Alright, alright. How about one of these? Looks fluffy inside.”

The shopkeep added it to the total. “For all this, fifteen fifty,” he stated.

Jolyne pouted and put the chocolate bar back on the rack.

“Fifteen flat,” the shopkeep said. Jolyne pushed the money over. She shrugged on her new coat, gathered up the goods, and went over towards the door. She shoved the door open with her shoulder and walked out to the street. “Alright. Now we just gotta find… huh?” She glanced up and down the road; everyone was stock-still. A few more seconds passed and they then abruptly returned to movement.

She shifted her grip on the supplies, looked at the butterfly sticker still on her hand, and then turned back towards the store. As Dio came out and flipped his umbrella open, she frowned at him. “What’d you stop time for?”

“Petty theft,” he replied as he walked onto the street and shoved a handful of items into his pocket. “Let’s go heist a horse.”

Jolyne focused on keeping her balance on the stolen horse as she peered down at the map. Philadelphia seemed to be about a day and a half away. It would be pretty difficult to catch up to Diego, who had a significant head start, but Hot Pants had said that he was being hunted down. If he had to stop to fight people off, they might have a chance at surpassing him.

She folded the map and shoved it into the saddlebag. “So, when did you get here?”

“I’ve only been here for a few hours,” Dio replied. He frowned. “When did you get here?”

“Like a day and a half ago, now,” she said with a shrug. “I got teleported into an old barn, got bit by a dinosaur, ran into the other you, got stuck in a Stand death pit, was abandoned by the other you, slept in a tree, ran into another racer who was at least nice, did some paragliding over a giant strip mine, got left behind by the racer guy, ran into a person that wasn’t in the race but knew all about it, hunted down another dinosaur, got left behind by that person, then got attacked by bandits and now here we are.” She squinted at Dio, who was staring at her with his eyes narrowed. “What’s that look for?”

Dio squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Do you find it fun to throw yourself into dangerous situations or is it purely coincidental?”

She shrugged. “Listen, shit just happens to me. I’ve learned to deal with it. What all has happened to you here so far?”

“I ate lunch, obtained a new coat, and now it seems that I am forced to babysit Kujoh’s brat lest an anvil decides to fall on her head,” he replied flatly.

Jolyne snorted and shook her head. “Right.” She paused. “Lunch?”

“It could be considered self-defense, if you must know,” he replied. “They did shoot me.”

She squinted. “Uh-huh.”

The ride continued on in silence for a long while. Jolyne frowned at the horizon. “You think that your double is listening to like, everything? When he brought me here he repeated something that I said to Giorno in private.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dio replied, but then he glanced at her sidelong. “Wait, what did you say to Giorno?”

“None of your business. The real question is should we like, just yell at the sky or something to get his attention if we need to?” Before Dio could respond, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. “Yo! Super Dio! Are you listening?”

“Stop that,” Dio hissed. “You’re going to bring attention to yourself by being loud.”

She blinked up at the sky. “Nothing? Not even a lightning strike or anything cool like that? Dang.”

“He won’t make himself known until the worst possible moment,” Dio stated. “That seems to be his style.”

“Your style, you mean."

“I suppose,” Dio begrudgingly grumbled.

The horses trotted onwards for a long while longer. The sun began to set.

“I know parts of Pennsylvania can be pretty in the fall,” Jolyne said as she looked over the landscape. “Winter just looks kinda gross, though.” 

Dio made a noncommittal hm.

“I’m bored,” Jolyne stated with a huff.

Dio ignored her.

She glanced over at Dio. “Hey. I’m gonna annoy you with some questions.”

“Oh, you’re only just starting now?” he replied.

She shrugged. “I think I have every right to do so. You’ve annoyed the shit out of my family for over a century.”

He scowled. “How many times must I explain to you that my intent was not to cause harm to Holly?”

“Intent, schmintent. Can’t you get that what you did had consequences whether you wanted it to or not? Like, Grandma Holly ended up fine, but it’s your fault that Jotaro—” She cut herself off and frowned.

“Oh, I see,” Dio said, his tone venomous. “You blame me for your father’s absenteeism.”

“Sure. I mean, they were your Stand arrows and stuff that caused a bunch of problems, right? And it’s your fault that Pucci pulled his stunt in Florida. So yeah. I think I can blame you.”

“If that’s what makes you feel better about it,” he replied all-too-lightly.

Jolyne narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to figure out what kind of person you are."

He sighed. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s pretty simple. Are you the type of person that can keep living in our world? I mean, as a vampire, you already have that against you. But as just you? How dangerous are you to me and the people I care about? Beyond that, how dangerous are you to people I don’t know or care about but have the responsibility to protect anyway? You’ve been playing nice now because you want help getting rid of your double. But what will you do after that? That’s what I’m worried about, and that’s why I have to make that call.”

“So you fancy yourself my judge, jury, and executioner,” he replied flatly.

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s not like I’ve totally written you off already. Even though I feel like maybe I should. That’s why I want to ask you questions.”

“I feel as if I should have a lawyer present,” he replied. “I’m a bit out of practice, but I suppose I can represent myself.”

“First question. Why did you help Hermes?” Jolyne asked.

“There was no disadvantage to doing so, but many to not doing so,” he replied. 

She nodded. “That’s what I figured.”

“Do I lose points for not giving a saccharine answer such as ‘oh, but I simply had to save a human life, given the chance’?” he asked dryly.

“There’s no points,” she answered. “Next question. Hermes said that Okuyasu said that you actually tried to help his dad. How true is that?”

“True,” he replied. “There is merely no guarantee that it will actually work. But if the act offered some slight hope to Okuyasu, then would it not be considered good?”

“Do you actually respect Okuyasu or was that a joke?”

“I do,” he said with a frown. “I respect him.”

“Right,” she replied. “Just like how you totally respect Jotaro.”

“Much like you, Jotaro is annoying. But it isn’t as if I think he’s an idiot. He is smart and more than capable in a fight. But he is a Joestar. Fate is on his side. He does not lose. That is the most important thing about him.” 

Jolyne scowled at him. “What’s with you just falling back on the whole Joestar thing? Jotaro beat you in Cairo because he pushed himself really goddamn hard.”

“Do you want me to say that your father won fair and square?” Dio asked. “Is that what you’re looking for? Because I cannot say that and have it be true. Tell me, Jolyne, when is the last time you lost a fight? I don’t doubt that you have fought ‘really goddamn hard’, but surely you must be aware that at the most decisive moments, the moments where the outcome seems to be entirely left to chance, you are the one that fate decides to favor.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Next question. What was Jonathan like?”

He tensed. The horses trotted on in silence for a short while. “That was an abrupt shift in topic,” he finally replied.

“I’ve just been thinking about it,” she said with a shrug. “There’s another version of him here somewhere. The other you acted a lot like you, so he probably acts a lot like him, too. And it was the other you that said Jonathan and I were alike. So did Zeppeli.”

Zeppeli? That detail could wait for another time. “Then the Jonathan Joestar here must be quite different,” he said with a sneer. “You’re nothing like him. None of your family is.”

Jolyne tilted her head. “Touchy topic. Got it. But I’m gonna keep poking. Why do you say that?”

He glowered at her. “He was more than any of you.”

“What, stronger?”

“Just more.”

“Oh, so you like really respected him,” she replied. “Then why kill him?”

He hissed out a sigh. “I’ve already explained this to you.”

“No, you just glossed over it so that you could move on to grossing out your kids,” she retorted. “I get that you needed a body. But why him specifically?”

“It was strategic. He was in peak physical form. That strength only increased under my vampiric influence. It was advantageous to my survival.”

She squinted at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I was at the absolute peak of my power when I possessed his body,” Dio said as he scowled. “What answer are you looking for, exactly? Do you want the truth or do you want to fulfill some narrative in your head?”

Jolyne was silent. Dio knew that she expected him to just keep talking; it was a fairly obvious technique. Anger prickled up his neck and he ground his teeth.

“Perhaps that is one thing you two have in common,” he finally said. “Playing at being the arbiter of good over evil. If he had known that I had lived, he would have never known rest. He would not have allowed my ‘evil’ existence to continue. We could not exist in the same world. So, in the interest of survival, I killed him. I even tried to do it painlessly, but he was stubborn to the very end.” 

She was still silent. Dio watched her carefully.

“Wasn’t he going to America?” Jolyne asked. “You could have like, laid low back in Europe and stolen the body of a random bodybuilder if you really needed that. Years don’t mean much to you as a vampire, right? Coulda just let him have a normal life if you were like, just a little bit patient. Just wait for him to die of old age then do whatever evil vampire stuff you wanted.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

She shrugged. “If your whole thing was really just trying to survive, that’s what you would have done. Not risk everything by trying to fight him again as just a head.” She pursed her lips and peered at her horse. “Here’s an easy question. When should we make camp? Just whenever the horses get tired?”

“We will travel until it gets too dark,” he stated tersely. “We can’t risk the horses injuring themselves.”

“Another softball question,” Jolyne said with a faint grin. “What was up with the cowboy guy?”

He blinked. “What, Hol?”

“Yeah, that guy.”

“He may or may not actually be a cowboy,” he replied carefully. “Pity he didn’t stick around for this endeavor. I would have found out if he had been lying.”

Jolyne fell silent again, but it seemed like her questioning was put on pause. Dio focused on the horse and tried to force away the residual anger and annoyance keeping him tense.

They pressed on past dusk for a short while, but the horses were growing obviously fatigued. They found a spot to make camp. Jolyne did her trick with the string and a stick, and a fire quickly flared into being. She sorted through the ration pack and the supplies stolen from the bandits. “I do have more questions,” she said as she crunched into a biscuit. 

Dio rolled his eyes. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose."

“You might actually like answering these ones,” she said with a shrug. “It’s more about stuff I overheard in Florida.”

“About Pucci, then.”

“Yeah.” She stared into the fire for a while as she sorted through her thoughts. “What’s up with the Heaven thing?”

He took a deep breath. “So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, farewell remorse: all good to me is lost,” Dio recited. “Evil be thou my good. By thee at least divided empire with heaven’s king I hold. By thee and more than half perhaps will reign; as man ere long, and this new world shall know.”

Jolyne only gave him a look of annoyed exhaustion.

He sighed. “It’s from Paradise Lost.” Discussing this sort of thing was so much easier with Pucci. “Satan is cast out of heaven and resolves to divide up God’s kingdom. He explains how he is able to do so without remorse. It’s his pride that gives him the strength to say that evil is now his good.”

“Okay,” Jolyne replied in a tone that clearly said what the hell.

“If there is no room in heaven for the sinful of humanity, then why not surpass humanity’s limits and claim heaven for myself? Why resign myself to being meek and powerless for the promise of a later paradise? As I said to you before: All life requires exploitation. Even plants will wage warfare upon each other beneath the soil. To live is to take, and to take is to sin. To try and act against that rule by giving is suicide.” He tilted his head and watched her closely. “Pucci and I both agreed that all of humanity could be furthered by finding a way to create a new heaven where even the most bloodstained sinner could find peace of mind. It would result in a world where everyone was perfectly equipped to face their fate.”

Jolyne's eyebrow quirked.

His tone sharpened. “Goodness, Jolyne. I don’t talk about this with just anyone. Do you not agree with me? I’ll explain it further, if you’d like. I’m doing you the kindness of answering your inane questions just so you can judge me for my answers. I’m even opening up to you, if that’s the stupidly human thing you’re looking for.”

“You’re not opening up to me, you just want me to tell you that you’re right,” she retorted.

He crossed his arms and his lip curled in a sneer.

She rolled her eyes. “Change in topic. The gravity thing, then. Is that just what you call fate?”

“They may be the same,” he replied, but annoyance still tugged at his tone. “Gravity, fate, blood. Forces that push and pull towards an outcome. Reaching heaven would also bestow the power to control fate and put an end to predetermined defeat.”

“Blood, then,” she said with a frown. “If what you’ve done to my family is really just an unfortunate side effect of you doing you with no malicious intent at all, then why are you so neurotic about Giorno and his brothers being sorta-Joestars?”

He squinted. “I’m not neurotic about it.”

Jolyne rested her chin on her palm and chewed at the biscuit. “So you’re mean to them just for funsies?”

“I have never intended to parent and I am not about to start now,” Dio spat. “They are fully capable adults, anyway. And they have not yet earned my respect. Even so, I think I’ve been incredibly generous. Are they not alive? Are they not now safe? What more is there for me to do?”

“What were your parents like?” Jolyne asked. As his expression shifted towards a dangerous anger, she merely shrugged. “I mean, I know you killed your dad. Maybe he totally deserved it, I don’t know. But what about your mom? Something the version of you in this world said was interesting to me. He told me she was delightful.”

Dio let out a low sound of annoyance and dragged his fingers against his temple.

“I mean, forget heaven and fate and all that. You want to figure out what shaped a person, you ask about the family,” Jolyne continued. “You really want to try opening up in a real way? Tell me about that.”

“I can’t even get drunk this time,” he complained to himself. Jolyne squinted at him in confusion.

He forced himself to push back the anger and replace it with cold impartiality. “Fine. I’ll explain it to you.” He crossed his arms and stared blankly into the crackling brightness of the firelight. “My father was a drunken idiot with no sense of self-control. My mother was foolishly kind, and she enabled him all while praying for the day he would see the error of his ways. He took from her, but she gave willingly. She gave and gave and gave until it killed her. She wanted me to be just like her. To give away food when we were starving. To pray and hope but do nothing. To be kind even if it killed me. That was the true cruelty. I couldn’t care less about the way my father treated me. At least he expected me to find my own way to survive.”

Jolyne only watched him in silence, so he continued. “When she died, I understood what the world would and would not allow. There was no space for someone like her to exist. As a human, you must exploit and be exploited. Too much of one or the other and you will be killed. My father took carelessly. That is why I killed him. Not merely because I hated him, but because the world had no space for someone like him, either. But it was on his deathbed where he had to take from me once more. There could have been some satisfaction in killing him, but there was not, because for the first time in his life, he gave me something: an invitation to live at the Joestar manor. Of course, he saved such a thing for the last moments in which he realized he would not be around to use me any longer. But it was still his final act. He gave, he finally did right by my mother’s prayers, and I killed him.” 

He tilted his head and spoke mockingly. “And then I am swept up into the coddled, quiet world of the Joestar mansion. Here are people that are just as endlessly kind as my mother no matter my transgressions, and yet they are allowed to exist. There is no room for my mother, but space is made for them. At first, I believed it was merely because they had money. But even if I was to succeed in taking that, they would have been the same.” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought that as inheritors, they were takers, too. But perhaps I was wrong. They were givers, but they were allowed to be. I took everything from Jonathan, and yet he remained the same. Kind. Giving. Self-sacrificing. And a survivor, until I finally broke the system and became something more than human. With that, I could truly take his space for myself. I could survive, too. So, I took the last thing I possibly could. A Joestar body had a Joestar fate and blood and space to live in. I am not saying that this was the right or wrong thing to do. Of course, you will judge it to be an evil act, but I am merely saying that this is what I did.” 

His tone was acerbic, near seething. “But even with that, I could not live. Poor helpless Holly, so kind and gentle that her own Stand would have killed her if she was anyone but a loved and defended Joestar, is allowed to live in this world and I am not. Her kindness is allowed. My mother’s is not. At least in death I was proven right.” He glared at Jolyne. “You can deny your bloodline all you want. You can cry and fight against it. But it is true. You are special. You have inherited a space. You are allowed to be kind. Others are not.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped as she glared back at him. 

His tone was dangerously cold. “It is the truth. It is reality.”

She rubbed at her eyes with her wrist and shook her head. “Listen. I’m sorry that things were like that for you—”

“I do not want your pity,” he hissed.

“Shut up and just let me fucking talk for a minute,” she retorted. “It sucks. It really does. No one should have to go through that. But you’ve built your whole worldview around it and all it did was cause more pain to other people.”

“But I am right,” he said. “I will never have what you have. Even I cannot manage to take it for myself. Fate has never sided with me. You have to recognize that I am correct.”

“You’re not!” she shouted. “No one is stopping you from being kind to others! And your mother had to be really strong to stick to her ideals for as long as she did! That’s what was special! So no, it’s not fair that she died! And I know that maybe that’s what you want, deep down,” she said, her voice shaking. “For the world to actually be fair. For it all to at least have a reason. For fate to exist. But maybe things just happen. Life just fucking sucks most of the time. But you have to try to make the best of it for yourself and for the people around you because otherwise, what’s the point?”

He glowered at her, his expression cold and harsh. “You are a Joestar through and through,” he stated. “Careless. You will never understand the power you have inherited.” 

“There is no power!” she exclaimed. “I’m just me!”

He stood. Jolyne’s angry expression faltered. “Where are you going?”

He did not respond as he began walking away. The darkness beyond the firelight did not hinder him.

“Wait,” she called out. He ignored her.

Jolyne stood and peered out into the darkness. The brightness of the flames seemed to only cast it further into shadow. She went to the edge of the light and crossed her arms tightly. “I think, maybe, you’re a little right,” she said quickly. “There has to be something for our lives to have been this weird.” She took a few steps forward, then blinked and tried to adjust to the darkness. 

“And… the whole reason we’re here is because you want to change fate or something. That’s what your double said. So it must be real.” She paused and listened closely; she couldn’t even hear footsteps. She didn’t know if that was because he had stopped walking or merely because vampires were naturally stealthy. 

“I mean, that’s why you became a vampire, right? You wanted to rise above it all. To break out of the way the world works. Maybe now you’ll really be able to do it.” She took another step forward. She heard nothing but the distant crackle of the fire and wind through the trees. “We still… we still need to find the way back to Morioh and everyone else. And we have to get rid of your double. Right?”

There was no response. She spoke through the tightness in her throat. “Don’t leave.”

He walked, his fingers flexing, the urge to break something pulling at his thoughts, an aimless rage tearing at the back of his throat.

“I was wondering how long it would take,” his double stated. “You have no reason to care for Jolyne’s safety. Going off and doing this on your own would be so much easier.”

Dio turned on his heel and stared at him. He felt the itch to tear into something. His double merely watched him impassively. “I’m not—I’m simply walking. Calming myself, for once. I can’t leave. The whole point of my stay in Cairo was to show me that I could not defeat Jotaro, correct?” Dio hissed. “So yes, I do have a reason.”

His double tilted his head and smiled with faint amusement. “You haven’t noticed it yet? Jotaro has hit you four times now. Nothing about Star Platinum seems different to you?” His grin widened. “You’ve both grown soft. Jotaro has barely used Star Platinum since Cairo. He’s still quite powerful, but his control over the stopped time has deteriorated greatly. You may be in an inferior body right now, but if you put a little effort in for once, you would defeat him easily. You have no reason to fear him.”

Dio watched his double carefully, his eyebrows furrowed, his teeth bared.

His double laughed. “You’re still worried? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of Jolyne. She may be a mini-Jotaro to you, but trust me, she cannot access the stopped time on her own. She might have the right combination of stupidity and bravado to dare to threaten you, but surely you know that they are empty words. If you leave her behind, she will not be able to follow.”

His incisors dug into his lip. His double leaned forward and watched him curiously. “What is it, then? Are you getting sentimental over some cheap and distant imitation of the dear Jojo you knew? Or is it that you need her for that plan you’ve been working on? Oh, right,” he said, and he tapped a finger to his temple. “I had nearly forgotten. I brought you here to show you how difficult it is to change fate without my blessing. You’re to save this Jonathan Joestar before you move on to the one you knew. But have you even considered the fact that you have changed Jolyne’s fate by bringing her along, as well? You will deal with the consequences of that when I want you to.” 

His double waved a hand dramatically and spoke as if giving a lecture. “They may have fate on their side, but it comes at a cost. Joestars live short but brilliant lives, like a shooting star brightening the sky for a brief yet shining moment. That is their fate, and their role in the world. Did you really think you would be able to change that? ”

“That isn’t true,” Dio snapped, a realization bolting through him like lightning. “Joseph is old.”

His double crossed his arms. “I suppose you’re right,” he eventually admitted. “He’s the odd one out, isn’t he? Persistently clinging to survival like some sort of cockroach. But you may find that he is the exception that proves the rule.”

He disappeared. Dio felt a flash of panic and he scanned his surroundings. He had walked far enough that he could no longer see the campfire, but he had been sure to travel in a straight line. He began to run.

Jolyne was sitting close to the fire with her knees drawn close to her chest. She stared into the flames until the pain of it forced her to blink.

Something hit her face. She spluttered and leaned back. A chocolate bar tumbled to the ground.

“An affinity for chocolate seems to run in the family, as well,” Dio stated as he took a seat.

She stared at him. “You didn’t leave."

“We still have to beat up the president,” he replied, his tone sardonic. 

The fire crackled.

“The reason we were brought here,” Dio said, “is because I want to go back and save Jonathan Joestar from his fate.”

Jolyne blinked. “You couldn’t have brought that up a bit earlier?” she finally asked.

“I feared that you would accuse me of just wanting to steal his body again,” he replied with a sigh.

She snorted, then picked up the chocolate bar and peered at the wrapping. “I guess that’s fair.”

The wind whistled faintly through the trees.

“The Jonathan Joestar of this world is fated to die, as well,” he continued. “We’re meant to try to save him.”

“Two goals, then,” she replied. “Save this Jonathan, and find the diamonds so we can get back when we’re done.”

Dio nodded.

She tore the wrapper open and took a bite. She pulled a face. “More bitter than I’m used to. But not bad.” As she chewed her expression grew more pensive. “I think we can do this.”

He made a short huff of amusement. “You think?”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Fuck fate. Let’s win this and rub it in your double’s smug-ass face.”

He couldn’t help but smirk. “Agreed.”

Jolyne grinned and returned to staring at the fire. The flames sent bright embers floating up into the night, where they soon faded into the inky dark, brilliant but brief.

Chapter Text

Diego picked at the last bloodied remains of a rabbit before tossing it aside. He watched with mild amusement as a few small dinosaurs began to tear into the leftover skin and bones. He glanced up and his expression fell flat. “That’s a good distance to keep.”

Hot Pants sat upon their horse and watched from several meters away as one dino claimed a rib for itself and scurried off with it. “I’m not working for Valentine,” they stated.

“I’m aware,” Diego replied. “But your motivations are still quite an enigma. What are you bothering me for?”

Hot Pants paused for long enough that Diego began to grow suspicious. A few of the dinos quit their squabbling and peered up at Hot Pants, their eyes glinting in the dark.

“You owe me soup,” Hot Pants finally replied.

Diego squinted. “Pardon?”

“I was looking forward to that soup. Creating and releasing dinosaurs indiscriminately in the hopes that they will slow your pursuers is very careless of you.”

“Well, it seems like it has been working,” he said with a frown. “I haven’t seen any sign of Valentine’s eleven assassins in quite some time.”

“You’re trying to take something from Valentine, correct?” Hot Pants asked.

Diego tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “How much do you know about it?”

“Enough,” they replied as they began to dismount their horse. A few of the dinosaurs hissed warily but Diego held up a hand and they fell silent. “I know that he can make things disappear, and that the diamonds seem to help him do so,” Hot Pants continued. “And this country is suffering because of it.”

“Aren’t you Italian?” Diego asked.

“Vatican,” they replied. “And you’re British. And yet, here we are.” When they looked at Diego again, it was oddly piercing. “You’re familiar with hunger.”

“I’m going to assume that you’re talking about something beyond food,” he replied carefully.

Hot Pants nodded once. “When Valentine finishes taking all he can from here, I see no reason for him to refrain from moving on to other nations. Do you?”

Diego rested his chin upon his palm. “I’ve considered that, yes.”

“Then you understand my motivation. I intend to prevent that from happening. By force.”

“Oh? Are you going to kill the president?” Diego asked with a half-smile. “Even I was saving that as a last resort.”

“Then what is your first resort?” Hot Pants asked.

He sighed. “I still don’t fully understand how his ability works. And the way the diamonds truly function is a closely guarded secret. I need him alive, if only for a brief time, in order to figure out how to get to the world that he favors.”

Hot Pants frowned. “You think you can get him to tell you that?”

“Everyone has a price,” Diego stated. “I just need to find his.”

Hot Pants gave him a blank look. “And if you can’t afford it?”

Diego hummed dismissively and crossed his arms. “Why are you here, again? Surely you aren’t asking to work as a team. I have no interest in doing so.”

“I can afford your price,” Hot Pants replied flatly. “I know where your father is.”

Diego went so tense that his claws nearly gouged at his own arms.

“He’s still alive. I understand that you want to go to another world, but if you wish to have revenge against the exact Dario that wronged you and your mother, then I can give you that in exchange for your help in killing Valentine.” Hot Pants watched him carefully, their expression held blank and impartial. Diego stared back, mental gears turning until the decision clicked.

“Deal,” he replied.

The path to Philadelphia became more obvious as the tracks of the racers converged and pummeled through the dirt. They had likely passed through several hours prior, but the hoofprints were still clearly visible. Jolyne and Dio still had a few hours of travel left; they had begun the day at a gallop, but now the horses were spending some time recovering stamina at just above a walk. The slower pace allowed Jolyne to retrieve the map and look it over. She studied a detailed insert of Philadelphia with terse expression.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Dio stated.

Jolyne looked up from the map. “Eh. Mostly just thinking about getting back to Morioh. And I figured I annoyed you with enough questions yesterday.”

“Perhaps I have questions today,” he replied.

She frowned. “Oh boy.”

Dio let the silence sit for a while before speaking. “You said that I was ‘mean’ to my children. Explain that further.”

Her frown deepened. “Hm. Jeez. Well. I mean, from what I saw, you sure don’t act nice to them,” Jolyne replied. “But it’s also like… you’re kinda just mean to almost everyone, as far as I can tell. That’s just like, your baseline. The fact that you got them a place to stay and all is nice. But if you want them to be family then there’s more to it than that. If that is something you actually want.  If that’s something they want. I don’t know. I also don’t know what all you guys were up to in Florida, so.”

“Florida contained some extenuating circumstances that did not promote any sort of familial bonding,” he replied. “At the time, to me, they were no more than tools.”

“Well, at least you’re honest about it,” Jolyne grumbled. “But what about now?”

It took some time for him to respond. “It isn’t as if I wish them ill,” he replied. “And as I said, they are now capable adults. Some of them more or less capable than others, but the point still stands. They’ve surpassed the need for me to be a father figure to them.”

Jolyne shot him an odd look. He frowned. “What?”

“Are you like actually sad that you missed out on raising them?” she asked.

His tone sharpened and he glared at her. “I’m not totally self-unaware, Jolyne. Do you think that I had any business raising children when I was in Cairo?”

She shrugged. “Well, what about now? I’m nineteen and I still want Jotaro to be my dad. He wasn’t a part of my life for years and it really hurt, but now we at least understand each other more. And I’d like to spend more time with him.”

Dio sighed and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Or there’s Josuke,” Jolyne added. “He didn’t meet Joseph until he was a teenager but they ended up getting along pretty well.”

Now Dio just looked confused. “What?”

She clenched her teeth. “Uh.”

Dio had figured out that Josuke was Joseph’s son, but he hadn’t put much thought into what he realized was a rather odd age gap and the fact that he was obviously half-Japanese. Dio didn’t know much about Suzi Q aside from a few mentions made in the articles he had found about Joseph’s real estate company, but it seemed that they had been around the same age and that she was Italian. It didn’t make much sense for Suzi Q to be his mother.

“Oh, Josuke’s a bastard child,” he said with the same light tone as someone just now getting a joke. Jolyne squinted at him. “He really is the odd one out,” he added as he tilted his head in thought. “Aren’t most Joestars only children?”

“I guess,” Jolyne replied.

Jonathan, with the exception of Dio’s adoption, had been an only child; George II was an only child; the same went for Joseph, Jotaro, and Jolyne. Josuke, however, was Holly’s half-brother. An odd break in the pattern, for sure, but Dio didn’t quite know what to make of it.

They rode on in silence for a while longer.

“I had an idea about your moving past humanity thing,” Jolyne said.

“Do tell."

“I knew someone that was literally a mass of plankton given consciousness,” she said with a thoughtful frown. “They were kinda weird, sure. And as a plankton blob, they were about as non-human as you can get. But they had the important things about being human pretty much downpat. Like being interested in the world around them. Or… like being a friend to Hermes and I. Being kind. So I was kind of wondering if those things are just… universal. Not specific to humanity.” She frowned. “Not that I’m trying to start another argument by going ‘so what’s your excuse’. You already gave your spiel about that. I’ve just had it on my mind.”

When Dio didn’t respond, Jolyne huffed and looked back down at the map.

Several minutes of silence passed before Dio spoke. “I’ve been meaning to talk to your father about his research.”

She gave him a confused look. “What, marine biology?”

“Indeed. Though, my questions will likely be about biology in general. About the food chain, and how it functions.”

“You want Jotaro to give you an ecology lecture?” she said with doubtful amusement.

“The last chance I had to read about the topic was in the eighties,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m sure that what I learned then is now outdated. I consider myself a fast learner. I doubt I would take too much time out of his busy schedule.”

“You know Jotaro was in college for like almost ten years doing his doctorate and all that, right?”

“I don’t intend to earn a diploma, and I’m not saying that I’ll match the depth of his knowledge after one conversation, if that’s what you’re getting defensive about,” he replied. “I just think that his perspective would be useful to me.” He shot her a curious look. “How did you meet the sentient pond scum? Were they one of the friends left behind in Florida? That seems like something that could spawn out of the Everglades.”

“They’re dead,” she answered. “Pucci made them and Pucci killed them.”

The silence stretched once more.

“I see,” Dio replied.

“I think we can both just shut up until we get to Philadelphia,” Jolyne said with a scowl.

Dio nodded. Jolyne returned to studying the map.

“Sixth and seventh place,” Gyro griped. “Not totally unrecoverable, but… there’s gonna be a lot of people losing their stage bets on us, huh, Johnny?”

“I’m sure we’ve just made some people have lighter pockets,” Johnny replied flatly as he tugged at his hood. Gyro had reclaimed his hat once they had set out for the last stretch towards Philadelphia; Johnny had let Josuke hold on to his.

Josuke pointed up at the marquee leaderboard and frowned. “How the hell did Diego still get first?!”

Gyro and Johnny fell silent as they stared up at the listing.

“Are you kidding me,” Johnny stated.

“I thought throwing the eye would have at least slowed him down a little,” Josuke said with a sigh.

“This is great news,” Gyro said, and the lack of sarcasm in his tone made both Josuke and Johnny frown and look at him. “No, seriously,” he continued. “If he’s already here, then we can ambush him and take the eye for ourselves.”

“Right!” Josuke exclaimed. “We can track him down with the piece I kept.” He grinned and glanced over at Johnny, whose expression had gone so cold that Josuke nearly shivered.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Johnny,” Gyro stated. “We can beat the absolute shit out of Diego, but killing another racer means disqualification and more. Our objective is to get the corpse and continue on in the race. That’s it.”

Johnny’s expression did not budge. “I hate that bastard, too,” Gyro added. “And if you want to blow a non-lethal chunk out of his neck as revenge for hurting Josuke, then I’m not gonna stop you. But just because we’re fighting Diego doesn’t mean we have to stoop to his level. Just… think of this strategically. We need to be able to get out of Philadelphia with as little pursuit as possible. It’s not like out in the country. A dead body is going to be noticed here. Valentine is trying to get rid of us already. We don’t need the law trying to find us, as well.”

Johnny took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. His harsh expression did not change.

“There’s another thing I’m kinda worried about,” Josuke said carefully. “If I heal this piece back to the eye while it's still stuck in his face, then we can find Diego real easy. But if I heal this piece back to the corpse in general, then it’ll probably take us to where the rest of the corpse is and bring the eye with it. I know that the president has most of the corpse now, but we don’t know how to deal with him yet. And we don’t want to risk him getting the whole corpse for himself, right?”

“Right,” Gyro replied. “The president has to have some sort of Stand. We just don’t know how it works. We need more information before we try to take it from him. Having the Scan ability of the eye again before we face him will also be helpful.”

“So then I’ll focus on ‘fixing’ only the eye,” Josuke said with a nod. “It’ll be kind of weird to think about, but Crazy Diamond should be able to do it.” He retrieved the piece of optic nerve from a drawstring pouch tucked carefully into the saddlebag. Crazy Diamond curled its fingers around it and held it up. “Operation Find Diego is a go.”

