Jovanni Joestar could feel his left leg throb as a familiar stinging pain ran throughout it, his amber eyes forcing themselves open – and he would have shielded his eyes from the sunlight if he could, but it seemed that he was too weak to move his arms. Where was he, anyway?

He moved his head to the left of the room, his long blond hair brushing against his neck. If the uncomfortable bed and the hospital gown were not dead giveaways, it would be the room that he was staying in.

Everything was a sterile white, and it unsettled him slightly. The walls, the ceiling, the door, everything that surrounded him was the same color and he immediately grew bored just from the mere sight of it – his ears perked slightly as the door opened.

"Your friend is in here, sir." A feminine voice said, presumably a nurse.

"Thank you darling." a gruff, familiar voice responded, "JoJo, you feeling better yet? You're lucky if I don't kick your shit in for acting like such a dumbass last night!"

"Huh…?" Jovanni blinked a few times as the image of a muscular man with gray hair came into focus. He wore a black leather jacket over a crimson red tank-top, each shoulder having a small spike sticking out of it. On his tank-top were two blades crossing one another. On the top of the shirt was the word War and on the bottom was the word Machine. On his lower half, he had been wearing a pair of black leather pants to match, both of his knees protected by knee pads, the one on the left having the letters R and O next to one another, the right having M and E.

"What, did you hit your head too?" The man continued, snapping his fingers in front of the dazed Joestar. "C'mon, answer me!"

"Oh, hi, Dalimil." Jovanni yawned, cringing as he stretched his sore arms, "Shit, that hurt! I should have taken my time!"

"Hey, don't get distracted, kid!" Dalimil snapped his fingers once more, his loud gruff voice nearly making Jovanni's ears ring. "Do you remember what happened last night? I want you to say sorry for making all of us worry, you asswipe!"

"Uh, can you refresh my memory? I think I got shot in the leg." Jovanni said casually, groaning as he pulled the bed sheet off of his slender frame. "Fuck, can I get out of this damn thing? My back hurts like hell."

"You had the smart idea of running headfirst into a firefight! You took out two of those Russian assholes, but the one you missed got a damn good shot on your leg and you fell down a flight of stairs. I had to take care of him for you!" Dalimil explained, clearly displeased.

"Oh, right." Jovanni nodded, his hand rubbing his chin, "I guess it was a pretty hard fall if it knocked me out. But hey, you had my back, boss!"

"Don't act all chummy with me JoJo," Dalimil snapped, "What you did could have cost you your life and maybe mine too! If Joanne and I weren't there to help, we'd both be dead and in the ground right now!"

"Yeah, but we aren't!" Jovanni responded almost nonchalantly. "Really, lighten up. We didn't die, so don't get your panties in a bunch, old man!"

"Dumbass." Dalimil scoffed. "Anyway, the nurse said you'll be free to go after they examine your leg again. They patched it up easily since it wasn't damaged too badly, but you'll be limping for two or three days."

"Goddamn it, that sucks!" Jovanni whined, running his fingers along his bandaged leg. "Maybe I can get Gabriel to take care of me…"

"You're gonna pull your weight, limp or no limp!" Dalimil barked, which made Jovanni flinch in response. "You better not do something that fucking stupid again or I'll break both of your legs, got it?!"

"Yeah," Jovanni sighed exasperatedly, "I'm not deaf, you don't gotta repeat yourself."

"Good." Dalimil said, turning back towards the door. "I'm gonna be waiting outside for you, JoJo. We got a lot to talk about with the others when we get back to base."

"Alright." Jovanni nodded as Dalimil exited, his amber eyes locking onto the nurse that stepped inside of the room. "Do you think I can stay here for a while longer? I really don't wanna limp around for three days."

"No can do, sir. Sorry!"

"Shit."

Several minutes had passed while the nurse applied a fresh bandage to Jovanni's leg, and he was deemed fit to temporarily use a pair of crutches. Dalimil stood in the lobby, tapping his foot impatiently until Jovanni had arrived in a loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Alright kid, let's go." Dalimil did not wait for Jovanni to catch up as he walked out of the lobby, leaving the young man to groan as he walked forward with the aid of his crutches. "Hurry up, I don't got all day!"

"Slow down, I can't move that fast you old fart!" Jovanni argued, luckily catching up with Dalimil once he reached his vehicle – which looked rather beat up, as it had several bullet holes on the left door and the rear window was completely shattered.

