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Chapter Text

Nicholas Joestar. Known to us all as the older brother of Johnny Joestar, the favored son of his Father George and a horse racing prodigy with an incredibly promising future. However, because of a tragic accident where he was crushed under the weight of a fallen horse he was riding, his life was cut short at the age of 14. But in another time, in another world, it wasn’t this way. In this alternate world, Black Rose regained its balance resulting in Nicholas’ life ending catastrophe never occurring. 

He would go on to have the star career he seemed destined to fulfil, winning numerous accolades and achievements left and right. He’d face other racers considered to be the best, and come out on top. Over the years Nicholas would even race alongside his younger brother Johnny, an accomplished horse jockey in his own right. Nicholas seemingly had it all, at least he might have up until the day his brother Johnny died. Utterly distraught with sorrow and grief over his brother’s passing, he would take a hiatus from racing. For over a year the jockey world waited for any news regarding him, only to be responded with near silence. Many made predictions about when they expected him to return, but said predictions never came to pass. And an increasing number of people began to believe that he might not ever come back. But those who considered or believed that Nicholas Joestar would return to compete in the historic Steel Ball Run race, were ecstatic when at a conference, the race’s host Steven Steel confirmed that the star jockey would return. 

And that brings us to the San Diego Beach on September 25th 1890, with not long before the race begins. Although it was only around 9:00 am the sun was shining brightly, creating a humid temperature and weather. The sun also helped to really accentuate the beach’s natural beauty. From making the baby blue sea sparkle and shimmer with light, to highlighting the faded, tan sand that made up the ground of the beach, as well as the more solid terrain with the same hue in the desert beyond. And to top it off was a big azure sky, lined with pale alabastrine clouds. This was the perfect weather for the beginning of such a significant event.

Nearby this beach was a small town with rustic houses and buildings, and walking through it was a horse jockey with a cut, lean build carrying a bag over his shoulder. He was already dressed in his riding outfit, on top he wore a sleeveless shirt with a horizontal stripe pattern, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Below he sported a pair of traditional jockey pants, the belt section having two silver buttons. The left leg had his racing number 399 going down vertically, while the right leg had two horizontal stripes across the thigh, reminiscent of the ones on his shirt. Lastly he donned a matching set of racing boots, said boots were in great condition and were prized by him. This was Nicholas Joestar, passing through the town in order to get to the race. He had already registered his entry long before today, and waiting for him at the campsite was Nicholas’ horse Footloose, who he had registered into the race two nights prior.

Nicholas tried to take a more low key route through the city, trying not to draw too much attention. Though inevitably a bystander sighted him, and excitedly blurted out “NICHOLAS JOESTAR!” gaining the attention of the crowd and causing people to start swarming around him. Nicholas was typically an extrovert, but semi-large crowds like this wasn’t his ideal conversation situation. Despite this he was friendly and polite to his fans who were just happy he was back, and he paused what he was doing to interact with them as well as sign their various memorabilia. After this went on for a few minutes he spoke up to the crowd.

“Thank you everyone. I really appreciate your excitement for my return, I really do. But you guys aren’t gonna be able to see me race if I don’t get to the camp, so I’ll see you all in the crowd when it starts!”

After saying that, the townsfolk moved away and made space for him to get to his destination. Nicholas thanked them before turning to the beach and heading in its direction. Now he had a closer, more clear view of the campgrounds. As he approached nearer, he was astonished by the many tents set up, and the tremendous number of masses walking, talking and preparing for the race. “Wow, I gotta walk through all that just to get to Footloose?” Nicholas thought in awe. Despite it being a bit of a hassle, the 5’7 jockey was successfully able to weave through the shifting, vast sea of staff and racers. He remembered from two nights ago that Footloose had been left at pen Number 10, and he had memorised where it was. Following his memory’s trail ended well for him as he found the correct pen and his trusted stallion.

Footloose was a 14 year old quarter horse with vibrant brown fur, and a mane with a complexion comparable to onyx or charcoal. Nicholas had formed a bond with him after many months of training with him in preparation for the race. The horse was cheerily greeted by his smiling human friend.

“Hey Footloose! Good to see you again.”

Nicholas reached into the bag he had been carrying, and pulled out a treat for his companion. That being a shiny red apple.

“I thought you might like one, I hope they’ve been feeding you enough.”

Footloose chomped down on the red fruit, enjoying the snack. Over the fence, Nicholas embraced his steed. Resting his head lightly against him, and running his hand through the mare’s mane. Footloose moved his head to his left to brush against his rider’s chest. Nicholas released the hug to step over to the fence entry to take Footloose out, but some noise caught his attention. In the nearby Pen Number 9, a commotion was occurring. The commotion being an over-enthusiastic, clearly rookie rider trying to mount his horse too vigorously. Resulting in the horse shaking him off, and him falling on the ground. Judging by his dazed state, he seemed to have been trying to get on two times already. Nicholas immediately picking up on the danger, rushed over to the pen to try to prevent a disaster from happening.

Once he got to the gate he slowed down his movements, carefully shutting the gate behind him Nicholas cautiously approached the fallen man. Nicholas held out his hand and the man took it, getting back to his feet.

“...The goddamn thing keeps tossing me off.” The man spoke in pained words.

Nicholas advised “It’s doing that because you’re being too rough and quick. If you’d like to hop on without being thrown off again, I’d recommend you follow my instructions.” 

After shaking his head a bit to clear his mind the man nodded, he was all ears. Nicholas began to speak composedly as he slowly approached the horse and began to hold out his palm.

“First and most importantly, you need to be slow and calm.”

Nicholas came to a stop, now holding out his hand completely towards the mare. After a few seconds of waiting the horse advanced towards him, and began brushing its face against his fingers.

Nicholas turned his head back to the man and said “Your turn.”

The man repeated the actions of the young veteran, slowly approaching until he was standing next to Nicholas and the horse. He slowly moved his hand to the horse’s head, and he began patting it. Surely enough, it was unprovoked.

Nicholas encouraged him “Good work. Now move to the side, then put your foot in the stirrup.”

The man did as told, putting his right foot in the stirrup and waiting for the next step.

“Now put your weight on your right foot to push yourself up, but not super quickly.”

The man spent a few seconds getting seated properly onto the saddle, making an effort to be more careful this time. After he got comfortable, he braced himself for the horse to lean backwards again and to collide with the ground. But that didn’t happen. Instead now, the man sat atop the steed with confidence, while the horse stood comfortably.

Still trying to process his success, the man expressed his gratitude to Nicholas. “Wow. I- I can’t thank you enough kid.”

Nicholas replied “Well it looks like you’ve got it under control now. Glad I could be of help.”

Just as Nicholas was about to leave the pen, he paused as he saw another jockey who had entered a few seconds ago. Nicholas’ attention was drawn to him because he recognised and knew this man. Slim build, a golden blonde shoulder length head of hair, signature blue jumper in a grid pattern, topped off with an equestrian hat of the same tint. There was no doubt, this was Diego Brando. In a vast sea of strangers, Nicholas was happy to see a familiar face. He greeted the younger jockey.

“Hello Diego.”

Diego glanced over his shoulder, before turning his body around to face Nicholas.

“Nicholas… Much time has passed since we last spoke.”

Diego’s words created guilt in Nicholas, guilt for not having spoken to him ever since his hiatus began. He followed through on his strong urge to apologise. “I wish I had done so before now, I’m really sorry I haven’t talked to you for so long.”

The British Jockey responded “There’s no need to apologise Nicholas, all this time you’ve been preparing yourself for this race as have I. Even before either of us knew it.”

That not bothering Diego made Nicholas feel better, he spoke now in a higher spirit than before.

“It’s been even longer since we last raced each other, but I look forward to doing that again here. It’s gonna be just like old times.”

Diego responded “I too am curious to see how that plays out.”

Diego began mounting his horse, a 4 year old Arab thoroughbred that Nicholas remembered was named Silver Bullet.

“I hope for your sake that you haven’t rusted during your time off.”

With that Diego rode out of the pen, the gate having been opened for him. But even though he had left, his last comment lingered in Nicholas’ head. He assumed that Diego said that to spark a friendly rivalry, after all competition brings out the best in everyone. But at the same time it came off a little hostile, whether or not he intended it to. It made Nicholas begin to question his training, sure he had ran circles and remastered his skillset. But he never once competed in a real race to get back into shape. Would his training be enough? Or would he flounder when placed back into a real race? Did he still even have talent? Nicholas tried to drown out these negative thoughts by focusing on the positive aspects of the race. Getting to compete once again in the sport he’s loved since childhood, being a part of the biggest horse race in American history, and getting to race against Diego again. The last point brought Nicholas back to fonder times, when he was a young rising star still trying to make a name for himself, when he felt like he was on top of the world …when Johnny was still alive.

One single thought of his brother was enough to dramatically change Nicholas’ entire mood. He froze up, trapped in thought as his perpetual guilt rose to the surface once again. In his mind, he pleaded the same words repeatedly. 

“I’m sorry Johnny… I’m so sorry.”

Fortunately, a siren suddenly rang out. Signalling all the racers and their horses to start moving to the track. Nicholas’ chain of thought was broken just as he heard the sound. Wiping his eyes, he moved back to Pen Number 10 and mounted onto Footloose. “Clear your head, focus on the race.” Nicholas told himself. He also opened his bag to put on his racing helmet that had been decorated with the letters JO on the front.

Now at the starting line, Nicholas had witnessed Steven Steel’s passionate speech and the reveal of the frozen trophy. A rather novel idea the jockey thought. Mr. Steel then began listing the winning candidates in his exaggerated and booming tone. 

“From the British racing world, comes the aristocrat Diego Brando!”

Audible screaming from the female members of the audience could be heard at the mention of Diego’s name.

“There’s the cowboy, Mountain Tim!” 

“Entering on camelback, is the Saharan Urmd Avdol!”

“There’s Dot Han! Hailing from Mongolia!”

“And making his grand return to racing, give it up for Nicholas Joestar!”

The cheering for Nicholas was thundering. Humbled by the joyous reception, Nicholas simply smiled and waved to the audience. The voice of the commentator started to hype up the beginning of the race.

“All are aligned along the beach! What an overwhelming scene! It’s like a whole city! This will move along the horizon and beyond the westerlies! The event of the century is about to start!”