The pull of the optic nerve brought them to a public park. A group of rambunctious children played in the grass while an elderly man set up an easel and began sketching. Johnny held up a hand and glanced at Josuke. “You can stop using your ability. We’re close. Those are Silver Bullet’s tracks, there,” he said with a nod towards a stretch of dirt astride the park. “We know where he’s going, now. But we need to be careful about what direction we decide to approach. If we stay downwind, he won’t smell us coming.”

“We stink that bad, huh,” Josuke griped. “I’m so looking forward to a shower.”

“He has dinosaur senses,” Gyro explained. “But yes, probably that too.”

“Speaking of the dino senses, I was thinking of a way to get around that,” Josuke replied as he looked at the flags lining the streets. “Diego can dodge just about anything we throw at him, like the steel balls or the nail bullets. So we’re not going to find something too fast for him to dodge any time soon. But we could find something too big to dodge.” He pointed above the park; Johnny and Gyro looked up at a particularly large flag fluttering in the wind.

“We could take that, ambush him, wrap him up like a dinoburrito, and take the eye,” Josuke explained. “And if he tries to tear through the fabric, I can just fix it.”

Gyro chuckled. “I like this plan.”

Johnny guided Slow Dancer over to the flagpole, untied the extra rope, and began to pull down the halyard. The flag lowered; Josuke detached the flag’s circular grommets from the hook attachments and began bundling the mass of fabric in his arms.

Johnny let out a small huff of amusement. “This is definitely not how you’re supposed to handle the flag. Good thing I don’t care.”

“This thing is huge,” Josuke said with awe. “It’ll work great. But how do we want to approach him? The wind seems like it’s coming in towards us already, so that’s helpful.”

“Tracks lead right up that street,” Gyro said as he pointed. “And there’s droppings from the horse. Fresh. He won’t be too far. He can jump pretty high when he’s all lizardy, and he can transfer some of that agility to Silver Bullet, too. I say Johnny and I try to pincer him in the street, one from in front and one from behind. That will give him nowhere to go but up. That’s when you come in with the flag and catch him.” He frowned. “Just gotta find a way to give you the higher ground.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Josuke replied. “I can have Crazy Diamond lift me up as I climb. I’ve done that before. The buildings here are pretty close, too, so going roof to roof shouldn’t be a problem.”

Gyro grinned. “Alright! Let’s go.”

It was easy to follow Johnny from the vantage point of the rooftops; Gyro had cut a block to the left and ventured further ahead. Josuke used Crazy Diamond to hoist himself onto the next building. Instinctive panic gripped at his stomach when the shingles slipped beneath his feet. He inhaled sharply and kept his balance. Crazy Diamond would probably catch him before he could fall, but the edge of the roof was still a bit off-putting.

The rolled-up flag was mostly tucked under his arm but parts of it dragged along. Josuke tried to gather them up to keep them from making noise. Crazy Diamond had merged the edges of the fabric with broken-and-then-reformed cobblestones; when he threw the flag over Diego, the weight wouldn’t be enough to pin him down, but it would hinder him long enough for Johnny and Gyro to get at him.

He paused in surprise when Johnny’s hand appeared from a sudden hole in the roof and pointed. Josuke had seen Tusk’s odd new ability before, but it was still weird to look at. He looked out towards the street ahead and caught a glimpse of Diego, who had just turned down a side street to the left.

The void and the hand slipped away, presumably to point the way forward for Gyro. Josuke readjusted his hold on the flag and carefully picked his way over the roof. He peeked over the edge just as Johnny turned Slow Dancer onto the street. 

Diego spotted Gyro first; he and Valkyrie had entered the other end of the street at nearly the same time Johnny and Slow Dancer had. Diego glanced back over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Johnny.

Gyro unholstered a steel ball and spun it in his palm. If looks could kill, Johnny would have already put Diego in his grave, but the rotation around his fingernails made the threat real. The skin along Diego’s jaw began to crack and he tensed.

Knowing that Diego might look up to see if the roof was accessible, Josuke ducked back and used Crazy Diamond to prepare the weighted flag. He waited for one heartbeat, two; he heard what must have been the sound of Diego and Silver Bullet leaping up from the stony street. 

Josuke and Crazy Diamond flung out the flag. Diego hissed in surprise as the bulk of it fell over him. Silver Bullet scrabbled half-reptilian legs against the edge of the rooftop. Josuke put all of his strength into pulling Diego from the saddle while Crazy Diamond kept the horse from falling to the street below. Diego’s boots caught in the stirrups; Crazy Diamond punched the saddle right off the horse and the whole thing dragged uselessly from Diego’s ankle. Diego thrashed against the fabric. The second Silver Bullet was stabilized upon the rooftop, Crazy Diamond took a hold of the flag and twisted it around him. Diego tore through the cloth, and although Crazy Diamond was able to repair it, Josuke had caught a glimpse of sharp teeth and glinting eyes. If Diego got one good slash in while this close to Josuke...

A steel ball clonked off of Diego’s head. He went limp.

“Can’t dodge if he can’t see, either,” Gyro called out. He grinned up at Josuke. “I’d say that’s a wrap.”

“I’ll write that one down later,” Johnny replied. “But now we have to get him back down here. I doubt he’ll be passed out for long.”

Josuke glanced back at Silver Bullet. It looked about as confused as a horse could look. It flicked its tail and snorted at him. Gyro dismounted Valkyrie and walked over to the wall. Crazy Diamond hoisted up the flag-wrapped Diego, grasped the edge of the roof, lowered the bundle as far as it could, and then let it drop to the street. Diego landed in a heap.

“I was kind of expecting you to like, catch him,” Josuke said to Gyro.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Gyro replied. “Can you get down okay, though?”

Crazy Diamond lowered him to a windowsill, where he was just barely able to keep his balance; his Stand floated down and lowered him once more. 

Diego let out a muffled sound and kicked his legs against the fabric. Gyro glanced at Johnny. “Wanna knock him out again?”

Johnny frowned. “While we have him, we might as well find out if he knows anything about Valentine.”

Gyro kept a steel ball at the ready just in case; Josuke crouched at the limit of his range and had Crazy Diamond rip a hole in the flag for Diego’s face. 

As he took in a deep gulp of fresh air, Diego glanced around with bleary wariness. His gaze landed on Josuke and his expression darkened with rage. “You again! Bloody idiot bastard. I almost didn’t recognize you without the stupid—” his eyes widened and he tried to roll onto his back and look up. “Where’s my fucking horse?!”

Johnny pointed at him, his nails still spinning. “Hey. Don’t talk to my great-grandson like that.”

Diego squinted at him. “What?!” He narrowed his eyes further as he glanced between them, and his expression only grew more confused. “Wait… what?”

“Long story,” Gyro stated. “But Silver Bullet is just on the roof. We didn’t hurt your damn horse. I think we’ll be taking that eye, though.”

Crazy Diamond held the scrap of optic nerve and lowered its hand as it was fixed back to the eye itself. Diego grimaced as the eye slid out of his skull. Crazy Diamond tossed it over to Johnny, who pushed it into his own face with a stony expression.

“Do you have anything worthwhile to say?” Johnny asked. “About the president or anything like that? If not, I’ve been told I can shoot you in the neck. Non-lethally. Just a scrape, really. Call it an eye for an eye, if you want.”

“You’re mad about…” He trailed off and looked at Josuke with a scowl. “Oh, please. Do tell me what you would have done, Joestar,” Diego spat. “If you had to hand over a piece of the corpse to some stranger and follow them, would you not have held a nail against their head the whole time to ensure that they wouldn’t try to cross you? You’re lying if you say that you wouldn’t have.”

Johnny clenched his jaw. Gyro lightly tossed a steel ball. It landed on Diego’s back and he let out an oof. “Don’t get off-topic,” Gyro stated.

“I don’t care too much about you, Zeppeli,” Diego snapped. “But allowing Johnny to have the corpse is a mistake. Do you know why he was shot? The tabloids here loved the story, but I doubt the tale made it to Italy.”

Gyro didn’t look doubtful or afraid, but he was listening intently. He held the steel ball spinning slowly against his palm as he watched Johnny carefully.

“You think you deserve to have the corpse?” Johnny retorted. “You are the lowest goddamn vicious person I’ve ever met. And I’m being generous by saying person, considering Scary Monsters and all.”

“What is this pointless grudge you have against me, Joe Kid?” Diego asked, his tone venomous. “What the hell have I ever actually done to you for you to have such a low opinion of me before this race even began? Or is it just that you refused to accept that even at the height of your fame, you were second-best, and you’re still so shallow that you hate me for it?”

“You think I still give a shit about that?” Johnny replied incredulously. 

“You were a spoiled child then and you are a spoiled child now,” Diego retorted. “You had everything and it wasn’t enough, was it? I understand that hunger, but at least I have some self-control. And I want to move forward. All you want is to return things to the way they were.”

“I think we can move on from the bickering, now,” Gyro said as he gave the steel ball an underhand toss. Diego grunted as it landed on his back.

A faint clacking sound came from the roof. Josuke glanced up and looked at Silver Bullet. The horse flicked its tail.

Johnny narrowed his eyes and ignored Gyro. “Don’t fucking lecture me, Brando. Everyone knows you scammed that old woman and worse. I know that I was awful, but I never stooped that low.”

“Oh, you’re still clinging to that rumour? Are you serious? Prove it, then,” Diego said with a snarl. “She was rich and lonely! I did her a kindness by giving her some company in her last days! Why would I have killed her when she was already one foot in the grave?!”

“Wait, you’re a gold digger in this world?” Josuke said bemusedly. 

Diego shot him a sharp look of angered confusion, but then he let out a sound like the breath had been knocked out of him. He twisted as far as he could to scowl at Gyro. “Stop throwing that bloody thing at me!”

Gyro frowned. “I didn’t throw anything.”

The clacking sound returned and grew louder. Josuke looked up at the roof. A man with messy hair peered down at them and held up an arm with a complicated-looking mechanism. A shimmering grid spread out in front of him, warping down the side of the building and settling to contain them all.

The man sniffed and held up a folded flag. “You had a good idea. I’m going to copy it. That’s all.” The flag unfurled as he dropped it. He pressed a finger against the mechanism on his forearm and the flag disappeared.

A shadow fell over Josuke as the flag suddenly appeared over his head. Something grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled. He shouted and threw his arms against the fabric. Crazy Diamond let go of Diego and tried to punch at the flag, but as the cloth fluttered and settled flat against the square grid on the ground, Josuke’s Stand simply faded away.

Johnny shouted in surprise and pointed at the man. A nail shot off but the man merely poked at his arm mechanism again. The nail reappeared behind Gyro and sliced through his side.

The man sniffed and frowned down at them as he reached into a pocket and uncorked a bottle of acid. 

Diego tore through the fabric and kicked the flag away. As he staggered to his feet, Johnny inhaled sharply and pointed at him.

“For God’s sake, Joestar, be a little pragmatic about this,” Diego hissed. “It’ll be three versus one. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“How do I know that you’re not working together?” Johnny asked. “You teamed up with Soundman before.”

Acid appeared above Diego’s grid square. He was able to twist away from the brunt of it, but he let out a pained hiss as some dripped onto his shoulder. “Is that enough of a bloody answer?” he snapped.

The man on the roof tilted his head and dropped a few sharpened railway spikes. As the mechanism on his arm clacked, they hurtled into Gyro’s square. Two missed, but one drove against his calf and Gyro let out a pained grunt.

The man glanced over at Johnny and frowned. “This probably won’t end well for me,” he stated simply. “But it was enough to get what he needed. I guess I’m glad.” He nodded down at the grid. “I’ll do what I can with Chocolate Disco. That’s all.”

He uncorked another bottle of acid. Johnny slid off of Slow Dancer and urged the horse away from the grid just in time. Acid pattered against his leg, and while he didn’t feel any pain, the wound being eaten into his shin did not look pleasant.

Johnny glanced at the flag laying flat against the square Josuke had been standing in and furrowed his eyebrows. Josuke just disappearing wasn’t consistent with what Chocolate Disco was doing. There had to be another Stand user somewhere.

Diego set two miniature raptors loose but they were immediately impaled by railroad spikes. Gyro threw a ball and the Stand sent it skidding back against his ribcage, but it eventually crashed against the ground and the air wavered around it as it spun. “Quick, Johnny,” Gyro exclaimed. “Before he figures it out.”

Johnny shot at the ground and focused upon moving the void up the side of the building. Chocolate Disco could move objects around, but he didn’t know if it could move a lack of objects. The way the steel ball was causing the air to waver like a lens would also confuse the man as to where the hole was actually located on the grid. 

As the void slid up the wall and onto the roof, the man sighed. The hole zipped up his leg, past his abdomen, and settled on his chest.

“That’s what I figured,” he said flatly as blood began to pour from the hole. He staggered back and collapsed. The grid disappeared.

Johnny pointed at Diego. “We have to find Josuke. Track him or—”

Diego interrupted before he could say more. “Or you’ll shoot me. Understood. You’ve made it very clear that you’re itching for the chance to kill me.”

“What I was going to say,” Johnny replied with a scowl, “was that there has to be another Stand user. That wasn’t Chocolate Disco that made him disappear. See if you can track them.”

Diego snatched the flag from the ground and held it up to his nose. He furrowed his eyebrows and dropped it. Then, he went back to the flag he had been wrapped up in and sniffed it.

“What is it?” Gyro asked.

“The president,” Diego answered. “There’s no scent trail to follow, but the smell of him is on these. He must have… come through the flag somehow. Like a door. That must have been what hit me earlier.”

“The president?” Gyro repeated. He frowned at the flags. “His Stand is that he can teleport through the country’s flag? That’s a little on the nose.”

“That doesn’t seem right,” Johnny replied. “Back in Gettysburg, when he took the corpse… it was like he disappeared there, too. But I don’t remember seeing a flag.”

“Well, I can’t track him without a scent trail,” Diego stated. “But I can send out a few scouts. If they catch his scent anywhere else, we can follow them.” A few more miniature raptors scurried out and ran down the road. As Johnny whistled for Slow Dancer and Gyro limped over to Valkyrie, Diego scowled and looked back at them. “May I retrieve my horse, as well?”

“I like the idea of people seeing Silver Bullet and wondering how the hell it got up there,” Gyro replied with a shrug. “But go ahead. Don’t try to make a run for it, though, or Johnny probably will shoot you.”

Diego rolled his eyes but leapt up to the roof.

Josuke staggered and threw his arms against the fabric of the flag in alarmed confusion. Whatever was holding onto his shoulders abruptly disappeared. He gathered the cloth in his fist and threw the flag to the ground.

He froze. Johnny, Gyro, and Diego were gone. He looked up to the roof. The same man that had appeared was still there.

The man was reading a piece of paper. When he noticed Josuke, he crumpled it up and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey. Sorry to surprise you like this. I need your help. You can heal things, right?”

“Yeah,” Josuke replied carefully, “but we were kind of in the middle of something, here.” He frowned at the flag on the ground. “What did your Stand just do to me?”

“Nothing bad,” the man replied. “I’m going to come down the fire escape, now. Please don’t run anywhere.” He backed away from the edge of the roof and disappeared from sight.

Josuke frowned and picked up the flag. It seemed like a totally normal piece of fabric. He dropped it back down to the ground.

The mechanism on the man’s arm clacked as he approached. “Someone is really hurt. I just need you to heal them and then I’ll be done with you.”

“Where did the other people go?” Josuke asked as he pointed at where Johnny and Gyro had been.

“We don’t have much time,” the man replied. “We just have to get to Independence Hall. She’s really hurt.”

“Who?” Josuke asked.

“It’s not a far walk,” the man replied.

Josuke narrowed his eyes. “Dude. At least answer one of the questions.”

“Sorry. It’s really stressful,” the man replied. “She’s in labor. It isn’t going well.”

Josuke hunched his shoulders. “What?”

“Can you heal her?” the man asked. “I don’t want her to die during childbirth.”

“Uh,” he replied. “Y-yeah. I can try.”

The man led the way past a few uniformed guards and into an imposing-looking building. Josuke followed closely as he walked briskly down the hallway. He nearly bumped into him when he abruptly stopped and pulled out the crumpled up piece of paper.

“This is the right room, I think,” he said to himself. He glanced back at Josuke. “Can you stand right there?” he asked as he pointed to the wall right beside the door. “I just want to check.”

“Um, sure,” Josuke replied. He moved over to the wall and the man frowned.

“Back up a bit more,” the man said.

Josuke frowned and pressed his back against the wall. “Why?”

The man pulled at the door handle and it swung open. Josuke lifted his hands and frowned in confusion as the man continued to open the door until Josuke was pressed between it and the wall. “Hold on a second—”

The door handle thudded against the wall. Josuke found himself staring at two men that certainly hadn’t been standing there before. The man with the odd mechanism on his arm was nowhere to be seen.

“Who are you?” one man said. 

“I’m supposed to be healing someone having a baby,” Josuke quickly replied. “I think.” When he heard a low, pained sobbing from within the room, he tensed.

“Oh,” the other man replied with a nod. “You must be here for Lucy. Go ahead and do what you can.”

“We gave her some sedatives,” the first man said. “So she should be docile. Like a winter catfish.”

Josuke squinted at him, but he took a few tentative steps into the room. Lucy Steel sat upon a wheeled gurney, her breath uneven, tears and sweat slipping down her face. A tall window behind her was heavily curtained, but a strip of sunlight shone brightly into the room. Josuke turned on his heel and stared at the two men with wide eyes. “She’s—she’s just a kid! She looks younger than I am!”

The two men only frowned at him in vague confusion. Josuke turned and carefully approached Lucy, his expression strained with worry. “Um. Hi. I’m really sorry about this. If you’re hurt, I can help you.”

She gasped in a few deep breaths and shook her head. “Not me. Not me. Heal Steven.” She pointed off towards the other end of the room; a severely injured man was lying on another gurney behind a curtain, his breath low and shallow.

One of the men leaned into the room. “No, don’t heal Steven Steel. We’re on strict orders not to do that.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Josuke said to Lucy. “But I can heal you both with a special ability that I have. It won’t take much time.”

She shook her head. “Don’t heal me. Heal him.”

“Lucy! We understand your concerns, but Steven Steel cannot be helped,” the man said. “He is not to be healed. It’s on the president’s orders.”

Josuke tensed. “The president?”

“The president’s orders, indeed,” Valentine repeated as he pulled the curtains away from the window and pushed at the sill. The glass lifted and a slight breeze came into the room. Josuke watched him warily. Valentine stared back blankly and gestured towards Lucy. “Well? Do you intend to let her suffer? Or will you help?”

Josuke took a tentative step forward. Lucy shook her head and swept her hands under her eyes. Josuke noticed that the tears stuck to her fingers in an odd way, stretching out and becoming sharp like glass.

“Fortune is favoring her,” Valentine stated. “That means that misfortune will come down upon another.” He leaned down to talk quietly to Lucy. “Would you not prefer for this young man to be your ally? To cut him would be to bring him great misfortune.”

“If this guy has hurt you, I don’t care if he’s the president,” Josuke said to Lucy. “I’ll heal you, I’ll heal the Steven guy, and then I’ll beat some sense into this asshole for you.”

“You are to be my ally,” Valentine said to her, ignoring Josuke. “If you are so worried about your Steven, he may heal him first.”

Her eyes went wide and she glanced over towards him. The previously sharp water dripped down her hand.

“Well, go on,” Valentine said to Josuke.

Josuke gave him a murderous look in return but he dashed over to Steven. Crazy Diamond manifested and placed its hands on his shoulders. A dozen bullet wounds began to heal and his breathing grew steadier. 

Valentine nodded and waved a hand towards Lucy. “Now, heal her.”

Josuke frowned and approached her. As Crazy Diamond placed its hands upon her shoulders, she looked up at him with a mixture of pain and fear, but her eyes held a steely determination that he found reassuring. He focused and Crazy Diamond began to heal her.

Nothing seemed to happen. He shot Valentine a dubious look.

“Don’t give up,” Valentine replied. “Keep her steady. You’ll know when to stop.”

"You couldn't have gotten some actual doctors for this?" Josuke snapped. "I really don't know what to do when the baby comes out."

Valentine didn't respond. Josuke scowled but he offered Lucy his hand. "Just...hold on or something, if you need to. I'm so sorry about this."

Lucy grabbed onto him and her nails dug into his palm.

“Anything?” Johnny asked, with impatient annoyance sharpening his tone.

“Nothing,” Diego snapped back. “There’s no scent, not even on the other flags.” 

“Where would it make sense for the president to go?” Gyro asked.

“Independence Hall,” Diego replied. “That’s where I thought…” He frowned and his expression grew more doubtful.

“Where you thought what?” Gyro asked through grit teeth.

“Where I thought he was keeping the corpse parts,” Diego answered. “But I saw him walking out alone…”

Johnny cried out and held a hand over his eye.

“The president had the same idea I did,” Diego exclaimed. “He’s going to make Josuke put all of the corpse back together. He won’t even have to risk facing us.”

“Josuke wouldn’t do that for him,” Gyro said, but as the corpse’s eye began to slip out of Johnny’s face he tensed.

“I saw them moving Lucy Steel on a gurney,” Diego said. “She seemed hurt. I thought they merely found out that she was the traitor. I didn’t think he would put all of the corpse parts in her. Josuke’s being tricked.”

The eye slipped past Johnny’s fingers and began to careen away. He swore and spurred Slow Dancer after it. “We have to follow it!”

“Surely Valentine knew that man’s Stand wouldn’t defeat us,” Diego muttered. “And if he saw that Johnny had the eye… He’d predict that we’d follow it.”

“There’s going to be a trap for us,” Gyro begrudgingly agreed. “But we’ll deal with that when we get there. This is our last chance to keep Valentine from getting the entire corpse.” He urged Valkyrie onward. Diego scowled, hunched forward over Silver Bullet, and followed.

Chapter Text

The corpse’s eye hurtled through the air. Johnny hated to lose speed as he pursued it, but the eye could turn ninety-degree corners unerringly while Slow Dancer could not. When two miniature raptors zipped past his horse as they turned onto the next street, he glanced back at Diego with a terse frown.

“Would you quit looking at me like that? They’re faster than the horses. They’ll keep up with the eye even if we cannot,” Diego explained with a scowl.

“Why didn’t you just knock him out again back there?” Johnny asked Gyro. “We don’t need to follow his nose if we can follow the eye. He’s going to try to get rid of us and take the corpse for himself the first chance he gets.”

“As if you’re going to do any differently, Joestar,” Diego replied sharply. “I know you’d prefer me out of the picture, but if it comes down to you or your Zeppeli, will the dead weight you leave behind be the corpse or your ‘friend’?”

Johnny tensed with anger but turned to watch the eye, which had just flown around another corner. “You really can’t believe that anyone is any better than yourself, huh, Brando? Just because you’re a selfish prick doesn’t mean that everyone is.”

“You’ve offered no proof of that so far,” he replied flatly. “And you didn’t answer my question because you know I’m right.”

Johnny spared one harsh look back before returning his attention to the eye. “I wouldn’t leave Gyro behind,” he stated.

Diego frowned. “Liar.”

“He’s not a liar,” Gyro said. “He’s the reason why I’m not in a damn tree right now.”

Diego squinted at him in confusion, but then his eyes went wide with surprise. He glanced up the street and pulled back on Silver Bullet’s reins.

“Johnny, slow down,” Gyro called out. “Something must be up with the raptors.”

“Both are dead,” Diego stated. “Independence Hall is just a block or so to the left and that’s where they died. That has to be where the eye is going.”

Johnny swore and circled back. “I just saw it. The yard is crawling with guards. Rifles at the ready and all. It’s like a full militia.”

“It’s almost as if we’re up against the US government or something,” Gyro replied dryly. When Johnny only scowled and stared up the street in response, Gyro furrowed his eyebrows and pointed. “We can’t kill all of them just to get inside. One, we’re very outnumbered, and two, we’re not terrorists. I’d still like to win this race at some point without immediately getting executed for trying to start a war.”

“Goodness, Johnny, how bloodthirsty are you?” Diego added sardonically. “Does Zeppeli have to rein you in like this during every encounter?”

“Would you shut up? I’m just thinking,” Johnny snapped. “I know we can’t fight our way in there. There has to be something else.”

“I snuck into the hall before,” Diego continued. “Without killing anyone, mind you. I merely turned a few people into furniture-esque dinosaurs to camouflage them. The same trick may work twice.”

“You’re not turning us into dinofurniture,” Gyro replied.

Diego frowned. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m very fun,” Gyro stated. “But what other ways can we use to get in? The sewers? Some sort of secret Revolutionary War era underground tunnel?”

“I think the only drains we can get into around here go out to the river,” Johnny replied. “And if there’s secret tunnels, then the president probably knows about them and already has them guarded.”

“What about a distraction?” Diego suggested. “There probably is an upper limit to how many raptors I can set loose at once, but I don’t yet know what it is. We can sneak past as they’re busy trying to hunt them all.”

“We are not letting you create your own dinosaur militia. You’re just as liable to set them on us as you are to throw them at the guards,” Johnny replied with a scowl.

“Must you both shoot down everything I suggest?” Diego complained. “I’m only trying to help.”

Johnny glared at him. Gyro rolled his eyes and sighed. “Listen. We don’t like you. We don’t trust you. But you don’t like or trust us, either. And now that I’ve had a few minutes to think about it, I think I really understand why.”

Johnny scowled. “Yeah, it’s because he’s the worst. Can we move on, now?” 

“You’re no better,” Diego snapped.

Gyro sighed again. “Oh good, my point is being proven for me already.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that at least I’m trying to be a better person than you,” Johnny retorted.

“Getting the corpse might bring your legs back but that kind of miracle may be beyond its power,” Diego replied with a dismissive sniff. “People don’t change. You’re no exception.”

“Just stop talking.” Johnny pressed his hands against his forehead in frustration. “Annoying fucking limey bastard.”

Diego frowned. “Yank hick.”

“I’m seriously going to knock your heads together if you don’t stop bickering,” Gyro interjected. “Just be quiet for the next minute or so. I have a story that I want to tell you two.”

Johnny gave him a look of exasperation. “Is now really the time?”

“It really is,” Gyro replied. “Doubt I’ll get another chance. And I’m gonna tell it whether you want to hear it or not.” 

When Diego and Johnny merely rolled their eyes in response, he continued. “So there’s a scorpion that wants to cross the river, but it doesn’t know how to swim. It runs into a frog and asks if it can hitch a ride. The frog says, no way! You’re just a scorpion! You’re totally going to sting me. The scorpion then says, nuh-uh! If I sting you while you’re swimming, we’ll both drown! The frog says, oh, that makes a lot of sense. Let’s go over together, then. It all goes swimmingly until at the deepest part of the river, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog, of course, is like what the hell! Now we’re both gonna drown! And the scorpion simply says sorry, I couldn’t help it. It’s just in my nature. It’s something I cannot change.”

“...That’s not your best punchline,” Johnny muttered.

“Well, it’s not a joke,” Gyro said. “I just know that I think that I can be better than that scorpion. ‘To cherish a base character is to give one's honor to the wind, and to involve one's own self in embarrassment,’” he quoted. “That’s how my father explained the story. The lesson to learn is that to be more than just a scorpion, you should better yourself before asking any favors from a frog. Otherwise, you’re both gonna sink.”

Johnny frowned. Diego shot him a suspicious glare. “What kind of point are you trying to make?” he asked.

Gyro shrugged. “Do you think that you’re better than the scorpion?” he said with a nod towards Diego. “Or you?” he added as he glanced at Johnny. “Who should I expect to be the scorpion, here? One of you, both, or neither? You can gripe at each other about how selfish or vicious the other is and then deny every accusation in turn, but to what end? If one of you has grown enough to have the capacity to not sting the frog, why not the other?” 

He turned his attention to Diego. “I’ve been traveling with Johnny across the whole damn country. You haven’t. I hate to give him his report card before the class is really over, but I can say that Johnny really has changed for the better. And don’t let that go to your head,” he added, and he jabbed a finger at Johnny. “We all have plenty of room for improvement. And in your own words, you’re still in the negative. But I know that you’re way closer to zero now than you were in California.”

Johnny pressed his lips into a firm line and crossed his arms, but he sniffed and turned his head to hide the fact that his eyes were watering. Gyro knew that to receive such direct praise was incredibly rare for him; he hoped that it would be enough to push him forward. 

Diego, however, did not look convinced. “You’re right,” he stated. “I haven’t been traveling with him. Therefore, I also have no reason to believe you.”

“Ah, sono cazzate. This is like talking to a brick wall,” Gyro exclaimed as he dragged his fingers over his face. “What kind of evidence do you want, huh? What would it take?”

“It’s not just him that I dislike, if that’s what you’re getting defensive about,” Diego replied. “I assume the worst of everyone. It’s worked out perfectly well for me so far.”

“Yeah, yeah. If you expect no good from anyone, then there’s no harm in harming them, right?” Gyro replied. “Is that how you justify things to yourself?”

Diego narrowed his eyes and scowled at him, but he glanced off over Gyro’s shoulder and his expression grew more amused. “Oh, wonderful. Another Italian. Are you to join us in storming Independence Hall, as well?”

Wekapipo and his horse approached them cautiously with one of his modified steel balls already in his hand. “Our goals are not mutually exclusive,” he said carefully. “Zeppeli and Joestar, you already know that my current objective is to ensure Lucy Steel’s safety. You, however,” he added, and he frowned at Diego. “I am not so sure about you. You overheard what I said to Magenta Magenta with the raptor you hid in his coat, correct?”

Diego shrugged. “Only somewhat. And Lucy being with the president is old news, now. We have more important things to be concerned with. Such as how to track down the president himself before he’s completely untouchable.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Where is Magenta Magenta, by the way?”

“Most likely at the bottom of the Delaware River, unwilling to exit the safety of his Stand,” Wekapipo replied.

“Oh. What a shame. I thought you two got along well,” Diego replied, his tone making it clear that it wasn’t a shame at all.

“Left-side ataxia would get us through that bunch of guards pretty easily,” Johnny admitted. “Then, all we need to do is find Valentine, Lucy, and Josuke. That’ll just be hard to do without the eye or a consistent scent trail.”

“If you can’t find Valentine by scent, then you can still follow Lucy,” Hot Pants stated, stepping out from a recessed doorway a few paces behind Gyro and Valkyrie.

Gyro jumped, took a deep breath, and held a hand to his heart. “Where the hell did you come from?!”

“I followed both Johnny and Wekapipo after I spotted you at the Philadelphia checkpoint,” Hot Pants replied. “I used Cream Starter to send an ear with Wekapipo’s horse while I observed you three from a safe distance. I was planning on cornering Diego myself, but it seems that you two beat me to it. Also, I would like my ear back.”

Wekapipo twisted in his saddle, looked back towards the horse’s rear, and frowned in slight disgust at the ear plastered onto the horse’s hind leg. “Who hasn’t been eavesdropping on me?” he asked dryly as he reached down, peeled it off, and tossed it to Hot Pants.

“Thank you.” With a quick spritz of Cream Starter, the ear was reattached. “I now know that Valentine can disappear with his Stand, so I know that Diego cannot follow him by scent. Nor can he follow the other young man that was with you, because he disappeared, as well. But if Valentine isn’t making Lucy disappear because she contains parts of the corpse, then we can still follow her. Cream Starter contains the memory of her scent because I disguised her. We can use that.”

“Oh, isn’t that great?” Diego said with a sly glance towards Johnny. “We really do have to follow my nose.”

Johnny only gave him a baleful look in response.

“Okay, here’s the game plan,” Gyro began. “Wekapipo, you’re with me on team Balls of Steel. We’re going to harass the guards with left-side ataxia and some air lenses so that they can’t see properly.”

“The team name is tiresome but I accept my part in this plan,” Wekapipo replied.

“While we’re keeping up the distractions, team Find Lucy and Josuke will go to Independence Hall.” Gyro paused, frowned thoughtfully, and huffed. “Hot Pants, I don’t like you much either, but I trust you to make a good decision a hell of a lot more than Brandosaurus over there. We need him to find Lucy, but if he pulls any bullshit you could literally take his nose away, so you’re the designated dino-wrangler.”

Hot Pants nodded gravely while Diego scowled.

“What team am I on?” Johnny asked.

“You’re their firepower,” Gyro replied, and he waved towards Hot Pants and Diego. “Cream Starter can heal, but it has limited range when it comes to getting rid of a threat. Diego will be busy following the scent trail. You’re in charge of taking out any guards that come your way. You should also be with them because Lucy knows Hot Pants, but Josuke doesn’t, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna be happy to see Diego. You need to be there to make sure he doesn’t meld anybody into the floorboards while trying to protect Lucy.” Gyro’s expression grew more serious. “I know that once we’ve all found Lucy, we’ll probably get right back to trying to kill each other. But for now, we can at least all agree that Valentine sucks and shouldn’t have the corpse. Right?”