"Get in the back, someone's already in the front." Dalimil said as he opened the door to the driver's seat, looking at the woman in the passenger seat as Jovanni slipped into the backseat. "I told you he was fine, Joanne."

"I know, I just couldn't help but worry about him!" She replied, looking back towards Jovanni who seemed rather surprised by her presence. "Are you really okay, JoJo?"

Joanne had a rather slim build, having curly red hair that reached her shoulders. She wore a tie-dye t-shirt that had a peace symbol near the stomach. She wore a pair of black shorts, and her eyes are a bright violet.
"I'm fine, I'm just gonna have some trouble getting around for a few days." Jovanni informed her calmly with a shrug. "I'm still gonna do a lot of work, so let me know if you need help with something."

"Generous as always!" Joanne grinned, complimenting Jovanni who slowly eased into the backseat as the engine roared.

"Is that what you call it?" Dalimil said dryly. "Feels like he's trying to get into your pants or something, so knock it off Jovanni."

"What?! You can't just make an assumption like that, you asshole!" Jovanni bickered, his cheeks flushing slightly. "How did you come to that conclusion?!"

"Learn how to take a joke." Dalimil smirked, driving out of the hospital's parking lot. "Joanne, did you see any of those Supernova assholes hanging around here?"

"Nah, they're probably hiding," Joanne answered with a small grin. "I can't blame them after what happened last night!"

"I wouldn't brag about that, Dalimil wouldn't like that since he's so set on being a hard ass." Jovanni interjected with a roll of his eyes. "What are we doing today, anyway?"

"We got a new recruit," Dalimil started, stopping in front of a stoplight that was shining red. "His name is Walker Porcelli and he came in, practically begging to join this morning. Gabriel searched him for anything suspicious, but all he had was a handgun."

"Just a handgun? You sure he's not a Russian?" Joanne asked suspiciously, staring out the car window.

"As far as I know, he was born and raised in America," Dalimil replied. "If he's Russian, he would have been fucked the moment he came into the complex. Besides that, he had no problem showing us his Stand ability, so I think it's safe to trust the kid for now."

"He has a Stand? That makes five of us, then." Jovanni said, yawning just a moment afterward. "Ugh, my head is fucking pounding and I slept like shit."

"Suck it up, JoJo!" Dalimil yelled. "The day is just starting, so get ready to do some work once we get back."

"Ugh…"

Thomas Lowell wiped sweat from his brow as the sun's rays beat down on him despite his outfit, which should have provided him with a little more comfort.

Thomas stood at six feet and four inches tall, his bulging muscles almost making it hard for him to find clothes that would fit his muscular frame. He wore a plain white muscle-shirt and a pair of camouflage jeans, his short black hair in the style of a crew cut.

Maybe it was a better idea to drive to the market, it's hot as hell out here! Thomas thought to himself, groaning in irritation. He was becoming jealous of the people who were driving around the city in their air conditioned vehicles, and he would give anything to do the same, but going back home would be a total waste of time.

It had only been a few months since Thomas had moved to Miami, but he had already seen a fair share of gang violence. He could handle himself whenever he was faced with danger, but he worried for the well being of his wife and child – thoughts like these often plagued his thinking for hours on end, no matter how many times his lover would attempt to reassure him that nothing would happen.

Thanks to his military experience, he could easily spot trouble or a suspicious figure whenever they were near. He had learned how to remain consistently perceptive, and this city never failed to throw something dangerous at him – it had happened several times before. Whether it was at a bar, a street corner, a library, there was always someone looking to cause trouble.

Thomas froze in the middle of the sidewalk, cringing as the sound of rubber tires screeching infiltrated his ears. After it ended, he turned to where he heard the sound – there was a black pickup truck with each of its windows shattered, the tires leaving skid marks on the hot concrete.

Two bald men wearing white dress shirts stepped out from the truck, their black blazers sticking out like a sore thumb. Thomas's bright blue eyes followed them as they stepped into what he recognized as the bank, noting that they were carrying handguns.

"This shit again, huh?" Thomas said under his breath, focusing his gaze on the bank's doors as they shut, his left hand pulling a 625 revolver out from his camouflage jeans. "Let's see what kind of hell The Commanded can put 'em through."

Thomas gingerly moved towards the bank, his revolver held tightly in his grip. He did not want those men to catch him. Once he arrived at the bank, he pressed his back against the wall that was to the left of the screen door.

"Just fork over all the cash you got and I won't blow a hole through your skull! It's that easy!" One of the men hollered, pointing his handgun between the bank teller's hazel eyes which were quivering violently.