Despite never being in an event of this scale before, and knowing full well that this would be unlike any other race he ever competed in, the experience was already nostalgic for Nicholas. The passionate audience, the atmosphere of competition, to the anticipation of waiting to be told to go! This is what he remembered, this is what he missed, this is what he loved. His mind was now completely focused on the race, and he was going to give his all in every second of it. After more than a year of being gone, Nicholas had finally come home.

Fireworks shot into the sky, their boom served as the signal to go. And the announcer resoundingly exclaimed.

“10 AM! SEPTEMBER 25th, 1890! THE TRANS-NORTH AMERICAN STEEL BALL RUN HAS FINALLY BEGUN!”

Chapter Text

At the very millisecond the fireworks ignited, the over 3000 horses began sprinting like it was a stampede. The only thing Nicholas could hear were the sounds of thousands of hooves stomping the ground and indecipherable yelling from the other racers, clouds of sand being left behind in their trail. While Nicholas was towards the front, no one had gotten far ahead of everyone else just yet. It was all just like a huge army riding in one cluster. That was until a lone rider suddenly shot through the masses a few meters ahead of everyone else, immediately catching the Joestar’s surprise and attention.

From the back he could see this man had blonde hair grown past his shoulders, he also wore a wide brimmed hat and a flowing cape. Nicholas recognized the mare’s breed as a stock horse with Australian roots. However, he had never met or heard of this horseman before. Who was this stranger that could ride so fast? Nicholas thought. He then theorized “Perhaps he’s a foreign racer who hasn’t competed in the States before, big in his country but not well known here.” The race’s commentator didn’t know who this was either, until the racer’s saddlecloth was revealed and the announcer called out

“Number B-636! Recorded as Gyro Zeppeli!”

Nicholas began to strategize how to overtake this high speed rider. “So Gyro’s his name. He’ll tire his horse out if he keeps pushing it at that speed. I’ll get Footloose to start to run a little faster, and then when Gyro slows down, that’s when I accelerate.”

The Joestar signaled to his horse to speed up just slightly. 

The announcer spoke up “Is that? Number 399! Nicholas Joestar! Nicholas is in second place!”

But just as Nicholas was getting closer to Gyro, another racer swooped in and blitzed past him.

“Another one just jumped out of the horde! It’s Diego Brando! Diego Brando closing in on Gyro Zeppeli!” The commentator excitedly narrated.

And then another racer emerged to challenge Gyro. One who’s mount towered over all the competition.

The announcer identified him “What’s this? Oh my! It’s the camel back rider Urmd Avdol!”

Nicholas immediately picked up on all the utility that the camel provided in this race, the main one being that you need to stay clear of the statuesque animal or risk being trampled on. It was definitely a wise choice of mount. Avdol began ramming his camel against the side of Gyro’s steed.

In thought Nicholas panicked “What the hell is he doing? He could trample him!”

However this position didn’t incite worry in Gyro at all, who reached to the right of his belt to suddenly throw an object forwards. It appeared to be a baseball sized emerald orb that swiftly spun a few meters ahead of the riders. Nicholas, observing the action a distance away from Gyro was perplexed by what he’d done.

“Was that a green ball he just threw? …I have to be seeing things, what would be the point of that?”

Avdol and Gyro began approaching a grove, the Egyptian rider looked the most dominant in this clash. That was until the camel and its rider unexpectedly collapsed when it reached the grove. It turns out that hidden behind the grove was a small pit of cacti that Avdol had failed to notice in time. As Nicholas passed the crash site he spotted the same green ball he saw Gyro throw earlier, the strangest thing about it was that it was still spinning, even carving a hole in the rock it hit, a dust cloud emerging as a result. Said dust showing the image of cacti. The ball then suddenly returned to Gyro’s hand even though he had long passed it, confirming what Nicholas saw did occur. Completely dumbfounded, he tried his best to figure out what just happened.

“What the hell was that? How did that ball just do any of that? How does something like that even exist?”

He tried to reach a conclusion, but one was much too far from his grasp. So he decided to get his mind back to the race. The announcer reassured the audience and by extension Nicholas, that although Avdol had been eliminated, he would be alright as Medical Staff came to his aid. Meanwhile Diego progressively began to catch up to Gyro, Nicholas began to build a little speed while remaining in 3rd place. The three leaders were the first to make it to a bridge that was built over a small bank. Diego still a horse length ahead of Gyro, while Nicholas was starting to gain up on the latter, becoming confident he would also soon overtake him. That confident estimate was quickly disproved, as Gyro took two spinning steel balls and placed them on the back of his horse.

“He has two of them?!?” Nicholas said in stunned thought.

Gyro’s horse instantly leapt ahead of Diego and Silver Bullet, wrecking the planks it jumped off of, and then landed down on. Both Brando and Joestar were forced to stop, as Gyro sped ahead reaching the end of the bridge. Nicholas turned around to take the bank underneath, as he was now technically ahead of Diego.

After some time had passed, Gyro was still in the lead as Nicholas and numerous other racers had reached the 6000 Meter mark. However everyone, including the announcer was caught off guard when Gyro unexpectedly went off course to ride into the nearby forest to the right. Nicholas immediately figured out the Zeppeli’s strategy.

“Gyro’s going into the forest as a shortcut, I think he’s planning to use those strange orbs to make it easier for him. This will be dangerous, but I need to follow him into the woodlands if I want any chance of passing him.”

With that Nicholas and Footloose separated from the pack to follow the leader into the brush. Not far behind him, Nicholas saw another racer following Gyro. This man had a horseshoe moustache, wearing a faded yellow shirt, orange pants, and a brown hat. His saddlecloth listed him as Number 777, and his expression and aura were one of confidence. Roughly eight other riders followed him and Nicholas into the woods.

Nicholas showcased his riding experience, him and Footloose swiftly avoiding the trees while looking for Gyro. From behind him, he heard Number 777 start yelling.

“I won’t get hit by branches even if I close my eyes! Nothing will kick me off this horse!”

Wondering what the hell he was talking about, Nicholas looked for a small opening in the woods to turn around briefly. When he found one and turned, he saw that the rider was now riding with his eyes closed.

Nicholas screamed “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE GONNA GET KILLED DOING THAT!”

With his eyes still closed, the racer smirked and replied “Not if I’m lucky!”

Completely baffled by his statements, Nicholas had no choice but to face back towards the forest so he wouldn’t be knocked off his horse by a branch. He continued weaving through the woodlands. Unbeknownst to him, the rider was dodging the trees and branches perfectly all with his eyes closed. Up until one branch scratched him, causing him to open his eyes and see a much larger branch positioned at his waist. Completely winded by the impact, he fell to the ground. Nicholas heard it, but all he could do was look straight ahead and hope the rider hadn’t been severely hurt. Behind him he could still hear a horse running, probably still running even after its racer fell off Nicholas assumed. But as he listened closer, he could hear the sound of something being dragged. He briefly turned around to see the surprisingly conscious racer, his right foot still in the stirrup being dragged by his horse. Which allowed him and his horse to move through tighter spaces, thus allowing him to catch up to Nicholas. Poco was amazed by this incredibly lucky turn of events, but not nearly as amazed as Nicholas was.

“Taking advantage of falling down to squeeze through tighter spots, to catch up to me. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Y- you’re a genius!”

“Have I gotten killed yet?” The racer jested.

“I stand corrected.” Nicholas replied.

Up ahead, Nicholas could now see they were reaching the end of the forest, but there was also now not much distance between him and Gyro. He saw Gyro use the steel balls again, this time to flatten the last few thin trees in his way. Nicholas fit through the newly made gap a second and a half after Gyro. The balls returned to the Zeppeli quickly after, and the trees were restored back up right. Nicholas heard the pained groans of the racer just behind him as he smacked against the aforementioned trees. Now that the space was open again and it was more safe to turn around, Nicholas looked back at the racer.

Concerned, he asked “Hey, are you alrig-?”

Nicholas cut himself off when he saw the racer sitting back on his horse still nearby.

“It’s true! I really am a lucky guy! Those tree branches knocked me back onto the horse!” The racer proclaimed.

A completely stunned Nicholas said “You really are something else, those stunts you pulled off were amazing!”

“Ha, thanks!” The racer replied.

Nicholas' mind went back to the race. “This guy is still your opponent, don’t get too friendly now Nick. You can start commending him all you want when you reach the finish line.”

He turned his face and mind back to Gyro. “That guy back there, he got back up on his horse because the trees Gyro used those balls on bumped him back up. He seemed in alright shape, but that could’ve seriously hurt him. And back there on the bridge with Diego… He’s not nearly as careful as he should be with those things.”

The race’s announcer spotted Gyro and boomed.

“That’s Gyro Zeppeli! He made it out of the forest! That shortcut worked in his favor! The racers that took the normal route are at least 800 meters away from him! But wait, there are two racers barely behind Gyro! It’s Nicholas Joestar! And… And… Who is that?”

The announcer paused as he waited to be informed of the third racer’s identifying number.

“Ah number 777, Pocoloco! Pocoloco has arrived in 3rd place! And now the three of these racers have only 4000 meters left in this stage! After the downhill and the farm, there’ll only be 2000 meters of straight road!”

As they approached the grassy down hill section of the race, Nicholas spoke to Footloose.

“Footloose, I need you to slow down for this downhill okay? Once we pass the farm, that’s when you speed back up.”

Using the reins, Footloose slowed down as horse and rider descended down the bumpy hill. He maintained this rhythm, completely focused on the track until he heard Pocoloco challenging Gyro. Poco then charged down ahead, taking first place ahead of Gyro. 

“That’s a terrible idea, why’s he running down? If his horse falls, how is he gonna be able to recover?” Nicholas thought.

Just as feared Pocoloco’s horse, OutKast collapsed, creating a huge cloud of dust when it made impact with the ground. Nicholas worried for his safety. However his fear dissipated when Pocoloco lifted his head up from the site where he fell. His relief turned to surprise when he saw Poco quickly move back down the hill, like he was somehow still in motion.

As it turns out, this was because his horse was actually resting on a cow’s dead body, and using it to slide down the hill. Nicholas could not believe his eyes, confounded once again at Pocoloco’s circumstances.