“Right,” everyone replied with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Then, for now, we’re a team,” Gyro replied. He pulled out a steel ball and set it to spinning in his palm. “Let’s do this and try not to sting any frogs while we’re at it.”

Josuke focused on healing Lucy. Crazy Diamond held her shoulders as she shivered in a cold sweat. Her grip on Josuke’s hand was tight enough to hurt, but he tolerated the pain.

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” Valentine asked. 

Josuke glared at him, but his surprise was obvious.

“I’m intrigued,” Valentine added. “Your presence here is very strange. Most other worlds have followed this one closely. As I travel between them, only minor differences can be found. But you? You are unusual.” His gaze traveled over to Crazy Diamond. “You are unique to this world, and a recent addition. And yet, it is not your Stand that brought you here.”

“You can travel between worlds?” Josuke asked, and he immediately regretted the hope in his voice when Valentine smiled.

“I can,” Valentine replied. “I am sure that the story as to how you got here is very interesting. But the fact that you are here now at this pivotal moment surely means that you are to be my ally, as well. Perhaps it was even the corpse’s desire to be complete that brought you here. But if fate alone cannot sway you, then I can make you a deal, as well.”

“A deal?” Josuke asked.

“Your uniqueness also means that I cannot merely dispose of you in the ways that I am accustomed to,” Valentine said with a sigh. “So yes, a deal. Would you like to go back home?”

Josuke tensed but said nothing.

“I’m curious,” Valentine said. “Are you an American citizen?”

“I’m Japanese,” he answered carefully.

“I see,” Valentine replied. “I hold nothing against you for it, of course. I would merely have to keep it in mind when returning you to where you belong. Where in Japan?”

Josuke frowned uneasily. “Morioh.”

Valentine waved a gloved hand languidly. “Is that a city? A small town? A mere village?”

“Sort of between a town and a city,” he replied, his tone still doubtful. 

“Is it a good town? Industrious? Proud?” Valentine asked. “How do you feel about it?”

“I mean, I like it there,” Josuke answered. “It’s sort of… I feel like it’s my hometown, so I have a responsibility to keep it safe.”

“Ah.” Valentine’s expression brightened. “Then you may understand me better than I would have expected.” He glanced towards the window. “You are still healing her, correct?”

Josuke furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“Oh, there it is,” Valentine said lightly as the eye zipped through the open window and flew into Lucy’s head. Lucy cried out and grabbed onto Josuke with her other hand as the eye sank into her own socket. Josuke swore, Crazy Diamond drew back, and Valentine held his arms out wide. “Ta-da,” Valentine exclaimed. “Though I am surprised that the eye was the only missing portion. I did worry that other parts may have fallen off. The corpse is quite old and quite delicate.”

Josuke stared at him with shock and anger. “You put… the corpse was in her?”

“She and the corpse are one and the same,” he replied. “I greatly appreciate your help in putting it back together. All that is left to do now is to help it finally reach its intended destination.”

Lucy let go of Josuke to grasp at her stomach. She took a few shallow breaths and looked out towards Stephen, who was just beginning to rouse from unconsciousness.

“But what’s happening to her?” Josuke asked, worry pulling at his tone. “She still looks sick. And…” He frowned uneasily and waved his hands over his stomach, pantomiming the pregnancy.

“You wish for your Morioh to be prosperous, don’t you?” Valentine stated. “You would like for its happiness to be ensured? I feel the same way about my own country. The corpse is not to be handed over to the likes of those that would only lock it away and admire it from behind a glass case, like the Vatican. Nor should it go to those so selfish that they would only use it to obtain material wealth. It also should not be used to perform petty miracles like letting a lame man walk again. It desires loftier ends. That is why it chose me, and why it chose Lucy, and why it chose you.”

“Stop avoiding the question,” Josuke snapped. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Valentine watched him, his expression stony and indifferent. “Lucy and the corpse are one and the same,” he repeated. “Now, they will become something more.”

Josuke clenched his teeth. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“For there to be a victor, there must also be a loser. For every have, a have-not. For every miracle, a sacrifice. There is no weak settling around a gray and empty zero,” Valentine stated. “I understand that ensuring this country’s happiness will have a cost. I am willing to pay it. The people of this country must be willing to pay it, as well. As their leader, I will make it so.”

“It’s going to kill her,” Josuke said quietly.

“No,” Valentine replied. “It is just that Lucy Steel will cease to exist. She will become something more important to ensure the eternal prosperity of this nation.” He paused. “I’m sure that we will build her a memorial. A national holiday in her honor, even. Her strength will be recognized.”

Josuke bit his lip and inhaled, then exhaled. Valentine watched him carefully. “You really think you can get me home?” Josuke asked.

Valentine shrugged. “I don’t see why not. There are infinite universes. One of them must be yours. I am currently the only person willing to look through them for you. Our interests can be aligned.”

Josuke nodded slowly. “Cool. What year is it?” 

Valentine tilted his head slightly. “Hm?”

Steven Steel cleared his throat, rolled onto his side, and looked about the room in confusion.

Josuke tilted his head back and peered down at Valentine. “I asked, what year is it? What’s the date?”

“December 28, 1890,” Valentine answered slowly.

“Cool, cool,” Josuke said. “I’m glad we had this talk. Hell, I’m feeling a little American myself after that speech you gave,” he added, and he gave Valentine a salute. “But there are just two things that I’m still having a little trouble with.”

Valentine frowned at him. “Which are?”

“You can travel through space, right?” Josuke said. “What about time?”

Valentine only continued to frown.

“That’s what I thought,” Josuke said with a dramatically disappointed sigh. “Moving on to point number two.”

As Josuke dashed forward, so did Crazy Diamond. Valentine brought forth D4C just in time to block a flurry of blows to the head. Crazy Diamond shouted as it punched at the president’s Stand repeatedly, the impacts explosively intense. Valentine staggered back against the curtain.

“What part of Morioh do you think I like? The landscape? The buildings? Just the idea of the town itself?” Josuke asked as he approached. “Because you’re wrong if you think it’s any of those. I care about the people that live in it. I don’t give a shit about economics or prosperity or Morioh going on forever and ever or dumb stuff like that. The only thing that matters is that people live there, and I want them to be safe. I may not be a mayor or a president or anything like that, but I know that this,” he said, and he waved an arm towards Lucy, “isn’t okay!”

Valentine let out a faint grunt as D4C absorbed another hit. “You are very naïve,” he stated. “You’re not young enough to excuse such simplemindedness, but still. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected you to understand. You aren’t even an American, after all.”

“Oh, shut up,” Josuke exclaimed, and Crazy Diamond finally broke past D4C’s guard. Before he could land a hit, Valentine slipped beneath the curtain and disappeared. Crazy Diamond merely punched at the empty air. With another shout, it tore the curtain from the window and began to rip it to shreds.

Josuke glanced back at Lucy and the gurney. “That thing has wheels?”

She gulped down a breath and nodded. As Josuke kicked at the small levered brakes on the bottom of the gurney, Steven cautiously approached them. “What’s happening? How were they hitting each other like that? Lucy, are you okay?”

“Oh jeez, you’re not a Stand user?” Josuke exclaimed. “We’ve got um, ghosts. Ghosts that can fight each other. That’s pretty much it. I used mine to heal you and now we’re gonna use it to get the hell out of here.”

Meanwhile, at the doorway to the room, the two guards looked inside cautiously.

“We should probably do something about this, right?” the first one stated.

“Probably,” the second echoed.

They watched as Steven gripped the gurney and gave it a push. The wheels squealed out a complaint, but it moved. Josuke turned towards the window and frowned.

“I’ll go and tell the captain that we have… ghosts?” the first said.

“Just tell him that someone attacked the president,” the second replied exasperatedly. “This door is the only exit and the window doesn’t open wide enough for them to slip through. I’ll block them off and keep them from escaping.”

“Good plan,” the first guard said with a nod, and he ran off. The second guard cautiously reached in while Josuke was still staring at the window, grabbed the door handle, and pulled it shut.

He heard a brief shout, a loud crash, and then the sound of rubble falling to the ground. He tensed with surprise, tightened his sweaty grip on the door handle, and then opened the door and peeked inside.

Nothing was broken, but Josuke, Steven, and Lucy were nowhere to be seen. He glanced around in confusion. The room seemed completely pristine, except for scattered pieces of the window curtain littering the ground. He looked up towards the window and squinted as he saw Steven pushing the gurney along the paved pathway outside, Lucy clutching at the gurney’s railings, and Josuke running out ahead of them. Josuke did something and the wall in front of them completely busted apart. Once Steven wheeled the gurney through, the wall fixed itself and the three disappeared from the guard’s sight.

“Uh,” he said to himself as he slumped against the doorway, overcome with a sense of defeat.

Gyro and Wekapipo approached the Independence Hall lawn from the side; Hot Pants, Diego, and Johnny waited for the signal to begin approaching the building. After a few more moments, Wekapipo’s steel ball hurtled through the air and released its secondary spheres; the guards began to waver in confusion as they lost perception on their left side.

As they took advantage of the temporary blindness, Hot Pants, Diego, and Johnny dashed towards the building. Hot Pants traveled on foot and so did Diego, though he appeared to be more dinosaur than man as he went; Johnny followed them on Slow Dancer and kept a hand pointed towards the confused guards just in case.

Hot Pants slid to a stop behind a set of ornamental shrubs and pointed towards a side entrance. “There. Only two guards and they can’t see us from this angle yet. That will be the easiest way to get in. Johnny?”

“On it,” he replied, and Tusk manifested behind his shoulder. “We won’t have to worry about them even seeing us. I’ll send my hand around the corner.”

“Hold on,” Diego said as he watched Tusk warily. “Why does your Stand look like that?”

Johnny frowned at him. “What?”

“Last time I saw it it was that little…” He trailed off and gestured a clawed hand vaguely. “Creature. Sad looking thing.”

Johnny blinked at him. “This is Tusk Act 3. When you saw it, it was just Act 1. It evolved twice. Act 2 actually came out when you attacked us with Soundman. Act 3 came out in Gettysburg.”

Diego’s expression became hard to read. He looked off toward the doorway and frowned.

“What, are you jealous or something?” Johnny asked.

“No, I’ve just… not yet run into any other Stands that have done that,” he replied. He sniffed dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Scary Monsters quite a lot. But it isn’t my Stand. Who knows, perhaps my real Stand would be at Act 10 or something by this point.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he said as he shot a hole into his own wrist and transferred the hole into the ground. It skittered off across the grass, traveled up and through the wall, and then settled as Johnny’s hand passed through its interior void. He shot twice. His nails careened through the guards’ rifles, nearly busting them in half as they were rendered unusable. Johnny nodded towards Hot Pants, who then dashed forward and sprayed them with Cream Starter. As the guards’ muffled screams were silenced by the meatlike spray, Hot Pants sighed and poked at them to create some nose holes.

“That’s so fuckin’ gross,” Johnny said with a queasy frown as the fleshy globs continued to spread.

“You shoot your nails at people,” Hot Pants replied flatly. “At least Cream Starter is sterile. When was the last time you washed your hands?”

“Not that long ago."

Diego strode past them and peered down the hallway inside. No other guards were visible. He sniffed at the air. “It’s faint. Lucy must have passed through here several hours ago.” He turned on his heel and frowned at Johnny. For once, he actually hesitated before speaking. “You won’t be traveling through this hallway on your horse if we’re to have any element of surprise.”

“Hot Pants, I’m borrowing your shoulder,” Johnny stated as he slid down from Slow Dancer. Hot Pants nodded and began to approach him, but paused when Johnny winced as his shin hit the ground. “Ow,” he said as he shifted his weight off of it. Then, he froze. “Wait. Ow?!” He twisted to bring his legs in front of him and he stared at the wound left by the acid dropped through Chocolate Disco.

“I can heal that,” Hot Pants stated, but Johnny held up a hand.

“Hold on,” he said, and he jammed a finger directly into the acid burn. He frowned and poked at it again.

“...I will reiterate that your hands are not clean,” Hot Pants said carefully.

“Just for a second,” Johnny said quietly. “I felt it just for a second. We really must be close to the corpse.”

Hot Pants leaned down and spritzed Cream Starter over the wound before lifting Johnny up. They both followed Diego as he tracked the scent trail down the hallway. They all three tensed when they heard a loud rumbling from further within the building.

“Your idiot great-grandson may be attacking the president,” Diego muttered.

Hot Pants frowned. “I can ask about the great-grandson statement later. But I thought his Stand merely fixed things.”

“He had it punch one of my raptors so hard that the poor thing nearly vaporized, so, no,” Diego said with a scowl. “His Stand’s power is honestly rather absurd. His only disadvantage is that he can’t seem to heal himself.”

Footsteps came running up towards the hallway. A sprinting guard turned a corner and nearly ran right into them.

“Intruders, too?!” the guard exclaimed. “I have to get the captain--”

Diego flicked the guard on the forehead. “Camouflage.”

The guard let out a strangled yell that turned into a dissipating hiss as he became a dinosaur that looked an awful lot like a lamp.

“Oh, this looks even better than the last few,” Diego exclaimed. “I do think I’m getting better at it.”

Johnny shot him a look of exasperation. “Just keep following the damn scent trail. Actually, follow that guard’s scent trail, since it’s fresh. He was probably running away from Josuke.”

Diego rolled his eyes but sniffed at the air and turned the corner. When he spotted a guard standing in the doorway with his back towards them, Diego’s posture shifted and he lowered himself close to the ground as he approached. His tail appeared and worked as a counterbalance as he silently snuck towards the rather distracted-looking guard. He pounced and the guard fell to the ground with a yelp.

“I think you’d make a delightful chaise,” Diego said as the guard became an exceptionally flat-backed ankylosaurus. He leaned back on the makeshift dino-seat and grinned. “And I was correct.” He sniffed the air and frowned. “Hm. Lucy was in here. So were Josuke and the president. But they aren’t in here now.” He hopped up and ventured a few paces down the hallway. “But they didn’t leave the room, either.”

“Did the president make them both disappear?” Hot Pants asked.

“No.” Diego was perplexed as he approached the window. “Lucy’s trail doesn’t stop like it did when the president disappeared. It goes right up to the window. The same goes for Josuke.” He pulled at the sill; the window didn’t budge any further. “It seems like she went outside, and I know she has a thin frame, but I don’t believe she fit through here. And Josuke certainly wouldn’t fit through, either.”

“The guard had to see what happened,” Johnny said. “Turn him back into a human so we can ask him.”

Diego let out an annoyed hmph but he smacked a hand against the ankylosaurus’s head. Johnny slipped down from Hot Pants’s shoulder and jabbed his finger towards the very frightened and confused looking guard.

“The people that were in here,” Johnny stated, his tone low and grim. “Where did they go?”

“Through the wall,” the guard quickly said. “It’s like they broke it and fixed it back up within seconds. Listen, this is my first week on the job, and I’m very confused. I’ve told you what I know, so please let me—”

“Chaise,” Diego said as he smacked the guard upside the head. He let out a garbled sound as he returned to being an ankylosaurus.

“We have to follow them,” Johnny said as he glanced around the room. “The window frame will be big enough to get through if we break it—”

“No need,” Hot Pants stated, already standing on the other side of the glass. “I’ll transfer you through with Cream Starter.”

Johnny and Diego both looked disgusted. Hot Pants sighed. “We don’t have time to waste. Come on.”

Johnny pulled himself up to the windowsill and nodded. “Alright. Spray me.”

The base of Cream Starter fizzed against his arm, the flesh was transferred through its nozzle, and the bulk of his body sprayed back out on the other side.

Johnny clenched his teeth and wavered as he sat on the gravel outside. “Ugh. I hated that.”

Diego was pulled through the window in the same manner. Once reformed, he shook his head, inhaled sharply, and pointed. “That way.” He sniffed again. “There’s another scent with them, too, but I’m not completely confident as to who it is.”

The scent trail led them to a tall brick wall. Diego peered up at the top of it. “I could easily jump this.”

“I won’t be able to do the spray transfer to that height,” Hot Pants replied. “How much weight can you carry when you are a raptor?”

“I suppose I could bring you over one at a time,” Diego said, and he tapped a sharp finger to his chin in thought. “Though I’m tempted to charge a transportation fee. Who is to go first?”

“I will go first. Remember, if you try anything, I’ve been told to take your nose,” Hot Pants said flatly. “No running away once you have us separated by the wall. You will be bringing us both over.”

Diego scowled and lifted his hand to cover his nose. “You don’t have to remind me. I need Johnny to keep Josuke from attacking me, anyway.”

Hot Pants’s stern expression did not falter, but they grabbed onto his shoulders. Diego’s tail swished, his legs tensed, and the two leapt over the wall. After a few moments, Diego returned and landed on the ground in a crouch.

“Your turn, Joe Kid,” he stated. “Do try not to shoot me as we go.”

“I won’t shoot you if you don’t try anything stupid,” Johnny grumbled as he put his arms over Diego’s shoulders.

Diego pretended to struggle as he stood. “Goodness, Joestar. I know I’ve been eating rocks, but what’s your excuse?”

“You just want money out of all of this, don’t you? I’ll give you a crisp new ten-dollar bill just to shut the hell up,” Johnny retorted.

“Money certainly makes things easier,” Diego said with a huff. “And you’d only be giving me my own bloody cash. I will be wanting my wallet back.”

“You can have the wallet back, sure,” Johnny said with a faint grin. “But we already spent all your money on a nice dinner.”

Diego scowled and leaned back. “Maybe I should leave you here and take my chances against Josuke alone.”

“Oh, you want Hot Pants to steal your face?” Johnny replied.

Diego huffed in annoyance, bent down, and leapt over the wall.

“The president’s Stand can put him in an alternate world, but those other worlds are gonna have all the same walls,” Josuke said as Crazy Diamond punched through a tall wooden fence. “We have better shortcuts, so this is the best way for us to lose him.”

Steven huffed as he pushed the gurney along. Josuke helped lift it as a wheel got stuck in the splintered rubble. 

“I think I can walk,” Lucy said, but her pallor and labored breathing said otherwise.

“Let’s go steal a carriage or something once we get far enough away,” Josuke replied. “Then we can all sit and relax for a bit, huh?”

“As long as we get away from Philadelphia,” Steven replied as the gurney finally clattered its way forward and Crazy Diamond fixed the fence. “President Valentine has men everywhere. Our best bet would be to seek asylum in Canada. Or to take a ship to Europe. We just need to get far away from here.”

“I’m getting up,” Lucy stated as she swung her legs over the side of the gurney.

Steven looked stricken with concern. “Lucy, don’t do that, you don’t even have shoes.”

“This is too slow,” she said as she stood. She wavered for a moment, took a deep breath, then nodded. “I can walk. And I know that there’s a stable nearby. Valentine and I rode here together. The carriage should still be there.”

“Great,” Josuke replied. “Lead the way. Just be careful, and you can lean on one of us if you need to.”

She nodded and began to move forward, her steps tentative at first but becoming longer in stride as she went.

As they approached the stables, a few armed guards ran past. Steven pulled at Lucy’s shoulder and Josuke pressed as flat as he could against the wall.

“There are more within the stable, as well,” Steven said as he ventured a peek towards the entrance. “How will we get past them?”

“I will go out first,” Lucy stated. “Use me as a shield. They won’t risk hurting me.”

Steven was shocked into silence for a few moments. “Lucy, we’re not doing that,” he finally managed to say.

“I’m going,” she said, and she began to walk forward.

Josuke winced and ran out ahead of her. “If they shoot, I can break up some of the street and reform it as a barrier to hide behind. We’ll do that before we do any human shielding.”

Thankfully, no more of Valentine’s guards ran past, but there were a few milling around inside of the stable. As Josuke looked inside and tried to put together a plan to get past them to steal the carriage, Lucy rubbed her palm against her eyes.

“Fortune and misfortune,” she said to herself. “Misfortune for them is fortune for us.” Before Steven or Josuke could do anything, she ducked inside the stable and swept the tear cutter over the flank of the nearest horse. It only dissipated into a wet patch on the horse’s side, but the horse began to buck and whinny as if it was actually attacked. Lucy staggered back and fell into a bale of hay. The horse kicked the wooden door of its paddock to splinters and made a run for the street. When one guard shouted in surprise, the other guards noticed the escaping horse, and they ran after it.

Steven helped Lucy out of the hay while Josuke ran in and clambered up the side of the carriage. “Great!” He paused. “Do any of us know how to drive a carriage?”

Steven frowned, thought it over, but then shook his head. Lucy closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“Well, if I can kind of get one horse to do what I want, I’m sure I can get two to follow directions,” Josuke said with affected confidence. “Get in the back and I’ll get us… somewhere. Maybe there will be a boat leaving or something you can hop on.” As they got into the carriage, he gathered up the reins, frowned at the buggy whip, and then looked out towards the horses. “Um.” He tried to remember the crash course in horse handling Johnny and Gyro had given him. “Walk,” he said loudly.

To his surprise, they actually began to amble forward. He gently pulled the reins, feeling the odd and distant resistance of the horses’ mouths, and they turned onto the street.

“Great!” Josuke exclaimed, but then his expression grew more thoughtful. “Going a bit faster would be good, though.” He frowned down at the whip again. “Don’t really want to hit a horse, though. Seems mean.”

“You don’t have to hit them,” Dio’s double explained. “They’ve been trained to be afraid of the sound of it. Let it crack in the air and they will move faster.”

Josuke inhaled sharply, slid as far over in the seat away from him as he could, and nearly threw the reins at him out of reflex. Crazy Diamond manifested and hovered over his shoulders protectively. “Oh my God,” he breathed.

“Oh, you flatter me,” the double responded. 

“Now is not the time for your bullshit,” Josuke said as he steadied himself.

“Oh? I suppose I can leave, then,” he replied. “And I thought you wanted to go back home. You must like it better here.”

“No no no, wait,” Josuke exclaimed, and when the double grinned back at him he scowled. “Just hold on a second. I do want to get home. I’m just kind of in the middle of something. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check in and see how you were faring,” the double replied with a shrug. “I already stopped in with Jolyne and my inferior self, so I figured I would see if you needed anything.”

“Jo...Jolyne?” Josuke said, and he pressed a hand to his forehead. “There’s been so much shit happening that I didn’t even have time to worry about the fact that you did something to Jolyne and normal Dio, too. Where the hell are they?”

“They’re in Philadelphia,” he answered.

Josuke’s expression brightened. “They’re here?”

“Not quite,” the double replied. Josuke frowned at him.

The double tilted his head. “I’ll be honest with you. I am here because I wanted to give you… advice, perhaps. Not a warning, per se, but words that you should take to heart. President Valentine wasn’t entirely incorrect, no matter how much you may not like him. Changing the course of fate does incur a heavy cost. Luckily for you, I’m the one setting the price,” he said with a smile.

“I’m not giving you the corpse in order to get back home, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Josuke said with a scowl.

“The what?” the double asked curiously.

Josuke grimaced. “Uh.”

The double laughed. Josuke felt an instinctive fear prickle up his neck. “Of course I know about the corpse,” the double said. “I’m just not too concerned about obtaining it right now, even though it would make for a fun diversion. But just then, you experienced the type of payment I prefer. You said I had just an awful sense of humor,” he continued, and his tone grew mocking. “At the very least, you understand what entertains me. Fear. Misery. Doubt.” He gestured towards the horses and the street beyond. “Soon, you will have several chances to change the course of fate. Understand the price that I will require you to pay in order to do so. And you should also understand that the more things change, the more they stay the same.” He pointed at the far end of the road. “Perhaps you should pay more attention to where you are going, now.”

He disappeared. Josuke looked up, swore, and pulled back on the reins. The horses slowed marginally until they finally came to a stop.

At the other end of the street was a similar carriage led by two horses. Josuke could not recognize the driver, but there was something odd about the horses. One had a dappled coat while the other was a dusty red; the two were identical to the horses driving his own carriage. The wheels of the other carriage clacked against the cobbled street as it continued to approach Josuke’s own. 

“Um. Reverse?” Josuke said to the horses. Their ears flicked but they did not respond.

He dropped the reins and clambered out of the driver's seat. He pulled open the door; Lucy and Steven gave him worried looks. “Something’s up,” Josuke said quickly. “I don’t think we can stay in this. We gotta go.”

Steven descended to the ground and began to help Lucy down. Josuke looked up with growing panic as the other carriage accelerated towards them.

Diego landed on the other side of the wall. Johnny immediately slid off of him and instead threw his arm around Hot Pants’s shoulder. “Where does the trail go now?” Johnny asked.

Diego sniffed at the air, but he narrowed his eyes and glanced around suspiciously. “Over towards that fence. But I can hear something.”

“You don’t need dino senses to hear that,” Johnny replied. “I can hear it, too. Sounds like a crowd of people.”

“And it’s getting closer,” Hot Pants added.

They all pressed back against the wall as an enraged horse went galloping past. A few moments later, a group of guards went sprinting after it. When they spotted Johnny, Diego, and Hot Pants, however, they turned and aimed their rifles at them.

“That’s them,” one guard exclaimed.

“Hold on,” another said as he took aim at Johnny. “Didn’t we already shoot that one?”

“Orders are to shoot on sight,” a third added. “I think it still applies if we see them again.”

Hot Pants lifted Cream Starter and watched the guards closely. Diego leaned forward and his tail twitched uneasily. Johnny set his fingernails to spinning and steeled himself for a fight.

Jolyne stared up at the marquee leaderboard at the entrance to the Philadelphia checkpoint. “Huh. Looks like this world’s you is still winning the race. And… huh, there’s a Higashikata here, too. Oh! Gyro Zeppeli’s the guy I ran into earlier. And then this world’s Jonathan Joestar came here just a little while after him.”

“They may still be in the city,” Dio replied. “I wonder if we’re meant to find them here.”

Two similar-looking attendants began to climb up ladders alongside the marquee. They began pulling off the letters for Johnny Joestar’s listing.

Jolyne frowned. “Uh. Maybe they got the order wrong.”

As they removed the letters from the board they merely tossed them down to the ground. Jolyne ran up and called up to them. “Hey, hey. What are you taking his name down for? Did he drop out of the race?”

The first attendant frowned. “You could say he dropped out, yes.”

“If by dropped out you mean he was shot dead for an attempt on the president’s life,” the second attendant added.

“Shot dead?” Jolyne asked. “Jonathan Joestar is dead?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details,” the first attendant replied. “Something about a stolen carriage and the Steels, and Valentine having his guards shoot him. Plenty of rumors, right now. But I don’t really know much other than he’s certainly dead.”

Jolyne shot a worried glance back at Dio, who was gripping at the handle of his umbrella so tightly that it was liable to snap.

“That isn’t possible,” he said lowly. “That’s not what I saw. He wasn’t shot.”

The attendants shrugged and returned their attention to fixing the listings.

“It isn’t possible,” Dio repeated.

“We couldn’t have fucked it up already, right?” Jolyne insisted. “There’s gotta be some way to save him, still. Maybe he’s just in the hospital or something.”

Dio closed his eyes and stood silently.

“Or… your calendar. We can't use the map but how far back does your calendar go?” Jolyne asked. “It’s 1890. You can go to that year, right? We could hop back a day here and keep it from happening. Right?”

“We don’t just need the diamonds to get home,” Dio finally replied. “We need them to find the right death. I am sure that what I was shown will be my only opportunity to change his fate. We need to find the world where what I saw will happen.”

Jolyne frowned but nodded in grave agreement. "Alright. We know the race goes through New Jersey next. If we can't catch the president here, then we can try to intercept him on the way. Hell, since he killed this Jonathan, maybe he knows how he dies in other worlds, too. I don't know. But we can just punch him until he tells us something useful."

"Your interrogation skills are truly impeccable," Dio replied flatly.

"Oh, good, you're still insulting me," Jolyne said. "You had me a little worried there. I thought you were gonna give up out of despair or something."

Dio sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Come on," Jolyne insisted as she clambered back up onto her horse. "We have to catch up to the other you, too. Otherwise, there won't be much of the president left for us to interrogate."

They ventured forward into Philadelphia.

Chapter Text

President Funny Valentine leaned forward from a leather armchair, flipped open the latches on a lacquered wooden case, and peered down with mild interest at a diamond resting upon plush velvet.

“While my world contains one singular immovable artifact, it appears that several other worlds imitate it by holding tools of lesser importance,” a second Valentine explained. “I am sure that I will obtain the corpse in the base world, but until further preparations are complete, I would like to pursue a few… supplementary projects.” He approached the desk and closed the wooden case. “A brief demonstration. Let us exit this room and leave the diamond here. Bring that policy brief with you and then set it on the floor.”

The first Valentine nodded and lifted a heavy sheaf of papers from the desk. The two ventured out into the hallway. The second Valentine closed the door behind them. The first Valentine set the stack of papers on the ground.

“While our worlds differ in a few significant ways, many of the component parts are the same,” the second Valentine stated as he pulled out the same written brief. “And when two of the same object come in contact…” He bent over and dropped his set of papers beside the other.

The papers shivered and slid towards their copy. When they touched, fractal cubes of emptiness tore through them until nothing was left.

“Ta-da,” the second Valentine said with a faint smile. 

“That was a tiresome brief. I had planned on burning it, but this was far more enlightening. But your… Stand power, is it?” the first asked. “That is what is keeping us from doing the same?”

“Correct,” the second answered. “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap is what allows me, and only me, to travel safely between worlds.” He sighed and glanced back towards the closed door. “Or at least, that is my intent. For safety and simplicity’s sake.” He turned and gave himself a serious stare. “There may only be one D4C at a time. However, if something were to happen to me, I would be able to transfer my Stand to you or another version of myself. In this way, the base world will always have a president to guide it.”

“The base world…” the first mused.

The second nodded. “The world that all others follow. It is in that world that I must ensure the eternal prosperity of my nation.”

“And this world is to be… supplementary,” the first replied.

“You understand what roles are to be played,” the second stated. “For every have, a have-not. Because of the corpse, my world is the have. To ensure its prosperity, there will be have-nots.” He gave himself a curious look. “Agreed?”

“Agreed, and understood,” the first answered. “In a sense, you have already taken the first napkin. I am to follow your direction.”

The second Valentine smiled. “It is so very refreshing to speak with someone that believes in the same ideals. Now, here is the role for you to take. That diamond can be used much like D4C. A person could use it to move from one world to the next. It would also keep them from seeing the same end as that pile of paper. Being moved by that diamond offers safety, as does being close to it.”

“That potential is dangerous,” the first replied. 

“Precisely. It is better for D4C to be the only one with the ability to move between worlds.” He pulled the door open and strode back into the office; the other Valentine followed. “I believe we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Take a close look at the upper facet of the diamond.”

The first Valentine reopened the case, picked up the diamond, and stared at it. “A fracture,” he said. “Small, but it is there.”

“Yes. The diamond can be strained by overuse. I intend to overuse it.” He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a large reference map of the United States. “The Speedwagon Oil Company has already made major land purchases throughout the West, and there are several mining outfits established through the Appalachians. The mines will not be difficult to influence. Most are owned by American citizens. Speedwagon’s company, however, may require some intervention, as the founder is a Brit and an environmentalist, to boot.” He dragged a fingertip over the map. “We will extract what resources we can, gather them in one place, and use the diamond to move them until it breaks. This will bolster the base world while also removing the risk of anyone else using the diamond.” 

“How quickly is this to be done?” the first Valentine asked. 

“As quickly as you would like,” the second replied with a shrug as he walked up to the tall office window. 

The first Valentine stared at the map thoughtfully and then nodded. As the second Valentine took a hold of the curtain, the first glanced back. “When will you return?”

“I’ll check on your progress in a year,” he replied. “Will that suffice?”

The first Valentine nodded, and the second disappeared.

Time passed. As the militia closed in on a contingent of striking miners, Valentine sat in his office and stared at the diamond.

When his other self had explained Run The Jewels to him, it had seemed silly, almost childish. All one had to do to move from one world to the next was hold it in their palm and wish to do so. They could even bring other things with them, if they so desired, as long as they were within a certain radius.

But as Valentine sat and wondered about the base world, he was not transported there. He peered at the minuscule fracture that marred the top of the diamond. It did not look any larger than when he had first observed it.

He set it back within its wooden case and returned to his work.