Thomas took a deep breath as the teller shoved fistfuls of dollar bills into the sack rapidly, though his eyes traveled around the room. There was only a man who was on his hands and knees, which let him sigh with relief. It was a slow day, so thankfully there was not a cluster of citizens that he would have to avoid.

With extreme care, Thomas slightly opened the screen door and pulled the trigger to his 625 revolver – and out from the barrel of the gun came a bullet that was shrouded in a bright energy.

"Fuck was that?!" The other men yelled as he turned around, though he immediately fell to the floor once the shining bullet embedded itself into his throat, blood spurting out from it.

"Huh?!" The first man's eyes widened as he whipped around, his trigger finger mere millimeters away from firing away Thomas, who had now entered the building. "What's your deal, asshole?!"

"I couldn't help but notice that you were holding the place up," Thomas started, grinning as a bright green light emitted from his victim's throat. "So I took matters into my own hands."

The man felt his handgun slip out of his grip once he witnessed the bullet that was lodged in his partner's throat fly back towards Thomas, who had grabbed it with ease. In Thomas's eyes, he did this and smirked while strands of green energy flowed into his body.

"What the hell kinda magic trick are you pullin' here?!" The robber shouted through his thick Russian accent, dropping to the floor to grab his weapon. "God fuckin' dammit!"

"You're a real clumsy guy, you sure it's a good idea to rob a bank if you can't even wield your own weapon?" Thomas continued to smirk cheekily, stretching for a moment. "Ah, that feels good… so I guess you couldn't see what just happened, huh?"

"The fuck are you talkin' about?!" The would-be mugger screeched, spit flying out from his maw as he curled his shaking fingers around the handgun. "Don't make fun of me just 'cause you caught me by surprise!"

"I guess you can't really see what The Commanded can do, then. What a disappointment." Thomas sighed, steadily aiming his revolver towards the man. "I just have to take you out like the trash you are, but before I do that, I have a question. How do you think my baby girl would feel if she saw what fuckers like you do on a daily basis?"

"Stop flappin' your gums ya smug piece of shit!" The man spat on the carpet, shakily pointing his gun towards Thomas who seemed rather unfazed. "Baby girl, eh? How's she gonna fill when her daddy doesn't come home at night?"

"Disgusting." Thomas shook his head and pulled the trigger to his revolver, the glowing bullet whizzing out and blowing through the man's skull. "Had a Russian accent yet he acted like a typical street thug. He wasn't fooling anyone… hey, miss?"

"Y-yes?" The woman asked through chattering teeth, her fingernails dragging across her desk as Thomas slipped his revolver back into his pocket once his ammunition had returned to him. "W-What can I do for you, s-sir?"

"Phew! Jeez, that was scary, huh? Hahaha!" Thomas laughed loudly, the bank teller shocked at his jarring shift in demeanor. "Really thought I made the wrong decision, but hey, it all turned out fine in the end! Did they hurt you or that man over there?"

"N-no, I'm fine." the bank teller responded, clearly disoriented by the man's attitude as she rested a quivering hand on her chest. "Uh, thank you, sir! I'll call the police immediately!"

"Glad to hear you're okay! You go ahead and do that, I'll see you later!" Thomas waved to her and then the man, the two of them still taken aback by his change of tone as he walked out of the bank. "Alright, that didn't take too long. It's time to head to work!"

It only took fifteen minutes for two police cars to arrive at the bank, though one of the police officers stood out among the rest.

Parker Cunniffe stood at six feet and four inches tall, having quite the muscular build to go with it. He wore the standard police uniform that had the number 1965 stitched into it. There were wrinkles under his dark blue eyes, which rested below his set of short dark brown hair, which had been styled in a buzz cut. He had much of his face covered by a thick beard and a mustache, which connected.

"Officer Cunniffe, it looks like the bank teller was not lying," one of the officers said as he turned away from the screen door of the bank, "The man that was here did kill them."

"I'll take a look, outta the way." Parker said coldly and pushed the door open with a single hand, sighing as he approached the two corpses that were still laying on the blood stained carpet. "These guys are wearing the same thing that those Russian mob members were the other night… did a War Machine member snap and kill them out of revenge? Miss, what exactly happened here?"

"W-well," the bank teller stammered as Parker gave her an icy stare, "They came in here and held it up at gunpoint, demanding money… there was only one other person in here, but then that guy came in and… well, you know."

"Right." Parker sighed, rubbing his chin. "How did they speak? Were they American?"