Gyro, seeing this as an easy way for Poco to reach first, suddenly threw a steel ball at a nearby small hill made up of rock, proclaiming his intention to use it to stop the cow from sliding. The ball struck its target, breaking parts of the hill into rocks of varying sizes. But what nobody, not even Gyro saw coming was a man running down on the rocks from out of the blue. The man was sparsely clothed, wearing only a loincloth starting at his abdomen, as well as various gold accessories. Two parts of his hair were tied into braids that rested in front of his face. He had matching tattoos on his shoulders, while the rest of his athletic physique looked exceptional. This mystery man kicked the rock intended to hit Pocoloco and in a few swift steps, ran his way to first place. The competitors were all just as blown away as the announcer was.

“HE’S RUNNING DOWN THE HILL ON HIS OWN LEGS! AS SEEN IN THE REGISTRATION, SANDMAN IS HIS NAME! AND HE’S TAKEN FIRST PLACE! THIS RACE IS IMPOSSIBLE TO PREDICT!”

Sandman, Pocoloco (who quickly abandoned the cow carcass once reaching the bottom), Nicholas and Gyro all in that order, had reached the bottom of the hill. Now only 2000 meters remained. They just had to pass the corner of a small hillside made up of rocks, and then it was a track straight ahead to the finish line. Utilizing being an on foot racer to his advantage, Sandman began jumping over the rocks, creating a shortcut that none of his competitors could follow.

Nicholas saw this and began thinking. “Sandman… he’s ridiculously fast on foot. He’s even outrun our horses! By taking that shortcut he could very well reach the finish line first, I can’t let that happen!”

He yelled to his horse “Footloose! Now’s the time to give it your all! Go full speed!”

Just as his rider commanded, Footloose immediately blazed ahead of Gyro and Pocoloco. The announcer commented on the Joestar’s sudden boost of speed.

“Nicholas Joestar! He’s accelerated past Gyro and Pocoloco as they’re about to reach the straight track!”

The aforementioned racers picked up their pace following Nicholas, as they made the curve and the finish line was in sight. The finish line of the first stage was positioned several meters ahead of an abandoned church. Not only that, but a gigantic mass of audience members sat and stood at the sides of the track. Waving flags and cheering intensely, the number of fans even dwarfed the number of overall competitors in the race. It had to have been tens of thousands. Nicholas briefly looked back seeing the rest of the racers begin to pour in from around the corner, like an army of ants. He also exchanged competitive looks with Gyro, now that what was at stake was right ahead of them. Nicholas suddenly became nostalgic. He remembered the thrill of being so close to the finish line and the anticipation that built with every step, this was always the most exciting part of the entire race.

He looked down slightly when he heard Footloose beginning to pant, visible air leaving his nostrils. The exhaustion was finally starting to get to him. Nicholas encouraged his steed.

“We’re almost there Footloose! Just keep running a little longer!”

Nicholas turned once more to see Gyro only a horse length away from him, Pocoloco a horse length from Gyro, and Diego who had re-emerged in the race, swiftly approaching in 4th place. As Nicholas moved his head back he could hear Pocoloco talking enthusiastically, followed by him abruptly yelling “YO! YO! YO!” though he couldn’t make out the exact words beforehand.

“Is he talking to himse-”

Nicholas’ thought was interrupted when he saw Sandman had returned, taking the lead once again. Gyro, Pocoloco, Diego, Nicholas. Now all of them started to give 110% into their horses. So much so that the four had perfectly lined up, their horses' muzzles nearly touching the runner. The weary Sandman tapped into the very bottom of his stamina, and sped up against the riders once more.

“These five men! One of these five men is going to reach the first place spot! I believe it could go any way, but just which one will it be?” The announcer excitedly questioned. 

The answer to that was completely up in the air. But that soon wasn’t the only thing up in the air, as Pocoloco propelled off of a dead tree that was in the ground, he landed just ahead of Sandman and took the lead! But only for a split second as Gyro suddenly whooshed past the Georgian Farmer, completely taken out of left field the four leaders could only react in shock. 

“H-how?” Nicholas uttered.

He found the answer to his question when he looked at Gyro’s cape. The spin master had attached two rotating steel balls to the ends of his cape, using it like a ship’s sail to let the wind move him forward. And this technique led Gyro to being the first one to cross the finish line.

The announcer ecstatically screamed “GYRO ZEPPELI! GYRO ZEPPELI! GYRO ZEPPELI IN FIRST PLACE! AT A TIME OF 18 MINUTES AND 7 SECONDS! WE HAVE A WINNER!”

Shortly after Gyro had passed the finish line, Pocoloco, Sandman, Nicholas and Diego all poured in, at what looked like all at the same time. The judges began reviewing the placements as more participants reached the end. The near breathless Sandman walked over to the catering, taking a large roasted ham while guzzling down a large bottle of water. Meanwhile Diego and Pocoloco reacted to their losses against Gyro. Brando quietly showed frustration and disappointment at himself, which was contrasted by Pocoloco who verbally expressed utter disbelief in animated gestures. After dismounting, Nicholas started taking Footloose to the horse stables, the stallion’s energy completely spent.

“You did phenomenal out there Footloose, you’ve earned your rest.” Nicholas said.

When he reached the stables, he saw that Gyro Zeppeli and his horse Valkyrie were standing by one. Nicholas was going to greet the winner of the first stage when the megaphone announcer unexpectedly cut him off.

“As reported by the judge in the air balloon, Gyro Zeppeli disrupted the race with some kind of weapon that endangered Sandman. As a penalty, he will be moved down 20 places. The competitor in second place will be changed to the winner of the first stage.”

A strong suspense hung over the competitors and audience members as they waited to hear who the new winner was.

“With that said, Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of Stage 1… Is none other than Nicholas Joestar!” 

The crowd cheered in response, Nicholas blinked twice, still struggling to believe it himself as the smile on his face kept growing. Gyro looked at him before turning away and staring at the wall, building rage written all over his face. The announcer listed off the other Top 5.

“Sandman achieves second place! Fitting for the man who ran the entire stage on only his two feet! The prince of English Racing Diego Brando, takes third place! Number 777, Pocoloco is fourth place! And then in fifth, is Mountain Tim!”

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A3VShC-R6QfGhzQYIlJnozqPRCxRTRxcjuxCEx1NP_M/edit

Nicholas was elated, he really never lost a step after all this time. But he was taken out of his thoughts when he saw Gyro looking absolutely livid, gritting his gold teeth and agitatedly shaking. After leaving Footloose in one of the stables, he watched Gyro approach the champagne table designed for the race sponsors, and placed one of his steel balls down.

“What is he doing?” Nicholas thought.

From the other end of the table, the race’s host Steven Steel acknowledged him.

“Do you have something to complain about Mr. Zeppeli? Normally you would be disqualified for interrupting a race with a weapon.”

Nicholas who was observing the scene, heard Gyro speak for the first time. He had an accent that the Joestar was unfamiliar with.

“I got nothing really, I won’t talk to you anymore. That was the past, we can’t do anything now except look forward to tomorrow. I’m here to make myself feel better, that’s all. That’s all I wanted to say. Go celebrate with some champagne.”

Gyro walked away as the champagne bottles began to vibrate. Steven and Nicholas, still watching, began wondering what was happening. They found out soon after when a champagne cork suddenly flew at Steven’s face, which he narrowly avoided. Then all the other corks erupted from their bottles, flying all around as the small crowd panicked and tried to take cover and protect their faces. Not even Nicholas was spared, as one of the corks struck him in the cheek causing him to wince in pain and place his hand on the impacted spot. Some of the corks also hit the wooden water tower above the crowd, causing water to fall down on all of them. Gyro could be spotted in the distance, walking towards a grassy hill, seemingly satisfied with his payback. He didn’t and probably couldn’t see it, but Nicholas was glaring at him. 

“That Gyro has some nerve. Me and Diego could’ve gotten hurt on that bridge earlier because of him. Then he puts Sandman in danger and throws a tantrum when he gets rightfully punished for it! And here he didn’t stop to think about the consequences of pulling that petty champagne stunt. Someone could’ve lost their eye, someone could’ve choked on a cork, one of those planks from the water tower could’ve fallen on someone’s head! Someone could’ve been me! He doesn't care if anyone gets hurt because of him, that reckless, self absorbed bastard!”

Suddenly realizing how heated he got, Nicholas tried to change his mood, mentally advising himself.

“Calm down Nick, don’t let him spoil your moment. Remember, you won the first stage! So go celebrate! That’ll make you feel better.” Nicholas then left while Steven stood where he was, completely drenched in the water. 

“Mr. Steel. I know this might be a bad time, but the sheriff wants to see you. It’s important.”  Informed an SBR Staff Member who had approached him.

Nicholas entered the area where all the racers who had finished were resting, and or socializing. As expected, there were many tables set up with food for the racers. Looking to get some water and maybe a snack after the competition, Nicholas made his way through the crowd and to the stand. He was able to get a large slab of steak and two glasses of water. After filling up, Nicholas thought it would be a good idea to converse with some of the other racers. When thinking of who to chat to first, one popped up in his mind.

“That one guy I met at the forest seemed alright, I think his name was Pocoloco? I should talk to him.” 

Not too long after deciding that, Nicholas actually saw him at one of the tables. It looked like he was counting the number of small plates compared to the large ones. 

“How many did you count?”

“Uh 7 small and 3 large, I just like to count sometimes.” Pocoloco responded casually while still looking at the stacks. When he turned his head to face Nicholas and he realized it was him, he returned to the more energetic demeanor Nicholas had seen during the race.

“Oh hey it’s you! Congrats on first place!”

Nicholas humbly responded “Thanks, I was barely able to reach first place. You, Sandman, Diego. You all had me on the ropes throughout, but especially toward the end.” He paused before continuing.

“I’m actually still amazed at some of the stunts you pulled off. Sliding down that dead cow and using the log as a launch pad, just to name two! You’re ingenious for thinking of these ideas and then having the skill to execute them.” Nicholas praised.

“Thanks a million for your kind words! But if I’m being honest, it was mostly my luck.” Pocoloco remarked.

Nicholas reassured him. “Don’t sell yourself short, I know talent when I see it. While luck might’ve been involved, skill was still needed to make the most of it.”

The Joestar then asked “You alright? You took some pretty nasty looking hits back in that forest.”

“Oh I only really bled a little! But one of the medics still wants to do a check up, just to make sure I’m completely okay even though I feel just fine!” Pocoloco answered dismissively.