“Everything is gathered in this stretch of eastern Kentucky,” Valentine explained as he pointed towards the map. “It is ready to be transferred as soon as you would like.”

The second Valentine frowned thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” the first said dryly. “What unforeseen complications have arisen?”

“I have found other diamonds,” the second replied. “For now, I am keeping them secure in their respective worlds. If what we do here is enough to break one, then I will use the same method on the others.”

“I trust that the sheer volume of material I have acquired will be enough to break it,” the first Valentine stated. 

The second Valentine leaned against the desk and tilted his head. “Your approval rate in this world has plummeted,” he said pensively. 

“I am quite obviously willing to make sacrifices,” the first replied, “for the sake of the base world.”

The second Valentine was silent for a long while. “I will need to borrow your Scarlet, as well,” he stated.

“I have no qualms with that,” the first said. “Though I will ask why.”

“Have you tried to use the diamond on yourself?” the second Valentine asked, his tone not quite accusatory, but the question still held a careful suspicion.

For the first time, Valentine felt a flash of unease as he glanced at himself. “...Yes,” he answered.

“Of course,” the second Valentine said. “I am sure that you wished to see the base world, even if it was only a glimpse. But it did not work for you. That is because while you may not have D4C at this moment, you still have the potential to have it. So, you cannot use Run the Jewels. The two essentially cancel out, an odd but unfortunate quirk of how our Stand works.” He sighed. “I will need someone to use the diamond for me, and if it finally breaks, I need to see if any of its properties remain. I will use Scarlet to do so. At the very least, she will trust me and listen to my directions.”

The first Valentine nodded slowly. “I see. I have no objections. And I hold no desire to see the base world unless it is absolutely necessary. My attempt to use the diamond was no more than an indulgence of basic curiosity. I know my role here in this world.”

“Excellent.” The second Valentine clapped his hands together. “I trust that my transportation has been arranged. Let us see if this diamond is breakable.”

The second Valentine returned, and his expression was stony and grim.

“What went wrong?” the first asked. 

“The diamond did break,” he replied. “For that, I suppose I am glad. And once broken, its effect was greatly lessened, and in some ways negated completely.” He reached into a pocket and dropped the dull-edged shards of the diamond onto the desk. “These pieces can still protect things from being destroyed as long as they are very close to them. Scarlet was right beside her other self for several minutes and suffered no ill effects.” 

He frowned and thought for a few moments before continuing. “The most important thing is that the remaining shards cannot be used to travel between worlds. That ability is gone. Scarlet certainly tried to return here with them, but… I did not foresee the materials that we moved losing their protection once the diamond broke. In many cases, the effect of a Stand can be retained even after the Stand is deactivated or otherwise weakened. I suppose it must be the force of a human will that causes it to stay. A pile of coal has no will of its own, of course. So, the protection was lost.”

“...Then upon existing in another world,” the first Valentine said. “It was…”

“Obliterated,” the second answered. “A large swath of another Kentucky is now even more uninhabitable than the version here. I am quite lucky that D4C allowed me to escape unharmed. Scarlet, however, perished.” 

“This was in the base world?” the first asked, his tone tinged with fearful disbelief. “Did it--”

“Not the base world,” the second answered. “It was another world, much like yours, with another stockpile gathered in the same location. A trial run of sorts, to be done before attempting any changes to the base world.”

“Another have-not world,” the first Valentine said.

“Indeed.” The second Valentine crossed his arms behind his back and paced, his footsteps silent even on the hardwood floor.

The first Valentine leaned back in his chair. “...This was not all for naught,” he said. “Now we know what risks will come with using the diamonds of other worlds.”

The second Valentine did not respond. He approached the window and held the fabric of the curtain between his thumb and forefinger. 

The first quickly stood from his chair. “Surely this world may still be of use,” he said. “You will return?”

“Your approval rating is low enough,” the second Valentine replied. “A dead First Lady would be no help. I’ll bring you another.”

“And after that?” the first asked.

“I suppose I could find a use for this world,” the second stated. “It could be convenient for me to return here on occasion. You understand, however, that it would not help your public image.”

“And surely you understand that I have abandoned any pretenses of being a proper leader for this America,” the first stated. “I understand my role. I am dedicated entirely to the prosperity of the base world.”

“Would you like to take my place?” the second asked. 

The first Valentine fell silent.

“I understand,” the second stated. “You’re me, after all. I am sure that any time I appear, you have the ever-so-slight hope that I will do so in a mortally wounded state. That I will tell you that it is your turn to be the leader of the true United States.” He sighed. “I know that your dedication to the base world is absolute. But there was once a time where you did not even know that it existed. As inconsequential as this world may be, it was still your world.” He tilted his head. “I suppose I am glad that I am not the mutinous sort. If I was anyone else, you would not have had the strength to make such sacrifices.”

“I understand my role,” the first reiterated. 

“The Steel Ball Run will be starting soon,” the second Valentine said. “The purpose of it in the base world will be to find Stand users capable of gathering the corpse parts and bringing them to me. The same challenges may echo in this world, as well. Perhaps someone will arise with the ability to remediate some of the damage we have done here.”

“If that is the case, I will not be ungrateful,” the first replied. “But I see no need to make it a priority.”

The second slowly smiled. “As I thought.” He waved a hand towards the diamond shards upon the desk. “Distribute those to the most trusted members of your cabinet. I will use this world to dispose of my enemies, if the need arises. To do so, I will need your occasional cooperation in ensuring that they will meet their other self and be destroyed. However, one weakness of D4C is that a person could accidentally move from one world to another within the range of its effect. I don’t necessarily have to be the one that sends them. So, just in case any unfortunate accidents occur, be sure that those we trust are given a piece of the diamond.”

The first Valentine nodded. “It will be done.”

The second Valentine pulled at the fabric of the curtain and disappeared.

“So, are there really two of you?” Diego asked with a wry smile. “Is it you that is protected by a Stand, or is it only the president in the world you favor?”

The first Valentine stared back, his expression calm even as his gaze traveled over too-sharp teeth. 

“I’m not threatening you,” Diego added. “I’m merely curious. And your behavior of late has garnered a lot of attention. Hell, with the election season coming up soon, people have been taking bets as to if you’re going to cancel the whole affair and declare yourself emperor.” He tilted his head and grinned. “People are frightened of what has been happening around you. They are afraid of trying to stop you, lest they too are destroyed. Wouldn’t it be a relief to find out that it isn’t this President that has a powerful Stand?”

“Oh, you’re attempting to blackmail me,” Valentine said dismissively. “What is it that you want, then? Money?”

“I’d prefer something a little more sustainable than a mere windfall. I’d take a cabinet position,” Diego replied. “A mayorship, perhaps. I do quite enjoy Manhattan.”

“Is that all?” Valentine said.

“Well, what else can you offer me?” Diego asked. “Tell me, what’s so special about the other world?” He crossed his arms and tapped clawed fingers against his elbows. “I’d even be willing to forgo the mayorship if you tell me more about how to get there.”

Valentine sighed, pulled out a pocket watch, and glanced at the time. “I do believe we’re late to our photo opportunity, now. Surely you’d like to commemorate claiming first place at the halfway point of the race.”

“Oh, you’re being coy about it,” Diego replied. “It must be very special.”

Valentine’s customarily calm expression cracked into something strained, and he could tell that Diego was delighting in his unease. “Your fame has not obscured everything about you, Brando,” he stated. “Your greed is known to me, as are your embarrassing beginnings. The various vices and failings of all of the racers are known to me. None of you are fit to see even the smallest glimpse of the base world.”

“My greed?” Diego retorted. “What about yours? That Joestar is just full of fascinating stories about Kentucky. What a bloody mess you made of this country’s industry.”

“I know my place,” Valentine stated, his tone icy and dismissive. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of yours. I may or may not have a Stand, but I do have the full faculties of the United States at my disposal. The kindest thing I could do would be to disqualify you from the race on a technicality and ship you back to Britain. If you make the foolish decision to press me further, less pleasant outcomes could be arranged.”

Diego narrowed his eyes, his expression making it clear that Valentine had merely stoked the same burning ambition that he had hoped to quench.

“Shall we return to playing nice? No matter how pointless they may become, I still have optics to attend to,” Valentine stated as he began to walk away. “Let’s go smile for the camera.”

The second Valentine returned, and yet he was not the same second Valentine. He still had D4C, however, and the first Valentine supposed that was all that mattered.

“There is a traitor in our midst,” the second Valentine explained. “It would be best to recollect all remnants of the diamond and keep them secure. I do not yet know who has broken my trust, but I may have to dispose of someone I believed to be an ally at any moment.”

The first Valentine nodded. “I will see to it.”

The second Valentine crossed his arms and watched him. “Are you disappointed?” he asked.

“Disappointed?” the first echoed.

“I died and was replaced,” the second said. “And yet you were not the replacement.”

The first Valentine took a deep breath and let it out as a slow exhale. “I know my role. And you knew yours. We are both like cogs to a grand machine. I may only hope that the machine continues on even if I myself do not, and I am sure that when you were given D4C, you felt the same way. Perhaps the day will come where you are forced to give D4C to another. If it happened to be me, of course I would be happy. But I am not disappointed. I know my role.”

The second approached the curtain. “As I thought. I suppose that I am glad that I know myself so well.”

He disappeared.

Valentine stood just outside of his office sorting through reports gathered from a senate session he felt increasingly apathetic towards. He froze when he heard a loud thunk from within the room.

The papers fluttered to the ground, he pulled the door open, and he searched throughout the well-lit room for himself, his gaze dropping to the floor, his heart gripped by the odd hope that perhaps he would find himself upon the brink of death—

“Hm. Pardon me,” Dio’s double said from where he was lounging in the plush leather chair behind the desk with one leg draped up and over the armrest. He gestured towards a small ornamental brass statue lying on the ground. “I merely dropped your paperweight.”

Based on the distance it was from the desk, it had absolutely been thrown. Valentine frowned. The double grinned, stood up, and strode a few steps away from the chair. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’d just love to speak with you,” he stated.

“Another Diego,” Valentine mused. “Are you here by accident? Or are you perhaps from another world where a diamond is still intact?”

“Neither,” he replied. “Although I do know about both the diamonds and the corpse.”

Valentine tensed. “I see,” he said. “What is it that you want, then? If you have managed to come here, then surely you know I cannot help you with your damnable ambitions. My diamond does not fully function, and this is not the base world with the corpse.”

“I have no need for such toys right now,” he replied. “I can entertain myself in different ways.”

Valentine watched him carefully. Dealing with Diego was always somewhat unsettling due to how much he enjoyed flaunting his new reptilian traits, but at least Valentine found his behavior predictable. This, however, felt different. The double’s presence sent a numbing chill up his spine, but Valentine ignored the instinctive reaction, steeled himself, and gave the double his most serious stare.

The double grinned widely. Valentine blinked and realized that he was now sitting in his chair. He gripped at the armrests and watched warily as the double approached the fallen brass paperweight and picked it up.

“You know yourself rather well,” the double stated. “I find that refreshing compared to my current project, who knows himself much less than he’d like to think.”

“What is it that you want?” Valentine asked.

“Do you think that you will ever see the base world?” the double asked.

Valentine narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not the mutinous sort, but you are only human,” the double continued. “Do you think that your other self truly trusts you?”

“We are both fully dedicated to our responsibilities,” Valentine replied. “I have no desire to see the base world unless it is absolutely necessary to do so.”

“Have you no desires of your own?” the double asked. “You’re truly happy to stay here and let him take and take and take from you until there is nothing left? What do you think will happen if he obtains the corpse? No enemy will be able to approach him. He will never need your help again. You’ll be left with an empty world that hates you. What will you do then? Take a bow and conclude your role with grace?” He lightly tossed the paperweight from one hand to the other a few times before setting it back upon the desk. “You are alive, aren’t you, Mr. President? Surely you hunger. Wouldn’t you like to be the one that ends up with the power of the corpse?” 

“I have not ruined my reputation here for naught,” Valentine replied, his tone curt. “I am fully dedicated to the prosperity of the base world. My other self knows this. He trusts me.”

“You’re trying to prove yourself to yourself?” The double leaned against the desk and smiled at Valentine, his manner irritatingly casual. “All in the hopes of being next in line? Are you that beholden to the sunk-cost fallacy? How much more are you willing to sacrifice for a miracle that will never come?”

Valentine took a deep breath and watched as the double began idly looking through the items on the surface of his desk. He picked up a fountain pen and fiddled with it, flipping it across and between his fingers.

“...Is there something that you want or do you only intend to irritate me with useless conjecture?” Valentine asked.

“It’s not useless,” the double replied. “It’s merely something I want you to think about. Eventually, you will have to make a decision.” He balanced the pen on the tip of his index finger. “I will not push you. That simply wouldn’t be fair. But you cannot keep your balance forever. Either you will truly be content with staying here, or you will sway things in your favor. It will not be a total betrayal, mind you. You both have the same goals, after all. But surely you deserve something for your dedication.” He kept his hand still; the pen began to slide off his finger. It fell and clattered against the surface of the desk.

When Valentine looked up, the double was gone.

“Give one shard to Lucy Steel,” the second Valentine said. “We cannot risk any harm coming to the version of her in the base world. The corpse has chosen her as a vessel.” He paused. “I will also need you to give directions to a few of your Stand users. Chocolate Disco would serve my purposes well.”

“You’re different again,” the first Valentine stated.

“Yes,” the second replied. “Lucy managed to stab me in the throat. She has a powerful inner strength. I do think that the corpse chose well.” He paused. “You haven’t happened to see anyone riding with your Zeppeli and Joestar, have you?”

“No,” the first answered. “It actually seems that their paths have diverged, somewhat.”

“Strange,” the second mused. “The corpse wants to see the Atlantic. I’m sure that its desires are sending out ripples of change to move things in its favor. Perhaps these recent divergences are because of this.” He approached the curtain. “Let us hope that we reach New Jersey without much further incident.”

“Indeed,” the first Valentine replied, his tone held perfectly even, but the other Valentine was already gone.

“Mr. Steel. Mrs. Steel. I am glad that you’ve accepted my invitation to travel with me as we approach the end of the race,” the first Valentine stated.

“Of course,” Steven replied, and his smile was polite but strained. 

“If you don’t mind, I have a gift to give your wife,” Valentine stated, and he opened a lacquered wooden box. “Scarlet purchased these some time ago simply because they were pretty, and while I teased her for it then, I have found that they seem to bring good luck.” He pulled out a shard of the diamond. “I would like for you to have one. I am very grateful for what the Steel Ball Run has brought to this country. I am sure that you know that the projected profits have surpassed anything we could have dreamed of. If it were not for your ingenuity and tireless dedication...” He trailed off and held out the shard. “Well, a small token of thanks. And what’s the phrase? Diamonds are a girl’s best friend? Perhaps you can find a jeweler to make something beautiful out of it, but even in this simple form, it should offer you some protection.”

Lucy stared at him blankly, but then nodded politely. “Thank you.”

They began to enter the carriage, but a loud thunk came from between the horses. The second Valentine slid out from between them, his hair disheveled and his expression irritated.

“I’ll need to borrow this carriage,” he stated. He glanced over towards Steven. Steven took a cautious step back. “I may borrow him, as well,” the second Valentine added. 

The first Valentine nodded. “Of course.”

“You there,” the second Valentine commanded. “Grab that tarp. Spread it out over the carriage. And you,” he said to another guard. “You are to drive this carriage a block to the left, continue up to the river as quickly as possible, and then return down this street until you find another carriage much like it. All you need to do then is bring it close.” He frowned and looked back at the first Valentine. “Tell me, where is your Joestar?”

“Not far from here, actually,” he replied. “He’s purchasing supplies. The storefront is just a few blocks to the left of the stable.”

“I will be borrowing him, as well,” the second Valentine said, and as he walked forward an invisible force grabbed Steven Steel by the collar. Lucy cried out in fearful surprise as he was dragged towards the carriage. The door flew open and he was thrown inside.

“Hurry with the tarp,” the second Valentine added as he gestured towards the guard. “Go on.”

Another guard assisted and the bulky tarp was thrown over the carriage, but then it sank to the ground. The carriage was gone.

So was Lucy.

The second Valentine sighed. “How very like her. She does have a piece of the diamond, correct?”

“...Yes,” the first replied. 

“Then the base world Lucy will be safe,” the second Valentine said. “I’ll send yours back eventually, if she stays in one piece. But right now, my priority is the Joestar.” He waved a hand dismissively and began to briskly walk away. “Find another carriage and continue on to New Jersey.”

The first Valentine watched as the second left the stable.

Meanwhile, Lucy had not slipped beneath the tarp. She had instead sprinted out onto the street while the second Valentine was distracted. She searched for the storefront. She gripped the shard of the diamond tightly, fear tightening her throat as she ducked inside the building and glanced around for a glimpse of the now well-known knit hat.

She spotted him sitting upon a barrel and sorting through some rations. As she ran over to him, he looked up with surprise.

“Valentine is going to do something to you,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pressed the shard of the diamond against his palm. “Take this. I don’t know what it does, but he gave it to me and said it would keep me safe from something. Maybe it will protect you, too. He made… he made Steven disappear. He said he was going to borrow him, and you too.” She gulped down a short, shallow breath. “Please. If he takes you and you see Steven… keep him safe.”

“H-hold on,” Johnny stammered. “What are you talking about? The President did something to Steven Steel?”

The door of the shop swung open. Lucy inhaled sharply and ducked down an aisle. She squeezed herself behind a stack of crates, then clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle the sounds of her breathing.

The second Valentine grabbed a horse blanket from a pile and strode towards Johnny. Before Johnny could say anything to him, he threw the blanket forward. It draped over Johnny, but then sank to merely cover the flat surface of the barrel. Valentine himself then ducked beneath it and disappeared.

In the base world, a very confused Johnny Joestar looked around the shop. He glared at Valentine when he appeared beside him. 

“Do you even have Tusk if you were not exposed to the corpse?” Valentine mused as D4C grabbed Johnny by the shoulders and pulled. Johnny shouted in surprise and struggled against it, his legs dragging along as he went. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I only need your cooperation for a few moments.”

He pulled Johnny out into the street and over towards a set of idle guards. Once he had their attention, D4C dropped Johnny to the ground, where he sat and glared at Valentine with growing suspicion.

“This, of course, is Johnny Joestar,” Valentine explained to the guards. He snatched off the knit cap and Johnny scowled at him. “This is what he looks like without his hat. If you see someone else wearing this hat, shoot them. If you see Johnny himself, you may shoot him, as well.”

One guard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Um. You mean the Johnny Joestar sitting in front of us right now?”

Valentine pursed his lips. “Hm. There’s no real need to return him to his world, so... yes. If all else fails, I could just throw his own corpse at him. Go ahead.”

“Hey, hold on,” Johnny said as he began to pull himself back and away from the guards. “Hold on! What the fuck is happening?”

Valentine heard the sound of yelling and loud hoofbeats getting closer.

“It’s coming back around!”

“Grab the damn rope!”

“What, and get dragged?”

He took a step to the side and the guards pressed back against the wall as an absolutely furious horse came galloping past. At some point someone must have tried and failed to lasso it; a stretch of rope was dragging along from its neck.

Johnny spotted his chance. He pulled himself forward and grabbed the rope just as the horse went thundering past. Pain jolted up his spine as he was dragged along.

“This is why I don’t like bringing other people along,” Valentine sighed. “They aren’t as predictable as myself. But guns were invented for hitting targets at a range, were they not? Just shoot him.” 

The guards took aim. Some shots missed. Some did not. Johnny did not relent his hold on the rope, but he was bleeding severely.

“Well, no matter,” Valentine said. “I really just needed the hat. Perhaps he’ll run into himself. Do try to catch that horse, though.”

The guards ran off.

“That was great,” Gyro exclaimed. “Those guys didn’t stand a chance. Man, why haven’t we been on team Balls of Steel before?”

Before Wekapipo could reply, Gyro pouted and waved a hand dismissively. “I know why, man. It was a rhetorical question.” He looked around the street and frowned. “You hear that?”

“Sounds like a crowd of people chasing after a horse,” Wekapipo replied.

They stepped back as the horse turned the corner and ran past. Someone was being dragged along on a rope looped around the horse’s neck. As his grip on the rope weakened, he fell further behind until he finally let go and slid to a stop.

“...Johnny?” Gyro said in disbelief.

“More guards,” Wekapipo warned as he looked up the street.

“Ataxia,” Gyro stated. “Now.” He ran over to Johnny and pulled him out of the way. Wekapipo threw out his steel ball; the guards did not notice them as they ran past.

“Johnny. Hey.” Gyro turned him onto his back. He quickly placed a few fingers against his neck; his pulse was weak but insistent. “You’re in very bad shape. But you’re going to be okay.” His expression darkened. “Where the hell are Hot Pants and Diego? What did they do?”

Johnny looked around, his breathing shallow, his sight unfocused. He managed to look at Gyro and a smile slowly spread upon his bloodied face. “Oh. Gyro. You’re my friend in this world, too?” He weakly lifted his hand, then dropped it. “You’re still an awful liar here, as well. Or, at least, I know what your poker face looks like. I’m not gonna be okay. But I’m glad I got to see you again.” He huffed. “Wasn’t like I was gonna win the race, anyway. But maybe here I can actually do something.”

He pushed the shard of the diamond over to Gyro. “Lucy Steel gave me this. I don’t know what it does or what it’s for. But the president gave it to her, so it must be something. She wanted me to find Steven Steel. If the same thing happened to him as what happened to me, there’s gonna be two of him here.” He paused to try and manage his breathing; the taste of blood was sharp in the back of his throat. “That’s Valentine’s Stand ability. Going between worlds and bringing things with him. So. Keep an eye out for that.”

Gyro was silent, completely at a loss for what to say. He picked up the diamond shard and squeezed it against his palm.

“Hey. Don’t look so fuckin’ sad. I’m not even your Johnny.” He let his head rest back against the street. “I think… I’m actually really happy to be here. Maybe this is finally my zero.”

“Oh, shut up, Johnny,” Gyro said. “You know Josuke in your world? No? I’m gonna… I’ll find him. He can heal you.” He looked up. “Wekapipo. Watch him. I’ll be back. I’ll be right back.”

Gyro ran off. Wekapipo said nothing. After a few long moments, he reached out and closed Johnny’s eyes.

The other carriage rattled forward towards them. Steven helped Lucy as best as he could, but Crazy Diamond was able to lift them both and carry them along as Josuke ran.

As the carriages approached each other, the wood began to rattle and creak. The horses spooked and reared back, but the two carriages moved inexorably towards each other. The air itself seemed to crack apart and square chunks popped out from both carriages and disappeared. As pieces went flying, Crazy Diamond brought Lucy and Steven close to the ground and hunched over them protectively.

Josuke heard a familiar voice shout and he looked back. A second Steven Steel was left on the ground, surrounded by the still-disappearing pieces of the horses and the carriages. He was left bloodied and injured by the flying debris.

He glanced at the Steven being protected by Crazy Diamond, and then back to the Steven that remained in the rubble.

“Lucy?” the second Steven called out. “Lucy—!”

As he began to stagger to his feet, Josuke held up a hand and shouted at him. “Don’t! Stay there! I’ll heal you. But you have to stay away. If you get too close you’re gonna explode just like the carriages did.”

Josuke could see the confusion and despair in the other Steven’s expression as he looked at Lucy and himself, but as he looked at the dissipating wreckage around him he nodded and stayed put.

“You know all the racers, right, since you run the whole thing?” Josuke asked the new Steven. “I need you to find Johnny or Gyro. Hell, even Diego. Somebody. This must be the President’s Stand ability. Tell them what happened here. That way, he won’t catch them by surprise.” He pointed back towards Lucy. “You just want her to be safe, right? Please trust me. I’m doing what I can to get them the hell away from Valentine.”

The new Steven nodded. Josuke approached and Crazy Diamond fixed his wounds. "I can go," the new Steven said. "Where are the racers in this world? The checkpoint?”

“Try around Independence Hall,” Josuke replied. “But be careful. It seems like there are guards everywhere.”

The new Steven looked back. “That’s… west of here, if I remember correctly. I’ll go.”

Josuke nodded. Crazy Diamond helped Lucy and the original Steven along as they ran up the street. The other Steven took a deep breath and began to run in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take long for him to run into Valentine.

“Josuke convinced you not to come any closer, I presume,” he stated. “How one can be so clever and yet so shortsighted is beyond me.”

An invisible force slammed into Steven’s chest.

“The same trick won’t work twice, I’m afraid,” Valentine continued. “Or, rather, the same Steven won’t work twice. You know not to get close to them. Perhaps I could try again with another Steven, but… hm. We’ll see.”

D4C drove another kick into his ribcage. Steven collapsed to the ground.

“The corpse is still my ally,” Valentine mused. “Perhaps it would be best for me to be a little more laissez-faire. The corpse wants to see the Atlantic. Even if they try to flee, that is where they will inevitably go.” He frowned. “You haven’t happened to see your Lucy around, have you? Did she go into the carriage with you?”

Steven only groaned.

“Hm. An alternate Lucy running loose is not my highest priority.” He leaned forward; D4C began to press Steven’s chest against the pavement. “You may be glad to know that the Lucy here is to become a goddess. She will become something more than you could have ever hoped for. That is what motivates you, isn’t it? Her prosperity? Let your life end with that grand thought in mind.”

D4C pressed down one final time and then drew back.

“No need to fuel the tabloids with tales of a dead lookalike,” Valentine said as he tore a flag from a nearby pole and tossed it over the body. “I’ll send you back.”

The flag flattened out against the ground.

The door to the supply shop swung open. Valentine walked inside. Lucy had crawled out from where she had been hiding behind the crates and was now shivering on the floor. She looked up in abject fear as he approached.

“I knew that you did not go under the tarp,” he stated. “But I did not tell him.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“But I did not tell him,” he repeated, and he sounded as if he did not believe himself. “In that world, the corpse has made you his ally. Perhaps here, you are to be my ally, as well.” He looked towards the blanket draped over the barrels. “How shall I explain this one to my public? I doubt that Joestar will be returning alive. What should my excuse be? If he was still here, I do think he’d enjoy going down in history as a man that tried to take my life. Many would consider him a hero for it.” He sighed. “That can be the story. He made an attempt on my life in order to avenge his home state. I had him killed for it.”

“Please,” Lucy said. “Bring Steven back.”

“I cannot,” Valentine replied. “Perhaps you can ask him to bring you another Steven. He brought me another Scarlet, after all.”

Lucy didn’t respond. She pressed her palms against her eyes and steadied herself.

“You’re free to do as you like,” Valentine added. “Though if you wish to ask anything of my other self, I recommend traveling with me to New Jersey.”

Lucy looked up at him. Although she was weeping and shivering, he could see the sheer determination in her eyes.

“Let us get another carriage,” he said, and Lucy slowly nodded.

A day passed. The news of Johnny Joestar’s disappearance and apparent death was spread. That story was then completely overshadowed by the discovery of Steven Steel’s corpse in the middle of the street. Lucy read the newspaper with an expression as cold and hard as stone, but later wept in private.

Time passed. The organization of the race faltered without Steven Steel to guide it, the news was in an absolute uproar, and yet the show went on nevertheless. Gyro Zeppeli was in a rising third, second was held by Pocoloco, and despite Valentine’s best efforts to stop him, Diego retained first place.

They prepared to board a train and cross the bulk of New Jersey at a steady pace. Lucy idly sorted through the newspapers on a display while attendants carried her sparse luggage onto the train. Valentine was several meters away, quietly discussing the itinerary with a few representatives of the race.

“Hey, hey,” a woman’s voice said. “What the hell is Saloop? Is that an alternate universe thing or is that more Victorian bullshit?”

A voice responded, and something about it was vaguely familiar, but Lucy wasn’t quite sure why. “It was originally brewed from orchids, but seeing as we’re in America… I believe they started using sassafras, instead. It’s supposed to be good for you, but it’s mostly sugar and milk. I always preferred tea.”

“Sassafras? Is that the same as sarsaparilla? Or do they both just have nonsense names?”

“If I’m remembering Rohan’s botany reference books correctly, they are related but different. Both contain carcinogenic compounds. That’s yet another reason to prefer tea.”

“You only prefer tea because you haven’t tried Mountain Dew.”

“I enjoy beverages, not industrial waste.”

Lucy took a cautious step to the side and peeked around the newspaper rack. “Oh,” she said as she lifted a hand to her mouth in surprise. “A tall Diego.”

Jolyne looked up at Lucy with a bewildered expression. Dio tilted his umbrella back and frowned at her. “Pardon?”

“You said alternate universe,” Lucy stated, careful not to let too much hope into her voice. “Are you…?”

“You know about other universes?” Jolyne exclaimed. “Man, I knew the train station was gonna be the place to look. Are you another person Valentine’s been messing with?”

“You know about Valentine?” Lucy asked. “Which one?”

“...Which one?” Jolyne echoed as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

The conductor called out. Lucy glanced back. Valentine and most of the attendants were already on the train. Another attendant approached her. “Don’t forget your ticket, Mrs. Steel. We’ll be boarding soon.”

“Please,” Lucy insisted. “Get on the train, if you can. Or follow it. There is a Valentine here. I don’t… I don’t trust him, but if you’re looking for another world, you need a different Valentine. If we’re careful about it, we may be able to...” She trailed off. “Something must be done. There isn’t much left in this world for me, but we could keep him from taking anything more. Please. We can work together. I’ll be in the compartment third to the front. Meet me there.”

Jolyne nodded decisively. “We can hitch a ride no problem. We’ll see you as soon as we can.”

Lucy nodded, swept her forearm over her eyes, and ran over to the train.

"...Something about her was familiar," Dio stated. "But I'm not sure what it was."

"Did you know anybody named Lucy back in the old-timey days?" Jolyne asked.

"Not that I can recall," he replied.

"Huh." Jolyne shrugged. "Well, whatever. Let's go sneak onto one of the train cars. I feel like I should have a beard and a bindle or something."

The train whistled. They ran off.

Chapter Text

The guards readied their rifles and took aim. Johnny shot out towards them, but even if every nail hit it wouldn’t be enough. Hot Pants sprayed Cream Starter at the nearest guard; the fleshy substance bubbled on his face and he fell back as he struggled to breathe.

Diego ducked behind Johnny and Hot Pants and at first Johnny felt a flash of enraged disbelief—is he seriously going to use us as human shields? he thought—but Diego pressed a hand to Hot Pants’s back just as the corners of his own mouth began to crack apart.

Hot Pants leaned forward and let out a gasp that turned into a low, bone-chilling hiss. Johnny began to fall to the ground as his arm slipped off broad, scaly shoulders. As his legs buckled beneath him, something grabbed him by the collar and began to pull.

A few of the guards fired. Hot Pants ducked beneath the bullets and lunged forward, sharp teeth digging into the nearest leg. The guard screamed. More bullets crashed into the wall just behind where Johnny had been as he was yanked to the side.

The ground flew by in a blurred rush and the sounds of Hot Pants tearing into the guards grew distant. Johnny winced as he was dragged around a corner and his shoulder knocked into the brick. When he was dropped to the ground, he twisted around to look at Diego.

Diego’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. “The scent trail goes that way,” he said, and he pointed a clawed hand up the street. “And it’s very fresh. They can’t be that far away.”

“You’re going to leave Hot Pants behind?” Johnny asked.

“We are going to leave Hot Pants behind,” Diego corrected. “I have Lucy’s scent now, so I don’t need Cream Starter’s memory of it. I still need you, however, to keep Josuke from attacking me.” When Johnny glared at him, he huffed. “Hot Pants will have ample opportunity to escape. As a dinosaur, I can dodge most shots and even when they do hit, they don’t incapacitate me like they would as a human. Hot Pants has the same advantages right now. Honestly, it was rather generous of me to confer such power.”

Johnny pressed his palm against his forehead and scowled. 

“Hot Pants will be fine,” Diego insisted. “We can’t lose track of the corpse, and we certainly won’t find it if we fall to Valentine’s firing squad.”

“We’re being scorpions,” Johnny grumbled. 

“Oh, do shut up,” Diego snapped. He poked a finger against his temple. “I can sense if anything goes wrong. I give you my word that if I feel that Hot Pants has been grievously injured, we’ll turn right back around and keep our helpful frog from sinking.”

Johnny frowned and he pressed his fists against his thighs. He let out a short sound of frustration and shook his head. “Fine.”