"No, they spoke in really thick Russian accents." The bank teller answered, sighing deeply in an attempt to compose herself.

"Then they weren't posers," Parker murmured to himself before turning away. "Thank you, ma'am. By any chance, do you think you could tell me what the man looked like? Did you know his name, and was he injured?"

"He was as.. uh, well built as you. He was wearing a white tank-top and a pair of camouflage jeans, and I think he had short hair. Sorry, I can't really remember that well…" The bank teller apologized.

"That's fine, thank you." Parker nodded, opening the screen door of the bank so he could speak with his fellow officers. "Alright, you can get out the body bags. I'm going to look for the guy who put those poor Russian shitheads out of their misery."

"How long will you be searching, Officer Cunniffe?"

"As long as it takes. I'll call whenever I've found him." Parker answered before walking away from his coworker. "I've got a damn long day ahead of me."

It was high noon once Jovanni Joestar and his companions arrived at the apartment complex, which, at this point, had been empty for several years.

"We're home!" Jovanni shoved the door to the apartment complex's lobby open, which had dust covering the counter and much of the floor. "We really need to clean up…"

"That is usually your job, JoJo." A soothing voice spoke as quiet footsteps tapped across the wood-tiled floor.

Near the counter stood a fairly tall man, just slightly shorter than Jovanni. He had long, flowing blond locks that hit the center of his back. He dressed rather sharply, wearing a black tuxedo over his white dress shirt, his black tie having the word Gemini placed vertically on it. This matched with his black dress pants and his leather shoes.

"Cut me some slack Gabriel, I just got out of the fucking hospital." Jovanni rolled his eyes, pulling himself forward so he could lean against the counter.

"Ah, forgive me." Gabriel bowed. "Dalimil told me of the situation, and I was quite surprised to hear that you could not handle it despite having Future Heart by your side. How is your leg, sir?"

"His leg is fine." Dalimil interrupted rudely. "Where's Porcelli? I want to introduce him to JoJo over here, so he knows to steer clear of his reckless attitude."

"Rude!" Joanne protested, frowning. "We need to make sure he knows who the other Stand users are, so we can all co-operate if we get caught between a rock and a hard place. Isn't that right, Dalimil?"

"Yeah, you're right." Dalimil responded, chuckling. "So, where is he, Gabriel?"

"He is in his room, I will retrieve him. Excuse me for a few moments." Gabriel bowed once more before walking out of the lobby.

Five minutes had passed before Gabriel re-entered the lobby, where his three comrades had been waiting patient – and just as they expected, there was someone else with him.

Walker Porcelli stood at six feet and one inch tall, his body being rather slim. He wore his light brown hair in a comb over. He also wore a black t-shirt that had the word GLORY in golden letters. Below this, he wore a pair of black slacks that might sag if it he did not wear a belt which appeared to be decorated by several fake diamonds.

"Uh, hey." Walker spoke rather nervously, extending his hand towards Jovanni as he approached. "I'm Walker Porcelli, but you can just call me Walker. Your name is Jovanni Joestar, right?"

"Yeah, call me JoJo." Jovanni shook his hand for a moment, smirking afterward. "You begged to join, huh? Why's that? You look really young for this kind of thing."

"You're right, I'm only twenty one years old. But," Walker started, crossing his arms as he explained himself. "I'm sick of all the shit that these Russians are doing. Killing, stealing… I have a Stand, I should start doing something about it if no one else will. So that's why I decided to join."

"I see." Jovanni replied, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. "You know, if you're not careful you could probably die pretty easily if we're attacked. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, and I'm not really calm in battle, but you're risking your life if you're really going through with this. I'm only twenty eight, but if I die driving out these cocksuckers, then maybe I shouldn't have joined in the first place, you hear?"

"I'm aware of the risk." Walker said calmly, nearly dismissing what Jovanni had said. "If I don't die in the streets, I'll die here. It won't make any difference, so I'm going to put up a fight while I still can."

"I like you!" Jovanni gave Walker a hard pat on the back, chuckling all the while. "I think it's safe to say that you got my back if push comes to shove!"

"Yeah." Walker moved away from Jovanni, scratching the side of his head nervously before he turned towards Dalimil, who had been looking the other way. "What do we have to do today, boss?"

"Boss, eh? I haven't been called that in a while." Dalimil grinned as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "We got a long day ahead of us, so I don't wanna hear any whining from any of you. Got it?"

"Got it!"

