Chapter Text
Chicago IL,
November 23, 1990
Members of the Speedwagon Foundation had been closely monitoring the exhibitions of found ruins in Europe, specifically in Italy. The ruins seemed to be frozen in time, depicting an altar of some sort to a deity or being.
“Mr. Joestar,” a stern voice broke the tense silence in the room, "It seems the disturbance we've been investigating in Pompeii are far more serious than we had anticipated. So far, three of our best excavators have all turned up..."
“...Dead,” Mr. Joestar finished, his brows furrowing deeply.
Gregory Joestar huffed but still retaining that sharp, determined gaze, was seated at the head of the large oak table. Around him, several members of the Speedwagon Foundation were gathered, each bearing expressions of concern and unease.
“Yes, dead,” replied the man who spoke earlier, a senior researcher named Dr. Marley. He adjusted his glasses nervously. “They disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only their equipment. The last communication we received from them was frantic, filled with static and screams as if they were being burned alive.
They mentioned... strange phenomena.
One described seeing a muscular figure in the shadows, and another claimed to hear whispered cries.
"As you can see from the reports,” Gregory continued pulling up various images and documents on the large monitor behind him
“The site appears relatively innocuous, but upon closer inspection, we've found evidence of something far more sinister".
These ruins are ancient, far older than any of our initial estimates.
The symbols etched into the walls are unlike anything we've encountered before—they seem to predate even the oldest known civilizations." Gregory's voice was calm as he rocked the baby carrier beside him with his infant daughter who was oddly sniffling her foot with a few small dark red curls in a suitable updo for an infant
Gregory's eyes shifted to the baby girl beside him, his expression softening for a brief moment.
The baby, with her curls and curious gaze, seemed out of place amidst the heavy discussions of ancient evils and lost excavators.
He gently rocked the carrier to soothe her, though she seemed more interested in her tiny toes than the tense atmosphere around her. "Ah, no sweetie, we don't chew on our toes,” Gregory smiled distracting her with her favorite bottle of milk.
"We've used multiple inscriptions from the ancient Greek alphabet, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and even fragments of Sumerian. With no anvil, it's like the person or entity who built this wanted to erase their identity," Gregory paused, glancing around the table.
He continued,
"The account of this entity was written in records in Rome around 79 A.D with reports of a change in behavior of Emperor Titus, screaming to the heavens about something that could bring about the end of the world as we know it."
Gregory let out a heavy sigh, his gaze once again drifting to his infant daughter who was oddly trying to put her tiny fist in her mouth and flailing her free hand.
The bright afternoon sunlight streamed through the high windows of Kona’s enclosure at the Speedwagon Foundation. The space was filled with plants, ropes, and enrichment toys that Kona had grown fond of over the years.
The gorilla was lounging in the corner, carefully inspecting a wooden puzzle box Gregory had given him, his massive fingers delicately twisting and turning the pieces.
Gregory entered the enclosure with Joanna perched in his arms, her wide eyes darting around the space with excitement.
She babbled softly, waving a tiny hand at everything she saw, as if introducing herself to the room.
“Alright, JoJo,” Gregory said softly, adjusting her in his arms. “Time to meet someone very special. He’s a big guy, but don’t worry—he’s as gentle as they come.”
Kona looked up from his puzzle, his curious brown eyes locking onto the tiny human Gregory held. Slowly, he rose to his full height, his impressive frame making Joanna gasp and clap her little hands in awe.
Kona tilted his head, intrigued by the small, lively creature in Gregory’s arms.
Gregory crouched near the edge of the enclosure, giving Kona plenty of space to approach. “Kona, this is Joanna. Joanna, this is Kona,” Gregory said, his voice warm and steady. He signed the introduction for Kona, his hands moving in smooth, practiced gestures: “This is baby. She is my family.”
Kona ambled forward, his movements slow and deliberate.
He stopped a few feet away, crouching low to make himself less imposing. He tapped his chest gently with a large hand, signing back: “Kona. Hello.”
Joanna squealed with delight, reaching out toward the massive gorilla. Gregory chuckled, adjusting her so she could sit more comfortably in his lap. “Looks like she’s not scared of you at all,” Gregory said, grinning.
Kona extended a hand, palm-up as if asking for permission. Gregory nodded encouragingly. “It’s okay, Kona. Just be gentle.”
With extraordinary care, Kona brought his hand closer to Joanna, letting her tiny fingers pat his leathery palm. Joanna giggled and grabbed hold of one of Kona’s fingers, her tiny hand barely wrapping around it.
She gave it a playful tug, babbling something incomprehensible but happy.
Kona’s lips curled into a gentle, toothy smile—a rare and precious expression that Gregory had only seen a few times. He signed again: “Small. Happy.”