“What do you guys think is the best way to get out of here?” Josuke asked. “Planes are… not a thing, right? Another carriage? A boat? Hot air balloon?”

“A train would probably be best,” Steven replied. “There’s a station east of the Delaware river. We could board there. We’ll need to ferry across the river, though.”

Josuke frowned. “Do you think that feels predictable? If Valentine is trying to get us, then he’ll be trying to figure out where we’ll try to go. He was able to predict us getting that carriage, anyway.”

“Whatever is fastest is safest,” Lucy said, and she clutched at her stomach with a pained expression. 

“Then we’ll go across the river,” Josuke said with a decisive nod. 

Steven pulled a chair well away from the edge of the boat and gestured for Lucy to take a seat. Josuke glanced around and had Crazy Diamond pull miscellaneous furniture away from the walls. “He went through the curtain before and I think he moved me by squishing me behind a door,” he explained. “So if we make sure there’s no little gaps for him to squeeze through, we should be okay.” He frowned. “You guys don’t think clothes count, do you? It’s way too cold out to have to strip.”

“For her sake, I hope not,” Steven said, and then he winced. “Would a blanket be too much of a risk?”

“I’m not cold,” Lucy said. “I just don’t feel well.”

“I mean, you have a whole dead body inside you,” Josuke blurted out. “That has to suck super hard.”

For a long moment, Lucy was silent, and Steven looked stricken. Then, Lucy smiled and began to laugh, her shoulders shivering as she leaned forward and shut her eyes. “It really is absurd,” she said as she caught her breath. “And I know we’re still in danger. But I feel as if…” She trailed off and shook her head. “If perhaps luck—”

“Ah! Don’t jinx it!” Josuke insisted in a concerned whisper. 

Lucy laughed again. “You sound like that Zeppeli.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been hanging out,” Josuke said with a grin, and he ran a few fingers under the hem of his borrowed hat.

Steven grunted. Lucy’s almost cheerful expression slid back into a fearful worry. A familiar form began to emerge from the back of Steven’s green overcoat.

“Ugh, I was right about the clothes,” Josuke complained. “But I ain’t gonna fight this bastard in the nude.” He pulled Lucy’s chair back and away from Steven, then brought forth Crazy Diamond. Steven stood as still as he could as Valentine slipped out of the back of his coat.

Crazy Diamond landed a punch square on Valentine’s jaw. Valentine let out a choked sound of pain and staggered to the side.

“Alright!” Josuke exclaimed. “I’d say that you’re about to be impeached, but I’d say it’s more like… im-punched,” he said, and Crazy Diamond drove its fist into Valentine’s gut.

Valentine fell to his knees and coughed as he crawled a few paces away. Josuke took a step forward to keep him within Crazy Diamond’s range but he felt a sudden chill as something shifted the fabric of his school uniform.

A second Valentine emerged out of his own back; D4C manifested and loomed over him. Crazy Diamond came rushing back as quickly as it could, but it only took a moment for Valentine to lower the stolen copy of Johnny’s hat over Josuke’s head.

Searing pain cracked against his skull. Muffled and quiet, as if from a room far away, he heard Lucy cry out.

Diego squinted out at the street and sniffed. “They were here, but… it’s weird. I know one scent is Josuke, and the other is Lucy, and there was a third person with them. But here, I smell that third person… twice, somehow.”

Johnny frowned. “Like an identical twin?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But we must be very close. The scent is extremely recent.”

“Then let’s go,” Johnny said. “There’s no guards through here. This is our best chance to—uh. Diego. What the hell is that face for?”

Diego quickly smoothed his shocked expression over into his usual vague smugness. “Nothing.”

“Are you serious—come on. What was that?” He leaned forward, his shoulders tensed. “What happened to Hot Pants?”

“Nothing,” he repeated.

“You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” Johnny spat as he glanced up the street. “We have to go back.”

“Hot Pants is fine,” Diego hissed. “I’m serious. It was just like… half of the awareness was gone, but the other half was fine for a few moments before... Isn’t that Wekapipo’s thing? They must have run into each other.”

“The ataxia?” Johnny asked with a frown. “He used it on Hot Pants?”

“Well, Hot Pants was on a rampage, so,” Diego said with a shrug. “Perhaps he got in the way. And activating the ataxia could have weakened Scary Monsters. Hot Pants is probably just human again now.”

“Probably,” Johnny said flatly. He looked up the street again.

Diego scowled. “Come on, Joestar. It’s fine.” He set his hands on his hips and glowered. “You know, if I just turned you into a dinosaur, then I wouldn’t have to deal with your whining.”

“Just send a few raptors back to check, at least,” Johnny grumbled. “I know we said no to making them earlier, but I don’t care now. You can use them to guide them to where we are.”

Diego’s frown only deepened.

“What the hell is the problem now?” Johnny exclaimed.

“You really only want the corpse for your legs, right? Not to…” He trailed off and waved a hand vaguely as he scowled. “It isn’t as if you would have to hold onto it forever for that. I’d be glad to let you borrow the corpse and once you’re healed, I’ll take it back. Hot Pants, however, just wants to take it to the Vatican and allow no one to use it. Seeing as Wekapipo is from Naples, he likely has the same motivation.” He sniffed. “Surely it’s in our mutual interest to let Hot Pants and Wekapipo fall behind.”

Johnny let out a sharp exhale through gritted teeth. 

“The corpse is getting further away by the second,” Diego said. “Let’s just go.”

The Valentine with D4C approached the Valentine that had collapsed to the deck of the boat. Steven stepped back and stood in front of Lucy protectively. Josuke was flat against the floor, blood sticky against his mussed hair.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Valentine said as he helped the other version of himself up. 

“No thanks are needed,” the other version said as he pressed a gloved hand to the bruise splotched across his jaw.

Valentine turned his gaze towards Steven and Lucy, who watched him warily. “You were planning to cross New Jersey, reach the Atlantic, and escape by boat, I presume?” he asked. “I have no qualms with that plan. Mr. Steel, I must say, this little misadventure has distressed me, and I am a man quite used to simply removing anything that distresses me. So, my apologies for my recent attempt on your life. But keep in mind that if you annoy me once more, there will be no need to leave you on the brink of death as leverage. And Lucy,” he added, “you would be wise to remember that, as well. You understand what would happen if your Steven were to run into another version of himself, since you saw what happened to that carriage.”

He sighed and turned back to the other version of himself. “Now, while I’m sure you would like to stay in the base world for longer, I do believe you should go back to yours and perhaps receive some medical attention.”

“Indeed,” the other Valentine said. “I do think I broke a rib.”

“And as for our no longer helpful anomaly…” Valentine shrugged and then patted at his pockets. “You don’t happen to have a gun, do you?”

“I do not,” the other version said.

“Damn and blast,” Valentine said with a sigh. “Well, D4C shall suffice. Oh, don’t try to get back up,” he said, exasperation edging into his tone as he frowned at Josuke, who had returned to consciousness and was in the middle of the arduous process of lifting himself from the floor. 

Josuke went to say something, but he merely spat blood onto the deck of the boat.

“You’ve fulfilled your purpose in this world,” Valentine said as he approached. “At least meet your end with a little bit of dignity.”

“In this world, in that world,” Josuke said as he smeared his sleeve across his mouth. “This family, that family. That is something I’ve been thinking about. How I fit into things. But now I think I know.” He stared up at Valentine with a wide grin. “Haven’t you heard? Joestars are hard to kill. And Higashikatas are just as tough.”

Crazy Diamond grappled with D4C and kept it from coming any closer. Valentine approached Josuke himself. Josuke was younger and stronger, but he was limited by the severe blow he had just taken to the head; Valentine was out of practice, but he had once been a soldier.

Josuke’s knuckles slammed against his jaw and Valentine retaliated by driving a fist into Josuke’s chest. Josuke wheezed as his lungs were completely emptied of air.

“Steven,” Lucy said as she staggered out of her chair. “Keep the other one away.”

Steven watched her with concern, then looked over towards the other Valentine, who was standing with one hand to his chest and had a pained expression. Once Lucy was up, Steven grabbed her chair. The muscles in his arms were taut and sore as he lifted the furniture, but just as the other Valentine looked up, Steven swung the chair at him.

Josuke coughed and struggled to regain his breath. He fell back against the edge of the boat and kicked out at Valentine as he approached. His heel struck against Valentine’s shoulder and as the president staggered back, Lucy slipped into the space between them.

A sharpened tear struck against Josuke’s cheek and melted. He stared at Lucy, wide-eyed and confused as it dripped down his jawline. 

“You don’t need to die here,” she said quietly. “Not for us. Not for me. But if you know Zeppeli and all the others… you’ll have help.”

Josuke furrowed his eyebrows and tried to step forward, but his foot slipped against a puddle on the deck that he had somehow failed to notice. His back hit against the railing and his stomach flipped as he lost his balance. The world careened around him and his legs hit against the water with a splash.

Something was strange about the river. He felt water slosh against his ankles and as he took several deep breaths he looked up at the boat, then back down at the river. He wasn’t quite standing on the water, but he was standing in it. Jesus walking on water was totally a thing, right? Had Lucy done something to keep him from sinking?

“Lucy!” he called out, and he let out a shout of surprise as he sank in the rest of the way. He swung his arms out wide and fought against the urge to flail. The current of the river pulled at his legs and the boat traveled further and further away from him.

“The trail ends here,” Diego said as he looked out over the dock. “They must have taken the ferry across.”

Johnny pointed out towards the boat drifting steadily towards the opposite shore. “That has to be them, right? When’s the next ferry?” 

Diego read over the nearby sign and scowled. “In an hour.”

“Fuck.” Johnny shifted his weight against Diego’s shoulder and let out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell else can we do? Try a different dock? Steal a rowboat and try to catch up?” 

“There must be something.” Diego squinted against the glare of the sun reflecting against the water. “I think someone’s in the river.”

A voice called out from further up the riverside. Gyro ran towards them, his boots slamming into the cobblestones as he ramped up to a sprint. He came to an abrupt stop right in front of them and hunched forward, steadying his hands against his knees as he caught his breath. “Johnny. Did you find—is Josuke—?”

“They’re on the ferry,” Johnny answered, and a dozen questions fought to be asked as he stared at Gyro’s pained expression. “What happened to you? What’s wrong? You look freaked out. Where’s Wekapipo?”

“Where’s Hot Pants?” Gyro asked back. “Cream Starter could heal him.”

Johnny winced. “Heal who? Wekapipo? I thought… I thought you guys might have run into Hot Pants.”

Gyro shook his head. “No, no. The president’s Stand brought over a version of you from another world or something and he got shot to hell, but if we can—”

“That has to be Josuke,” Diego stated as he peered out at the river. “I can see those gold pins on his coat hitting the light. Someone must have pushed him from the boat.”

Gyro swore and dashed over to the side of the dock to retrieve the life preserver. As he ran towards the edge, he was glad to see that Josuke wasn’t struggling; the current even seemed to be steadily helping him back to shore. “Josuke!”

Josuke kicked his legs and twisted around in the water. “Gyro!”

Gyro gathered up the attached rope, pinned the end of it beneath his boot, and swung the buoyant ring out, aiming for the water just upstream of Josuke. “Hold it and I’ll pull you in!”

Josuke wrapped an arm around the preserver and blinked blood and water out of his eyes. As he saw Diego and Johnny approaching to help pull the rope, he called out. “Just, uh, be careful. I got hit with bad luck or good luck or something and I don’t want anyone to slip and fall in because of it.”

“Shit, Josuke, you look awful,”  Gyro said as they pulled him up to the dock. Johnny pressed his lips in a firm line and looked up at Josuke with concern while Diego stared off after the boat.

“Yeah, I probably have a concussion or something,” Josuke replied with a weak smile. “Valentine kind of exploded my new hat. Sorry, Johnny.”

Johnny clenched his jaw and stared at the ground.

“Can you still use your Stand?” Gyro asked. “If we get back fast enough—”

The sound of several horses walking at a steady pace grew closer. They all looked up the riverfront in wary confusion.

Wekapipo held up the reins of their horses as he guided them forward. “I thought it might be good to retrieve these.”

Gyro furrowed his eyebrows at him. Wekapipo shook his head and Gyro frowned.

Diego suddenly tensed and began to back away. “Wait. Where is—”

“Here,” Hot Pants stated after stepping out from behind the horses.

Diego narrowed his eyes and looked prepared to either attack or flee. Hot Pants stared back impassively.

“You’re still useful,” Hot Pants said with a tone that was so flat it was somehow worse than anger. “Once we all get over the river, there will still be a scent trail to follow. Because of that, I will not attack you physically. However, I still have a few things to say to you. Point number one: never do that to me again.”

“You’re fine, aren’t you? I knew you would be fine,” Diego replied quickly. “I don’t give that kind of power to just anyone. I knew you would be strong enough to handle it. You should consider it a compliment.”

“Handle it?” Wekapipo said with a frown. “Hot Pants nearly bit my face off.”

“Point number two,” Hot Pants stated. “This is something I was saving to say to you in private, as I do have some tact and I know that you value your pride. I know where your father is. If you would like to find him, I suggest not leaving me behind.”

Diego looked both astonished and affronted. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out. 

Josuke raised a hand and interrupted the uncomfortable silence. “Hi. Uh, Hot Pants, right? Gyro and Johnny told me a bit about Cream Starter. My Stand can heal, too, but it doesn’t work on me, just on other people. I’m still kinda high on adrenaline but my head really hurts and I don’t know if I broke anything important. So if you and Dr. Gyro could team up and make sure my brain doesn’t come out my ears, I would be super grateful.” He grinned. “Also, I saw just about everything Valentine’s Stand can do, so that’s some new intel we can use.”

“Of course,” Gyro said, and he crouched by him. “Let’s get you stabilized. Then, we need to get the hell out of Philadelphia before any more firing squads come for us. Hopefully we can put some distance between us and the city by nightfall, and then…” He shrugged. “We can all make camp. It seems like we all have our own reasons to keep working as a team.”

Josuke did his best to ignore the remnants of his headache. Hot Pants had sealed up the lacerations on his scalp and he was assured that there would be no scarring. Even though there was little chance of the cuts bleeding through Cream Starter, Gyro had wrapped a bandage around his forehead a few dozen times as a joke. Wekapipo had kindly offered a willow bark tincture that worked as a sort of proto-aspirin and Josuke had almost crushed him with a grateful bro-hug.

“Not to keep complaining, but of all things, my stomach hurts,” Josuke griped. “Why does my stomach hurt when I got hit in the head?”

“Could be stress,” Gyro replied as he began setting up the campfire. “Or you could be hungry. Or that attack might have hurt your inner ear and you’re getting nauseous because your sense of balance was affected. Or all three.”

“Great,” Josuke said with a sigh.

“I’ll check your ear out if it still hurts after you eat dinner,” Gyro said. “I can use the Spin to put anything out of alignment back into place.”

“Thanks.” Josuke slumped forward and crossed his arms over his knees. He glanced over towards Johnny, who was sitting a fair distance away and brushing Slow Dancer. “Is Johnny alright? He’s all like, quiet and closed off again.”

Gyro frowned. “I’m gonna talk to him once the fire is steady. I’m sure he’s not happy that the corpse got away from us again. He’s also not happy that you got hurt. And I think anyone would be pissy after having to spend a day dealing with Diego,” he added, and Josuke grinned.

Gyro’s expression grew more thoughtful as he poked at the fire. “And… I think he might be a little upset with himself. I don’t know how the whole thing with Hot Pants went down. So I’ll talk to him about that.”

Wekapipo approached the fire and held up a sack. “We won’t have time to do much hunting, but I have a lot of lentils if we want soup for dinner. I took them from Magenta Magenta’s pack after he sank into the river. They may be cheap, but they’ll do well to tide us over until we find something better.”

“Wekapipo, you’re a goddamn hero,” Gyro replied. “If you wanna be in charge of cooking, you can use anything you want from my pack. I’ve even got some salt and pepper.” He stood, brushed some dirt from his shins, and walked over to Johnny.

Johnny glanced back at him, sighed, and set down the brush. “Hey.”

“Yo,” Gyro replied. He gave Slow Dancer an affectionate pat before sitting down beside Johnny. “I know today was tough, and you might be disappointed, and you might think I’m disappointed in you, too. But… just tell me what happened.”

“It’s not like I got dragged into leaving Hot Pants behind,” Johnny stated. “Well, I kind of did, in the physical sense. But I could have argued more about it.” He pressed a hand against his thigh and frowned. “It’s just that, today… I could feel something. I could hold my own weight, even if only for a few seconds. At the docks, it even felt like I could take a step or two by myself. I wanted that more than anything. Getting to the corpse felt like the only thing I could do.” 

He frowned and huffed out a sigh. “And I’ve been thinking about… about what it might really take to get to the corpse. What any of us would be willing to give up in order to get it. I mean, I barely know Hot Pants, but I still felt awful about leaving them behind. But even if I felt awful about it, I still did it.” He sighed. “All this time, I’ve been prepared to throw everything away in order to get the corpse, like I’m a sinking ship dropping weight off the side to keep from going under. I thought that if I had to throw away my humanity, too, I could live with it.” He fell silent and picked at the hem of his sleeve.

“I had to watch you die today,” Gyro said bluntly. “A version of you that came from a world that I don’t think even had a corpse. But even without it, you were still you. You were still trying to get to your zero. In the end, I think you did. But you don’t have to die in order to do so. And I don’t think you have to leave people behind to do so, either. You just have to find a way to be truly happy with yourself. And there’s no force in the world powerful enough to just make that happen.”

Johnny pressed his face into his palms for a few long moments and breathed in, then out. “No matter what happens, I still want to get to the corpse,” he finally said, but a bit of humor crept into his tone. “And none of us want the Eternal Valentine Empire to start, right? We’d all have to start curling our hair in honor of him. It’d be awful. So we should try our best to stop him.”

“Stop that, you’re gonna give me nightmares,” Gyro replied as he ran a hand through his own hair. “I like my hair the way it is, thank you very much.”

Johnny laughed and shook his head. “And… we need to find a way to get Josuke home. He deserves better than being stuck here. Maybe the corpse can fix that.” He sighed. “I’ll try and apologize to Hot Pants at some point. And… I’ll probably have a talk with Diego, too. He’s not totally awful, he just justifies things to himself in completely bullshit ways. Can’t say I’m not guilty of the exact same thing.”

“Good plan,” Gyro said with a smile and a nod, and after giving Johnny a reassuring pat on the shoulder he began to head back towards the fire.

The lentil soup was distributed, Josuke quickly gulped down his helping, and a quick Spin treatment against his ear removed the worst of his nausea. Once given the all-clear after a final head check-up by Gyro and Hot Pants, he curled up under a bedroll and quickly fell asleep.

Johnny, Gyro, Wekapipo, and Hot Pants remained awake for a short while longer as they sat around the fire; Diego stayed awake, as well, but he was sulking several meters away beside Silver Bullet.

“Hey, Hot Pants,” Johnny said, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry for—”

“There is no apology needed,” Hot Pants replied. “I am not upset that you left me behind in order to escape. In fact, it felt a little like divine justice.”

“Oh.” Johnny frowned. “Got it.”

“The only thing that upset me,” Hot Pants added, “was the use of Scary Monsters.”

“What, the being a rampaging dinosaur part?” Gyro asked sarcastically. Wekapipo frowned at him.

“I don’t know who I hurt,” Hot Pants stated. “I nearly killed Wekapipo. Everything felt like a threat and my hunger was uncontrollable. I felt like…”

“The bear,” Johnny said quietly.

Hot Pants nodded slowly. “I already feel as if I am my brother’s killer. I did not need to experience the role twice over.”

The group fell silent. Eventually, Wekapipo leaned forward and stirred the ladle through the pot atop the fire. “Would anyone want some more soup or have we all grown sick of the lentils already?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll take some,” Gyro replied, and he held out his bowl.

Hot Pants stood, left the bonfire, and began preparing for sleep.

“I’m gonna go harass Diego,” Johnny replied. “He was too busy moping to eat with us, so I’ll take a bowl over, too.”

Wekapipo nodded and scooped some into a bowl. “You want me to carry it over for you?”

“Nah,” Johnny replied. “I’ll take it myself in case I need to guilt-trip him into talking to me.”

As Johnny approached, Diego glanced back at him and scowled. “What are you doing?”

“Delivering you soup. What the fuck does it look like?” he replied as he pulled himself the rest of the way. “Don’t even say that you don’t want any. I dragged my ass all the way over here to give you these lentils, so you should be grateful.”

Diego narrowed his eyes but took the bowl. “What do you want?”

“Something Hot Pants said has me thinking,” Johnny said with a shrug. “I wanted your perspective on it.”

Now Diego just looked suspicious. He set the bowl of soup to the side and frowned at him.

“I always just thought…” Johnny trailed off, shrugged, and frowned. “It’s weird that you were there. When my brother Nick died.”

Diego stared at him, his posture tense. “What, the accident with Black Rose?”

Johnny huffed. “Yeah.”

Silence hung over them uncomfortably. Diego crossed his arms and gripped at his elbows. “If that’s… if you dislike me because you think… I didn’t cause that. I’ll swear on anything. I had nothing against Nicholas. There was no reason for me to—and working in the stables was my main source of income. I wouldn’t have risked—”

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” Johnny said flatly. “I just… think it’s weird.”

Diego fell silent and watched him warily.

“I just feel like there’s no such thing as a coincidence anymore,” Johnny said. “Like some force brings all these moving parts together. I mean, given we’re chasing after the corpse, maybe it’s God. Or fate. Or something. I don’t know.” He sighed and rested his chin on his palm. “It’s not a coincidence that Black Rose got spooked by a mouse that must have been the same as the one I didn’t have the strength to leave behind. It’s not a coincidence that you were there to see God take the wrong son. It’s not a coincidence that we’re all here now. And it's definitely not a coincidence that Josuke got pulled into all this. It’s like fate is catching up to all of us.”

“Gravity,” Diego stated. “I’ve noticed it, too. Things just tend to… come together and resolve, for better or for worse, like something thrown long ago finally crashing back to earth. There must be some way to escape it, or control it.” He tapped his fingers against his elbows as he thought. “I’ll be honest with you, Joestar. I want the corpse because of this. Everyone in this world moves as a member of a flock. That flock is pushed and pulled not by desire, not by greed, but by gravity. To stand above the flock and control it is to control gravity.”

“What, so you just think that you know what’s best for everyone?” Johnny asked, and he kept his tone from coming across as too incredulous.

Diego frowned and stared off into the distance. As Johnny watched him, he felt a chill at the pure antipathy in his expression.

“No,” Diego finally replied. “I want revenge.”

In another world, the sound of the train whistle resounded through the station.

“So one conductor says to the other, I’m new to this job. I could use your advice. How many years have you been working here? The other conductor says, oh, I don’t know, it’s so hard to keep track.”

Hot Pants sighed.

“Keep track,” Diego repeated. “Because of the train tracks.” He frowned. “People laugh when Zeppeli does it. I think you’re just a bad audience.”

“I didn’t laugh because it wasn’t a very good joke,” Hot Pants replied. 

Diego scowled. “Oh, you are just brutal.” He glanced around the station. “We’ll need to catch our ride soon. If we hop on just outside of the station, none of the guards should notice. There’s one standing there, there, and…” He trailed off and narrowed his eyes as he peered towards the platform.

“How do train engines eat coal?” Hot Pants asked.

Diego sneered as he tried to get a better look at the bustling crowd. “What?”

“They choo-choo,” Hot Pants stated flatly. “Like chew-chew. There. That’s a better joke.”

He held up a finger. “Save your asinine one-upmanship for later. I’m trying to—oh, bloody hell.”

Hot Pants tried to spot whatever he was looking at. “What is it?”

“I do not like that woman,” he said with a dismissive sniff. “I hope she’s not trying to board the same train as us.”

“Who?”

“It’s not important. Let’s just get to the train and—” he interrupted himself with a choked noise of surprise. He took a few fearful steps back and his hands curled into claws. “Oh shit.”

Hot Pants gave him a look of exhausted frustration. “What?”

“That’s me,” he said. “That’s another me.” He backed away a bit further before turning and heading briskly towards the exit of the train station. Hot Pants glanced out towards the crowd, frowned, and then followed after him.

Jolyne crossed her arms and judiciously used her elbows to get through the crowd still gathered upon the platform. “What’s the best spot to sneak on? The caboose?”

“Any car should suffice, really,” Dio replied. “It’ll be easy to get on in the stopped time. And I truly doubt that any security the president has with him will be a match for us.”

Jolyne pouted. “Do you think I’m still committing treason if I attack a president from an alternate America?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But it’s not a crime if you don’t get caught.”

“God, of course you would say that,” she replied, but then she stopped in her tracks and pointed when she spotted Diego running out of the station. “Ha! You!”

Dio looked out to where she had pointed, but Diego had already passed through the entranceway. “Me?” 

“This world’s version of you. Left me in a goddamn death pit version of you. Even more of a punk-ass bitch version of you, in my opinion.” Jolyne pressed her fist into her palm. “We need to get to the president before he does. Or, we can ensure that he can’t get to the president before we do.”

“You want to kill the other version of me?” Dio asked.

“No, just injure him severely! Jeez, we don’t have to jump to murder right away,” Jolyne replied with a scowl. “We can like, knock him out and stick him on a different train. Just... something to keep him from getting to the diamonds first. Plus, I kinda want some revenge for the death pit incident.”

“Understandable,” Dio replied. 

Jolyne tilted her head and frowned thoughtfully. “It’s not gonna be like, weird or morbid to go beat up an alternate version of yourself, right? I don’t know how I’d feel about fighting another me.”

“I’ve been harassed by an alternate version of myself for a vaguely defined and yet painfully long length of time,” he replied flatly. “Should I not have my own turn to do so?”

Jolyne raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so now you’re the spooky double.”

“I suppose,” he said with a shrug.

She squinted at him. "Yeah, maybe that's something you should unpack later. But for now, let's go cause problems."

Chapter Text

“The railroad makes a broad turn here,” Gyro said as he set down his coffee and pointed at the map. “That will be where it’s at its slowest. That will also be our best chance to catch up and jump on.”

“I think he’ll anticipate that,” Josuke mused. He idly pressed his knuckles against his forehead; his headache had lessened but the pain was still there. “But I also think you’re right. How do we wanna do things once we’re actually on the train?”

“I say we pincer him,” Johnny replied. “One team goes back from the engine and stops the train while the other comes up from the caboose. We take out any other Stand users with him and get rid of any spaces he could use to slip away as we go. That’ll limit him to whatever train car he’s in.”

“Then we’ll need to figure out teams again,” Gyro said as he frowned thoughtfully. 

“I’m working with Diego,” Hot Pants stated.

Gyro whistled. “Okay. Not gonna ask ‘are you sure’ because you sound pretty damn sure. Why, though?”

“One, I have leverage over him, so he won’t cross me again. Two, he has the fastest reaction time out of any of us, so he has the best chance at killing the president before he can slip away. And if Valentine tries to bring in more of himself, I can disguise Diego as one of them. That will allow him to get close without Valentine suspecting anything.” 

Gyro pursed his lips. “Well, Diego? Any objections?”

Diego tapped his nails against his coffee mug and glowered at nothing in particular. “It’s a fine enough plan,” he replied flatly. 

Hot Pants glanced over at Wekapipo. “If you don’t mind, I would also prefer to have Wekapipo on my team. Then, each team will have three people, and both teams will have someone that has healing capabilities, as you and Johnny will have Josuke.”

“I do have one concern,” Wekapipo replied. “The ataxia technique is meant to be used in the open air. If I use it within the train car, it could affect everyone inside, including ourselves. So if any part of your plan involves using it, we will need to be careful.” He frowned. “Oh. Another concern. I also don’t have one of these Stands. So if the president uses his, I won’t be able to see it. I trust that you two will be able to keep me informed, but keep in mind that I will not see his attacks the way that you do.”

“I also have a concern,” Johnny added. “Josuke, you’re really powering through this, and I really can’t tell you how much I respect that. But you’re hurt. Riding at full tilt all day just to catch up to the train is not going to be easy on you. I know you want to help, and I know you want to get home. And I’m not saying you’re going to hold us back. But we need to know what you really think you’re going to be able to do.”

I’m fine, Josuke wanted to insist, but he thought it over and huffed out a sigh. “I know what you mean. My head is still sore and my balance is kinda off. I’d really like to just curl up and sleep for like, ten more hours. But I’m not gonna do that. When Lucy made me fall off the boat… she said that I’d have help. She meant you guys. So, yeah, I’m going to give this my all because I hope the corpse can get me home. But I want to help her and Steven, too. So if we all really work as a team… I think we can do this. I’m in.”

“Alrighty,” Gyro said with a decisive nod, and then he tilted his head back and spoke directly at the sky. “We have awful luck, this plan is totally gonna fail, we’re all gonna die, and the president’s gonna keep the corpse and rename the country Valentineland.”

Johnny snickered. The rest of the group watched Gyro in befuddled silence. 

“Uh, Gyro, you sure you’re not the one with a head injury?” Josuke asked.

Gyro held up a finger. “I’m anti-jinxing us. Don’t mess it up.”

“...You’re trying to use reverse psychology on the universe itself?” Diego asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Gyro admitted. “It usually works.”

The group prepared to embark; Josuke adjusted the reins on his horse, put his foot in the stirrup, swung himself up onto the saddle, and immediately winced. He leaned forward and took a few deep breaths as his vision swam.

Diego approached Josuke with a slight frown and his hands shoved into his pockets. Josuke furrowed his eyebrows at him.

“Here,” Diego said, and he held out a small metal box. “For your headache.”

Josuke blinked at him and then looked down at the container. “Oh, uh, thanks. What is it?” he asked as he took it and popped it open.

“Cocaine,” Diego replied.

Josuke nearly dropped the container. “What!”

Diego frowned at him. “It’s good for headaches, stomachaches, toothaches, or just about anything, really. It’s a bit pricey and that’s the last few tablets I have but I thought sharing it with you would do well to smooth over the…” He trailed off and waved a hand towards his neck. “To let our various kidnapping attempts be water under the bridge, so to speak.”

Josuke winced and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Listen, man, thank you, but this is like, super illegal where I’m from.”

Diego looked both frustrated and perplexed. “Why would it be illegal?”

“Oh my God, I am not the person to ask, I really don’t pay attention to the PSAs,” Josuke griped.

“Well, if you won’t appreciate it, I’ll take it back,” Diego said with a scowl. 

“I appreciate it, I really do,” Josuke insisted as he passed the container back to him. “And like, I get it. Sharing is probably really important to you. And I’m not even that mad at you about the neck dino thing. I get why you did that, too. So, really, no hard feelings.”

Diego pocketed the container, crossed his arms, and sniffed dismissively. “I don’t like that you speak as if you know me,” he stated, but there wasn’t much bite to it. Instead, he sounded somewhat curious.

“I mean, I guess I do know you. A tiny bit. And it’s a different version of you. I’d say that you’re like… 70% more normal than the you I’m used to,” Josuke explained. “So I appreciate that, too.”

Diego squinted. “More normal?”

Josuke waved his hand rapidly. “Let’s not get into it.” His expression shifted towards concern. “I still don’t know what the hell the other other you was saying when he said Jolyne was…” He trailed off and slumped forward as he frowned at the ground. “I just hope they’re doing okay.”

Time stopped. Jolyne and Dio stood by a set of wrought iron benches and looked out towards Diego, who was frozen in the middle of running through a long stretch of grass towards the departing train. 

“Goodness,” Dio said as he peered out from under his umbrella. He tilted his head and pressed his fingers beneath his chin as he thought. “That’s me?”

“Yup,” Jolyne replied, and she pulled a length of corded string from her arm. She looped a long segment of it, secured it in a knot, and then began to spin the makeshift lasso over her head. She threw it out and the loop landed over the frozen Diego. She pulled the line taut around his arms in the hopes that it would keep him from clawing through the string. Then, she paused, frowned, and glanced at Dio. “Hey, you’re totally fine when you stand next to your double, right? No problems being in the same place at the same time?”

“For a given definition of totally fine,” he replied, and suspicion entered his tone. “Why?”

She shrugged. “He mentioned something about bad things happening if people run into their alternate selves so… maybe keep your distance. I mean, if we need to, we can just throw stuff at him in the stopped time, so it’s not like we’ll need to get close enough to punch him.”