Afternoon had come by quickly and it had nearly disappeared just as fast, the blazing sun slowly disappearing as the clock struck six. Despite this, however, the summer heat was still intense and many of the citizens of Miami were displeased.

Thomas Lowell wiped sweat from his brow as he made his way down the sidewalk, thankful that the streets were not crowded. It seemed that most of the citizens were attempting to avoid the heat by remaining in their vehicles.

"Hey, you." A cold, stern voice said. Thomas turned around to see a familiar police officer, though he did not know his name. "Were you at the bank earlier today?"

"Yeah, why do you ask, officer?" Thomas replied. Would a police officer really arrest him for protecting a civilian? He would run if he had to.

"The bank teller told me that you put down those two Russians. White tank-top, camouflage jeans, short hair… you fit the bill." Parker said, pulling his Beretta M9 out from his holster. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, sir."

"Come on, we don't have to do this." Thomas sighed, his fingers twitching as his hand neared the pocket in which he kept his revolver. "I helped her out, didn't she tell you? You can let me go for helping a citizen."

"No, I can't. As far as I'm concerned, your actions make you a vigilante. I can't allow that to happen on my streets." Parker growled, a lanky figure materializing beside him. "Are you going to come with me quietly or are you gonna make this harder than it has to be?"

Thomas's bright blue eyes widened as he watched the figure beside Parker come fully into focus. It was rather lanky, and it had to be at least seven feet tall. Its hands rested on the sidewalk, its fingernails abnormally long. Its body was a beige color, its face having two green eyes with its iris' resembling mushroom clouds. It showed its sharp fangs, saliva dripping from them every few seconds. Throughout its monstrous body were several holes that seemed to be bullet wounds, but instead of blood leaking out it was oil.

"So, you have a Stand. This really won't be easy, then." Thomas grumbled, pulling out his revolver in preparation. "We don't have to do this, officer. I only did what I thought was right."

"So you can see my Hangman, huh? I hope you aren't more trouble than you're worth, kid." Parker bit down on his bottom lip, steadily aiming his pistol. "If you don't work with me, you're going to be in the hospital or six feet in the ground. It's your choice."

Without uttering another word, Thomas bolted down the sidewalk. He did not dare look back as he ran, soon squeezing into a tight alleyway… where could he go now?

Only a mere ten seconds had passed before Parker squeezed into the same alleyway, looking up to see that Thomas managed to pull himself onto the roof. With an indistinguishable grunt, Hangman pointed one of its fingers at the edge of the roof.

Its index finger transformed into a grappling hook, which latched onto the stone edge. Parker grabbed ahold of it as it retracted, which easily pulled him up to the roof where Thomas had been, looking at the police officer with more shock than fear.

"You're really damn determined," Thomas spoke, gritting his teeth as he took aim. "But determination isn't enough to stop The Commanded."

"You're coming with me, like it or not." Parker started, though he was unable to finish as Thomas had pulled the trigger to his revolver without a moment of hesitation. Hangman quickly shielded its user, the latter grunting as the glowing slug embedded itself into the monstrous Stand's left arm.

"You thought I wouldn't shoot, huh?" Thomas said as he caught the bullet as it came back to him, wisps of green energy flowing from Hangman's left arm and into his. "The Commanded siphons the life force of anyone I shoot successfully and adds onto my stamina, as well as my strength and defenses."

"Your Stand is just a revolver? How do you think you'll get away from my Hangman then?" Parker half-joked, grinning as Hangman lowered its guard.

"You're wrong, my Stand is a set of twelve bullets that reshape themselves for whatever gun I place them in." Thomas snickered. "I didn't serve this country to just be arrested for doing the right thing, officer. I won't let you lay a finger on me while I can still help this city."

"You served, huh? You're pretty young, but I can see it from how stout you are. I served in Vietnam myself." Parker smirked, somewhat glad that he had met a fellow soldier. "I guess you really will put up a fight."

Thomas backed up near the opposite end of the building as Parker spoke, the beastly Stand raising one of its hands towards him. Just as a dozen bullets shot out from underneath its fingernails, the man dove off of the building after he fired at Parker a second time.

The bullet narrowly missed the police officer and then flew back down to where Thomas was, allowing Parker to keep an eye on it as he jumped down as well. As he did so, he felt his body crash against dozens of trash bags, and Thomas was running through another alleyway.

"You're not getting away so easily!" Parker shouted as Hangman's index finger transfigured into a harpoon, which managed to slice through the side of Thomas's left leg. Despite the stabbing pain in his flesh, the broad-shouldered man continued to run.
The police officer darted forward, reaching out towards Thomas as he neared him – though, unexpectedly, his opponent turned and fired another round, this time in Parker's left leg.