“That’s right,” Gregory replied, signing back. “She likes you.” Joanna waved her other hand excitedly as if agreeing.
Kona seemed to sense the baby’s innocent joy. He reached for one of his enrichment toys—a soft, colorful ball—and offered it to her. Joanna eagerly grabbed it, shaking it and laughing as it made a soft rattling sound.
“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger already,” Gregory said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, she does that to everyone.”
Kona let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his chest vibrating with the sound. He gently tapped the floor near Joanna and signed, “Play.”
“She’d love that,” Gregory said, placing Joanna on the soft mat beside him.
The baby crawled toward Kona’s hand, fearlessly exploring the new friend looming large over her.
As Kona carefully moved his fingers to roll the ball back and forth with Joanna, Gregory leaned back against the enclosure wall, watching the interaction with a proud smile. “You two are going to get along just fine,” he murmured.
Later at Gregory's apartment
Gregory stood by the large bay window in his apartment, gazing at the city below cradling the infant as she tried to smack his glasses off his face with her tiny hand Gregory chuckled softly as the baby’s tiny hand reached for his glasses. He adjusted them on his face and gently redirected her hand, kissing her soft forehead.
The city lights of Chicago twinkled below, but Gregory’s thoughts were far from the bustling streets. “You're a curious one, aren't you?” he murmured to the baby, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just like your mother.”
The baby cooed in response, her large eyes Locking onto Gregory’s with an innocent curiosity that seemed almost out of place given the dark nature of the early discussions.
His mind wandered back to the meeting. The unusual events in Italy were unlike anything the Speedwagon Foundation had dealt with before, and that was significant considering their extensive history with supernatural phenomena. The fact that these ruins had claimed the lives of experienced excavators sent a shiver down his spine.
What kind of entity could provoke such fear and chaos that even Emperor Titus—known for his benevolent rule—would lose his mind over it?
Gregory's heart raced as the piercing cry of his daughter shattered the momentary silence, sending a jolt of fear through him.
He carefully cradled his daughter in his arms, feeling the tension in her tiny body as she struggled with discomfort.
This had been going on for about a week, ever since their trip to the hospital for an unexplained illness that the doctors couldn’t quite pinpoint.
They had reassured Gregory that it was likely just a case of colic, a common issue for newborns, but a nagging feeling deep within him told him there was more to it than that. As he rocked her gently, he struggled to put aside the disturbing revelations from earlier, focusing on soothing her with soft, reassuring words. "Shh, it's okay, sweetie, look!" he whispered, holding out her favorite silver bunny stuffed animal, hoping to bring her some comfort.
The baby’s cries softened as her wide, tear-filled eyes landed on the silver bunny. Her tiny hands reached out, and she clutched the plush toy with a firm grip as if finding comfort in its familiar texture.
“Now no keeping all the cuddles to yourself, huh?” Gregory whispered, his voice tender as he wiped away the tiny tears from her cheeks. "You’ve got me too, JoJo always."
He smiled, though his heart was heavy.
The infant nestled closer, her cries turning into soft coos as Gregory rocked her back and forth. Her tiny fingers played with the bunny’s floppy ears, as he flipped through the photo book and spotted a Photo labeled
‘Joanna and Mommy at the doctor’
Gregory's heart skipped a beat when he saw the photo.
It was a new picture, it hadn't faded with age, still sharp enough to bring back a flood of memories.
The sudden pang of grief hit Gregory like a wave.
His eyes lingered on the photograph, the image of Joanna and his late wife, a moment in time now lost forever. It was a picture from a doctor’s visit, his infant daughter, sitting in her mother’s arms, smiling at ease. The contrast between that peaceful moment and the troubling situation now unfolding felt almost cruel.
His wife had passed away shortly after Joanna was born, a loss that had left a scar on Gregory’s heart. He had tried his best to move forward for his daughter’s sake, but he couldn’t escape the lingering sadness that haunted him.
"She would’ve known what to do," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His wife had always been the steady one, the rock in the storm of their unpredictable lives.
The baby stirred in his arms as if sensing his melancholy. Her small fist batted against the photo album, and Gregory chuckled softly, closing the book. "Alright, alright. No time to linger in the past, huh? You’re right," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.
He rose from the couch and carried her over to the kitchen, setting her gently into her high chair. As he prepared a bottle, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine.
She had been smiling in the photo, her arm around their daughter, Joanna, at the doctor's office. The photo had been taken just a few months before her untimely death. Gregory's heart ached as Joanna had been so small then, just a few weeks old, but now she was growing, becoming more aware of the world around her—though still so fragile.
The photo seemed to mock him, a bittersweet reminder of a life he could never have again. His wife, her vibrant spirit, and the love they shared felt like a distant dream.