Time began again and Diego returned to running. The string snapped taut. Diego tripped as the recoil pulled him back and he fell to the ground with a shout of surprise. He swore repeatedly as he kicked against the dirt and shot a panicked look back at Jolyne. “You— don’t get any closer! Weren’t you listening when I said— ”

“Yeah, yeah, you two can’t get too close or you’ll explode or something,” she interrupted. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m just here to keep you from getting to the diamonds before we do. And because I want revenge.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at her with alarm. “I understand why you’re upset with me. I really do. But it wasn’t personal. There’s no need to— ” 

“Oh, I’m making it personal,” Jolyne interrupted with a scowl. She glanced over at Dio. “Ready for target practice?”

“That hat was a choice,” Dio said as he peered down at Diego with a judgemental expression. “A bold choice, which I can appreciate, at the very least. I don’t hate the turtleneck. I suppose I’m somewhat limited by the climate. Are the pants like that because of the horseback riding?”

“...The jodhpurs?” Diego asked with his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You know, this is part of why I want to ask your father about ecology,” Dio said to Jolyne. “It seems that the most important thing in this world is a horse race, and my stature and style in this world have adapted accordingly. Does that not fit the concept of an evolutionary niche?”

Jolyne squinted at him. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

Dio waved a hand dismissively. “It is a conversation for another time. But for now,” he said, and when he swept his hand past his midriff he raised it with a flourish; an array of knives were fanned between his fingers. “You mentioned target practice?”

Jolyne scowled and crossed her arms tightly. “Wait, wait. One, where the hell did you get those? Two, I said non-lethal. Knives are pretty lethal.”

“I have excellent aim,” he replied with a shrug. “I won’t go for anything vital.” He pursed his lips. “And these are from Okuyasu’s kitchen. They’re not even that sharp. I’ll get him a nice new set when we get back to Morioh.” 

He threw one knife without stopping time; Diego twisted his shoulder out of the way with a fearful hiss and the knife thudded into the dirt.

“Quite a quick dodge,” Dio said thoughtfully. “I wonder how quick it can get.” He pulled his arm back and prepared to throw the next knife.

Diego’s eyes went wide and he looked as if he were about to shout something, but time stopped. Dio threw three knives along slightly different trajectories and time lurched back into motion. Diego swore, the corners of his mouth cracked apart, and he wrenched himself out of the way of two of the knives. One sliced against his upper arm, tearing the fabric of his shirt and leaving a streak of blood. He gasped in a sharp inhale and swore.

Jolyne punched Dio in the arm. Dio frowned at her.

“This is like, depressing,” she grumbled. “Let’s just go stick him in a garbage can or something.”

“Depressing? This is the most fun I’ve had in some time,” he replied. “I now completely understand why my double does this. I have the advantage of a far superior Stand and an extra century or so of experience, but I believe in my own ingenuity. I want to see what he’ll do to get out of this.”

“Yeah, well, your double sucks, so maybe let’s not act like him,” she retorted.

“I’m not acting like him,” he said with a scowl. “I’m just having some fun.”

“There’s really no reason we can’t both use the diamonds,” Diego called out. “I just want to go to the world Valentine prefers. We should be able to travel there together. You can use them for whatever you’d like after that.”

“You just want to go to that world to take it over,” Jolyne snapped. “I’m not gonna enable that.”

Dio nodded in agreement. “That does sound like something I would do.”

“If Valentine prefers that world,” Diego said quickly, “if that world is so much better than this one— how different are you?” he asked as he shot Dio a calculating look. “It might be a world where she’s still alive. My mother. Your mother.”

Dio tensed and fell silent. Diego grasped at the opportunity. “There’s no real reason for us to be opposed outside of her clinging to a useless grudge,” he insisted as he nodded at Jolyne. “Do you hate Dario just as much as I do, too? I’m going to kill him. I’ll tear out his throat and I’ll leave this sorry world behind for one actually worth living in. A world that must have had room for her.”

When Dio spoke, he realized his incisors had torn into his lip. “There’s no such place,” he stated lowly, but in his tone was the tiniest hint of doubt. “No world would ever be so forgiving.”

Jolyne lifted a hand to her forehead and scowled as she took a seat on the iron bench. “If I have to listen to both of you talk about this again I’m going to get two headaches.”

They both shot her severe glares. She sighed. “Listen. I get it. And if you just like, let me get one good backhand in at some point, I’ll forgive you for the whole pit incident. But maybe it would be good… I dunno, closure. Something. For you both to do this. I don’t know, I’m not a therapist. So maybe we should work together.”

Dio furrowed his eyebrows and looked as if he was about to say something, but he paused, tilted his head, listened, and then stopped time. When Jolyne looked at him inquisitively, he held up his hand, strolled around the bench, and then let out an aha!

He grabbed something and time began again. Jolyne scooted away from him with a look of shock, as he was now holding a detached arm. “Where the hell did you get a random arm from?” she exclaimed.

He frowned at it as he held it by where it should have been attached to a shoulder, but instead of torn and bloody muscle there was some sort of globby substance. The fist of it was tightly closed and the muscles were flexed taut; Dio wondered if it had been stiffened by rigor mortis. “It was behind the bench by itself. I heard it land there. It must be the effect of someone’s Stand.” He waved the arm at Diego. “Any clue as to who this could belong to?”

Before Diego could respond, the hand twisted and the fingers curled open to reveal a strange metal canister. It sprayed a glob of flesh directly onto Dio’s face.

Hot Pants ran out from the station entranceway, ducked down, and grabbed one of the knives Dio had dropped as he clawed at his face with one hand and clutched at the umbrella with the other. With a lunge and the arm still attached dipping close to the ground, Hot Pants sliced the knife through Jolyne’s string and Diego was freed. 

Time stopped. Jolyne swore in surprise and jumped up from the bench. Dio scraped off the last remnants of Cream Starter from his face, flicked the blob to the ground with a scowl, and marched up to Hot Pants before grabbing them by the neck. Time began again.

“No, no!” Jolyne called out. “That’s a good person! Hot Pants helped me out before the whole river bandit thing!”

“Rarely is a minion of mine a good person,” Dio replied with a scowl. He tightened his grip and felt his fingers press against the thrum of the carotid artery. 

“Minion?” Diego said in disbelief as he disentangled himself from the string. “Damn it all, if anything, I’m Hot Pants’s minion right now.” He pointed a clawed hand at Dio. “That’s my ticket to Dario that you’re strangling. In exchange for information on his whereabouts, I’m helping Hot Pants assassinate the president.”

Dio sighed, rolled his eyes, and released his grip. Hot Pants fell to the ground and coughed.

“Credit where credit is due,” Dio stated. “The arm was decent bait, and your Stand would have been incapacitating if I wasn’t very experienced in carving through flesh. But you foolishly interrupted us actually agreeing to work together.”

“In my defense,” Hot Pants replied hoarsely, “the station is loud, and you were just throwing knives at him. But what deal have you made with yourself? Are you both out for revenge, then?”

“You know, killing Dario isn’t even that satisfying,” Dio mused as he shot Diego a curious look. “Though maybe doing so in such a violent manner is a better way to find catharsis.” He frowned. “In retrospect, the poisoning plan was so… restrained.”

Diego quirked an eyebrow. “You poisoned him?” 

“A slow death,” he replied with a shrug. “Exhausting and painful to the bitter end. It seemed fitting.”

“I’ve thought about making it fitting,” Diego replied. “Perhaps drowning him, in a river or otherwise. But I want to make it as clear as possible that I’m the one ending his sorry life—”

“Wait, why drowning?” Dio asked. “What did he do here?”

“He never wanted the responsibility of caring for a child. Nor did he truly want the responsibility of a wife. He left us both to drown,” Diego said with a deepening scowl. “Quite literally, in a flooded river.”

Dio leaned back and gripped at the handle of the umbrella. “A world where he actively tried to kill me instead of just having an awful aim with bottles,” he stated with some awe.

“I know this is an important conversation for you two, but, well,” Jolyne interrupted as she waved her hand towards the station. “Gotta get on the train at some point.”

“We will board first and lead the way,” Dio stated decisively. “We will obtain the diamonds and question Valentine. Then, you two can assassinate him with impunity.”

“We gotta help Lucy, too,” Jolyne added. “We do that first. She probably knows something about Valentine that we don’t.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Of course.”

Lucy Steel glanced around the train compartment. There were a few scattered attendants working at a bar, some government officials sipping at iced drinks and reading over papers, and then there was Valentine, sitting across from her and staring blankly out the window. He tapped gloved fingers against the lid of the box holding the remaining diamond fragments.

She had told Dio and Jolyne to meet her in the third train compartment, but she hadn’t expected Valentine to sit with her after essentially commandeering the entire front half of the train for himself and a few cabinet members. Being close to him would be her best chance to talk to his alternate self, but she now wished that he had chosen to sit somewhere else. She had been hoping to speak with Dio and Jolyne secretly before starting any sort of confrontation with Valentine or any of his alternate selves.

It would make the most sense for Dio and Jolyne to board the train further down from her compartment. If she ventured into the fourth or even the fifth car, she could intercept them before Valentine spotted them.

She wasn’t sure where the restrooms were located. She could go off with the excuse of looking for one and head towards the next compartment— 

“They’ll be serving afternoon tea soon,” Valentine stated, and Lucy jumped.

She blinked at him. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

“So if there are any refreshments you want,” he said as he waved his hand towards the attendants, “you need only ask.” He huffed and returned to looking out the window. “I usually take a nap around this time, but I will remain alert, of course. One never knows when company might come calling.”

She nodded. “Right.”

The world outside the window slid by in a blur. Lucy stood from her seat.

Valentine glanced over at her. “Where are you going?”

She pointed towards the back door of the compartment. “I’m looking for a restroom.”

“There’s one in here,” he replied with a nod towards the front.

“Oh.” Lucy returned the nod. “Of course.”

The train rattled. Lucy wavered where she stood.

“Mr. President,” she stated. “You’re a Protestant, aren’t you?”

He leaned back in his seat and shot her an unreadable look. “Yes.”

“My family— the Pendletons—  came from Ireland,” she replied. “We’re very Catholic. And being from a particular region of Ireland— one that still had a strong showing of Celtic Christianity— we follow some similarly particular traditions. Because the region we are from was quite focused on monastic life, you see. And I still observe those traditions, when I can.” She waved a hand towards the back of the train. “In my family’s house, we had very secluded bathrooms. When I— when I married Steven, I made it so that our own home followed the same rule. Basically, the bathroom must be located inside another empty room, as to mirror the seclusion of the men and women following the monastery rules in the past. As you can see, this room is quite full,” she said with a weak smile. “So I would prefer to go use a restroom in one of the empty compartments.”

Of course, it was all a fabrication, but Lucy hoped that Valentine would believe her. Valentine drummed his fingers against the lid of the box.

“I see,” he replied. “That’s quite something. I think I knew a senator once that followed the same rules.”

Lucy forced herself to let out a light and airy laugh. “Oh! An old neighboring family of ours, perhaps.”

She started walking towards the back door.

“There’s no need for you to hide anything from me,” he stated flatly. “You and I both wish my other self dead. In that, we can be true allies.”

Lucy turned on her heel and stared at him with wide eyes.

“And once he is dead, I will leave and likely never return,” he added. “You would appreciate that, wouldn’t you? Well, I suppose I could return once,” he said with a sigh. “If you did want another Steven. Though with the current news frenzy, his sudden reappearance would be quite confusing. But I believe you’re strong enough to weather through the attention.”

Lucy took a deep breath. “I don’t want another Steven,” she said quietly. “He wouldn’t be the same. And— you’d be taking him away from another me, anyway. And then there would be another Lucy out there without her best friend. I don’t want to push my pain upon someone else. I can just... bear it.”

Valentine stared at her blankly. She looked back towards the far end of the train compartment. “I met some people at the train station,” she explained, and her tone was terse and strained. “A girl that I did not know, and another Diego Brando.”

Valentine went tense. “Another Brando?”

“He was quite different from the one here,” she replied.

He stood and shot her a severe look. “That may be… to our advantage,” he insisted, but his tone was doubtful. “If the one you met was the one I have met, then...”

“I told them to meet me,” she added. “Here, in the third compartment.”

He nodded. “I see. Better to afford us some discretion, then. It seems to be something I need plenty of whenever a Brando is involved.” He stood and addressed the few cabinet members sitting further up the train. “I would like some peace and quiet, now. Have you all no decorum?”

The cabinet members, who had all been rather subdued anyway, frowned at him and then frowned at their drinks as if the clinking of the ice was what had offended him.

“Out, out,” Valentine said as he waved his hand towards the front of the train. “You’re all far too loud. How am I to take my customary nap in this racket?”

With a few sighs and grumbles, the group meandered up towards the next compartment. After a few pointed looks from Valentine, the attendants followed.

The train car was now empty aside from Lucy and Valentine. Lucy slowly sat back down and stared out towards the door.

“And now we wait,” Valentine said with a shrug. “I would have had security to tell to stand down, but I’ve exhausted them all sending them after our Brando.” He glanced towards the empty bar. “Would you like a drink?”

“No,” Lucy replied. 

“I would,” he said as he stood and put the box holding the diamond pieces into his pocket. “Perhaps they will, as well.” He went to the bar and busied himself with a few glasses.

Time dragged by as they waited. A loud thud came from the next train compartment, followed by yelling. Lucy gripped at the cushion of her seat and shot Valentine a fearful look.

“Oh, goodness, in all this madness I completely forgot,” Valentine said as he set down a pair of ice tongs. “Dead Kennedys is still around.” He quickly poured an amber decanter into his glass, briefly swirled the drink around the ice, gulped down the contents, and then jogged over to the door. After shimmying through the connective portion and opening the thick metal door to the next train compartment, struggling to push away a pile of dead bodies as he did so, he slipped inside and looked at the carnage.

Jolyne drove her heel through the gray skull of a zombie and it cracked apart like an eggshell. “I thought you said you could control zombies!”

“Zombies that I make,” Dio retorted. The World splattered one against the wall while he tore his nails through another as if it were no more than wet paper. The floor, which was already coated in a layer of corpses, began to rumble as more zombies emerged.

Towards the far end of the compartment, Hot Pants and Diego stood a safe distance away from Dio, but they were dealing with the undead onslaught, as well. They had developed a system; any zombie that got close was quickly grabbed by Diego, shoved against the base of Cream Starter, and subsequently sprayed out the window of the train.

“I cannot believe,” Diego griped as he dug his claws into another zombie, “that my Stand could have been that—bloody Dr. Ferdinand—!”

“We need to find the user,” Hot Pants called out as another liquefied zombie went through the window. “If they keep multiplying like this, we’ll run out of room.”

Jolyne swore as two zombies latched onto her foot. Valentine blinked and somehow, the zombies were torn to pieces, and Jolyne herself was several feet away from where she had been. Dio had suddenly appeared a few paces to the left and was in the middle of punting a zombie’s head into the wall.

Valentine strode over to the nearest window, lifted it, and leaned his head outside. He called out towards the roof of the train. “Mr. Boucher!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Stop that!”

“Yes, sir!”

He ducked back inside. The zombies crumbled away into nothing. 

“Well,” Valentine said to the clearly confused group. “I’m sure you have questions. I have some questions for you, myself. For example, I haven’t the slightest clue as to who you are,” he said with a nod towards Jolyne. 

Jolyne crossed her arms and glared at him. “Where’s Lucy?”

“In the next compartment,” Valentine answered. “She’s perfectly safe. And looking forward to seeing you, I’m sure. In fact, you’re just in time for tea. We can drink and talk this whole endeavor over together.” 

“And the diamonds?” Diego asked. “You have them all here?”

“Diamonds?” Valentine asked. He slowly smiled as he looked back at Diego; Diego narrowed his eyes and scowled back. “I have nearly all of the pieces here,” he said, and a laugh crept into his voice. “Goodness. That look of avarice— that’s what you’ve been after all along, isn’t it? All this time we’ve been at odds and I’ve only just recently realized that we desire the same thing. But you’ve never had all the pieces to the puzzle and now you never will. You want that damnable diamond? You’re welcome to it.”

He pulled out the box and tossed it into the space past Dio and Jolyne. Diego lunged towards it as it clattered to the ground, popped open, and sent the pieces scattering.

“It’s broken,” Valentine stated as Diego scrambled after the shards. “And beyond that, it’s now missing a piece. It's completely useless. It cannot get you to the favored world or any world at all.”

Diego clutched at the broken pieces of the diamond and shot Valentine an absolutely venomous look.

“If you seek a way to another world, then our goals are aligned,” Valentine said. “We can work as allies. All we need to do is kill my other self as soon as he returns. If he returns. Then, the Stand with the ability to travel between worlds will be bestowed to me, and I will gladly take you to wherever you want to go.”

“I have no desire to go to another world,” Hot Pants stated. “I am only here to see you answer for your crimes.”

“Yeah, but we would very much like to go to another world,” Jolyne said quickly. “And it sounds like it’s the other Valentine that’s the problem. So before we get all assassinationy, let’s work something out.”

“No matter what the other Valentine has done, this is the one that ordered the military to break up the strikes,” Hot Pants said. “This is the one that has betrayed the people he was meant to lead and has broken the trust of other nations.”

“Trust me, I’m mad at him about that, too, and I’m not even from this universe,” Jolyne insisted. “But like, damn. We have a Jonathan Joestar to save and I want to go home!”

At that, Valentine looked somewhat confused. “Joestar…?”

“If I know myself, I may be angry enough to do something regrettable,” Dio said as he glanced back at the seething Diego. “If that Lucy is in the next compartment, Jolyne and I will join her there and we can discuss this over refreshments, as you said. You two,” he said with nod to Hot Pants and Diego, “should stay here. It’s better for you to keep your distance from me, anyway.”

Hot Pants begrudgingly nodded. Diego tightened his grip on the diamond shards and they ground against each other.

Valentine opened the door to the next compartment and waved Dio and Jolyne through before following them. The door pulled shut and Diego and Hot Pants were left in relative silence.

Diego grabbed the empty box and set the shards back inside it one by one. He scowled and glared up at the door. “They’ll leave us behind, given the chance,” he said. “This Valentine doesn’t like me, Jolyne doesn’t like me, and I certainly don’t trust myself.”

“Don’t do anything rash,” Hot Pants stated.

“I’m not,” he retorted. “And these shards— they aren’t totally useless. I know he distributed them to his cabinet members. Even if I thought they were whole diamonds at the time— this means that even as broken pieces, they have some protective effect. There really is no reason for me to keep my distance from myself.” He strode up to the door and held the box tightly. “There’s no need for us to sit here and wait as they plot.”

Hot Pants went to his side. “Even with those keeping you from falling apart if you get too close— you’ve seen what your other self can do, correct? I would say having those puts you in more danger because then he isn’t at risk if he attacks you at a close range. If you truly think that he will act against your desire to see the other world, then we cannot face him directly. We either wait or we figure out something else.”

“And I cannot let this opportunity escape me,” he snapped back. He grasped at the handle of the door. To his surprise, the handle twisted before he could pull at it and the door opened.

Valentine poked his head around the door and squinted at them. “Ah,” he said. “Convenient.”

D4C shoved the door wide open. Diego and Hot Pants were pushed to the side. After a moment, the hinges squeaked, the handle bumped against the wall, and they were gone.

Hot Pants glanced around the train compartment with growing concern. “What… what was that?”

Diego looked out the window with a conflicted expression. “I’m not sure. Did we just…?”

“Right,” Valentine said as he stepped out from between the door and the wall. “Out you go.”

D4C grabbed them both by the collar, pulled them into the space between the compartments, and threw them from the train.

Diego rolled across the grass and let out a pained sound of surprise. Hot Pants skidded to a stop with a grunt.

“Oh, bloody hell,” a familiar voice said.

Hot Pants looked up and saw another Diego and another Hot Pants upon their horses. A short distance behind them was a very concerned looking Wekapipo.

The diamond universe Diego pushed himself up from the ground and leapt to his feet. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “That was— we’re in the world he favors! He just— he just threw us here!” 

Wekapipo leaned forward and whispered to the base world Diego and Hot Pants. “If you get too close to them, you’ll explode, right?”

“Right,” the base world Diego replied. He jammed a hand into his pocket, scowled, and then sighed. “Ugh. Of course. I don’t have my wallet. Hot Pants, lend me a few dollars.”

The base world Hot Pants frowned at him. “Why?”

“A little demonstration,” he replied. “Come on.”

The base world Hot Pants begrudgingly handed him a few dollars. He folded them into small squares and then held them up. “You probably aren’t familiar with the president’s Stand. He sent you here in the hopes that you’ll get too close to us and then we’ll explode, just like this.” He held one of the folded dollars between thumb and forefinger and then flicked it at the other Hot Pants.

The folded dollar bounced off of Hot Pants and fell to the ground. Everyone stared at it warily, but it did nothing.

The diamond universe Hot Pants frowned down at the dollar, searched through both pockets for its corresponding copy, and then gave the diamond universe Diego a suspicious look. “Where is my wallet?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was planning on giving it back to you eventually? I really only stole it to see how long it would take for you to notice,” the diamond universe Diego said as he reached into his pocket and pulled the wallet out. He ducked down and picked up the thrown dollar. Even when pushed up right against its corresponding copy, it did not explode.  “And see? I was correct! They still work for this.” He held up the box of diamond shards and waved it. “And he didn’t even realize,” he said with a laugh. “The thing he discarded so carelessly may be his greatest weakness.”

In a flash, the box was wrested from his grip, and the base world Diego went tearing off towards the train on a half-transformed Silver Bullet galloping at full speed. The base world Hot Pants and Wekapipo went off after him.

“Oh,” the diamond universe Diego said as he stared at his now-empty hand. “Oh, I am so sick of myself. Of course I would do that. But if I’m still after something on that train, something the president is protecting— what the hell is it?”

“I am going to reiterate that I had zero desire to get dragged into another universe,” Hot Pants stated. “My duties do not lie here.”

“Be a little more optimistic, would you?” Diego retorted. “Who gives a damn about our old world— we’re here! This is the world Valentine was willing to sacrifice everything for! I’m going to claim it for myself! And if I have to take it from yet another version of myself— so be it!” He pointed at the train. “We have to go see what this is about. Hell, perhaps there’s even some way for you to go back if we get a hold of Valentine again, if you’re so damn set upon living in that useless world.” He started running towards the train, the corners of his mouth cracking apart and his tail twitching through the air to maintain his balance. “Come on!”

Hot Pants took a deep breath and ran off after him.

Meanwhile, the base world Diego and Hot Pants helped Wekapipo onto the train. As soon as he was steady, Diego crouched down and opened the container he had stolen from himself.

“They were after Valentine in their world, too,” he said as he stared at the diamond shards. “And he said this could be Valentine’s greatest weakness— they must do something important. They seemed to keep them from exploding, anyway.”

“We could work together with them,” Hot Pants said. Wekapipo nodded in agreement and stared out at the diamond universe Diego and Hot Pants, who were running towards the train as fast as they could. Normally, it would be nearly impossible for them to catch up, but the train had entered the curved section of the track and had dramatically dropped its speed.

“What, and add more people to the upcoming custody battle over the holy corpse? I think not,” Diego retorted. “And beyond that— work with another version of myself? I don’t trust me! Do you trust me?”

Wekapipo and Hot Pants both sighed.

"That's what I thought," Diego said smugly. He scooped up the shards of the diamonds, brought his hand to his mouth, tilted his head back, and swallowed them.

Wekapipo and Hot Pants shot him looks that ranged from concern to mild disgust.

“We’ll bait them with this,” he said as he held up the empty box. “Josuke said that a man who wasn’t the president was able to send him to another world by pushing him behind a door. As long as we remain in the president’s range, we should be able to do the same. We’ll send them right back to the world they belong to and we’ll keep these mystery diamond pieces for ourselves.”

“For yourself, you mean,” Wekapipo said dryly.

“I can vomit them back up and we can share, if you insist,” Diego retorted. “But for now, I’ll keep them safe and sound as gastroliths. Now, let’s go set our trap before they can catch up.”

Gyro lifted his binoculars, lowered them, and then lifted them again. “What the hell? They’re getting on way too early. Or— wait.” He made a sound of frustration. “There’s another Diego and another Hot Pants. Valentine is pulling some alternate universe bullshit already. They’re rushing the plan to get away from their copies.”

“Then we should hurry up and get to the engine,” Johnny replied.

“Yeah,” Gyro replied. “Before we go, though, there’s something… I didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t want to overcomplicate things, and Diego, bless his little kleptomaniac heart, totally would have tried to steal it from me just because it might give him some advantage,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the single shard of the diamond. “Johnny, the version of you that I saw gave me this. He didn’t know what it does and I sure as hell don’t, either.”

“Is it glass?” Josuke asked as he tilted his head and looked at it.

“I don’t think so,” Gyro replied. “It looks like it broke off of something, but I hit it on a rock a few times and it didn’t break any more, so. Probably not glass. Maybe diamond? Maybe something else. But yeah. I don’t know. But I hope we’ll find out.”

Lucy stood and a relieved smile brightened her expression when she saw Dio and Jolyne. “Hello again,” she said. “I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

“Hey, hey,” Jolyne said cheerily as she waved.

“Tea?” Valentine asked as he approached the bar. “Or something stronger? If you want any food, I can call the attendants back in. I believe the selection today was cucumber sandwiches and some sort of soup.”

“Pass,” Jolyne answered flatly.

“I would appreciate an explanation as to what’s going on more so than a beverage,” Dio said. “But I will take an earl grey, if you’re offering.”

“Of course,” Valentine said with a nod. As he poured steaming water from a kettle into a mug, he shot Dio a curious look. “You are… slightly different than what I was expecting. The last I spoke with a Diego that looked like you, you seemed to know more about what was going on than I did myself.”

Dio rolled his eyes and pressed a few fingers against his temple. “Grand. You must have had the misfortune of meeting with my double, then.”

“Misfortune? I think it was quite fortunate,” Valentine replied. “I think that because of it, my path forward has grown so much clearer.”

“What path forward?” Jolyne asked. “You really think you’re just gonna waltz off to another America and pretend that what you did here never happened?”

“Of course not,” he said with a frown. “I completely understand the gravity of what has been done here.” He gathered up the mug, a pile of silverware, and a handful of cloth napkins. “Here. Let me give you a demonstration.”

He went to the table and booth seat that Lucy was standing by and set down the mug. Then, he began setting out the silverware. “I know that none of us seem to have any appetite,” he said as he set down the final fork, “but I’d like to set the table, nonetheless.” He folded the napkins and distributed them, and then pursed his lips. “Not the perfect setup, as this is a rectangular table, but I believe I’ll be able to make my point all the same. Now, pretend that this is a circular table,” he said as he waved a hand at Dio. “If you were sitting right there, at the space between those two napkins, which one would you take?”

Dio held out a hand, but then hesitated and frowned.

“Come on,” Jolyne whispered. “This is one of those old-timey table manners rules, right? You were a fancy little Victorian boy for a while. You gotta know this.”

“Well, if we were following the proper rules, the setup would be completely different,” Dio retorted. “There’d be a second or even third set of forks, for example. And—”

“The point,” Valentine interrupted, “is that either napkin would be correct, as long as you are the first one taking it. If you pick the right side napkin, so must everyone else. If you pick the left side napkin, again, so must everyone else. Everyone is forced to follow whoever has taken the first napkin. Everything in life follows this general principle. One person takes. The rest follow.” He squared his shoulders and looked at Dio and Jolyne. “I have accepted that I was not the first to take the napkin. It was my other self that did so. His world, the base world, is the one that we all must follow. My role was to help him ensure the eternal prosperity of the base world, but now, I plan on taking control of that future for myself.”

“You know what?” Jolyne said as she grabbed both napkins and tossed them back over her shoulder, “I’ve decided that I hate metaphors. Just be direct. You’re saying you fucked this world over because you think the other version of yourself has dibs on everything? And now you just wanna make it so that you're the one with dibs?”

“I was willing to make sacrifices for a cause greater than myself,” Valentine said, and a hint of anger crept into his tone. 

“You didn’t sacrifice anything!” Jolyne said in disbelief. “You just took a bunch of stuff from other people!”

Dio picked up the mug of tea and took a sip.

The diamond universe Hot Pants and Diego clambered onto the train.

"They dropped it," Diego said with a frown as he pointed at the box, which had landed on the ground just beside the door to the compartment. "Did Valentine attack them?"

"It's possible," Hot Pants replied. "That, or it's a trap."

"Trap or no, we need those to keep from exploding," Diego said. "Just be prepared for an attack the second we pick that back up."

They both edged towards it cautiously. Diego sent a few miniature raptors over; they stood astride the box and chirped. Nothing happened. Diego made a decisive lunge and grabbed the box.

Nothing happened.

Hot Pants approached him and frowned at the box.

"Well," Diego said happily. "That went better than expected."

The door to the train compartment swung open. The base world Diego, Hot Pants, and Wekapipo squished them against the wall.

"Would you back me up here?" Jolyne said to Dio. "I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall. As a brick wall yourself, maybe you can make some sort of breakthrough."

Dio frowned down at his nearly-empty mug of tea. Lucy sat at a different table, her expression having slid from happiness to exhaustion. Jolyne was tense and quite clearly holding herself back from just punching Valentine, who was standing beside the messily set table. The two had been arguing for several minutes.

"I'm not sure I'm the one you want untangling some sort of moral dilemma," he replied with a shrug. "I can almost admire his drive, but I think I would have tried to claim this base world for myself much earlier. At the very least, that would have kept him from taking so much from this world."

“Yeah, well," she said with a scowl, “what was it that you were saying about people that take things carelessly?”

He hummed and took the last sip of his tea. "What is it that you're looking for here, Jolyne?" he asked. "I do believe that we could just kill this Valentine and force the other one to ferry us around from universe to universe, and then we could kill him, too. Or vice versa. It doesn't really matter. As he has said himself, he's but a cog in one large Valentine-shaped machine. Would killing a few of him fulfill your desire for justice?"

She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. "Ugh! I don't know. Probably! It's not like I'm gonna just let him go be god-king of his favorite America after all this. For now, though, I would just like for this idiot to even act a little bit sorry for what he did."

"I stand by every decision I have made," Valentine stated. "I would not make a farce of it all with regret. My dedication, as it always has, lies with the base world."

"Oh my God, shut up," Jolyne snapped. She strode over to the window, gripped at the sill, and stared at the landscape passing by. Lucy rested her elbows on the tabletop, pressed her hands against her forehead, and stared down at nothing in particular. Dio shrugged, took a seat in an empty booth, and put his boots up on the table.

The cushion on the seat behind Valentine jostled strangely. The base world Valentine emerged from beneath it. He grabbed at the diamond universe Valentine's coat just as a few other Valentines peeked out from beneath the cushion and glanced around the train compartment.

"I need to borrow you," the base Valentine said. "Quickly."

Before anyone could react, the diamond universe Valentine was pulled into the space between the cushion and the seat. He disappeared.

The base world Diego and Hot Pants entered the third train compartment; Wekapipo followed close behind.

"I could have sworn I saw him standing in here," Wekapipo said. "Did he leave with his Stand thing?"

"He must have," Diego replied, and he looked at every bit of furniture with suspicion. "Hot Pants, be ready for what we planned for."

They all ventured further forward into the compartment. 

A cushion lifted, a drawer opened, a newspaper lifted from the ground; three Valentines emerged and approached them. One lunged for Wekapipo; two went for Hot Pants.

"Hot Pants!" Diego shouted. "Now!"

Cream Starter sprayed; there were now four Valentines. They all backed away from each other warily.

The Valentine taken from the diamond universe was especially shaken. He wavered where he stood, not wanting to get close to a version of himself that was Diego in disguise and not wanting to be attacked by either Wekapipo or Hot Pants.

But it was that moment of hesitation that gave the disguised Diego an opening; with his heightened reflexes, he was able to attack both of the Valentines that had gone towards Hot Pants. His claws tore through both of their throats. The Valentine from the diamond universe gagged on his own blood and fell.

The base world Valentine brought forth D4C and punched the Stand-blind Wekapipo as hard as he could before dashing away from Diego and Hot Pants. Wekapipo coughed and choked as he grasped at a nearby chair for support. Hot Pants ran to his side while Diego sprinted after Valentine.

Somehow, everything stopped. The diamond universe Valentine slowly blinked and roved his gaze around the train car. There was another version of him with his throat slit and bleeding a few paces away from him, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. The Valentine with D4C was backing away from Diego while Hot Pants circled around and Wekapipo staggered forward. But it was all frozen in place; the world had been put on pause.

“That’s the fourth version of myself that you’ve encountered,” Dio’s double said. “How unfortunate for you.”