"SHIT!" Parker choked as he fell face first onto the grime covered alleyway, his eyes following the wisps of green energy that flowed back into Thomas's leg, which slowly healed itself. "You regenerate if you land a hit, too?!"

"Yeah, so you've done fuck all to me." Thomas replied with a nod, grabbing the lead as it flew back to him. "I told you we didn't have to do this, you dumb piece of-"

"RAH!" Parker growled like a wild animal would as his clenched fist met with Thomas's mouth, his free hand grabbing him by the collar. "You shouldn't talk so much during battle, asshole."

"I told you… we didn't have to do this." Thomas spoke rather softly, gripping Parker's arm tightly as he did so. "I don't like how my Stand works, I don't want to hurt people. You aren't giving me the choice. Those Russians didn't, and you sure as hell won't."

"You had two choices. You could have come with me peacefully, or you could fight back and resist arrest as well. You aren't going to get away from me. It's my job to keep the peace, not yours! DO YOU HEAR ME?!" Parker yelled, his grip tightening.

"A stubborn old shit like you won't even get it after I explain it to you!" Thomas argued, raising one of his own fists before delivering a swift blow to Parker's gut, forcing him off. "Maybe it WAS wrong of me to save someone who couldn't defend themselves! But hey, what the fuck do I know? What the fuck would YOU know about protecting the innocent, since you're so adamant on keeping me from doing it!"

Parker attempted to throw another punch at Thomas, but it seemed that he was too slow for the young man. He felt the right side of his face go numb after feeling something blunt strike it, which he presumed was Thomas's fist.

Thomas stopped himself from punching him a third time, noticing that Parker's eyes had started to glaze over. That did not seem normal, hell, it was anything but. He could see the older man's body visibly shake.

"They're here. Oh god, they're here…" Parker's skin was almost completely covered by a fresh layer of sweat. "Don't make me kill them. You won't make me, right? Right? Hello, are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" Thomas mumbled, moving his hands away from Parker who had slowly collapsed to the ground, thanks to his quivering knees. "What are you doing?"

"Don't make me kill them, they didn't do anything to me. They're staring at me from the bushes, they want help… oh god, what do I do?" Parker grabbed his hair and pulled, prompting Thomas to grasp them.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay, you're okay." Thomas said, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Trick or no trick, Thomas felt compelled to help this man. "You served in Vietnam… I can only imagine what happened. Pull yourself together, Parker. You're okay."

Several minutes passed as Parker sobbed audibly into Thomas's broad shoulder, his body shaking less and less as time went on. Thomas moved away from the once threatening police officer, gripping his revolver tightly.

"I'm… okay… I'm okay…" Parker mumbled under his trembling breath, watching as Thomas sighed with relief. "You… why did you…?"

Thomas almost immediately bolted away from Parker, dashing out of the cramped alleyway. He had left Parker all alone, but he was sure that the officer could hold himself together.

He's a tough old bird, he can keep it together. I didn't think he was going to fall apart when just a few seconds before he was prepared to put me in the hospital. All I know for sure is that I need to be more careful from now on. Thomas could feel his bones rattle as he ran, not intending to stop until he finally made it back home.

But, at least his day was finally over.

The sun fell away from the Earth once night had struck the globe. The citizens of Miami were returning to their homes from work, filled with relief that the heat had finally died down. However, there was one restless man who had been staring out of his hotel room's window.

He was fairly tall, having unkempt black hair that was mostly covered by a fedora. He wore a white button up shirt, the very top button undone. He also wore a dark grey vest which matched with his black dress pants.

His fingers squirmed inside of his pocket as he pressed the telephone against his ear, staring at the wall of the room as a honeyed voice spoke to him.

"Are my orders clear, Mister November?" The man spoke calmly yet sternly. "The moment you come across a member of War Machine, use your Stand to eliminate them on sight. Do you understand, or must I repeat myself?"

"Yeah, boss." November replied, a cold sweat sliding down his pale face. "You're going to remember your end of the bargain, right?"

"Of course, I never throw any deal that is worthwhile to me." The smooth voice assured him. "Keep up the good work for a few more weeks, and I will do what I can for your beloved. Do not attempt to speak with me until I call you again."

"Yes, sir." November said as the phone call ended, his hand lowering the device as he sighed, though he could not keep himself from grinning. "Just a few more weeks and I'll have what I need. I'm so close."