As if on cue, a Doctor emerged from a few feet away, signaling to his patient.

“That’s him! Looks like I gotta go now.” Pocoloco said.

“All good, I hope the check up goes well. Oh I’m Nicholas Joestar by the way! It was nice to meet you, Pocoloco.”

“Thanks! You too!” 

Just before Poco left, the two shook hands. Now alone, Nicholas reflected on his victory. Even if Gyro was disqualified, it was still a win in his books. He proved to everyone, and most importantly himself that he still had the talent to make the Top 5, there was barely a trace of rust, he truly was still one of the best. This feeling was very relieving, but it was also overpoweringly euphoric. Nicholas would spend a few more hours celebrating, before leaving to have a good rest for tomorrow. A clear head was essential for the longer and much more dangerous stage to come.

Chapter Text

While Nicholas and the other competitors who crossed the finish line feasted and celebrated, Steven Steel and his wife Lucy had been brought out near a track in the race’s first stage by the local sheriff. The reason being that the Sheriff had discovered the bodies of three racers in the desert, their carcasses had been riddled with holes and a myriad of bullets and bullet casings laid scattered on the ground near them. The Californian Officer explained to a horror-struck Steven, they believed the culprit was another racer who might’ve killed the three men to advance in the rankings.

“And that brings us to here Mr. Steel. For the sake of the investigation, I’d like to ask you to please postpone your race.” The Sheriff requested.

Steven stood still for a few seconds, carefully considering his next few words. He wiped the sweat off his forehead before turning around to respond to The Officer. “The race will continue as normal. It’s too late, everyone involved in this is already putting everything they’ve got into winning. Not even the President has any control over it anymore. Stopping it is impossible.”

The Sheriff nodded and then replied. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that. That’s why I requested that Mountain Tim investigate all potential suspects.” 

As if on cue, a man with blonde shoulder length hair and blue eyes appeared near Steven’s carriage. He wore a conventional cowboy outfit, signature hat and all, with parts of his attire patterned in animal print. This was the aforementioned Mountain Tim, Steel Ball Run competitor, Bounty Hunter and friend of the Sheriff. He had been hired to investigate the murders since the Sheriff couldn’t do so outside of his jurisdiction.

Tim began observing the crime scene, first commenting on the victims wounds. “The number of holes in their bodies made in the same timespan, and the amount of bullet shells left behind means our killer used an automatic firearm.”

The cowboy kneeled down and carefully observed three of the bullets, something about those had caught his attention. “These bullets, they’re made of iron and steel I think! But those’re considered a poor choice of material for numerous reasons. This killer’s either an idiot, or he’s invented a new firearm that would be compatible with such ammunition.”

Next he spotted three different hoofprint trails near the bodies, leading away from the scene. “The horses panicked at the sight of blood and ran off.” Mountain Tim muttered. The Bounty Hunter turned to a fourth pair of horseshoe prints, these ones briefly left the racetrack before veering back on course. Their position put them at the right angle to gun down the other three racers. “Those are the horseshoe prints of our culprit.” Tim declared.

The cowboy briefly thought to himself “That clue with the bullets is still itching in the back of my head. I’ve got a suspicion this might have something to do with a stand. I’ll keep that to myself until I know for certain.” 

With those two clues as his guide, Mountain Tim proclaimed his intent. “I’ll keep my eyes out for horse shoe prints that match the suspect’s, and I’ll look into racers who possess automatic weapons. Whoever this killer is, they don’t got long to run before I bring ‘em to justice.”

The next day arrived as thousands of riders lined up, ready to brave another race even more challenging than the one they did only yesterday. The vast Arizona Desert would serve as this stage’s track. An entirely different beast to the stage before it, the desert was notorious for its intense heat and dangerous wildlife. Due to the risk factors the immensely wide open space and scorching weather created, the participants were given maps which would guide them to the various waterholes dispersed across the land.

Already knowing the type of environment he was journeying into, Nicholas had already filled four water pouches, which Footloose carried along with the various other items the Joestar packed. Having all this water stored, and coming off of a first place victory in the previous stage, Nicholas was feeling confident going into this one. In their positions, Nicholas and the scores of other racers were like loaded bullets, ready to fire fast and far ahead at the second the signal was given. And as the fireworks ascended and boomed into the ether, the second stage began.

All as one mass, the droves poured into the desert. But yesterday repeated itself when Gyro Zeppeli emerged, charging ahead of all the other competition and leaving a cloud of sand in his wake. From a contestant’s perspective, it looked like Gyro was planning to ride straight ahead until he was too far away to be seen. But this prediction was soon debunked after Gyro made an abrupt turn to the right, and continued to speed.

“Gyro Zeppeli is heading straight into the desert! It looks like he’s aiming to cut across the entire wasteland, but is he planning to ignore that first waterhole? At this angle another waterhole won’t be visible for another 150 kilometers!” The announcer remarked.

Some riders began to break out of the crowd, and follow Gyro into the wilderness. The announcer commented on how huge a risk this was. “Who on earth would willingly pick such a route? It’s like setting yourself up for suicide! All they must be thinking about is getting their hands on that prize money!”

Nicholas briefly dwelled on this. “It’s a bad idea to break off this early, I’m going straight for the nearest waterhole then I’ll make my own route.” He also knew that he needed to be one of the first people there, he had a gut feeling that fights were gonna break out over who got the first taste of the water. After all, thousands were after it, and wasting time by standing in line was the last thing you’d want to do in a race. Fortunately he was able to make a brief visit to the waterhole before most of the other racers were. He continued on his own from there, watching as the other racers he could see near him gradually decrease as the hours went by. From hundreds, to tens until he was all alone.

The hours that went by in that time were surprisingly uneventful. And shockingly enough, seemingly endless miles of sand with small patches of grass and some rocks here and there, became very repetitive scenery to gaze at while riding for all that time. Nicholas had already grown tired of it much earlier today, so you can imagine his relief when he saw the sun was setting, casting a tangerine sky across the horizon. Finally he could now rest and set up camp.

Nicholas’ campsite was quite humble, in that it really wasn’t much of a campsite. There was a fire created by his lighter, which Footloose laid next to. The only other thing there was a simple sleeping bag paired with a pillow, as well as his luggage which had been placed underneath the sleeping bag to create a makeshift mattress, it wasn’t perfect but it was a lot more comfortable than laying on the ground. In the meantime Nicholas was resting against a rock, flicking his lighter on and off. He knew that he shouldn’t waste the fluid by simply fiddling with the device, yet it was a habit he couldn’t help but fall into every now and then. After he got the self control to put it back in his pocket, Nicholas saw that a familiar face had set up their own camp not too far from his. It was Pocoloco, who had an actual tent, albeit a small one. Having nothing really else to do, Nicholas chose to approach him.

“What are the odds I run into you again out here? If this weren’t a race I’d be a little more concerned about the idea of you following me.” Nicholas chuckled after saying that.

Pocoloco who was hammering the last nail in the ground to secure his tent, peered over to the direction of the voice he heard and saw it was Nicholas. “Oh hey! I’m just setting up my tent, finally gonna get to sit down in one place after riding in this desert all day.”

“Yeah today’s been a little draining, glad to see your doctor’s check up went well yesterday.” Nicholas commented.

“Yessir! It’ll take more than a few bumps to stop Pocoloco!” He enthusiastically responded.

“I’d better let you rest then, glad to hear it went well.” Nicholas said before walking back to his nearby campsite.

Now that Nicholas turned around, he saw that in the distance to the right, another person had arrived and begun setting up camp. The silhouette of their hat already gave it away, but if that wasn’t enough confirmation, the figure lit his campfire with a match and the flame revealed Gyro in its light. “Surprised he didn’t use one of his steel balls to light it.” Nicholas sarcastically remarked in thought.

Still displeased with Gyro’s actions from yesterday, Nicholas decided to ignore the Zeppeli and carry on with his night, rather than greet him as he did Pocoloco. Having already set up his camp and the night still being young Nicholas ran into a minor dilemma, he didn’t really have anything to do until he was tired enough to hit the hay, so the next few hours looked like they were going to be painfully boring. That’s when he remembered something he packed in one of his bags.

The jockey opened the brown satchel bag, pouring the contents of it onto the ground before closing it back up. The contents being ten horseshoes and a nail. Considering his upbringing, it’s no surprise that Nicholas played this game countless times growing up. Often he’d play it near the stables. Finding a good spot, he planted the nail into the ground and took a few steps back, measuring the distance. Laying the other horseshoes near him and holding one in his right hand, he began swaying his arm up and down, trying to make sure the shoe would go straight ahead. Once he was sure it would land around the nail, he tossed it upwards. The shoe hovered over the sand for half a second, before it began to plummet. It plunged down towards the nail, it looked like Nicholas had thrown it with the perfect amount of power and had correctly estimated the exact distance needed to make the toss. But just when it looked like it was going to land on his first attempt, the right end of the shoe touched the head of the nail, causing the shoe to bounce off the nail and land next to it instead.

Nicholas muttered “Damnit, if it didn’t hit the nail...”

He picked up another shoe and began to slowly swing his arm again, hoping to be successful with his second attempt. This time it landed right in front of the nail. Not around it. Nicholas sighed, then grabbed his third shoe. Once again he repeated the same swaying motion with his right arm, and then launched the metal object when he was certain he would score. This time… the shoe hit the nail and fell around it. “Yes!” Nicholas said quietly to himself, as he felt a modest dose of triumph. With the small boost in confidence the score gave him, Nicholas continued to play.

While there are different ways of playing this game like having a point system, Nicholas always played it one way. He’d see how many he could land around the nail, and if he was playing against an opponent, they would take turns throwing shoes, and whoever got the most shoes around the nail won. That’s what he liked about this version, the rules were simple and you could enjoy playing it whether you did it alone or with someone else. Which is why he brought it with him, he knew it would give him something fun to do when he was just camping in the outdoor segments of the race. 

Nicholas was roughly halfway through his third round when a rustling sound came from the neighboring camp’s tent, which Pocoloco emerged from. “Oh I hope I didn’t wake you up while I was playing, really sorry if I did.” Nicholas apologized, now remembering that Poco had said he was trying to rest earlier.

Pocoloco replied “Nah you’re fine Nick, I’m just not feeling tired right now. I didn’t really hear you out here anyway.” Poco spotted the shoe in Nicholas’ hand and the other ones on the ground. “Hey are you playing horseshoes?” His tone clearly indicated interest.

“Yeah, I was in the middle of my third round.” Nicholas paused and then got an idea. “Hey, you want to play against me?”

“Sure!” Pocoloco said, accepting the offer.

Nicholas picked up all the shoes near or at the nail, putting them back with the ones that he hadn’t thrown yet. Then he gave half of them to Pocoloco and briefly explained the rules to him. “The person who gets the most shoes around the nail wins. Do you wanna go first?”

Pocoloco declined. “Nah, you can go first.”

Nicholas nodded, then stepped forward. He flung each shoe of his one at a time, getting 3 out of 5 of them around the nail by the end of his turn. After picking up all the shoes and leaving the nail bare, he stood back behind his opponent. Like Nicholas before him Pocoloco swung his arm up and down, measuring the needed arm power. But just when he lifted his arm high up, Pocoloco’s grasp was too loose and he released the shoe earlier than he intended to. “Oh no it slipped!” he yelled. But just when it looked bad for Poco in that moment, things took a turn for the unexpected when the shoe actually landed perfectly around the nail. In half a second his expression of disappointment reshaped into a wide grin. “YES!” he yelled with excitement. And as Pocoloco continued and finished his turn, an outcome even more unexpected came to be. All five of his shoes were stacked perfectly around the nail, saying it was a crushing victory would be an understatement.

Pocoloco cheered and danced while Nicholas blinked twice with his bottom lip slightly agape. “That was incredible Poco!” He said as he walked towards the nail to collect the shoes. He held one up before turning back to the round’s winner.

“BUT YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN’T SEE THE MAGNETS YOU PUT ON THE SHOES DIDN’T YOU?” He said in a mock accusing manner. 

Pocoloco laughed back before he paused, a concerned face paired with it. “Wait, you don’t think I actually did that do you?”

“Nah I’m just pulling your leg.” Nicholas replied with a smile as he held the shoes out to Pocoloco. “You wanna have a second round?” He simply nodded and took them from his hand. 

While fun and games continued, elsewhere in the desert Mountain Tim persisted in tracking his enigmatic target. The trail he had been following made a sudden turn to the left, he analyzed the shoe prints leading ahead, also noticing the quickly setting sun. “It’s starting to get dark, but something tells me that I’m closing in on 'em.” The bounty hunter grabbed a lantern from his bag, lighting it before he journeyed further into the night, hoping he’d be able to catch the killer, before they might strike again.

Back at the campsite, the two had been playing rounds until the sky began to darken. And as for the game, while Nicholas had made a valiant attempt, Pocoloco took the victory every round. A true clean sweep. The two shook hands before Nicholas began putting everything back in the bag, he decided to share a story while he did so.

“You know, years back me and Diego would play this together.”

“Diego? You mean that guy from the race?”

“Yup, I knew him when he was little. He used to work as a stable boy for me and my family before he made it big as a jockey.”

Pocoloco decided to playfully taunt him. “I take it he beat you every round?”

Nicholas chuckled. “No. He was good but not as good as you.”

“Hope you got used to that, cause that’s how all the next stages of this race are gonna play out.” Poco got one more ludic remark in.

Nicholas smirked, then asked a question. “How did you get so good at that?” 

“Well I grew up on a farm in Georgia, liked to ride horses in my spare time.”

“I meant horseshoes, but I guess that answers it.” The Joestar responded. 

Pocoloco continued “I played it too, I’d say it was that and my luck.” He said before returning to the subject of his home.

“My Dad died when I was young, so my Mom and my Grandparents took care of me. But these days it’s more like we take care of them.” 

Nicholas was instantly sympathetic. “I’m really sorry about your Dad.”

“It’s okay.”

“How’s your family doing now?”

“Well my Mom said she’d look after my Grandparents while I’m away, and I got another person I trust to help too.” Pocoloco answered.

“Good to know.” Nicholas paused before he thought of something else to ask. “Say, when did this whole luck thing with you start?”

Pocoloco smiled, clearly eager to tell his tale. “Okay so… one night I lost after gambling. So then I met up with my fortune teller, and she told me that I’m going to be at the happiest point of my life for the next two months! A little later I read the newspaper, which advertised the race and I saw how huge the prize money was! I got the feeling that my luck would bring me to victory, and you saw it yourself. It’s brought me pretty far already in that first stage!”

“Horseshit.” Nicholas said bluntly.

Taken aback and slightly offended by the response, Pocoloco asked “Excuse me?”

Nicholas pointed towards someplace Poco wasn’t looking and replied. “No, horseshit.”

Poco looked where Nick’s finger lead, and saw that Footloose had excreted not too far from them. His demeanor returned to its usual laidback state as the two shared a laugh.

“You’re right, from what I saw it really does look like that Fortune Teller’s visit paid off.” Nicholas remarked.

Pocoloco smiled, clearly happy from that comment. But it got wiped away when an odor overwhelmed him, he pinched his nose in response. “Aw man that stinks!” Nicholas who was fanning his nose agreed. “Yeah it does. I’ll go get rid of the poop. Sorry about that.”

Getting a spade from one of his bags he scooped up the manure, placing it further away from his camp. When he returned he walked over to Footloose. “Should’ve trained you to do your business further away from me.” Nicholas commented. After cleaning the spade, he sat back down to face Pocoloco.

“So uh, what’s your story with entering the race?” Pocoloco asked, deciding he had talked enough about himself. 

“Well last year I took a hiatus, and didn’t compete in any races at all in that time. But I did try taking up other sports to fill the void, those being track and boxing. I’ll admit I didn’t do very good at either, and they didn’t end up filling any void. Then in January I heard the announcement, and even though I was gone for so long, deep inside I still loved racing and a part of me was always telling me to come home. I thought it over, and I realized that this was THE race that I needed to return in. So I trained for months, and then yesterday when I competed in and won the first stage, I fell in love with it all over again.”

“That’s a nice story. Can I ask why you like racing so much?”

Nicholas was silent for a few seconds, taking time to think about what he wanted to say. Once he had everything down in his head, he responded confidently. “The simple answer would be I was born good at it, and when you have a talent it feels great putting it in action, but there’s more to it than that. The thrill of competition has always been a big factor. But I also love traveling, and racing has taken me to all sorts of places. Like around the states or England even. Which has allowed me to meet people like Diego. But overall racing has given me some of my greatest memories, like training my brother and racing alongside him. The pride in your family and the pride it brings in yourself is special. It’s been so intertwined with my life and upbringing that it’s hard for me to imagine doing anything else. This race… I really don’t care too much about the money. That’s not what I’m after. What I really want is to go down in history as the man who won the biggest horse race in America. That’s what matters to me.”

Only after he finished his passionate monologue did Nicholas realize he was looking up at the sky more than he was the person he was supposed to be speaking to. After two seconds of silence passed, Pocoloco gave his response. “I respect that money isn’t the only reason you’re doing this. Me personally, I did join for the cash prize. But I’ll admit, this actual race has been more fun than I expected it to be. Even so, my end goal is to win that money so I can get a better life for me and my family.”

On that topic, Pocoloco then remembered something that Nicholas said during his speech. “Hey I didn’t actually know you had a brother, what’s your family like?”

The entire atmosphere changed with Nicholas’ expression. He stood silently for several seconds, his face one that was pensive and forlorn while he looked at the ground. Like he was trying to hide almost. When he finally spoke it was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I… don’t like to talk about it.”

Seeing that the question troubled him and feeling bad about it, Pocoloco apologized. “Oh, sorry I asked.”

“…It’s fine.”

Poco tried to think of something else to talk about to change the subject, looking around he saw some ants crawling nearby. He pointed and asked “Hey how many of those ants are there?” 

Nicholas’ mind began to wander away from its previous thought, as he started counting the ants. “2, 6, 8.” He muttered before speaking up decisively. “Looks like 12 to me.”

Pocoloco counted over then replied. “Yup it’s 12!” 

“Why’d you ask?”

“I just like to count. Most of the time I do it for fun or if I’m tired. But also if I’m stressed, it just helps keep my mind off things.” Nicholas nodded in response, after which the two sat in silence before Pocoloco spoke again. “Speaking of counting, I should probably start counting sheep.” 

Just before the Georgian left, Nicholas made sure to say “Good night Poco, it was nice talking to you.” Poco flashed a smile and responded with a short but sweet “Night Nick!” before walking back to his tent.

With the sky jet black and the moon now visible, the night had officially begun. The air became cold, prompting Nicholas to take refuge in the comfortable warmth of his sleeping bag. He wasn’t the most thrilled about sleeping out in the open desert, with the knowledge that wildlife was abundant in these sands, some potentially harmful. But he reassured himself he’d only have to sleep here for one night, and that he could make it to the relay village the next day before sundown and rest there. The only sounds around him now were the gentle wind, the noises of bugs between the pauses of Footloose’ breaths, and the crackling of firewood. As his head rested into his pillow and he looked into the campfire, the ambience and the amenity combined to induce Nicholas into deep thought. His mind crept back to thoughts of his family. Thinking up something quickly so that his night wouldn’t be solemn, he recollected an old memory. A family memory from a happier time.

Nicholas was 16 and during the midday he brought his Father to a stable and race track that the Joestars owned, back when the family lived in England. Nick had kept the reason for bringing his Dad here a secret from him, now that they had arrived George decided to take his guess. “So did you bring me out here to watch you train?” 

Nicholas shook his head. “That isn’t it actually.” He signaled to George to stay behind the wooden fence that barricaded the track, before hopping over it and dashing to the stable’s entry door. While keeping his distance from the entryway itself, Nicholas yelled to a person in the stable. “Okay Johnny, Dad’s here. Show him your best!”

With that, a set of hooves could be heard moving closer and closer out of the stable. And then on horseback, the then 11 year old and future champion Johnny Joestar appeared from out of the entrance, and bolted onto the course. Once Johnny ran around the corner of the track, Nicholas excitedly darted back over the fence to talk to his Father. 

When he spoke the Senior Joestar’s tone seemed reserved, but skeptical. “Johnny racing hmm?” Immediately Nicholas came to his brother’s defense “Give him a chance.” He said before switching to a proud, passionate tone. “Johnny’s wanted to race like me for a long long time, and I promised him when he was old enough I’d teach him. So I started training with him recently and Johnny’s a natural. Racing is in his blood just as much as it is mine. I’m hoping he’ll be able to enter his first real race not too far from now. I mean, just watch him right now!” 

Doing as asked, George watched his youngest son gallop across the course with a surprising amount of proficiency and finesse for a rider so young. Genuinely impressed by the sight, George said “My son is a horse riding genius!” Nicholas beamed from his Father’s approval. After watching Johnny run laps a few more times, George beckoned him over. The youth got his horse to slow down and approach his family members. Speaking closely to him over the fence, George complimented Johnny. “Your brother’s training has done wonders, I look forward to seeing your first race.” The Joestar brothers smiled at each other, and Johnny went back to racing around the track even after George had left.

After replaying that memory, Nicholas’ mind had returned to a calm and even cheerful state. Being in such a pleasant mood, falling asleep couldn’t be a challenge. He closed his eyes, ready for his brain to begin shutting off. But unknown to him, the upcoming chain of events would ensure he wouldn’t get any sleep for at least the next few hours.

Behind him, Nicholas heard the sound of a horse running, snapping him out of his daze. “Someone’s still riding at this time of night? They’re determined I’ll give em that.” He thought. Feeling too comfortable in his current position, Nicholas didn’t turn his head around to see who the rider was. He continued to listen as he heard the horse pass him and then suddenly slow down, to the point that it was now only walking, moving further away from him.

“Oi! Don’t get any closer to me or my site, back off and move elsewhere!” Nicholas discerned this voice was Gyro, who was suspicious of whoever this rider was. Based on what he had seen of him the day before, Nicholas assumed that they were most likely harmless whoever they were, and Gyro was just being an ass. But then the rider’s horse abruptly stopped and Nicholas heard only silence for several seconds, the confrontation’s tension had suddenly risen by tenfold. The next thing he heard was an abnormal wet squelching noise, mixed with metal clicking. And after that, the thunderous and unmistakable sound of firing bullets. Footloose squealed and ran off, while Nicholas completely froze, it took nearly everything in him to lie still and panic only internally. Until this unknown rider was gone, the only thing he could do was remain stationary and overhear the unfolding chaos.

Gyro attempted to counter his assailant’s attack, thinking that if he was quick enough it would be a swift defeat. He used one ball for a defense tactic, and threw the other at his foe. Whilst the ball on offense accomplished its intended goal striking its target’s face, Gyro’s normally foolproof defensive strategy failed as he felt one of the bullets pierce his lower torso. 

He groaned in pain, although he didn’t have enough time to properly assess the damage or where it hit, he had just enough time for a diversion caused by the steel ball that struck the gunman. While Gyro normally didn’t run during fights, after his attacker seemingly countered a technique he could always rely on, Gyro knew that this wasn’t a regular man he was up against. He had something up his sleeve the Zeppeli didn’t know about, and that made him dangerous. The Neapolitian decided he needed to create distance between him and the attacker until he could find an opportunity to strike back. Recalling the ball now that it had lost its spin, Gyro fled the scene on horseback. While doing so he thought “When I harden my skin using one of my steel balls, bullets always bounce and deflect elsewhere. But just now I still got shot when I did that, how’d that fucker do it?” 

The gunman didn’t chase after Gyro immediately, instead he yelled over to him in a heavy European accent of some kind. “RUNNING MIGHT BUY YOU SOME TIME GYRO ZEPPELI, BUT YOU’RE ONLY DELAYING THE INEVITABLE, AND MAKING THIS MORE FUN FOR ME!”

Just as he began pursuing Gyro on horse, Nicholas gained the courage to turn his head around and see if he recognised who the attacker was. He was able to get a side view of the gunman. The man’s hair was blonde, cut into a flat top but with one lock of hair flowing freely on the right side, he wore a green overcoat- “Wait I recognise him! I saw him a few times in the race yesterday, but what was his name?” Nicholas thought back to the scoreboard from yesterday, remembering that racer had made it into the Top 10. “Macklemore… Bad Finger… Hot Pants… Which one was he?” He continued going through names until one stood out to him. He thought back to the accent he heard, and then everything clicked. “ Fritz Von Stroheim! That’s him!”

Now having discovered the culprit, Nicholas' mind was in chaos. He internally argued with himself over what he should do.

“I have to get help!” 

“You’re out in the desert, god knows how far away help could be.”  

“…Then I have to help him. Gyro may not be the nicest person but he doesn’t deserve to die. I’m going out there!”

“And then what? What will you do when you confront Stroheim? You have nothing to defend yourself with! He has a gun. ”

“… I know. But-“

“He has a gun, Nick. You’ll freeze up the moment you see it. Your last sight will be looking down the barrel of a gun. Just like Johnny.”

“...”

“ It’s too dangerous. You’re risking too much.”

His desire for self preservation violently clashed with his compulsive need to help. Both struggling desperately to triumph over the other, pulling him in two different directions like tug of war. The question should I stay or should I go constantly echoing in his head.

After a battle that felt like it went on for an eternity, his urge to help proved too irresistible. Leaving the safety of his sleeping bag, he got to his feet and thought to himself. 

“I really don’t care if it’s dangerous or not. I’ll never be able to forgive myself if I just sit here.” 

He whistled over Footloose, who fortunately hadn’t gone too far. While waiting for his horse to arrive back  he began packing his things, devising a plan while doing so. In the middle of  this, the sound of rustling once again gave away Pocoloco leaving his tent. Immediately he asked in a whisper “Nick are you okay?” 

Looking back at him while he adjusted saddlebags onto Footloose, the Joestar reassured him.”Yeah I’m alright.” 

“I heard gunshots outside my tent! It scared the Jesus out of me.” 

Nicholas explained the situation to him in a normal volume. “Fritz Von Stroheim, one of the other racers, he ran towards Gyro earlier and just started shooting at him! Gyro got away, but I think he might’ve been hit by one of the bullets. Fritz is still chasing him right now.” 

Spotting Nick getting on his horse Pocoloco panickedly asked him “NICK? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” 

“I’m gonna help Gyro.”

Pocoloco’s eyes widened upon hearing that, “NICK HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? Your life isn’t worth the risk! Going after him is way too dangerous!”

Now fully mounted and wearing his helmet Nicholas said nothing for a few seconds, when he broke his silence he simply looked straight ahead of him rather than face Poco behind him. “I know that it’s dangerous… You don’t think that I’m scared? Trust me I’m terrified right now. But if I see someone in trouble I - it’s impossible for me to look the other way. If I just sit idly by and something happens to them, that’s gonna weigh on me and I can’t live with that… Not again.”

Nicholas then finally looked at his friend from over his shoulder “I won’t force you to come with me, I completely understand if you want to stay here. It’s your choice to make.”

“Camp is where I’m safe, but Nicholas could get hurt… should I stay or should I go?” The Georgian groaned from frustration before he started to gaze around what looked to be his shoulder.

A confused Nicholas asked “What are you looking at?”

Pocoloco suddenly blurted in a defensive manner. “NOTHING! Nothing. Just thinking” 

Unfortunately time was running out and Pocoloco remained indecisive. Realizing it was now or never, Nicholas said a few words before departing.

“I can’t stay here any longer. Keep being positive Poco, I’ll see you when all this is over.” 

Watching on as Footloose bolted away, Pocoloco felt some guilt that his hesitation now meant that Nicholas was running into the desert alone. But 「Hey Ya!」told him that it was in their best interest to stay at camp, and even reassured him the Joestar would be okay. Everything that spirit had told him had proven correct so far, so his word could be trusted for this situation right? Sitting back down by his tent, he said aloud “Best of luck Nick, Best of luck.”

Shortly later Nicholas could now see Stroheim in the distance. To ensure his safety and remain hidden while in pursuit, he’d have Footloose move behind, then speed past parts of the environment. As well as running in the shadows when he could. The sound of Stroheim’s rapid gunfire was also much louder than his Footloose steps, further hiding him. Maintaining a safe distance, Nicholas observed the ensuing battle.

A wounded Gyro grinned at the sight of a cactus he was nearing. Just as Valkyrie galloped past it, the Zeppeli launched his right steel ball at the desert plant. The orb carved into the cactus the further it spun, resulting in several needles and green chunks hurtling at high speeds towards Fritz. The German held up his arm to try and block the incoming projectiles. Save for a few needles and one or two clumps of cacti striking his face, Stroheim successfully deflected most of the attack. Nicholas couldn’t exactly tell from the distance, but he could’ve sworn he saw something in front of Fritz’s arm. It looked misshapen from the fleeting glimpse he caught of it, but it appeared to have been used as a shield. Whatever the case, Gyro’s ambush attempt was only a mild inconvenience for Stroheim.

With the top half of the cactus now completely gone, the ball began flying back to its wielder. Not before slamming against the back of Fritz’s head while on its return route. The surprise attack appeared effective as Stroheim’s head jolted forward from the impact, Nicholas could even see blood had been drawn from the wound. Lifting his head back up, Fritz taunted his opponent as he yelled. “GYRO ZEPPELI! YOU CHOOSE TO RUN BECAUSE YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE WEAK COMPARED TO ME! YOUR STEEL BALLS ARE NO MATCH FOR ME AND MY ABILITY!”

“Ability? What’s that lunatic talking about?” Nicholas briefly pondered. 

His mind turned to different matters when he looked ahead and saw the numerous large rock formations, steep hills and downwards slopes that the three riders were nearing. The Joestar had his steed slow down, he then waited to see where Gyro and Stroheim would go. As he had banked on, Gyro took the downward slope and Stroheim followed in suit. Instead of taking the same trail Nicholas directed Footloose uphill, where more rock formations were sprinkled about. 

Now having the high ground and more cover to work with, Nicholas was done slowly riding behind Stroheim to hide from him. At his master’s command, Footloose accelerated uphill and continued charging across the bank. While its ground was a little bumpy, much of the surface was even enough for the stallion to speed ahead. In the gaps between the myriad of rock pillars and jagged boulders, Nicholas could see Fritz still chasing Gyro on lower ground. Neither had noticed him yet, but Nicholas was now just ahead of both of them. With no more rocks to cover him or get in the way he was now in the perfect position to enact his plan of attack, but he was having second thoughts about doing so. 

“ This is a terrible idea. I'm just gonna hurt myself.” He frantically thought. Looking ahead of him, he saw that Footloose was getting closer to a dead end in front of the bank, the dead end being a large wall of stone. The realization hit him, Much like a performer on stage, once he was up there, there was no backing out. He took a deep breath as he moved his feet out of the stirrups, and quickly moved them to the saddle, balancing himself with his hands. And then he jumped.

For a split second Stroheim noticed a shadow suddenly cast over him. Looking up to find the source of it, he was met with a free falling man colliding into him, knocking him off of his horse and onto the ground. As the Joestar had hoped, it looked like Stroheim absorbed the worst of the impact. But his own chest was still sore and fairly hurting after the landing. The pain, as well as some dust that snuck into his mouth when the two fell onto the desert floor made him cough. In spite of feeling winded, Nicholas couldn’t help but excitedly pat himself on the back for having the courage to take that jump. “I can’t believe I just did that! And I stuck the landing too!”  

After getting back on his feet he ended his mini celebration and his attention turned back to Stroheim, who laid down on his back fortunately still dazed from the crash. Nicholas couldn’t see the automatic weapon Fritz was using earlier anywhere near him, Europe Express had fled the scene in a panic and the Joestar assumed Footloose probably left the bank too. Before moving closer to him, he looked carefully at Fritz’s hands in case he was hiding something, luckily his hands were empty. Now that he felt safe enough Nicholas turned Fritz over so that his chest was lying on the ground, then he planted his leg onto the German’s spine so he’d stay down. He also kept a close eye on Fritz’s hands in case he tried to reach for anything. Succeeding in his ambush and now standing triumphantly over his foe imbued Nicholas with a profuse confidence, and it showed in the way he spoke to Stroheim.

“Listen up Fritz. Knocking you on your ass earlier might’ve sent the wrong message, but I had to ensure you weren’t just gonna shoot me. Now that I’ve got your attention, I’d like to make a deal. I got my hands on 10k yesterday, right now it’s in my luggage being carried around by my horse. But if you agree to leave me and Gyro alone, I’d be more than happy to let you walk away with every last buck. How about it?”

Stroheim’s response wasn’t what Nicholas hoped it would be. The man resoundingly cackled, his voice cracking on a few of the ‘ha’s’. “Why would I walk away with a paltry $10,000, when I can collect $200,000 for Gyro’s bounty?!? Who even are you?!? You try to bargain with me because you think you have the upperhand… But you forgot something cretin, I’M THE ONE WITH THE FIREPOWEEEERRRR!”

Upon hearing that the Joestar looked at Fritz’s hands at breakneck speed, but was confused when they weren’t moving, and were holding nothing. A voice suddenly shouting at him nearby made him take his eye off Stroheim. It was Gyro, now off horseback. “GET AWAY FROM HIM, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE BUT I’VE SEEN IT! HE CAN FIRE GUNS WITHOUT HAVING TO PULL A TRIGGER!”

Befuddled by the warning, Nicholas looked back down at Stroheim and noticed something moving. Underneath Fritz’s overcoat there was a distinguishable lump rapidly approaching upwards, almost like a rat had snuck underneath his clothing. He feared Stroheim getting the upper hand again if he lifted his foot off of him, so it remained in place as he continued to watch the mound get closer and closer to the opening. Nicholas blinked twice when he saw a strange silver goo emerge from the neck hole of the long coat, and then followed shortly after it, the end of a 7 barrel machine gun emerging from the mysterious substance. 

The barrel suddenly stood upright, and in a panicked motion Nicholas jumped out of the way and fell to the ground as silver bullets soared into the night sky. All the confidence he had only moments ago was completely snuffed out, now replaced with a palpable dread that revealed itself through his petrified expression. Back on his feet Stroheim approached his prey, as the gun moved down his sleeve arm and onto his hand aiming it at the Joestar. “THE PRICE FOR INTERFERING WITH MY WORK IS PAID WITH BLOOD! NOW DIE  MISERABLE PEST!”

Just when things looked bleak and Nicholas was about to beg for his life, a ray of hope shimmered in the form of a steel ball soaring past his face. Landing on the ground next to Stroheim, it immediately rotated at incredible speeds and began spraying sand at the gunman. Gyro had created a diversion, and narrowly saved Nicholas.

“Oi.” Clutching his wound, Gyro called out to get the attention of Nicholas who promptly turned his head, facing the Spin user. “Your name, Nicholas wasn’t it? I’ve got no clue what you’re doing out here, but you’ve gotta leave.”

Gesturing to the crimson splotch on Gyro’s dark purple coat, Nicholas disregarded his request. “While you’re bleeding that much? Not a chance.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. But you’re punching far above your weight against this guy. He’s got some kind of special ability, and for all I know he could have another trick up his sleeve. Hit the road before he plays his card and guns you down.” The Zeppeli attempted to persuade him.

But the Joestar was determined in his stance, emphasized by his firm tone. “I’m not gonna leave Gyro, not until I know both of us are getting out.”

“This guy’s starting to piss me off. I can’t tell if he’s dumb or vain! Maybe both. The thought was nice, but why does he feel so strongly about ‘saving me’ when he doesn’t even know me? It looks like he didn’t even bring a weapon with him. Does he think he’s some kind of invincible hero from a story tale? He’s picking a fight he can’t win.”

As the ball began running out of sand to engulf Stroheim with, the Zeppeli’s frustration leaked through as he spoke to Nicholas. “Your window of time to escape just ran out. If anything happens to you, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”

The sand had finally stopped as Fritz could now be seen clearly again now that the cloud faded, but Gyro wasn’t done. Recalling the ball on the ground but still holding onto it, he tried to make a deal with Stroheim.

“Fritz… I’m feeling nice today, so I’ll offer you this only once. The three of us just part ways here, and we pretend like none of this happened? I’ll stick to my word, but just you try to shoot at me or Nick… it won’t end well for you.”

Fritz already knew his answer. “I’m already tired of that game. NO MORE DEALS, THE ONLY WAY THIS ENDS IS WITH ME TURNING BOTH OF YOU INTO WORM FOOD!”

Just as the German began lifting his arm to aim, Gyro had already prepared for it and threw the steel ball directly at his foe. He didn’t have any time to dodge it by the time he saw it, and the orb connected with his arm. Fritz expected the bones in his forearm to shatter upon collision, but something much more unexpected happened. The ball rotated, and it forcefully twisted Stroheim’s arm to point at himself. In doing so the gun on his hand now aimed straight at his face, Fritz’s eyes bulged as he realized that he had already ‘pulled the trigger.’ He couldn’t move his head in time as the bullets entered his skull.

Nicholas looked away at neck break speed and covered his eyes, his breathing panicked. Looking down Gyro let out a sigh of relief, believing his opponent defeated and that the danger was gone. But after 3 seconds of silence passed after the shots rang out, the two realized something was wrong. Neither of them heard Fritz’s body collapse to the ground, they didn’t even hear any of the bullets tear through his flesh, or his blood splatter onto the ground like falling rain. Both of them looked back again to their foe, and a chill went down both of their spines at what they saw.

Fritz was standing completely unharmed. Not a trace of blood to be found on his face, and no bullet holes in sight. Stroheim grinned ear to ear as Nicholas and Gyro were completely dumbfounded as to what they were witnessing. They both knew for certain that the gun was aimed directly at Fritz’s face when the shots fired, the bullets missing would be unquestionably impossible. So how was it that he stood unfazed? In the duo’s befuddlement, Stroheim decided to taunt them. He shouted while doing so of course.

“YOOOOUUUUU UTTTTTTER FOOOOOLS! Did you two cretins truly believe that I would fall to such a cheap trick?!?”

Gyro snapped out of his confusion, asking the same question that Nicholas had on his mind. “How didn’t you die?!?!”

Stroheim laughed, removing his coat and revealing the silver blob on his arm, moving it around his wrist and forearm with the intention of flaunting.

“「Weird Science」imbecile! The bullets that I fire are imbued with stand properties, meaning I can make them tangible or intangible whenever I wish. You can’t hurt me Gyro!”

While Stroheim’s attention was focused on the Zeppeli, Nicholas had spotted something in the distance that neither of the former had yet. Far away he could see a rider on horse moving towards him, he wasn’t able to make out their exact features, but he could recognize they were male and they wore a hat.

“Wait, I’ve seen that hat before…”

…

“The race! His name was Mountain Tim! Yes he was one of the racers in the first stage yesterday, I think he placed 5th. He’s coming towards me and Gyro. I think he wants to help!”

While there was now a glimmer of hope in the form of an approaching Mountain Tim, it would mean nothing if Stroheim just shot the duo down before he could make it. The Joestar had to think of something to buy time for Tim, keep Stroheim distracted long enough for him to close in.

“Stand properties… you said that like you expected us to know what it means.” Although the intent of his question was to stall Stroheim, Nicholas was genuinely curious as to the meaning of what the German previously said.

The Joestar’s query actually got the attention of Stroheim. “So neither of you are stand users? … I should’ve known. If the two of you were, you would’ve likely summoned them by now.”

“Let me tell you a story. This pit in the desert, the ground that we stand on, the natives referred to it as The Devil’s Palm. Legends say that the ground here shifts and even moves, and some travelers never find their way out before they are boiled alive. But those who manage to escape are forever changed. They are bestowed with abilities that can only be described as supernatural.”

“Hearing these stories, a man with a brilliant mind and a hunger for discovery set out and found the mysterious land. The tales didn’t lie, he eventually lost his bearing and it nearly cost him his life. Though he escaped by the skin of his teeth, he didn’t feel relief that he had survived his predicament. Instead he felt anger. Anger that he had found and experienced the phenomenon he heard so much of, yet he left with no new knowledge or discovery which he sought for above all. He left empty handed.”

“At least, that’s what he thought. Until he noticed the strange sounds coming from his bag. When he looked inside, the metal items he brought with him had melted down, all together into a puddle! The heat in the palm was scorching, but it couldn’t have been nearly hot enough to do that. He reached his hand into the bag and before his eyes, the metal came alive! IT MOVED ON ITS OWN ONTO HIS ARM! When he tried to shake it off it turned into a ball and rolled into his hand! He was lost for words, this was the power that the legends spoke of! I HAD GAINED THE ABILITY TO RESHAPE METAL.”