Valentine looked up and saw the double standing over him.

“I just had one thing left to say to you in your final moments, Mr. President,” the double said, his tone gently mocking. “Now that you understand how disposable you are to yourself, now that you see that the sacrifices made in the corpse’s name will never be to your benefit… I’m merely curious. What will you do now? You wanted to put your faith in something immovable. Something incomparable in power.” He leaned down and smiled. “Why not give me a try?”

Valentine struggled to frown. He swallowed and felt a dull, distant pain in his neck at the movement.

“I could easily heal you. I could force that Stand to be under your control. If you’d like to keep playing with the corpse and go make the world yours, I’d let you. I would only ask one thing of you.” He crouched down and Valentine watched him warily. “If you can tell me truthfully that you regret what you have done, I will let you live. Oh, but of course,” he said with a faint laugh, “your throat is slit. You cannot speak. Just think it, then.”

Valentine stared at him.

“Oh?” the double said with a grin. “Your heart and actions are totally unclouded? You’re standing by your principles even to this bitter end? I’m impressed.” He let out a sigh and leaned back. “You have maintained your sense of pride. I suppose that is admirable. However, it also means that you are of no use to me.”

Valentine’s breath began to slow.

The double looked over towards the windows of the train. Time began to crawl back into motion. “I wonder,” he said, “if he will learn anything from you.”

The Valentine with D4C grasped at the curtains of the window. Diego leapt at him and dug his claws into his shoulders before he could escape. Their combined momentum sent them hurtling forward. The last thing the diamond universe Valentine heard was the sound of breaking glass.

Gyro helped Johnny get onto the side of the conductor's portion of the train. He looked up in surprise when he heard the sound of breaking glass.

"Oh, shit," Johnny said as he looked towards the back of the train. "He's trying to kill Valentine by putting him under the wheels—" He inhaled sharply and blanched. "Fuck."

Josuke struggled to look back as he urged his horse to keep up. "What? What happened?"

"Hey Josuke," Gyro said, his voice strained. "Can you heal a man that's been cut in half?"

Josuke twisted in his saddle and caught a glimpse of Diego's top and bottom half strewn across the train tracks. "Oh my God," he breathed.

He turned the horse around and ran towards him.

Chapter Text

Josuke urged his horse faster. Wind whipped against his face and the train sped past in a thundering blur. He could see the bisected Diego strewn across the tracks— Josuke was fairly used to seeing blood and gore, and Crazy Diamond had punched through people before, but he was used to such a sight being brief because he could fix them right up afterward. Diego’s motionless legs were several feet away from his top half, which was still moving, stretching clawed hands out towards the rapidly receding train as if he could grasp it and keep it from leaving— the image gave Josuke a spine-shock of panic. He hunched over the horse and focused on the fact that Diego was still moving. That meant that Josuke might have enough time to keep him alive.

He pulled back on the reins, felt numbing adrenaline smooth over the thudding soreness of his headache as he dropped from the saddle to the ground, and brought forth Crazy Diamond. As his Stand brought the two halves of Diego back together, the sunlight glinted off something on the ground, and Josuke squinted in order to see what it was.

There were several pieces of diamond scattered across the gravel between Diego’s top and bottom half. 

But that detail could wait. Josuke focused on putting Diego back together. The top and bottom half rejoined. Diego was limp and unresponsive for a few long moments, but with a sudden sharp inhale he sat up and clutched at his stomach. At first he was wide-eyed, but then he narrowed his eyes and gave Josuke a look of incomprehension.

“Dr. Higashikata is here to help,” Josuke said weakly. 

“You are helping me,” Diego said, and he sounded almost suspicious.

“Uh, yeah, dumbass. Saving your life, even.” Josuke let out an exhausted phew and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, when I get back home, this is gonna be a wild goddamn story to tell.”

Diego clambered to his feet and looked around wildly. “The president, then— I must have—” He paused, put his hands on his hips, and let out a dramatic sigh. “He just escaped by squishing himself between the wheels and the rail. Oh, I hate him. Slippery bastard.”

Josuke gathered up the scattered pieces of the diamond. “Where did these come from?”

“Another me,” Diego replied with a sneer, but his disdain was aimed at the situation in general rather than at Josuke. “He said something about the diamonds being Valentine’s weakness so I stole them from him.”

“Great!” Josuke exclaimed, but then he frowned. “What do they do?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Diego answered. Josuke tilted his head back and let out an exasperated ugh.

They both jumped when they heard more breaking glass. A strange golden light flashed out of the now-distant train and Josuke saw a bleeding body fall from the window.

“Hot Pants,” Diego said with shocked quietness.

“That light,” Josuke said as he dashed back over to his horse. “That wasn’t like anyone’s Stand. Valentine said that Lucy would be changing— that she and the corpse would change— the corpse must be doing something.” He clambered into the saddle and spurred the horse onward, rushing to catch up.

Hot Pants was still weakly breathing when he arrived, but shards of glass and wood were pierced into flesh and wavering strangely. Josuke felt an odd strain as they seemed to resist the power of Crazy Diamond, but after a short struggle they were pulled free and the wounds closed. Hot Pants stared at the sky and inhaled, exhaled.

“Thank you,” Hot Pants said.

Josuke wiped a hand across his forehead and nodded. “No problemo.”

“The corpse is…” Hot Pants said with a tone now tinged with an almost desperate-sounding sadness. “I couldn’t…”

Josuke furrowed his eyebrows in concern, but then he heard more glass crashing and he let out a sound of frustration. The golden light flared out of the train and Wekapipo was sent hurtling into the grass.

“Diego’s just a bit behind us,” Josuke said to Hot Pants as he got back onto his horse. “You can group up with him.”

A quick gallop later, Josuke crouched at Wekapipo’s side and healed his wounds. Somehow, half of a chair had become lodged in his gut. Wekapipo rolled onto his side and coughed once he had recovered. Josuke let out a relieved sigh.

“The light— I think I may understand it,” Wekapipo explained. “I tried to use the ataxia, though I knew it could backfire in that small room—” He held up his steel ball and showed Josuke that many of the smaller auxiliary balls were missing. “That light just… sent them away. They went somewhere else. Still in this world, perhaps, but I saw… jungles. Mountains. Villages and cities. The corpse just shifted the attack to other places and caused bad things to happen there.” He waved a hand towards the broken chair. “And beyond that… I think it can just move things in general.”

Josuke looked up with worry as he saw more light flaring out of the train as it sped away from them. He caught a glimpse of a distant Johnny slipping behind the wall of light on Slow Dancer. A loud metal shrieking echoed through the air; the engine of the train detached from the rest of it and chugged along the tracks while the bulk of the train gradually came to a stop.

“Great! We can catch up,” Josuke said with a decisive nod. “We know more about what we’re dealing with, now. We can try again.” 

Wekapipo frowned. “They stopped the train.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Josuke said excitedly as he clambered up onto his horse.

“Then why does it still seem to be getting further away?” Wekapipo asked.

Josuke scowled and squinted into the distance. The engine of the train was now very far away, seemingly disappearing into the horizon. The rest of the train wasn’t moving. He could see that the wheels weren’t turning. And yet, somehow, it still appeared to be speeding away from them, as if the land between them were stretching out.

“More corpse bullshit,” Josuke griped. “Valentine was going on and on about how it wanted to see the Atlantic, and you said it could move things.”

“I’m not sure how we are going to catch up to that,” Wekapipo said quietly. “Even with you on your horse.”

“We have to try, right?” Josuke said as he gripped at the reins. “Johnny and Gyro are caught up in that, still. Try to regroup with Hot Pants and Diego. I’m gonna chase after the train.”

Josuke spurred the horse onward and felt a queasy unease at the fact that he seemed to be only covering half the amount of land he should have been at his speed. He set his stare on the distant train and clutched at the reins.

Upon hearing a Valentine speak, Jolyne turned from the window and looked at the space in front of the seat where Valentine had been. She just barely caught a glimpse of his coat slipping beneath the cushion.

“Uh,” she said. Dio glanced up from cleaning his nails and gave her an inquisitive look. Lucy looked at the empty seat and gasped.

“He’s gone,” Jolyne said, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “He’s gone. He straight up left without us. What the hell!” 

Dio stood and peered at the seat as if Valentine would be hiding under the cushion. “Perhaps he’ll… return?”

“He won’t,” Lucy said quietly. “He said he had no reason to come back— unless I wanted him to replace Steven. And I told him I didn’t want him to.” She let out a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a sob. “I told him I didn’t want him to come back.” She shot Jolyne and Dio a devastated look and her eyes started to water. “I’m sorry.”

Jolyne approached her and set steadying hands on her shoulders. “Whoa, whoa. This super isn’t your fault. Don’t cry!”

“I thought we were going to help him kill his alternate self so he could steal his Stand,” Dio said as he lifted the cushion and looked beneath it. “How did he leave without us doing that? Did his other self just take him?”

“Let’s not panic,” Jolyne insisted, even though her voice was wavering with worry. “Maybe he’ll realize he forgot his favorite coat here or something. He’ll totally come back. He has to.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said again, and she hugged Jolyne tightly. “I feel so sad for you. But I feel so happy, as well. Now that he’s gone, the world is safer for it.” She sniffed. “I think… Steven would be happy. Part of why he routed the race the way he did was so that people could see first-hand what happened here. I don’t think he wanted justice, or revenge. He just wanted things to be better. And now, maybe they can be.”

“I’m really sorry to hear about your dad,” Jolyne said sympathetically. “I saw a couple of the headlines when he died. He seemed really nice.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, and she let out an empty-sounding laugh. “No, no. We were married. I’m Mrs. Steel.”

Jolyne narrowed her eyes and looked back at Dio. “Dude, I hate the past so much.”

“I know it sounds strange. But he shouldered that stigma for himself because he married me to save me from an awful fate, and to save my family name from being ruined further,” Lucy explained. “We weren’t quite husband and wife. We were friends. True friends.”

Dio shot her a curious look. “What was your family name?”

Lucy blinked at him. “Pendleton.”

He stared at her. “What.”

“Pendleton,” she repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Would you like to know something else about Steven?” Dio’s double asked as he appeared in the same seat Dio had been investigating. 

Dio turned on his heel and shot him a searing glare. Jolyne pushed Lucy behind her and scowled at him.

The double pouted. “Such an unkind welcome. You’d think you would be happy to see me. It certainly seems that I’m now your only ticket out of here, seeing as Valentine has slipped from your grasp. But as I was saying about Steven— I just wanted to let you know, Mrs. Steel née Pendleton, that Steven’s last moments were full of overwhelming fear and despair.” He leaned back and crossed his legs as he smiled. “He met the version of you in the world that Valentine favors, and his heart was crushed, for he saw that you had fallen pregnant. And then his heart was crushed, quite literally, by Valentine doing his ribcage in.”

Lucy was stricken and bewildered. She took a fearful step back and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “What…?” 

Jolyne grabbed a glass from the nearest table and whipped it directly at the double. He disappeared and it shattered to pieces against the wall of the train. Dio had an odd feeling that his double hadn’t even stopped time when he reappeared in the opposite seat; he had just decided to appear somewhere else.

“Rude,” the double said flatly.

“Fuck you,” Jolyne spat.

“I just thought she should know,” the double said with a shrug. “There’s no harm in telling the truth.”

“That was entirely unnecessary,” Dio muttered.

“It was?” the double replied with mocking doubt. “Her reaction was entertaining to me. That makes it very necessary, in my opinion. And anyway, it’s much better than what you’ve done to some poor little Pendleton,” he said as he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “At least I’m not slapping her around. Or forcing her to watch me murder her husband.”

Dio stiffened in affronted astonishment. Jolyne narrowed her eyes and glanced between them both.

“Anyway,” the double continued, “I highly recommend disembarking from this train as soon as possible.”

“Why, are you going to make it explode or something?” Jolyne asked.

“What? No,” the double replied. “Not me. But I wouldn’t put it past some international vigilantes in roughly ten miles. Valentine had plenty of enemies and no one yet knows that he’s quite gone from this universe.” He shrugged again. “And you should also begin planning what kind of life you’ll pursue in this world. You failed to save that Jonathan Joestar, after all, and now that Valentine is gone, it seems you’re stuck.”

“Wh—I thought you were taking us out of here,” Jolyne said with a terse frown.

The double crossed his arms. “I will not. You’ve both offended me.” He gestured at the pieces of broken glass scattered across the table. “I don’t expect you to prostrate yourself in my presence but a little respect could have taken you a long way.”

Dio felt panic flashing up his spine. “You showed me— you said the purpose of bringing me here was to—”

“Perhaps you bore me, now,” the double interrupted, and he waved a hand dismissively. “Be grateful that I’m not just killing you both. And you could still have some fun here! You’re the only vampire on the planet. There aren’t even any Pillar Men to dethrone you. Then again, I doubt that Jolyne here would enable such a reign of terror. You two can squabble that out on your own.”

“That’s not what I want,” Dio snapped. “I want to—”

The double raised a hand and pressed his fingers to his thumb repeatedly, pantomiming a yapping mouth. “Want, want, want. You can’t always get what you want. In fact, I remember someone saying that was one of your few admirable qualities,” the double said as he tapped a finger to his chin. “He said that you never get what you want. Those were words of wisdom that you should have heeded. Pity you won’t be meeting him again, now.”

A burning rage flared up his core and seared his nerves until he felt ill. Without truly thinking, Dio threw himself at his double and tore at his throat— 

But he was already gone. His nails ripped through the seat cushion instead.

“We need to get off the train,” Jolyne said, her voice shaking. “Or stop it. That way, we give everyone a chance to get off.”

Dio was practically shivering with anger. Wood splintered into his knuckles as his fist drove through the seat. Lucy let out a short, fearful sound and grabbed at Jolyne’s arm.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Jolyne snapped. “We have to go!”

He shot her a look— enraged, cold, distant. Jolyne felt the instinctive awareness that, at that moment, he was seeing her as little more than an annoyance. She inhaled, squared her shoulders, and gave him a serious stare in return. “I’m a Joestar, aren’t I? We find a way to win. We always find a way to win. He was probably lying to us about being stuck here just to get us upset so he could laugh about it. We’ll find something to get us out of here, somehow. You know that. You believe that. Don’t you?”

At that, his harsh expression didn’t quite soften, but Jolyne got the sense that at least now he was actually seeing her.

After a long moment of tense silence, he nodded once.

The diamond universe Hot Pants and Diego bounced off the wall of the adjoining compartment. Diego grabbed at his shoulder and let out a pained grunt. The box that once held the diamond shards fell to the ground and popped open, revealing that it was empty. He stared down at it in disbelief.

“This compartment,” Hot Pants said with a relieved sigh. “This is the same one we were in. That’s the window we broke to get the zombies out. We’re back in our world.”

“No,” Diego shakily replied. “No, no, no.” He turned and pulled at the door with clawed fingers. He dashed through the space between the cars and threw open the next door. He searched through the room: there was a torn-up seat, a broken glass, and a severe lack of Valentine, Dio, or Jolyne.

“They left!” he exclaimed. “They really did leave without me!” 

Hot Pants let out a thoughtful hm.

Diego kicked at a chair and it crashed against the floor. His claws dug against his own palms.

“Hey,” Hot Pants stated. 

Diego was either ignoring Hot Pants or he was so enraged he couldn’t hear. He brought his hands to his head and his nails dug against his temples. “I can’t be stuck here,” he said, his tone growing desperate. “We were there! That other world— I could have it. There was room—”

“Hey,” Hot Pants repeated.

“I can’t be stuck here. There’s nothing here. There’s—”

“Diego.”

He shot back a sharp glare.

“The president is gone,” Hot Pants stated. 

His shoulders were still shaking from rage. His fingers twitched.

Hot Pants let the silence stretch for a bit before speaking. “Yes, that means that we are staying in our original world. But that also means there’s a vacancy in the White House.” 

At least now his anger was shifting towards confusion. “What are you going on about?”

Hot Pants shrugged. “It will be election season soon. Maybe you should run.”

He froze and his expression was cold and unreadable. Then, slowly, he began to grin. He laughed and dropped his hands to his sides. “That’s… an exceptionally stupid idea. I’m not an American citizen. I can’t really run.”

“Hm.” Hot Pants frowned. “I’m not completely familiar with the electoral laws of this country. I thought you wanted that mayorship, anyway.”

Diego huffed and shook his head. The windows of the train rattled as it continued onwards.

“In any case, the president is as good as dead to this world,” Hot Pants finally said. “The Vatican will be pleased.”

“Oh, bully for you,” Diego said dryly.

“Would you like to hunt down Dario next?” Hot Pants asked.

He leaned forward, pressed his palms against his knees, and sighed. “Maybe,” he replied. “Apparently, it isn’t even that satisfying to kill him.”

The sound of the train’s movement shifted; Hot Pants glanced out the window and frowned. “Are we slowing down?”

“You were interested in becoming a vampire, correct?” Dio’s double asked. Hot Pants and Diego both jumped and stared at him in confusion. “I’d be interested to see what you do. Soon, there won’t even be a Joestar around to stop you,” the double said with a shrug.

Diego stared at him with a calculating expression. Hot Pants tensed and took a step back. The double grinned viciously and tossed a stone mask to the floor, where it clattered against the wood. 

Josuke squinted against the wind and leaned close to the neck of his horse as he pressed onwards towards the train. It still seemed far away and the golden light was flaring wildly, but he had the sense that he was making progress. The grass flew by in a muddied blur as his horse galloped forward and Josuke kept his gaze on the train, but when he heard repeated splashes he looked down in confusion.

Perhaps this stretch of land was more marshy than the others, but Josuke could see water welling up from beneath tangled weeds and yellow-tinted grass. He caught a scent on the breeze that gave him the sudden recollection of home— salt, fresh air, and just a touch of fishy rot. It smelled like the beach, but this part of New Jersey was still quite far from the Atlantic. The corpse must have been warping space around it even further, pushing land out west as it brought the east coast close.

Hooves pounded through water and the ocean swelled, sloshing across the slight incline of the ground and foaming as it went. Josuke was almost entranced by the sudden flow but he looked up and nearly yelled with surprise.

He was now much, much closer than he had expected to be— there was Johnny, huddled over his horse with his fingers pointed out, firing desperately at a streak of golden light. Josuke caught a flash of Valentine— a strangely old-looking and wrinkled Valentine— traveling within the light. The ocean churned around them.

Slow Dancer reared back and turned as Valentine lunged forward. As the horse sprinted away, Johnny’s body aligned with the movement in such a way that the pattern had a definitive rhythm, a golden symmetry that coalesced energy into his shot as he fired— but it wasn’t enough. Valentine used D4C to slip between the ocean waves and the shimmering brightness around him absorbed the impact. Through the sheet of light, Josuke could see the force of it travel off to some distant place and bring calamity to what seemed like the handlers of a circus lion, stricken with sudden bad luck as the enraged creature mauled them.

For the moment, Valentine was gone. Johnny, who was bloodied and devastated-looking, glanced about wildly, trying to spot where he would reappear. 

He happened to spot Josuke. The faintest glimmer of hope brightened Johnny’s face, and his mouth twisted into a frown as if he were afraid to feel it. 

“Josuke,” he called out as he pointed, not to shoot, but to bring attention to a floating, bloodied body. “Gyro—!”

Josuke’s stomach twisted with worry as he spotted Gyro. Red-tinged seafoam sloshed over him as he drifted just beneath the surface of the water. He urged his horse to gallop as fast as it could through the waves and hoped that somehow, Gyro was still clinging to life.

It seemed that Josuke’s appearance distracted Johnny just enough to give Valentine an opening. When he reappeared from the waves in a flash of golden light, D4C managed to cut a gash across Slow Dancer’s neck.

Josuke slipped from the saddle and landed in the ocean, soaking his pants to his thighs. He manifested Crazy Diamond and grabbed Gyro by the shoulders, pulling his head up and out of the water. Crazy Diamond began healing his wounds and sending the liquid in his lungs back into the sea while Josuke pressed two fingers up against Gyro’s neck and tried to sense anything beyond his own pounding pulse.

It was faint. So, so faint. But it was there.

Gyro’s eyes fluttered open and he hacked as liquid bubbled up his throat. Josuke held him steady and let out a relieved, triumphant laugh, but when he turned and looked back at Johnny his worry slammed back into him. Slow Dancer was down, Johnny was crawling alongside her, and the light-favored Valentine was fast approaching.

“We have to help Johnny,” Josuke insisted, and he rooted through his pockets for the shards of the diamond. “You were right about Diego— he stole these from another version of himself, who said they were Valentine’s weakness. I think they must be the broken pieces of one gem— you can kind of see where the facets are, holding them all like this,” he said as he pressed them into Gyro’s hands. “Where’s your piece? I can put it together.”

“I gave Johnny—” Gyro said, but he cut himself off with another wet cough. “One steel ball. If that can’t do it, then this…” He pulled the single shard of diamond from his pocket and cupped them all in his palms. Crazy Diamond placed its hands over his and a faint glow emanated from between their fingers.

The pieces melded and reformed. Crazy Diamond drew back and Gyro gripped the diamond tightly as he struggled to his feet. “A weakness— but if another Diego had these— that was for a Valentine without the corpse on his side,” he said as he held his clenched fist up to his chest. “We need something stronger than the corpse—”

Josuke blinked. His breath caught in his throat and he felt frozen with disbelief. The water flowed and splashed as it filled in the spot where Gyro had been standing.

Beyond the sounds of the ocean, he could hear Johnny firing at Valentine somewhere behind him, but Josuke felt petrified with surprise, and he stood in place, staring at the churning water. 

Gyro had disappeared. 

Movement in his periphery broke him out of his shock. Lucy was taking wobbly steps through the tide. The strange pregnancy had vanished and she looked much healthier. Her steps quickened as she ran over to Josuke and grabbed onto his arm. She started pulling him over towards Johnny as she called out. “Is Valentine…?”

“It’s not over yet,” Johnny said as he pointed towards a deep divot in the ground past the receding ocean, and his voice was harsh with worry. “Keep your distance. He’ll be back.” He glanced back at Josuke and furrowed his eyebrows. “Where’s Gyro? Were you— were you too late? Was it—”

“I healed him,” Josuke answered emptily. “He was fine. But— the diamond thing we found, when I put it together— he just… disappeared.”

Johnny hunched his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “Disappeared?” he asked. “What the hell do you mean he disappeared?”

Josuke flinched and struggled to keep himself from sounding defensively angry. “He just did!” 

“What did you do?” Johnny said, and his hands clutched at the ground. “What do you mean, diamond thing? That thing he found? That’s what did it?”

“I fixed it,” Josuke said, and he scowled at the tightness in his throat. “And that’s what happened. I don’t know!” he snapped preemptively when Johnny opened his mouth.

Johnny twisted around when he heard movement behind him. A very disheveled Valentine emerged from the dirt and grabbed at the ground. Tusk’s final evolution stood sturdily behind Johnny, its wide body looming as it fixed its star-shaped eyes on Valentine.

“It seems,” Valentine said, “that luck may still be on my side, after all.” He stared at Johnny even as Johnny’s nails were set to spinning and he aimed at him with an absolutely murderous look. 

“But this is still my defeat,” Valentine added, and Josuke noticed that something strange was happening with his limbs; parts of him were slowly rotating and drifting back towards the dirt. Johnny’s final use of Gyro’s steel ball had evolved his Stand and brought forth an even more fearsome version of the Spin, one that had Valentine trapped in this specific place and would eventually rotate him into oblivion.

“I want to make you a deal,” Valentine insisted as his body sank a little further into the hole. “If I just heard what I think I heard, it seems that you found yourself the shards of Run the Jewels. And if you fixed it with Josuke’s Crazy Diamond, then you were granted the ability to go to another universe.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Gyro Zeppeli is not dead. He is merely somewhere else. That could be anywhere in an infinite series of universes. And he may not have a way back. That diamond could have broken back apart upon use. So, seeing as I have D4C and am the only person left within this world that can travel to other universes— you need me to find him. I am the only one that can do so. But for me to do that, you must reverse the effects of your Stand and free me.”

“You’re only saying this so you can get a chance to kill me,” Johnny spat. 

“No,” Valentine said, his tone serious and even. “I recognize that this is my defeat. My goal has never been to kill you. I am dedicated entirely to the corpse.”

Lucy shivered and leaned heavily against Josuke. Josuke tensed with worry and a bit of disgust as the corpse parts began to fall out of her, the pieces slowly slipping from her limbs. He hooked one arm under hers and supported her. Blood poured from the spaces the corpse left behind and Crazy Diamond grabbed her shoulders to keep her healed.

Johnny gulped down a deep breath. “You can find him,” he said.

Valentine nodded as a few slices of D4C spun down into the ground. “I promise.”

“My Gyro,” Johnny added. “Not another one, from another world, that isn’t really him.”

“I promise,” Valentine said.

“And you don’t want revenge,” Johnny asked. “For me beating you.”

“I recognize my defeat, but I do not wish to die here,” Valentine said with a decisive nod. “You, Gyro, and even that Josuke may continue on in the race unhindered. I will pretend as if I have never even met you. I promise.”

“And you want the corpse,” Johnny stated.

Valentine nodded slowly. “Understand that I do not want it for power, or for wealth, or for any base desires. I want to ensure the longevity of something larger than myself. I am doing this out of feelings of patriotism— a pure love for this country. I wish to ensure its happiness. That is all.”

“And you promise that,” Johnny replied.

Valentine nodded.

“Prove it, then” Johnny said, and he swept his forearm over his eyes, smearing tears and blood alike. “I want to believe you. But you’ve manipulated us. You’ve tried to kill us again and again. But if you’re really walking a righteous path— if you’re closer to zero than I am, or even beyond it— then you have to make me believe it.”

Valentine paused and glanced back at Josuke. “Well. I would offer you a stolen can of Cream Starter, but it seems that he can heal things adequately enough.” He lowered a hand towards his pocket. “Would you still like it, though? As a first gesture of goodwill.”

Josuke glared at him as he supported Lucy, whose blood was wavering in and out as Crazy Diamond healed her just as the corpse pieces inexorably parted from her body. She let out a pained cry and he turned in order to support her better.

“Fine,” Johnny said. “Toss it over.”

Valentine reached into his pocket and pulled out something that glinted in the light.

With his pistol, he managed to fire two shots into Josuke’s back before a nail bullet sliced past his own neck. Josuke staggered and fell into the shallow water, and Lucy collapsed with him. Crazy Diamond struggled to keep healing her even as the Stand faded away.

Valentine gasped around blood as he held up the Cream Starter stolen from another universe in his other hand. “Johnny Joestar. Undo the spin and I will give this to you. He can heal others, but you know he cannot heal himself.” He pressed his hand against his bleeding neck and sank a bit further into the dirt. “Undo the spin, now. Or he’ll die.”

Johnny gritted his teeth so hard he feared his jaw would crack. He shot a panicked glance at the fallen Josuke and his nails began to slow, the whining whirring of their rotation falling quiet. 

But Johnny looked up as the sound of hoofbeats grew closer. His eyes went wide at the sight of Diego, Wekapipo, and Hot Pants galloping towards the shifted seaside.

Valentine threw the stolen alternate Cream Starter at Hot Pants in the hopes that the two canisters would meet and cancel out. Johnny re-aimed at the trajectory of the canister and shot it, sending the pierced metallic Stand careening off in another direction. He returned his attention to Valentine and prepared to shoot, but he only caught a glimpse of curled blonde hair sinking into the dirt before he disappeared.

The train had slowed to a stop and many of the passengers had disembarked. Dio was gripped with an aimless impatience. He held the handle of his umbrella tightly and walked a few paces forward as Jolyne gave Lucy one more hug.

“We’ll be here if you need us,” Jolyne insisted. “But if you wanna be the one to tell people what happened, then go for it. They should believe you since you’re like, kinda famous and everything. Plus, it seems like most everybody was expecting something to happen to the president, anyway.”

Lucy nodded stoically. “And the race is still on. The organizers will be expecting me in New York. Once this attack is sorted out, I want to greet the racers at the finish line and thank them. It’s what Steven would have done.” She frowned and shot Dio a look that was both fearful and concerned. “Is he…?”

“Don’t worry about him. Or me! We’re gonna get through this just fine,” Jolyne said, and she clapped a reassuring hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “I know it.”

Lucy nodded again, smiled, and then walked off towards the other passengers milling around outside of the train.

Dio approached Jolyne and scowled from beneath his umbrella. “I want to walk.”

She gave him an inquisitive look. “Where?”

“Nowhere,” he answered. “I just want to walk.”

She huffed and looked up the train tracks. “Alright.”

Jolyne trudged along the gravel and grass as Dio strode on in acrimonious silence. It was certainly a lot different from her talk and walk with Giorno. For starters, neither of them were talking.

She decided to change that. “So, Pendleton, huh?”

“Erina’s maiden name,” he replied flatly.

Jolyne fell silent again and they walked for a few long moments. “Jesus,” she finally said with an exasperated sigh.

Dio turned and gave her a sharp look but his boot hit off of something and he nearly tripped. He took one large step to the side and looked down.

Valentine emerged from the crumbling dirt and gasped in a few weary breaths. He looked up at Dio and his harsh expression shifted towards hope.

“A dimension where you’re alive,” Valentine said with some awe. “I almost wasn’t expecting… so soon…” He furrowed his eyebrows as parts of his arm spun back into the dirt. “You look a little different. Which Stand did you end up with?”

The World manifested and hovered silently at Dio’s side. He shared a brief but very confused look with Jolyne when Valentine let out a short, choked cheer and clapped one hand against the dirt.

“Listen closely,” Valentine said. “There’s a world you don’t know of known as the ‘base world’. Very soon, in that world, I will be defeated by Johnny Joestar and his allies.”

“Oh.” Dio struggled to contain his sudden elation. “Really?”

“I am sure that we were at odds in this world,” Valentine continued. “But now, it’s different. This is my last request. Johnny Joestar’s ability is infinite rotation. My body will soon be completely annihilated. No matter what I do, I cannot win. Not on my own.” He leaned forward as a few more segments of him were pulled into the ground. “Diego. Recover the Holy Corpse in my place. The one who owns the corpse can control all the good fortune of this world. I’m not afraid of dying, but one thing I cannot allow is for that corpse to fall into Johnny Joestar’s hands. And it cannot leave America! Even if I die, I can’t let it end! So, Diego, I’m entrusting it to you!” He let out a pained gasp and clutched at the ground. “I may not trust you. Or like you. But your ambition— that, I can admire. Take the corpse. Kill Johnny Joestar. Make the world yours!”

Dio quirked an eyebrow and spun his umbrella over his shoulder. “Grand. And how shall I go about getting there?”

“Just jump into the dirt,” Valentine replied. “You’ll be within range of my Stand’s ability and it will send you to the base world.”

“...May I take my niece with me?” Dio asked.

Valentine scrabbled his nails against the ground. “Sure. Of course. It doesn’t matter. But we haven’t much time.”

Dio gestured widely towards the ground and grinned at Jolyne. “Shall we?”

Jolyne nodded slowly and struggled to keep from laughing. “Yeah, let’s go kick some Joestar ass.”

They hopped into the dirt, D4C activated its ability, and Valentine spun further apart into the earth.

Dio stepped out from the dirt, shook his head to get rid of residual disorientation, and propped the umbrella handle against his shoulder. He squinted in surprise at what seemed to be the ocean lapping at the edge of a grassy plain. He glanced down and tilted his head at an oddly wrapped bundle that looked an awful lot like a human body. He had the World lift it so that he could get a better look. 

Well, it was certainly a corpse, and probably the special one that Valentine was talking about. He pursed his lips.

Jolyne stumbled out from behind him and put her hands on her knees. “Whew. That was something.”

Dio scanned the horizon and frowned. There were some scattered horses and a girl that looked just like Lucy— and probably was Lucy, he realized, just another version of her— being assisted by an older-looking man who was limping as he walked. Past them was a man with a grid-like haircut trying to keep some of the horses in check. A little beyond him was another Diego, scowling with his arms tightly crossed as another Hot Pants crouched over a prone body. And then, beyond that— he froze and felt that familiar, dreamlike flash of recognition.

Johnny Joestar went wide-eyed, swore, and then shot Dio in the stomach with a nail bullet.

Dio did not budge. He looked down and pursed his lips. “Ow.”

Johnny staggered forward, his legs wobbly and unused to his weight. “Guys—! Help!”

Diego looked over and tensed. Hot Pants gripped at Cream Starter and Josuke sat up with a groan. 

