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It was the end of the line for him. As his rapidly cooling blood mixed with the icy water flowing through the gaping hole in his body, Noriaki Kakyoin felt his consciousness fade, swirls of black swarming at the edges of his vision. Hierophant's glistening green tendrils slowly faded out of view, dissipating into nothingness. It was peaceful. He'd done his best.
Hol could see everything from his position down in a Cairo backstreet. Boingo beside him quivered as he yelled 'Get a nurse, a doctor, any medical team ya can, kid, I'm goin' up!'
Hol had been a coward long enough. He'd seen so many people get hurt at the hands of DIO, the least he could do now, when the Joestar group finally had a chance, was to try his darndest to save the smartass kid who'd made it possible.
He followed the growing thunder of water soaking the street until he found the offending building; by a miracle, Hol found a metal fire escape stairway leading straight to the roof. With the fading battle cries of his former master and the dwindling Joestar group to spur him hastily on, the cowboy ran up three steps at a time, praying for the first time since he met DIO, begging the good Lord to please hold off from taking another innocent this night. He'd heard rumours about Avdol's demise already.
Living in DIO's mansion meant you saw a lot of blood, of corpses drained of all their essence, of mutilated flesh and bone in awful unnatural angles. But random women, as awful as their deaths were, had nothing on seeing the gutted body of someone you knew, even as an opponent or competition.
Seeing Kakyoin's body, so pale in the moonlight, Hol could barely keep himself from retching. His eyes welled with tears and he was grateful for how his vision blurred with the saltwater. He couldn't force himself to look properly at the boy, his shaking legs and clacking boots slowly edging closer to the water tower, splashing through a repulsive swill of blood and water. With each uneasy step, Hol's optimism faded, close enough to watch for the shallow rise and fall of Kakyoin's chest; finding the action painfully absent.
He could hear people down below, now, below the building he shook upon, and he found himself praying once again, please, let these people be doctors, good ones, people who can help. Terrified to reach out toward the boy, the kid on the rooftop, Hol stared hopelessly, willing all that was in him to just reach out, see if he could do anything. But to touch and find cold skin and slack limbs would be to realise the futility of his betrayal, he was betraying DIO.
The smart-mouthed genius of a fool who'd really betrayed DIO was right here, he realised. He had to help him.
By the time a small medical crew scaled the building, they met a man soaked with water, clothes stained in blood, carrying what looked like only a mutilated corpse. He held the figure tight to his chest, a hand purposefully shielding the distinct absence of flesh from the elements, arms tucked tight over a punctured chest. Tears trickled from one set of cheeks to the other.
'You gotta,' Hol Horse wasn't sure what he was asking, maybe for a miracle. The kid was an enemy, yet somehow Hol was up here cradling him and begging; it had to mean something good. 'He's just a kid,' He mumbled, to himself more than anyone else. It weren't right.
Boingo was a good kid, had gone straight for help, no panicking. He'd tell the boy he was proud when he saw him next. For now, Hol watched helplessly, following the medics with only his eyes, not daring to tag along, get in their way. What would be the point of invoking DIO's wrath if he let this kid kick it now?
The cries of his former master echoed through the streets, accompanied by screams of unbridled fury; Jotaro. Hol held his spot atop the rooftop, watching for the occasional visible movement, listening to the roars of rage carrying across the city on the soft night winds. He breathed in, shaky at first, filling his lungs with the scent of blood and sweat and most of all fear. He list a cigarette, breathed in the heat and flame, released. Boingo made his way to the rooftop to join his makeshift guardian, stood steady against his side as his companion quivered. It was a waiting game, they knew, a match they couldn't rig, a man they couldn't aid, their fates hanging in the balance.
Time could only tell which sinners would be saved.
Hol hoped DIO was the only god feeling vengeful tonight.