The faint sound of hooves could now be heard by Nicholas. He quickly improvised something hoping it would work. “Can you please speak up a bit? You’ve been a little muffled.”

Stroheim spoke louder and continued his story. “I named this unique power stand before returning to my home in Germany. There I learned more and more about my abilities. I was able to create simple shapes, though no matter how hard I tried I was unable to recreate machinery or create complex shapes. But I did find an exception, that being I was able to create guns! The bullets were produced by the same metal used to form the gun, and I never had to reload! That’s when I really started to think, perhaps returning to The Devil’s Palm will tell me the secret to reaching my full potential. Then I could create other machines, If I could blend magic and technology, I’D START THE SECOND INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION! GERMAN SCIENCE WOULD BE THE BEST IN THE WORLD!”

“But I needed more resources to make my ambitions a reality, and to obtain more resources I needed money. Shortly thereafter I learned of the Steel Ball Run in America, and was drawn to the promising cash prize. But that’s not all, yesterday before the first stage began I met an interesting man. He offered me and a few others $200,000 for the head of an individual named Gyro Zeppeli. With my stand ability and a number of rivals I could count on one hand, the money was nearly guaranteed to be mine! I killed the other men who were granted the same offer of course, I had no interest in sharing the bounty and I wanted no loose ends.”

No doubt, this was the most insane thing Nicholas Joestar had ever heard in his life. A pit in the desert gave him superpowers?!? But the most bizarre part about it all, was that it was right. There was no other explanation for what he had seen.

“And that brings me to this very moment where I- wait a minute… YOU GOT ME TO TALK TO STALL FOR TIME DIDN’T YOU?”

Now that Stroheim caught on, it was time for the next part of Nicholas’ plan. As he clutched his hand he practically prayed in his head that he wouldn’t miss. Sand was thrown right into Stroheim’s eyes, blinding him and leaving him vulnerable. Fueled by pure adrenaline Nicholas got up off the ground, charging towards Fritz and unleashed a flurry of punches against his foe. 

The German’s face and chest were the main targets of the strikes, both becoming redder the more battered Stroheim became. Nick was firing on all cylinders, it seemed as though there was nothing capable of stopping his momentum. Until he felt something cold close around his entire left hand.

Looking to the side, Nick saw that Stroheim had used his stand to engulf his fist within a blob of metal. “You’re a clever one Nicholas, a stronger opponent than I initially took you for. But I still have 「Weird Science」, and that’s all I need to win!”

After he finished boasting, Stroheim used his ability to harden the metal surrounding the Joestar’s fist, and he began compressing it. It was as if his hand was being flattened in between a vice.

“ AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH ”

Nicholas screamed in pain as he felt his hand being crushed, his bones at their breaking point. The trap was airtight too, there was no room for him to slip his hand out through and free himself. He was stuck in place. 

The Joestar began trying to fight his way out. He punched Stroheim continuously using his uncompromised right hand, he could feel the metal loosen a little. But he knew it would take more than that to make it loose enough to escape from. Looking down he quickly got an idea, Nicholas lifted up his leg and stepped on Fritz’s toes applying as much pressure as he could, even rubbing his boot over the hurt spot a little. As Stroheim shrieked he felt the makeshift vice loosen greatly, just one more good hit and it would untighten completely. Nicholas leaned his head back before crashing it right into Stroheim’s face. The strength of the headbutt was increased tenfold by the fact that the Joestar was still wearing his racing helmet. Blood spurted out of Fritz’s nose as he staggered backwards, finally releasing Nick’s hand from 「Weird Science’」grasp.

“SCHEIßKERL!!!” He cursed.

Though his hand may have been freed, the damage had already been done. Nicholas clutched his left hand as he felt the pain pulsate through it. He couldn’t continue to use it in the fight now, not unless he wanted to shatter it. With Stroheim stunned, Nick returned to his previous course of action, attacking Fritz with numerous strikes. Though this time he exclusively used his right arm, while also getting some hits in using his knees.

But without his left arm, Nick left an opening for Stroheim to retaliate. The silver blob moved from Fritz’s arm to his pecs, and the butt of a gun protruded from the blob. It clipped Nicholas’ chin with such force it drew blood, and knocked him on the ground.

The metal liquid moved back up Fritz’s arm and transformed part of itself into a gun. “To me the funny thing about this is that you weren’t connected to any of it, and yet you still chose to intervene. You could’ve lived had you not stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Farewell Nicholas.”

Just then a recovered Gyro entered back into the fray. Having patched himself up while Nicholas kept Stroheim busy, he threw a steel ball which hurtled towards Fritz. It collided with his arm, twisting it so that the bullets fired elsewhere. Unfortunately it didn’t stop Nicholas from being hit by a few strays. One shot through his helmet, narrowly missing his head. Another got the strap on the helmet, grazing part of his face and ear, and causing the helmet to fall off completely. Three scraped different parts of his body, those being his shoulder, side and leg. He wailed in pain and terror.

While Nicholas squirmed and writhed on the ground, Stroheim turned his attention to Gyro. “Did I forget to tell you two that 「Weird Science」can absorb other nearby metals?”

Gyro watched on as the gun liquefied with the rest of the metal, and then crawled towards the steel ball before swallowing it whole. Creating green swirls that contrasted against the silver.

“Try as you might, neither of you can match the power of my 「Weird Science」. Now time to put you down like the dogs you a-“

Fritz was interrupted mid sentence by a fist that appeared from out of nowhere, punching him in the side of the face. Nicholas and Gyro observed the fist closer and saw that it was attached to a rope. That’s when they saw Mountain Tim approaching the three of them, still on horse. 

“So Fritz is a stand user too? I’m lucky that the man I came across in his tent earlier informed me it was him.” Tim thought to himself, as he charged forwards.

While the answer to his question seemed obvious, Nicholas couldn’t help but blurt out what he was thinking. “THAT ROPE! TIM HAS A STAND TOO?”

Hopping off his horse, Mountain Tim aimed his gun at Stroheim, who looked like he had surrendered. “Every one of my questions, you’re gonna answer em y’hear?”

Tim hadn’t seen it yet but Gyro and Nicholas saw the metal moving back up, Fritz’s arm. The latter tried to warn him. “TIM! FRITZ’S STAND CONTROLS METAL! IT’S ON HIS AR-“

By the time Tim noticed it was already too late, the blob snatched the gun out of Tim’s hand and smacked him across the head, knocking him to the ground.

Stroheim threw Tim’s gun out of their reach and then loomed over the trio. “That makes three men I have to kill now.” He turned to Nicholas who’s posture and expression visibly showed that he had lost hope. 

“You first.” Stroheim said, aiming his gun.

Fritz dragged out each and every second, almost savoring the torment he was inflicting on the Joestar. Nicholas began tearing up. He really didn’t want it to end here, he didn’t want to share his brother’s fate. Then in that moment, something about hearing the click of the gun caused him to snap. He screamed as he covered his eyes, his palms facing Stroheim. “ STOP. ”

A gunshot rang out, and after that 2 seconds of silence. But Nicholas was confused when he didn’t feel a single bullet pierce him. He opened his eyes to see Gyro and Tim looking at him in even greater bewilderment, he turned his head to Stroheim wondering why he hadn’t shot him yet. Nick focused his eyes on the gun, and he saw that something had attached itself to the face of the barrel. He squinted harder and that’s when he saw it.

A chain.

And in the middle links, the bullet Stroheim fired had been caught in between one of them. He continued following the chain’s trail until it made an abrupt end near the underside of his arm. He slowly began turning his forearm, until he saw it in its entirety. The end of the chain was phasing out of his wrist.

Freaking out he shaked his arm, inadvertently yanking the end of the chain attached to Fritz’s gun. Stroheim’s entire body was pulled in the direction of Nicholas’ heaves, as if he were a puppet on a string. His aim had been completely thrown off as his bullets hit only the ground. He even tried to shoot at the chain itself, only to watch in awe as the bullets simply bounced off of it.

With one great tug the gun, and by extension「Weird Science」 was ripped away from Stroheim’s arm and it landed behind Gyro and Tim. Nicholas begged to himself, or rather his stand to disappear. And with that the chain detached itself from the gun, and slid back into his wrist. Almost like a snake but much quicker.

Wanting to ensure Stroheim couldn’t access his stand again, Gyro used a steel ball to hit a large nearby pillar or rock which fell onto the metal blob ensuring Stroheim wouldn’t be able to get to it. Now defenseless, Fritz fell to his knees, as if begging for mercy. Gyro and Nicholas stood nearby as Tim interrogated Fritz for information. The two even validated some of Fritz’s answers as things that he’d confessed to them. After he got what he wanted, Tim suggested to the two men what they’d do with him.

“Holding him in a regular cell isn’t a good idea. He could reshape the bars and escape. It’s probably best we leave him here.” 

While Nick didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of leaving a man behind in the desert, he knew it was likely for the best. The three rode into the night on horseback. 

None of them spoke to each other much, with the exception of a short exchange between Nicholas and Tim regarding his reacquired pistol.

“Can you please put that away? I… don’t feel very comfortable around those.”

The Bounty Hunter “After what just happened? Afraid I can’t do that.”

Choosing not to say anything more on the matter, Nicholas simply looked ahead, tried to pretend the weapon in Tim’s holster wasn’t there. He reflected on everything that had just unfolded. Falling asleep would be a challenge, all he’d be thinking about was his dance with death, the discovery of stands existence and that he developed one that same night. 

“He saved me a lot of times back there, even when he didn’t have to. But who did he piss off to get a bounty that high?” While part of him didn’t want to know, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was clearly more to Gyro Zeppeli than he initially thought.

Stand Name: 「Weird Science」

Stand User: Fritz Von Stroheim

Strength: D

Speed: B

Range: D

Durability: D

Precision: C

Potential: C

Ability/ies:

Weird Science can enter metals, allowing Stroheim to change it into any shape he pleases with the exception of complex ones. He’s also able to create guns with the metal. The bullets are made from the same metal as the guns/shapes. The bullets can also be given stand properties, meaning they can become tangible or intangible at will and can even become invisible to non stand users.

Stand Name: 「The Chain」

Stand User: Nicholas Joestar

Strength: ?

Speed: ?

Range: ?

Durability: ?

Precision: ?

Potential: ?

Ability/ies: The newly awakened stand of Nicholas Joestar. Its ability is currently unknown.