“Oh!” Josuke exclaimed. “Normal Dio!”

Jolyne stepped out from behind Dio and squinted. “Josuke?”

Josuke staggered to his feet. “Jolyne!”

“I thought I was the normal Dio,” Diego muttered to himself.

Dio clenched his hand around the handle of the umbrella. “Josuke?”

Josuke ran over to them as he waved excitedly at Johnny. “Don’t shoot him! I mean, it won’t do much, because he’s a vampire. But you don’t need to! It’s fine!”

Johnny looked absolutely lost. “What?”

“Josuke, what the hell are you doing here?” Dio asked in a near-snarl, and Jolyne snickered.

“Your awful alternate self threw me here, duh,” Josuke said as he approached them. “Holy shit, am I glad to see you guys.”

Dio pointed at the globs of Cream Starter sealing up the exit wounds on Josuke’s stomach. “What is that? Were you shot?”

“Eh, I’m fine,” Josuke said with a dismissive wave.

“What happened to your hair?” Jolyne asked.

“That’s less fine,” Josuke said as he jabbed a finger at where his long-lost pompadour had been.

“How long have you been here?” Dio asked.

“A month-ish?” Josuke answered with an expression that made it clear that he was not sure. “It was a hell of a time. I got bitten by a dinosaur, got in a bar brawl, had my head exploded, got shot twice—” 

The handle of the umbrella cracked and crumpled under Dio’s grip. Jolyne dashed forward and grabbed Josuke in a tight hug. “Dude,” she exclaimed in worried bewilderment.

“But what happened with you guys?” Josuke asked as he hugged Jolyne back. “How did you get here?”

“The president brought us,” Jolyne replied. “He managed to pick the one Dio available that isn’t out to fight Joestars to go fight a Joestar for him.”

Johnny approached them apprehensively. While his nails had stopped spinning, he was still keeping a careful watch on Dio, especially because the World was still holding up the corpse.

“You said Gyro was right about Diego,” Johnny said to Josuke. “A Diego from another world probably stole those diamond pieces. The Diego here then stole them from him. And if he hadn’t—” He paused, and his expression was conflicted. “You wouldn’t have been able to— Gyro wouldn’t be—” He paused, huffed, and bit his lip. “I can’t really blame Diego for that. Even though I want to. And I can’t blame you either, Josuke. But that damn corpse,” he said, and he pointed at the wrapped bundle. “No one should have it. That includes you. Even if you’re somehow a better person than this Diego. So, please. Put it down.”

Jolyne shot Dio a wary look. Dio stared at Johnny, his expression cold and calculating.

“You know,” Dio stated, “I’m glad that you’re quite different. If you would have been some sort of… uncanny imitation of the Jonathan I knew, I don’t know how I would have responded. Not well, I’m sure.”

The World began lowering the corpse to the ground. Johnny let out a sigh of relief.

“But you’re wrong on one point,” Dio added. “I doubt I’m a ‘better’ person than this Diego. I’m probably a great deal worse.”

Johnny tensed and gave him an alarmed look, but the World merely dropped the corpse to the grass.

“However,” Dio said with a nod, “I’ve always desired to transcend my own limitations. Avarice and ambition— they are parts of me, to be sure. But I am not beholden to them.” He nudged at the wrapped corpse with his boot. “Do with this cadaver as you please. I have no need for it.”

He locked eyes with Johnny. He was very different, but there was something to the set of his face and the determination in his eyes that was achingly familiar. 

Johnny nodded once and his harsh expression marginally softened. Dio let his gaze pass over to Diego, who looked as if he were itching to run over and take the corpse for himself.

“I’d be willing to carry it around for you, though,” Dio said with a faint smirk. “That would keep a certain someone from trying to steal it. The threat of exploding is a good deterrent."

“You know, I’m surprised touching that didn’t set you on fire or something,” Josuke added. “But I guess the crucifixes and holy water thing isn’t true, anyway.”

Dio frowned, tilted his head, and gave him a bemused look.

“That’s the actual factual corpse of Jesus Christ,” Josuke said as he waved towards the bundle.

Jolyne and Dio both looked towards the wrapped-up corpse with expressions of shock.

Johnny huffed out a sound that may have been a laugh and pressed a hand to his forehead. He sniffed, wiped a sleeve across his eyes, and nodded towards Steven and Lucy.

“We’ll go to New York,” Johnny stated. “We’ll take it to the vault.”

Chapter Text

“You’re just putting it away?” Diego griped, and Hot Pants set a firm grip on his shoulder to keep him from running up towards them. “You’re putting the corpse in— in storage?”

“In a tomb,” Johnny replied with an exasperated shrug. “It seems fitting.”

“I have my duties to consider, as well,” Hot Pants interjected. “The Vatican has requested—”

 “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to take that thing back to Italy without word getting out and a ton of people trying to attack you,” Johnny retorted. “Valentine might be gone, but his cabinet is still here. How are you gonna get it out of the country? And doesn’t the Vatican just want to box it up, anyway? It’s better to box it up here in New York while we still have time.”

“Box it up?!” Diego said in affronted disbelief. “You can’t possibly—”

The argument went on and Jolyne watched the exchange with a terse frown. Dio sidled over to Josuke, who shot him a tight-lipped look of confusion and concern.

Dio kept his voice as impartial as possible. “You said that was the corpse of Jesus Christ, correct?” 

“Yup, the big JC! Johnny saw him in visions and everything,” Josuke replied. When Dio gave the bundled body a calculating look, Josuke crossed his arms and shrugged. “I mean, the other you— the uh, one throwing us to other universes— knew about it but he didn’t care all too much. So while it is super powerful— it can give you like, extremely good luck while pushing bad luck to other places— I don’t think it’s anything that version of you is worried about. So it really might be best to just let them stick it in this vault.”

Dio let out a low hm. 

Josuke drew his shoulders up when Diego’s tone grew especially shrill and he jabbed a clawed finger at a stone-faced Hot Pants. Johnny scowled at them both, the corners of his mouth twisting as his frustration grew. “Well, we were all getting along for a few days, at least,” Josuke said with a sigh.

The World hoisted the corpse back up again and the argument stuttered to a pause. Diego shot Dio a narrow-eyed, wary look.

“I have one question for myself,” Dio said. “Is our mother still alive in this world?”

Diego shrank back with his arms drawn close to his chest. His eyes flitted from Dio to Johnny and to Hot Pants and then back, and the tension in his posture made it clear that he was deeply uncomfortable with such a question being brought up in front of them.

“No,” he finally replied.

Jolyne gave Dio a look— not exactly wary, but certainly watching him closely. Dio tilted his head back and let out a long breath. “I was correct,” he said, and he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “There’s no such place.”

Diego’s teeth were sharp against his lips and he looked as if he would say something more, but Dio held up a finger.

“Here’s some advice,” Dio said. “I’ll be the helpful double instead of the spooky one, this time. First: lose the false accent. You can’t keep up the received pronunciation at all. The London bleeds through no matter what you do. Seeing as you don’t have a century to yourself to nearly forget how language works—just stop faking it. And I recommend leaving Britain entirely. In the rest of the world, it doesn’t matter what sad little slum of the island you hail from— as long as you sound British, those predisposed to prejudices will think of you as posh.”

Diego crossed his arms tightly and glowered at him.

“And as for when this corpse is put safely away… there are other mysteries for you to delve into. Are you not intrigued by the differences between our Stands? Perhaps you should try to find a friend that could help you bring out your true ability,” Dio said with a smirk. “I know that if we are anything alike, the idea of a true friend sounds like pure absurdity, but… incredibly, it can be done. So, let this body be buried. Seek another avenue to wealth or fame or whatever it is I’m after at this age.”

“That isn’t what I want,” Diego replied, and his hands curled into tight fists. “I want—”

“Power?” Dio guessed.

“Revenge,” Diego spat.

Dio hummed thoughtfully. “On the ignorant rich? On the passive poor? Or on the world at large?” The World flexed one bulky shoulder, shifting the position of the corpse, and Dio waved his hand dismissively. “There are many routes to revenge. Adapt. Try not to cling to just the one, lest you go as extinct as your little raptors.”

Diego didn’t seem like he would stop seething anytime soon. He dug his fingers against his elbows and scowled. 

“The race is still on,” Lucy said, and everyone turned to look at her. She took a deep, shaky breath and smiled. “There’s still prizes to win. Even second or third place will get you a lot of money. Going after the train might have set you back a bit, but… you’re an expert equestrian. You can probably catch up.”

Diego opened his mouth and then closed it. He glanced off towards Silver Bullet and then back at the corpse.

Dio shot Lucy a sharp-eyed look and smirked. “Ooh, good point. I do like winning.”

Lucy merely blinked at him.

Diego looked towards Johnny and scowled. Exasperated, Johnny leaned forward and set his hands on his knees for balance. “Go win the race, Brando.”

Diego’s mouth twisted as he thought it over; there was anger in his expression, but also confusion and a bit of sadness. Dio felt vaguely unnerved. While he was used to the unflappable smugness of his double, he couldn’t decide if seeing the more emotive Diego was like looking in a warped mirror or just seeing an impostor.

“If I’m to claim first you could probably manage second or third,” Diego finally said with a sniff. “I’m sure the Steels can handle stowing the thing away on their own, and you could surely use the money.”

Johnny huffed and glanced out towards the slowly receding waves. “I wasn’t really in the race to win,” he admitted. “I was mostly just following Gyro.”

The muddied waves lapped at the grassy shore.

“Suit yourself,” Diego finally replied. Wekapipo handed the reins off to him and he clambered into the saddle.

As Silver Bullet turned, whickered, and sped into a trot, Josuke cupped a hand around his mouth and called out. “Oi! Ganbatte!”

Diego sneered and twisted around to look at him. “The hell do you mean by that?” 

“Do your best, dumbass,” he said with a grin.

Diego rolled his eyes but a faint smile tugged at his dour expression. He galloped off. 

It was less a tomb and more of a modified bank vault, all thick steel panels and interlocking pistons. Lucy did the honors; she slowly lowered the wrapped bundle onto the metal slab and peered down at it with a thoughtful expression.

Jolyne, Dio, and Josuke waited in the stairwell as Steven and Johnny worked together to turn the large wheel that initiated the locking mechanism. Jolyne nudged Dio in the side with her elbow. “I’m glad we got Diego’s greedy claws away from this thing but I’m surprised you don’t want a go at it,” she said honestly. “What with the Heaven thing at all.”

“Of course I’d like a go at it,” Dio replied, and he crossed his arms. “The rather unique circumstances around our presence here, however, are making me prioritize having this Jonathan’s favor. If he wants this corpse put away, then we shall put it away.” His expression grew more sly. “But every lock can be picked. If I have the need to take the corpse for myself at some point, then I’ll know exactly where to find it— stored away safe and sound within this little vault.” He sighed. “I’d love nothing more than to gift it to Enrico, but I doubt my other self is going to allow me to smuggle such a present back to our world.”

Jolyne let out a vaguely amused pff but her eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Pucci. “Huh. Yeah. Sure. Like hey, Pooch, I went on vacation to another universe, here’s my souvenir— Jesus’s corpse. Fun.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a terse frown. “Don’t call him Pooch.”

“Uh, quick reminder, he tried to kill me, my dad, and all my friends,” Jolyne said with a huff. “Be glad I’m not just calling him ‘that bastard.’”

Josuke, who had been zoned out in a tired daze as he blearily watched the locks slide into place, shook his head and squinted at them. “Wait, who tried to kill Jolyne?”

“It is best not to tell you the future lest we cause some world-rending paradox,” Dio replied flatly.

“Speaking of the future, what do we do about him?” Jolyne said in a hushed whisper as she nodded towards Johnny. “Are we just like, his bodyguards now? How do we keep him from dying?”

Josuke whispered back but his alarm made him sound shrill and as the locks finished moving, the chamber fell silent and his voice cut through the air. “Wait, Johnny’s gonna die? What do you mean?!” 

Johnny turned and raised his eyebrows. Josuke winced. Jolyne inhaled sharply through her teeth and then whistled. 

“You know, I could go for some more tea,” Dio said as he tilted his head and glanced up the stairwell. “That cup on the train was weakly steeped. Typical of an American preparation. Let’s go discuss this over drinks.”

Johnny closed his eyes and nodded weakly. “I need whiskey.”

“Lucy and I are expected to attend the closing ceremony,” Steven offered as he set a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “But if there’s anything you need— anything at all—”

“Got it. And thank you,” he replied with a nod. “Have fun at the ceremony. Good luck with the press.”

Dio, Jolyne, Josuke, and Johnny settled into a rather empty bar and restaurant. There was evidence that a crowd had been here earlier; some tables were still stacked up with dirty dishes and the floor was in dire need of sweeping. The earlier patrons had likely all left to go join the masses waiting along the bridges and at the finish line to see the winners of the race. 

A very tired-looking waitress drifted over towards their booth to take orders. Dio paid and tipped pre-emptively, and the now wide-eyed waitress picked up fifty dollars with trembling hands before dashing over to the bar.

Jolyne squinted at him. “Wait, where did you get that money?”

“Your next line is, I stole it,” Josuke murmured as he leaned his chin onto his palm.

“I did indeed steal it,” Dio replied. “I took the president’s wallet as we came over. It isn’t as if Valentine was going to spend it. And now we’re bringing that money back into the economy. It’s what he would have wanted.”

Johnny let out a short, tired exhale of a laugh. The waitress rushed back to their tables; Josuke and Jolyne had both asked for tall, chilled glasses of lemonade. Dio was handed a steaming cup of tea. Johnny gratefully took his whiskey neat and sipped at it.

“So,” Johnny said flatly. “What’s this about me dying?”

Jolyne tapped her fingers against her glass and frowned. Josuke pursed his lips and gave Dio a questioning, worried look.

“Jolyne, Josuke, and I are from a universe different from yours,” Dio began, “though you may already know that, as you’ve had Josuke with you. In that world, you and I were…”

“Family,” Johnny stated.

“In a way,” Dio replied. He paused, took a sip of tea, and then set the cup back down. The ceramic clinked against the saucer. “I killed you.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, and he idly rolled the bottom of the whiskey glass against the table. “So I’ve heard.”

“But I plan to bring that version of you back,” Dio added.

“Huh.” He set the glass down and folded his hands on his lap. “That’s what you want? To save the life of another me?”

“Indeed.”

“Then, why are you here? What do I have to do with it, exactly?”

“I’m learning how to change fate,” Dio answered. “I had been working on a plan to do so already, but… that other version of me— the one tormenting me, or, well, us, now— he brought me here as I am meant to change your fate before I attempt to change anyone else’s. I’ve seen some glimpses of how you are going to die. I need to find a way to keep it from happening so that I can return back to my universe and begin changing things there.”

Johnny stared at the glass and was silent for a few long moments. “I guess I’m glad I get to be the test run,” he finally said, and with a shrug and a scowl, he lifted the glass and threw the rest of the whiskey back. He cleared his throat with a grunt and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. “But why do you want to save him? That other version of me, that is. Since you killed him in the first place and all. If he was anything like me...” He sighed and rolled his eyes, but his frustration seemed directed at himself. “What was he like? I mean, you’re kind of different from Diego. I guess he and I would be different, too.”

“He was a spoiled brat,” Dio replied, and Jolyne nearly choked on her lemonade. Johnny’s eyebrows shot up and Josuke gave him a bewildered look. “But,” Dio added, “he grew out of it. In the end, I respected him deeply.” His tone dropped and he sounded almost vulnerable. “And, now— I need his help. So I’m going to save him. And you.” He sighed and tapped one sharp nail against the table. “Perhaps you two are different. But I have an instinctive feeling— and my instincts are finely honed, mind you— that the important parts of you are the same. Strength, determination, and a sense of justice. Those virtues seem to be consistently present in any Joestar. Except, perhaps, George,” he added with a dismissive huff.

“George? What, my old man?” Johnny asked with amusement. “Right. I guess you would have known him, too.”

“Yes. I killed him,” Dio said as lightly as if he were discussing the weather.

“I almost did,” Johnny admitted as he stared into his glass.

Dio’s eyebrows arched up in disbelief.

“Was he as obsessed with having his kids go collect racing trophies for him in your world?” Johnny asked dryly. “I mean, maybe half the reason why I hated the version of you here is because I was always pitted against him. That level of competition between people just isn't healthy.” He huffed. “The other half is because he’s a jackass. No offense.”

“None taken,” Dio replied. “I pride myself on being a jackass.”

Jolyne nodded in emphatic agreement and let out an mhm as she sipped at her drink.

“But no, neither of us were particularly equestrian-minded,” Dio added thoughtfully. “That competitiveness, though— I suppose that was there. Some was certainly George’s doing and some was very much my doing. It actually settled somewhat during college— we played on the same rugby team, and we had our own respective fields to excel in— though I must say that law is a far more pragmatic pursuit than archaeology.”

“Archaeology…” Johnny trailed off and pursed his lips. “Huh. Guess he woulda got a kick out of Diego, then, with him being a dinosaur and all.”

“That’s paleontology,” Dio replied. “Which he did appreciate, but he vastly preferred archaeology and anthropology. I know this because I absolutely refused to differentiate between the two just to annoy him. Also, out of pure curiosity, what is that accent?”

Johnny huffed. “Kentucky Posh is what I like to call it. Being in Britain didn’t really stick with me, but the backwoods did.”

“Kentucky,” Dio said with a mixture of disbelief and awe. He tapped a finger to his chin. “Well, that rules out one possible Hol hometown.”

A thoughtful silence fell over the table. Johnny frowned and ran a finger over the rim of his glass. “In your world,” he asked tentatively, “was there a Nick?”

Dio looked confused. “My older brother,” Johnny explained.

Dio frowned. “There are no prominent Nicholases that I can remember.”

Johnny sighed. “Good. Killing me, I get, but if I had found out that you had killed him, too, I don’t know if I would have been able to work with you.” When he looked up, his stare had a hard edge. “Listen, I’ll help you with this however I can. Especially since I’m the one apparently doomed to die or whatever. But if that other version of you can travel between universes— I want to find Gyro Zeppeli. He can’t just be gone. I mean, there’s no explanation for his family, no body to send back to his homeland— and past that, he was racing to save this kid, and…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Anyway. If there’s any chance of getting him back here, I want to take it. But we can figure that out after this whole dying thing, I guess. When do I kick the bucket, then? Is it soon? It’s probably one of Valentine’s remaining assassins coming after me or something. Valentine’s gone, too, so there’s gonna be a huge investigation around that. And I’m sure it’s gonna be obvious that I was there when it happened. Do I get executed for treason?”

Dio opened his mouth and prepared to explain some of what he had seen on that frozen night, but a familiar hand reached forward and poured another shot of whiskey into Johnny’s empty glass.

“Please don’t teleport us, I’m not done with my lemonade,” Josuke complained as he clutched at his glass protectively.

Dio’s double grinned and set the bottle of whiskey down on the table. “I’m so glad that you’ve all managed to meet up again,” he said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Dio tensed and watched him warily. Jolyne’s eyebrows furrowed and she shot him a look of pure loathing, but she set her hands flat against the table to keep herself from throwing her lemonade at him.

Johnny slowly lifted his glass and took a sip. “This is the bad one, right?” he asked Josuke.

Josuke nodded.

“Now, we can’t just go telling our dear Johnny how he dies,” the double stated. “That could cause a paradox. And while you’ve seen a glimpse of what happens, you don’t know when or why it occurs,” he added with a nod towards Dio.

“Then what am I meant to do here?” Dio asked tersely.

“Oh, nothing,” the double said with a shrug. “You’re done here, and yes, I will be teleporting you to the next stage. Despite your utter lack of effort, you’ve reached the goals that I had in mind for you. You two are now capable of getting along,” he said as he gestured towards Dio and Jolyne, “and you now have a desire to help your new friend, your great-grandfather from another universe,” he said as he waved a hand at Josuke and Johnny. “That’s all I wanted, really. It means that the stakes are higher now, and that pleases me. It will make any future failures that much more entertaining. And besides, it would be incredibly boring to have you all sit around for ten years waiting for his death to happen.”

“Ten years,” Johnny echoed emptily. “Ten years?”

“Also known as a decade,” the double said with a sarcastic nod. “You have one decade to live. You can know that much, I suppose. So. Spend your time wisely! They may not be able to save you. In fact, you may not want them to save you.” He clapped his hands together. “Well? Ready to go?”

“Where are you taking us?” Jolyne asked as she gripped at the table.

“On a vacation,” the double replied. “You’re going back to a nice little resort town. You’ll have one day to rest and recover and one day to figure out exactly how you’re going to prevent Johnny’s death.” He frowned. “And this is a mandatory vacation. If I see you doing any investigating during that first day, I will not be pleased.”

“But we just all got together,” Josuke half-complained, half-pleaded. “Can’t we just have a little time to rest here? I mean, Jolyne doesn’t know Johnny yet, and—”

“Yeah!” Jolyne added. “I really want to know more about—” 

“No. Bye,” the double said, and with a lazy wave of his hand, they were gone.

Johnny inhaled sharply and gripped at his glass hard enough to make his knuckles go white.

“Now, now, Jojo,” the double said with a smile. “Don’t look so distressed.”

Johnny closed his eyes. “I’ve had a lot of people just disappear on me today.”

“It is also well within my abilities to make them reappear,” the double said with a shrug. “I could make just about anyone you want reappear.”

“You could bring Gyro back,” Johnny said as he tensed and hunched his shoulders. “But if I know any version of you at all, then I know you’d want something in return.”

“Oh?” The double leaned against the table and grinned at him. “What are you offering?”

Johnny chewed on the inside of his lip and stared at his glass. “Josuke said you didn’t care about the corpse.”

“Oh, I am intrigued by the corpse,” he replied. “But I can play with it later.”

“What do you want?” Johnny snapped.

His grin grew to reveal sharp incisors. “I want to see the look on your face when I tell you that you will only see your Zeppeli not in this world, but in the next,” he replied. “Like I said. Perhaps you won’t want them to save you.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide and his eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. His fingers pressed harshly against the glass. His eyes stung as anxiety welled in his chest but once he blinked— 

The double was gone.

Jolyne swore as her hip knocked into something and she shoved herself away from the trunk of a tree. Josuke stumbled forward with his hands outstretched, searching blindly through their dark surroundings. Dio crossed his arms, scowled, and glanced around.

It looked like a normal street. Then, it hit him—it looked like a normal street in the next century or so. They were well past cobbled Victorian roads. He took a few strides forward, gathering as much information as he could with his heightened senses. The breeze was light and had a faint trace of salt. In the stillness of the night, he could hear the mild hum of the power lines and the sound of the wind slipping through the foliage. A road sign a short distance away was written in both English and Japanese. A cherry-red car was parked along the curb. He dragged a finger against the glossy paint and smiled in spite of his frustration. 

“Ah,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Modernity.”

He gave his pockets a cursory check— Valentine’s wallet was still there, as were a few spare knives and some knicknacks stolen from the race supply shop, but so was something else. Dio frowned and retrieved a blue plasticine credit card.

Josuke stared out into the night as his vision adjusted to the dimness. He blinked at the road sign and then leaned forward and squinted. “Hold on,” he said. “Hey, hey, hey, hey. I know that road. I know that sign!”

“This has to be Japan, right?” Jolyne asked as she set her hands on her hips. “I mean, there’s Japanese on the signs, obviously.”

“Not just Japan!” Josuke exclaimed. “Morioh! You go up this road and you’ll be close to Tonio’s.”

“Morioh?” Jolyne asked with confusion, but then she put a hand to her forehead. “Ooh. Alternate Morioh.”

Josuke clapped his hands to the sides of his head. “What if there’s an alternate me here? I don’t want to explode!”

“If I see anyone with a pompadour I’ll stop time and remove them from the premises,” Dio said flatly.

“So we’re in the future,” Jolyne stated. “That means we can find out how Johnny dies in like, his obituary or something, so that we really know what we’re trying to fix.”

“Correct,” Dio replied. “Perhaps the library, or…” He trailed off and frowned. “Would a Kentuckian Jonathan Joestar have any reason to leave behind an obituary accessible in Morioh?”

“We could look it up online,” Jolyne suggested. 

Dio shot her a questioning look, but then he nodded with a sudden recollection. “Ah, like what Polnareff could do within the turtle. That would be an easy way to investigate things.”

“We can’t do any investigating yet,” Josuke insisted. “Or else your double is gonna like… I don’t know. He’ll do something awful. Let’s not find out what it is, huh?”

“Right,” Dio replied with a huff and a roll of his eyes. “Our mandatory rest and relaxation has begun. Shall we find out if the Morioh Grand exists in this universe? Let’s claim the most deluxe rooms they have available and make the most of it.”

Jolyne pursed her lips. “How much money did Valentine have in his wallet? It’s gonna be worth way less, now. And we’ll have to transfer it to yen.”

Dio held up the credit card with a triumphant grin. Jolyne and Josuke gawked at it.

“It'll be my treat,” he said. “For a given definition of ‘my.’”

"Interdimensional vampire uncle all-inclusive one-day summer vacation," Josuke said in one lengthy exhale. "Okuyasu is gonna flip when I tell him about all this." He gasped. "Alternate Okuyasu."

"I'm so ready to shower and sleep in a real bed," Jolyne said as she stretched out her arms.

"Oh my God, a shower," Josuke exclaimed in agreement.

"And to sit in a room with actual heating and air conditioning systems," Jolyne added.

Josuke pressed his hands to his cheeks. "Ah!"

"And hair gel exists now," Dio added.

"I'm actually going to cry," Josuke replied as he pressed his palms to his eyes.

"Cry in the hotel room," Jolyne said with a wide grin. "We only have 24 hours to relax. Gotta use that time efficiently."

"Precisely," Dio said as he flipped the credit card between his fingers with a flourish and then shoved it back into his pocket. "This may be a different Morioh, but Josuke, you probably know the way to the hotel the best. Lead the way."

"Gladly!" Josuke replied with a grin, and he led Dio and Jolyne into the Morioh midnight.

Chapter Text

“Man, this is great,” Josuke exclaimed as he dug a spoon through a sundae. They had bought their way into three rooms, but they were all briefly recuperating in Josuke’s before settling in for the night. “I’ve never had the chance to try out the hotel’s stuff. I usually just get ice cream from the cart guy by the fountain.” Josuke had showered and thrown on a clean set of clothes hastily bought from the soon-to-close store en route to the hotel; he had yet to re-style his hair, and it was currently turban-wrapped in a large, fluffy towel.

“I’m a little bit okay with being thrown around through time and space if I get free unlimited room service,” Jolyne admitted. “But only a little bit,” she added as she held up a hand and gestured with her thumb and pointer finger a centimeter apart. Her hair was down from its usual braided buns and hung wetly over a Morioh Grand-branded bathrobe.

Josuke threw an arm over the back of the couch as he turned to look at Dio, who was sitting stiffly at a desk. “How’s your food?”

Dio stared at a rare steak (as rare as possible, he had emphatically instructed, food safety standards be damned— and the hefty tip charged to the credit card had convinced what little staff that had been around to cook this late at night to comply) and frowned. In truth, he had always had a vague curiosity as to if animal blood would sate his vampiric thirst, but human blood had always been so easily accessible that he had never gone through with testing it out.

“Terrible,” he answered honestly. Trying to take blood from the steak felt like sucking down rusty water. The correct flavor was just barely there but there was no substance to it.

Jolyne quirked an eyebrow and shot him a questioning look. Josuke frowned. Dio leaned back in his chair and let out a short sigh.

“I get that you have to eat. But do you have to kill people in order to eat, or can you just… take a sip?” Jolyne asked. “Could you just like, take a quick drink from ten people instead of totally draining one dry?”

Dio didn’t respond.

“I mean, if it’s just like, hard to stop once you start, I kind of get it,” Jolyne said.

“Like a bag of chips,” Josuke added helpfully. “Can’t have just one kind of thing.”

“I have excellent self control,” Dio stated.

Jolyne made a face that was near-comedic in its doubtfulness. “Sure,” she replied diplomatically.

The legs of the seat scuffed against the carpet as Dio stood. 

Josuke furrowed his eyebrows. “If you need… if eating without totally killing someone is something you can do… would it be weird if you drank from us?”

Jolyne squinted. “Oh, it’d be weird. But I guess it’s better than just grabbing blood from some poor rando in the middle of the night.”

Dio strode towards the door and Jolyne stood with her arms crossed. “What are you going to do?” she asked bluntly.

“I’ll go to the hospital again,” he stated. “Even those stale plastic packages are better than these...dregs,” he said as he waved towards the bloody plate.

Jolyne frowned. “Alright,” she said tersely. “Stay out of trouble and make good choices, I guess.”

The door to the hotel room swung shut. 

Josuke bit his lip and dragged his spoon through the melted slurry at the bottom of his bowl. “Should we follow him?” he asked.

Jolyne huffed and flopped back down onto the couch. “Dunno,” she replied. 

“You’re the one that spent a bunch of time with him,” Josuke said with a tentative shrug. “I really only interacted with him in normal Morioh a few times. Most of what I know about him is just stuff I heard from Jotaro or my old man. I mean, I ended up on pretty good terms with dino-Dio, but I don’t think they’re totally the same.”

“Yeah, this Dio’s got some wild shit going on up there,” she said as she poked her finger at her temple. “And honestly, I’m still kind of in the same boat as you. I might have traveled across a bunch of Pennsylvania with him but, like… Dad never really talked to me about Cairo. Obviously. And it’s not like I ever saw the rest of the family to talk to them about it after the divorce, either.”

Josuke flushed red with embarrassment. “Uh. Yeah. That whole thing.” He set his chin on his palm. “I’m sorry that meeting back up with him at Rohan’s was so, uh… full of yelling.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a big deal,” she replied quickly. 

“It felt like it was,” he griped. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Jotaro that angry. Or say as many sentences at one time. He was like, pissed pissed.”

Jolyne snorted. “Yeah, he was big mad. And I get why.” Her expression grew more pensive. “He probably really hates feeling like this whole situation is out of his control.” With a sigh, she drew her legs up onto the couch. “I hope… I really hope we haven’t been missing from normal Morioh this whole time.”

“I was worried about the exact same thing,” Josuke admitted. “I don’t want to go back and—  and have everyone—” He grumbled and rubbed his hand against his face.

“Hey,” Jolyne said gently. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen, so let’s hope for the best. Maybe it’ll be like in a fairytale. We’ll go back and no time will have passed at all.”

“I hope so,” Josuke replied. He sniffed and rolled his shoulders in a shrug. 

“And as a certain someone would say, ‘we have to be pragmatic about this,’” Jolyne said, and as she narrowed her eyes and did her smuggest possible Dio impression Josuke choked back a laugh. “I’m not saying we should just blindly trust him. I’m pretty sure the dude is a bit of a sociopath, and that he was like that before he even became a vampire,” Jolyne added. “But for now… I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt. We need to be able to work as a team for this whole ‘keep Johnny from dying’ thing. And being on a team means we gotta be able to do a trust fall or two.”

“Right.” Josuke leaned his head back against the couch. “I mean… it’s like, I could work on a team with Rohan or Yukako if I really needed to. And they’ve both straight-up tried to kill Koichi. And Koichi is friends with them now. I guess it’s not a terrible stretch for me to work on a team with a vampire.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me more about that Rohan guy,” Jolyne replied. “And about all your other Morioh friends, too. Maybe soon I’ll finally get the chance to meet them— and meet more of the rest of the family, too—” She held up her hand and interrupted herself with a yawn.

“Jeez. It’s 2 AM already,” Josuke said as he glanced at the digital clock on the desk. “I’m ready to just sleep for like twelve hours straight.”

“On a real bed!’ Jolyne exclaimed as she stretched out her arms. “I think I’ll head back to my room. If you need anything, just punch through the wall and wake me up.”

Josuke laughed and gave her a mock salute. “Got it.”

She grinned, returned the salute, and left the room. Josuke set the empty ice cream bowl on the coffee table, stretched, twisted his back with a few loud pops, and then reached up to unwrap the towel from his head. He gathered the damp fabric in his arms and walked over to the bathroom to hang it up. The hotel provided a complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste— a rather nice toothbrush, he noted, disposable but ergonomic and firm. He scrubbed the sugar from his teeth, spat, rinsed, and turned to leave the bathroom.

He yelped and Crazy Diamond manifested protectively in front of him.

“You have got to stop doing this shit,” Josuke complained as he glowered at Dio’s double.

“You’re going to trust this Dio? Do you trust me?” the double asked as he leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom.