JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Lockdown Liberty

Prologue: 21st Century

Jason Ollander Joestar took a long look at the night sky before he was forced into the safe house.

Despite all that had happened in the past month the sky didn't look any different than it usually did. It was black, cloudless and patterned with stars. But at that moment, while the officials were leading him inside, Jason felt a strange sense of longing. It was like he had finally learned to appreciate nature's endless expanse and the freedom to roam it… just as it was being taken away from him.

"We gave you your minute. Let's go, move it."

The taller of the two officials made a quick stabbing motion with his rifle, entreating Jason to walk forward. The seventeen year-old stuck his hands in his jean pockets and shuffled along, walking as slowly as he could while still keeping ahead of the officials. Jason glanced over his shoulder. His 'escorts' looked like people he had no desire to anger: men both wide and tall with stony eyes and grave expressions, wearing what looked like riot gear. Their helmets, body armor and high-powered guns gave the impression that they were ready for anything, including apprehending runaway civilians.

Jason figured that since disobeying them was out of the question, he should at least try to agitate them a little. If living in the suburbs of Bolum had taught him anything it's that you have to be tough to gain any respect. And if you can't be tough, then you have to fake it.

"So what're you rounding people up for? You getting lonely?" Jason tried to maintain a cool tone, unfazed yet slightly caustic. It would have been easier if he hadn't seen their rifles.

"This city is unsafe. We are relocating the citizens of Bolum into government-designated areas until your safety can be guaranteed." The younger-looking of the two officials replied in a wooden voice with little cadence, like he was regurgitating a response that someone else wrote for him.

"You know those talk show hosts that don't bother to memorize their lines and read the teleprompter? You sound like one." Jason shot the officials a quick glare. "And this place doesn't look very 'safe' to me."

The dull white unassuming looking building Jason was led into turned out to be a long-abandoned clinic. An eerie darkness permeated the main lobby, seeping through the vacant pharmacy on the left and stretching out across the path Jason was directed to traverse. It made it difficult to see the small regiment of guards positioned there, about five or six men dressed identically to the two Jason had already met. They simply stood there, barely turning their heads to acknowledge him. With a push and a grunt Jason was instructed to enter a long empty hallway. Jason could hear his footsteps echo off the bare white walls as his sneakers met the dust-laden tiled floor. As he continued he passed a pair of elevators in obvious disrepair, their doors cracked open and the floor buttons dim and lifeless. Soon the dark's uniformity was challenged by a mote of light in the distance, coming out of the left of the two paths that branched from the end of the hall. As Jason approached the light he could hear a faint sound of murmuring.

Turning the corner revealed that the light came from a few dim light fixtures that peppered the ceiling in rectangular panels. Beneath them were three more men in riot gear. A pair of them stood behind what used to be a concession stand, now emptied of all its contents save for a non-functioning soda machine and a simple white desk. The third man stood directly in front of Jason, and it was he who spoke to him.

"State your name please," the officer said, sounding no more invested in what he was doing than the other one did.

Jason stayed silent. The officer repeated his request, this time more forcefully. Jason responded by spitting in his face.

"Toss him in with the rest, we'll sort it out later," the officer ordered as wiped off the spit, clearly irritated. Jason's escorts bid him continue on.

At the end of the hallway was a pair of large automatic doors. An officer punched a few numbers into a keypad on the wall and the doors slid open, revealing the source of the murmurs. A great many people were packed into a waiting room. Though it had been stripped of any furniture it was still inadequate to comfortably contain its occupants; there was little room to walk and few instances of anything resembling personal space. Most of the civilians spoke in hushed tones, and they grew even quieter in the presence of the officers. Jason glanced across the crowd as they turned to look at him. Though their ages and backgrounds varied, nearly all of them wore the same expression of weariness and confusion.

Before Jason could say anything he was shoved into the room and the doors behind him quickly closed. Jason waded through the crowd, aiming to find a corner where he could sit down. Most of the prisoners had already gone back to their prior conversations and paid him little mind as he squeezed between them. He spotted a vacant spot along the unblemished white walls near the upper left corner of the room and quickly filled it, sitting near two older men. He immediately began scanning the room to see if there was someone among the group that he knew, but found no such person.

After that Jason began to size up everyone in the room. It was a habit he had picked up since he moved to Bolum, one that helped to ease the paranoia he often felt when among crowds. There were a small handful of children, most of them around ten years old, that were accompanied by a parental figure holding them close. The majority of the prisoners looked to be around thirty or forty years old, though there were a few older men and a couple of teenagers. One old man in particular stood out, a sixty-something ragged looking man who kept his grey hair and beard tied in multiple short braids. His wide eyes and wider smile made it clear that he wasn't in his right mind. There were two men larger than Jason that quickly caught his eye. The first was a heavy-set man sporting a red mohawk, a crooked nose and a few missing teeth. He looked like he was no stranger to violence. The second looked to be a bodybuilder; mounds of muscle threatened to burst out of his flimsy white shirt. He also looked to be eyeing everyone around him, and Jason was careful not to meet his stare. So there are only two people here I can't take, Jason thought. His observation did little to stem his growing tension.

For a few minutes, though it seemed like hours, Jason laid his head against the wall and simply stared into space. How do I get out of this mess? That thought ran through his head multiple times, and each time it went unanswered. There didn't seem to be any way out. Aside from the doors that led him to the waiting room there was only one other exit: an identical set of sliding doors lay to the right. From what he could see through the small glass panes on the doors, they led into a thin hallway filled with doctor's offices. However, any fledgling hopes of escape he may have had were shattered when the doors suddenly opened and two officers walked through them. For a minute or so they glared at the crowd, standing stock still and saying nothing. They left as abruptly as they came, passing through the same doors.

"Yesterday they took one of us back there." The man to Jason's left, an aged man with little hair and wiry arms, suddenly spoke up. "Some woman with raven hair. Haven't seen her since. Dunno what they did with her."

Jason looked confused as he replied. "But why? Why the hell are any of us here?"

"I'll bet it has to do with the meteorite," said the brown-haired forty-something man sitting nearby.

"Has to be," the old man agreed. "I've lived here my whole life and nothing like this ever happened before."

Jason sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "The meteorite…"

January 1st, 2000: At 05:32 PM CST a meteor suddenly streaked across the sky over downtown Bolum. No radar and no observatory detected the meteor prior to its entry into Earth's atmosphere. Many American news reports after the fact agreed that the meteor seemingly 'came from nowhere'. The meteor, estimated to be 18 meters in diameter, exploded shortly after its detection, releasing a blast equivalent to roughly 500 kilotons of TNT that damaged over a thousand buildings in multiple Bolum communities, including Erend, Jaywell, and Berrington Park. 512 injuries were reported, but no deaths were confirmed. Additional structural damage was reported by several small rocks that splintered off of the meteor after its explosion. The full extent of the damage has yet to be confirmed.

"They did segregate the whole area that it exploded over," the brown-haired man said.

"I heard rumors. My son was telling me that they set up a blockade around the whole city, not just the impact site. 'No one's getting in or out', he said."

"Yeah, the guys at work were sayin' the same thing. Didn't believe em' then, but…"

Jason put his hand to his chin. I've heard that too. But I don't know anyone who's tried to leave. Is it true? Why would they wanna keep us here? Why round us up like this?

"Maybe they think we're irradiated or something," the old man continued. "Cosmic rays, or something."

"I don't know," the brown-haired man replied. "I just need to get back home. My wife's probably worried sick…"

I just want the hell out of here…

A woman who shared that sentiment ran for the right set of doors and frantically pounded on them. "Let me out of here! I want out! You can't keep me here!" In pure hysteria she kept shouting the same things over and over, all the while beating on the doors as hard as she could.

Before long the doors opened and two officers stormed into the room. The woman took a few steps back, then suddenly her eyes narrowed and she lunged toward the officers with a yell. The left officer reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a small dark grey object shaped like a flashlight. He plunged it into the woman's neck with a stabbing motion and she immediately fell to the floor, her face contorting in pain as her body shook uncontrollably. By that time the entire room had gone silent. The officer put his stun gun away and addressed the group. "If you attempt to resist we cannot guarantee your safety. Please bear with us. It is for your own good." A few among the crowd responded with jeers and demands. "You assholes!" "We have our rights!" "Let us go home!" The officers ignored them and left the room, closing the doors tight behind them.

Jason joined in with "You pieces of shit!", and was sorely tempted to run at them and try to force his way through the door, but he simply bit his lip and sat back down. Besides, he thought, there's no point in just rushing them when I don't know how many of them there are, or where they're stationed. Gotta wait for the right moment… A couple of people ran over to the incapacitated woman and helped her to her feet. Still groggy, she limply moved her head back and forth as they wrapped her arms around their shoulders and moved her to a spot near a wall. The old man with the braids let out a crazy-sounding guffaw. Obviously he either enjoyed the sight or didn't understand it. The rest of the group slowly went back to their business, though not without a new undercurrent of dread.

Time passed. It felt like three hours but he couldn't be sure; the wall's monotonous waves of white went unbroken by any windows or clocks. His phone had been confiscated as well, back when his 'escorts' first apprehended him. He missed the feeling of having it in his pocket and the strange sense of security it gave him. It doesn't matter much, he thought bitterly. Even if he could contact the few friends he had made in Bolum, they wouldn't be able to help him. The only other phone number he had was his mother's, and he had even less faith in her.

Letting out a deep sigh he looked around the room again, as he had done several times since his incarceration. Their positions had changed around but his fellow inmates looked much the same: random strangers trying to cope with a frightening situation. Most of them had taken to conversation, sharing stories about themselves or their families, or even talking about mundane things like movies or sports, anything that would make their predicament seem more normal. Jason realized then why the crowd felt so distant: he couldn't and didn't want to see this as normal.

If I make this my 'normal', then they've beaten me. I can't just pretend that everything will be alright if I sit tight like a good little boy and wait. If I change my normal, I'm admitting defeat!

The sounds of opening doors interrupted Jason's silent proclamation. Three officers entered, each holding a large plastic tray from which they handed out food. A paper bowl full of wheat noodles, a plastic spoon, and a large Styrofoam cup of water was to be the prisoners' meal. Most of the recipients ravenously devoured their meal as soon as they got it. The officer that approached Jason's corner gave a meal to everyone else on the wall, but when Jason's turn came he hesitated. Putting Jason's meal back on his tray, he glared at the boy before turning and leaving the room. Jason recognized him as the officer whose face he had spit in earlier, and despite his gnawing hunger he said nothing. A few among the group turned to look at Jason, curious as to what he had done to anger the officer. Jason did his best not to look at any of them.

As he stared at the floor, doing his best to ignore the pains in his empty stomach, he imagined himself tackling the officer and beating him until he relinquished his food. Even knowing that he was outnumbered and outgunned Jason started to wish he had done so. He clenched his teeth as he struggled to hold in his anger.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the woman that sat down beside him. She was about Jason's height, around 180 centimeters, but thin as a rail. Her striped lime green sweater and matching pants covered most of her ivory skin. Despite her hair, dyed bright pink and swept back into a ponytail, she looked about twice Jason's age. She placed a bowl of noodles and a cup of water on the floor and gently pushed them towards Jason.

"Here, eat."

Jason glanced at the meal, then back at the floor. "I'm not hungry."

"Don't lie to your elders. Go on, eat." The woman's soft alto voice sounded compassionate even as she made demands.

Again Jason looked at the food, which grew more tantalizing by the second. "What about you?"

"I already ate some, I'm fine. Now eat."

Jason relented and picked up the noodles. He tried to eat them slowly but with every bite the aching in his stomach dulled. Even if the noodles tasted utterly plain eating them felt immensely satisfying, and he ate faster and faster until the bowl was empty. The water disappeared even quicker; several long gulps finished it within seconds.

The woman grinned as Jason completed his meal. "My name's Donna. And you?"

Donna seemed trustworthy to Jason, but he wasn't completely convinced. He also wondered if the officials had placed secret microphones or cameras in the walls. He was picked up off the street, and he had no identification on him at the time. As far as he knew, no one there knew his name yet and he wanted to keep it that way. Luckily he had a pseudonym ready: a nickname his father gave him years ago, one that he made by combining Jason's initials with his last name.

"It's Jojo."

"That's a unique name. Okay Jojo, how long have you lived here?"

Jason waited a few moments before answering. "…About a year."

"Do you live in this neighborhood?"

Though he did indeed live nearby, Jason didn't see any reason to tell her that. "You mean Basinville? You sound like you're not from around here."

Donna chuckled a bit. "I've lived in Bolum my whole life, but I just moved to Basinville recently when I got a new job."

By shifting the topic, now I don't have to tell her about myself, Jason noted slyly. "What kind of job?"

"I'm a high school teacher," Donna stated in a prideful tone. "I've been a teacher for nine years now."

Jason's gaze softened a bit. "What do you like about teaching? Seems to me like it'd be a pain in the ass."

"Sometimes," Donna said with a smile. "But I love it. People tend to think that teaching is just about passing along knowledge, but I see more to it than that. It's about stimulating growing minds, and getting students to wonder."

Donna began to gesticulate as she explained. "You can tell a student what 'pH' means, but what good does it do them in the long run? They might memorize what the range is for acidic or basic pH, but to what end? To pass a test and go on to the next one? I want to make them wonder about their existence, to realize how everything in life is connected. Think about the human body. Blood, urine, gastric acid, all of them have a radically different pH, but they all coexist without affecting one another. They teeter on a delicate scale that, if tipped either way, would ravage the human body. Everyone carries inside them this careful balance of various elements, all unconsciously regulated. All of life ultimately boils down to balance! Your fears are balanced by your desires. One person's fortune is balanced by someone else's loss. And every death is balanced with a new life. Just like the body, we all unknowingly move toward equilibrium!"

Though Donna's theory sounded intriguing if not overthought, Jason's words were replete with skepticism. "You honestly think life is fair and balanced? Are you saying I deserve to be trapped in here right now?"

Donna looked surprised and shook her hands. "Not at all! I'm not saying either of us deserves to be stuck here. But I believe that my inconvenience is balanced by these guards' duty. I'm sure there's a reason they're keeping us here." She clasped her hands together and brought them down on her lap. The excitement in her face quickly turned into a pensive gaze. "Whenever something bad happens I try to think how it's bringing some sort of fortune to someone else. The job I didn't get helped the teacher that filled that position. When I was mugged a year ago the money I lost helped the man who took it. When my grandmother died it taught my family to cherish one another for the time we have. It may sound like wishful thinking, but I honestly believe that we're all connected in ways that we can't always understand."

"I see. It's an interesting way to think about it." Words of disbelief snaked their way into Jason's throat, but he resolved not to say them. I don't wanna start a fight with the one person here that's willing to help me. He let out a soft sigh and released some of the tension in his shoulders. "Anyway, you think the meteor is why we're in here?"

"I don't know. It's certainly an odd coincidence… but I think there's some kind of emergency going on. I tried calling my parents and my grandpa, both who live out of state, and I never could reach them. The call never went through. Something must have happened with the phone lines. That and all the military running around… I guess they're military…"

She cleared her throat, her smile returning. "But enough about that. I wanna know about you. Tell me about yourself!"

He looked off to the side and remained awkwardly silent. This did little to deter Donna, who playfully nudged him with her elbow. "C'mon, you don't have to be shy. I wouldn't be much of a teacher if you couldn't confide in me."

The doors opened and two guards walked about the room picking up the leftover cups and utensils. Jason stared at them all the while. They seemed so alien, holding paper bowls in black gloved hands and stomping across the floor in combat boots, carrying pistols at their side. They were gone in less than two minutes. Even after they had left Jason looked fixedly at the doors they exited through, as if he could bore a hole in them if he stared hard enough.

"I don't blame you for worrying, but you should try to relax." Donna put a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder. "I can tell how tense you are. It's not good for you, especially as young as you are. I realize I'm a stranger to you, and if you don't want to talk to me I understand. But know that I'm all ears if you wanna talk about anything." Donna's concern seemed genuine. The compassion in her eyes was palpable. Jason's suspicion of her rapidly waned, replaced with twinges of guilt for having doubted her. Before he could say anything he heard a voice in his ears. The words were as clear as if he had said them himself.

"-thing new to report. All clear."

A second voice immediately followed. It sounded more distant and was distorted with static, the kind one would hear on a faulty radio.

"kkkkkkk…Copy that. Remain alert. Have confirmed sightings in Basinville. Proceeding w-kkk…caution."

Donna could see the confusion on Jason's face. "What's wrong?"

"Did you hear that just now? Two voices, one sounded like it came through a hand radio."

"I didn't hear anything, Jojo."

Putting the side of his hand to his chin, Jason tried in vain to rationalize what had just happened. It was far too loud, too close to dismiss as his imagination. No one around him reacted to it. "I… I know I just heard voices… I know that makes me sound crazy. And trying to justify how you're not crazy just makes you sound crazier. But I'm sure I…"

The taste of chocolate forced its way into Jason's mouth. There was no mistaking it; the velvety sweet yet slightly bitter flavor of dark chocolate filled his taste buds. It had no texture, no physical weight, and Jason opened his mouth wide and dug through it with his hand to confirm it. His mouth was empty; he swallowed and felt nothing go down his throat. But that taste of chocolate was unmistakable.

I haven't had chocolate in days! How can I be tasting it now? Jason looked nervously across the room like he could find some magical answer to his question if he looked hard enough. "I'm alright. Everything's fine, everything's fine." The more he muttered these words to himself the more he began to believe them. Soon the taste began to disappear, and with it a little of his worry.

Then Jason saw himself.

He was looking down at himself, like another him was standing in front of him. He could see his short brown hair, his red jacket emblazoned with a single golden star, his blue and white sneakers. He could see the faint traces of hair on his hands, the small scar below his right ear, the faded spot on the left knee of his jeans. He could see his brown eyes and the fear reflected in them.

Suddenly the vision vanished.

"Are… you sure you're okay?" Donna put her palm on Jason's forehead as if to feel for a fever. Is the stress getting to him? Making him hallucinate? Donna could see the panic rising in Jason's face; sweat appeared on his skin as it grew paler, his eyes grew wider and he stammered as he tried to respond.

"I-I don't know what's going on… I'm hearing, feeling, seeing things that aren't there… I'm just tired. It's been… a long day, after all. I'm just tired, need to sleep. Just...need sleep…" Jason tried to look calm and in control, but his anxious heavy breathing betrayed him.

"Hey! We need medical attention in here! This boy needs help!" Donna yelled but no one came.

"Don't waste your time," the bodybuilder on the other side of the room yelled back. "I've been in here for like a week and they don't do shit but feed us. Didn't you seem em' drop that woman earlier? They don't give a damn about us. Their sergeant or boss or whatever's got a hell of a temper. I wouldn't make him mad if I were you."

Donna turned back to Jason, looking nearly as worried as he did. "Talk to me, are you okay?"

He could feel the strength being drained from his body as his anxiety dulled into exhaustion. He slowly slid down the wall as his labored breaths began to stabilize. A memory rose to the top of Jason's mind, one that he hadn't spared any thought until now. His mouth slowly turned upward into a small bitter smile. "A couple years ago… my mom said 'This family's cursed. You, me, all of us.' She was… drunk out of her mind… like she always is… but now I'm starting to believe her."

Donna wrapped her arms around Jason and pulled him into a tight embrace. He didn't fight it.

Only when Jason woke up did he realize that he had fallen asleep. His head was resting on Donna's shoulder. He slowly lifted it off of her, careful not to disturb her slumber. The bizarre sights and voices were gone, at least for the moment. That fact alone helped put Jason at ease. Most everyone else in the room had followed their lead and dozed off, either sprawled on the floor or sitting propped against a wall. It felt like early morning for some reason.

"Have you seen a spirit?"

Jason turned to the source of the voice: the old man with braided hair. With an unflinching stride the old man approached, stopping just inches in front of him. Jason stood up, putting himself between Donna and the stranger.

"I've seen spirits, ya know." The braided man's voice was lilting and carefree, and not nearly as haggard as one would expect by looking at him. "Weird stuff happens all the time! Sometimes ya just can't explain it except with spirits!"

Jason sighed. Looking the braided man over, he took him to be homeless. Aside from his strange hair and his mannerisms were his clothes, a tattered grey open vest worn over a buttoned-up flannel shirt and brown cargo shorts held with a belt, all of which looked like they were a size too big. I don't have time to entertain a crazy old man. Just tell him what he wants to hear.

"Yeah man." Jason scratched his head. "Spirits are all over the place. So many people see ghosts all the time. It's not like they all conspired to lie. One time I lost the spare key to my apartment, even though I know I put it on the dresser before I went to sleep. I bet a spirit took it." He barely made any effort to hide his sarcastic tone, but the braided man didn't seem to pick up on it.

"I knew you'd understand!" The braided man seemed giddy at Jason's answer. "Here, I can show ya something weird! If you believe in spirits you like weird stuff too, right?" Reaching into his pocket, the braided man produced a single noodle and a plastic fork. "Hid these from the guard!" He slowly placed them on the ground one at a time, then gazed at Jason with eyes as wide as saucers. "Now pierce that noodle with the fork! Go on, try it!"

He considered telling the old man to get lost, but something about his earnestness compelled him to do what he said, just for the sake of seeing how he would react. He picked up the fork and stabbed at the noodle… but the fork didn't go through it. He tried twice more but the fork simply bounced off. Perplexed, Jason raised his arm and brought the fork down on the noodle with the force one would use to swing a hammer. The noodle was still as soft as the ones he had eaten earlier, but he couldn't drive the fork into it no matter how hard he tried.

He looked up at the braided man, who sported a large toothy grin. "That's a cute trick. You dulled the fork somehow, right?"

"Nope! I got a spirit in me! Possessed, I tell ya!" The braided man crouched down and untied one of Jason's sneakers. The sheer spontaneity of his actions left Jason unsure of how to react. "Now try to tie it! Betcha can't do it!"

His curiosity growing, Jason leaned down and began to tie his shoe. It was as simple a task as it ever was. The moment he finished the knot it fell apart. The shoelaces slid off of one another in one smooth motion until Jason was right back where he started. He tried again, pulling the laces hard to make certain the knot was tight. The same thing happened.

"Hehehe! Don't you youngsters know how to tie your own shoes? Here, I'll fix it for ya! Watch closely!"

When the old man reached over to touch Jason's shoe, something else followed him. A ghostly forearm floated right next to the old man's own. Translucent, its borders seemed to shimmer as it moved perfectly in sync with the old man. It was about as slim as the old man's arm, but in place of skin were what looked like small indigo rectangular beams; they were neatly stacked on top of one another, crisscrossing at perpendicular angles to make up the shape of a human arm. Connected to the arm was an indigo hand with no visible creases. Even as the old man's arm stopped halfway to Jason's shoe the ghostly arm kept moving, reaching out with long smoothly rounded fingers.

With a heavy gasp Jason jerked his foot back with such force that he nearly fell over backwards. The ghost arm stopped moving. Jason blinked several times but there it remained, floating in the air. He stood rooted to the spot, struggling to process what he was seeing.

The braided man stood back up. His wide grin had morphed into a sly smile, and his eyes now carried the sharpness of a man who was full of secrets. He spoke in a calm measured tone. "So you finally noticed."

Jason managed to make himself speak. "What is that thing?! What did you just do?!"

"I told you already. It's a spirit. One that I control."

Before Jason could sputter out a response, the old man put a finger to his lips. "Keep your voice down. Panicking didn't do you any good earlier, did it? No man ever accomplished anything by flying into a frenzy. And I ain't about to let you get me caught. Now take some breaths and I'll explain."

Jason did as the braided man ordered. He glanced around the room. No one else seemed to have taken note of anything that had just happened. A couple of people on the opposite wall were wide awake and looking right at them, but neither of them paid the ghost arm any attention whatsoever.

They both sat down and the braided man began to explain.

"Like you said, spirits are all over the place. What you saw was mine, or part of it anyway." The braided man held up his arm and the ghost arm followed it. "I can call it and dismiss it as I please." Without the slightest bit of effort on the old man's part the ghost arm faded away in an instant. "I've traveled all over the country and I've met a handful of people who can do the same thing, who got their own spirit. One of them explained it to me this way: 'That spirit is a part of you, a manifestation of your inner self.' Basically, it's as 'me' as I'm 'me'." He pointed a bony finger at Jason, putting it inches from his face. "And since you can see it, that means you have one too."

Jason looked down at himself. Innumerable thoughts raced through his mind, some of them expressing incredulity as to what was happening. However, deep down he knew that he couldn't deny what he just saw. This wasn't a dream or a hallucination, he was certain of that if nothing else. Somehow that knowledge focused his mind enough to reply. "You said I have a spirit too? How do you know that? What makes you so sure? I don't… feel a spirit in me."

A smirk rose and fell on the braided man's face. "These spirits can only be seen or felt by other people who have them. If you saw it, even for a second, then that means you've got one, whether you know it or not. I heard you acting up earlier, saying that you were seeing and hearing things that you shouldn't be. That got me wondering, so I played the fool to confirm it. And I was right. Guess you just can't control it yet."

"Then… how do I control it?"

"That's the question. It 'wakes up' in different people at different times. I've had mine as long as I can remember. So I dunno if I can help you there. You'll just have to try."

Jason gestured with his hands, frustrated that he couldn't quite articulate his question. "I mean… what exactly IS the spirit? You say it's me, but that I can't control it? Then how is it me?"

"An old friend of mine said it better than I could." The braided man's eyes darted upward as he spoke, as if recalling a fond memory. "'Of all the billions of men who've lived on this earth, how many of them have truly walked? The soul is a sprawling mass of unexplained phenomena that threatens to crush our minds underfoot. Lives are created and dismissed on a mass scale every day, and nearly all of them leave this earth never knowing what they truly are. Philosophy was created specifically to solve this problem, but how much closer are we to an answer? Far too many men go about their days buried under the weight of this burden without ever even realizing it. They are but infants forced to crawl beneath the waves of their own ignorance, forever oblivious to their place in this world. This talent that we share is a rare gift: the ability to reach inside of ourselves and expose our very soul. We can confront what we truly are… and then grow beyond. If the common man can do nothing but crawl… then this is the power to stand.'

"I've never forgotten that speech. My power… my Stand… has let me see things I never thought I'd see, and do things I never thought I could do. Your Stand will wake up soon, I bet. And when it does, we can do something we both wanna do: get the hell out of here."

Jason gazed at his own hands in utter awe, opening them and closing them as though he had just noticed them for the first time. When the braided man's words had fully sunk in, Jason looked up with eyes full of determination. His fears and worries went somewhere far away; only his desire for freedom remained.

"That's what I like to see," the braided man grinned. He clapped his hands together. "So first things first, what's your name? And don't give me that paranoid crap! I'm not about to work with someone whose name I don't know. If you saw a dish at a buffet and the waiter told you 'that dish has no name', would you wanna eat it? I wanna know what I'm getting into here!"

"...Point taken," Jason said awkwardly. "My name's..."

"Crap! I've been eating those noodles all this time! What brand noodles were they? Bastards didn't even tell me!"

"...Jojo." Is the 'crazy old man' thing REALLY an act?

The braided man calmed down immediately. "My name's Sawyer. I'll show you my whole Stand if you promise not to freak out again."

Turning a bit red, Jason nodded.

A ghostly humanoid figure materialized next to Sawyer, hovering a centimeter or so off the ground. It was roughly the same height and build as Sawyer himself, but that was where the similarities ended. The structure of its legs was identical to that of its arms; they seemed to be built out of thin rectangular indigo beams stacked atop one another. They called to mind a child's game where blocks are stacked on each other in order to make a tower. The Stand's torso, slightly darker than its limbs, looked reasonably normal with one exception: a large black keyhole stared out from the center of its chest. It seemed to be solid black, and nothing could be seen within it. On its waist was what appeared to be a belt, or at least a belt-like protrusion, and attached to that was a ring full of silver keys of varying size. Its head looked incredibly smooth, and it wore a sort of mask composed of the same type of indigo blocks, though these were scarce enough to leave gaps where one could see parts of the Stand's face. It had solid yellow eyes and a stoic expression.

"This is my Stand. Its name is 「CLEAN BANDIT」." The pride on Sawyer's face was evident. "Stands give their Users a sort of power, a certain something that no one else can do. Basically, my power is to make things 'unusable'. For instance, take a good look at your shoe."

Jason took off his untied shoe and examined it. On the heel he found something peculiar: a small black keyhole. Sawyer snatched the shoe out of his hands as Clean Bandit took a tiny key off of its key ring. It held the key up to the shoe's keyhole, and a moment later both the key and keyhole had vanished. "Now you can tie it again," Sawyer said as he handed the shoe back to Jason. Sure enough, he put it back on and tied it as though nothing had been done to it.

Clean Bandit faded away as Sawyer pointed toward the nearest set of doors. "If I used my Stand on those doors no one would be able to open them unless I 'unlocked' them. That wouldn't stop someone from kicking them down or blowing them up, though. It only keeps objects from being used in their intended way."

"And you're saying that when I get my Stand, I'll have some kind of power too?"

"You will. It'll be different from mine, though. No telling what it could be. But when you've got it, we can bust out of here. I could get out by myself, but Clean Bandit isn't the greatest at straightforward fighting. Besides, with the two of us our odds'll be better."

"Three of us," Jason said matter-of-factly. He gestured toward the sleeping Donna. "She's coming with us."

Sawyer's hopeful expression became a disapproving grimace. "No she isn't. She doesn't have powers like we do, does she? She'll just slow us down."

Jason stepped toward Sawyer, putting him right up next to his face. "It doesn't matter. I'll protect her."

Sawyer groaned, looking at Jason like he just said something profoundly stupid. "Look kid, she's safer in here than with us. You think they're just gonna let us walk out? I've been here for days. They won't seriously hurt civilians, but us? They'll kill us if need be. You don't even know what your Stand IS yet. How are you gonna protect her? I'm sorry, but she has to stay."

Before Jason could say anything else Sawyer jerked his head toward the doors, like he was expecting something to happen. "It's almost five o'clock. I can keep time in my head. From four-thirty to five there are fewer guards out than any other time. At least as far as I can tell. That's why I picked now to talk to you. Now here's the deal: When you're ready, when you've got a handle on your Stand, tell me. After that, the next time four-thirty in the morning hits, we'll discuss how we're gonna get out of here. Until then I'm gonna act like a crazy old codger that doesn't know you. Got it?"

He was angry about Sawyer's order to leave Donna behind, but he couldn't refuse his offer to help him escape either. He gave a resolute nod, but grabbed Sawyer's shoulder as he turned to leave. "One more question. If you've got a power like that, how did the guards catch you? Shouldn't you be able to take them on?"

Sawyer leaned in closer, speaking softly and quickly. "It's true. Normal people can't hurt or even see Stands. But I let myself get caught. I wanted to be brought here. I was looking for someone, but it doesn't look like they're here anymore."

"Who were you looking for?"

"That's my problem, not yours."

The next few hours were restless ones. Jason did little but sit and stare at the walls. Even as the others woke up, apparently still guided by their internal clocks, Jason paid them no heed. He had to figure out how to call his Stand. Everything hinged on it.

Holding up his right arm, he clenched his fist and stared intently at it. Closing his eyes, Jason thought back to his earlier years. He thought about his dad, whom he hadn't seen since he was nine. He thought about his mother, a once devoutly religious woman who had become nothing more than a miserable shell of her former self, constantly drowning herself in alcohol. He thought about the school he attended back in Iowa, all of the classes he missed out of sheer apathy, all of the potential friends that he had chased away with his behavior. And still nothing. Not even for a moment could he see his Stand. He threw his head back against the wall with a thump. I've tried happy thoughts, sad ones, angry ones, meditating... nothing is working. How do I activate this damn thing?

The thump must have roused Donna from her sleep, for she snorted and lifted her head, looking a bit groggy. "Unnhh... good morning Jojo..." she said with a yawn. She shook her head vigorously in an attempt to wake herself up. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Y-yeah, I feel much better. Guess the sleep really did help." Jason smiled and added a heartfelt "Thank you."

Donna returned his smile. While she took the scrunchie out of her hair and ran her fingers through it Jason went back to his thoughts. How am I gonna explain this to her? Would she even believe me? Maybe the old man was right...

The doors opened and three guards entered in their usual rigid gait. They passed out food; this time bread and a small cup of butter along with the water. One of the guards approached Jason and Donna and waved for the other two to leave. It was the same man who had denied Jason his dinner. Once the other two were gone the guard pointed at the boy.

"Apologize." His tone was even but the terseness of his command betrayed his hostility. "If you apologize for spitting in my face, I'll give you your meal and forget it ever happened."

Jason glanced at Donna, who looked uncertain as to what to say. Then he stole a glance at Sawyer, who sat on the wall to his left. For a split second the daft look in his eyes changed to a glare that seemed to say 'Don't you dare screw this up!'. With a deep sigh Jason grumbled "I'm sorry."

"I'm not convinced. Now get on your knees and do it again."

"This is unnecessary! You don't have the right to take away his food!" Donna objected in an indignant tone that Jason didn't know she was even capable of.

Ignoring her, the officer repeated his command. Jason gritted his teeth, then got on his hands and knees with such hesitation that one would have thought his body was moving against his will. He bowed his head. "I'm SORRY."

With a smug look the officer gently tapped Jason on the head with his boot. "That's better. That's a good boy."

"Fuck you..." Jason muttered underneath his breath.

Suddenly the officer flew into a rage. He kicked Jason in the head, knocking him against the wall, then kicked him in his exposed stomach. "You little shit! You know how hard this job is?! I got pulled from my detail to work in this shithole city with all the freaks running around outside, and I'm not about to let some street trash like you make a fool out of me!" He rammed his foot into Jason's stomach a second time.

The blow to his head put Jason in a daze for a few moments, but the kicks to his stomach soon hit him like a wave. He coughed and hacked as the pain radiated through him. Though every part of him wanted to get up and fight back, he forced himself to stay down. I can't ruin this. I have to wait it out... I have to take it!

"Stop it!" Donna threw herself at the guard and punched him in his face. The guard acted like he barely felt the blow. Seeing her try in vain to defend him hurt Jason more than his wounds. He tried to tell her to stop but only more coughs came out.

"Don't touch me you filthy bitch!" The officer grabbed Donna by the throat and lurched her forward before throwing her backward. She cried out as her head plowed into the hard stone wall.

The last remnants of Jason's self-control shattered. He climbed back to his feet as though his pain didn't exist. If looks could kill, the fury in Jason's eyes would have stopped the officer's heart. With a yell Jason lunged forward, ready to throw a punch.

"Try it you little basta..." The force of the punch did more than silence the officer. Trails of blood ran down from his nose. A tooth dropped from his mouth. "W...w-what?! WHAT?!" He stammered in utter shock.

It wasn't Jason that punched him. It was his Stand.

There it stood, within the small gap between Jason and his opponent, its mighty arm outstretched, its red-gloved fist buried in the officer's face. It was a humanoid Stand with a brilliant crimson body. The detailed musculature present on its arms and legs gave it a commanding presence. Its boot-shaped feet hovered just above the floor. Throughout its chiseled body were several small black armor-like plates in the shape of diamonds, each one covering a small part of its chest or back. The armored plates overlapped one another and were arranged in a cross pattern, the 'arms' of which wrapped around its torso. On its face was a thin black mark in the shape of the Greek letter Σ. The mark completely hid its right eye and mouth. Its remaining eye, though it contained a red pupil, looked otherwise identical to Jason's.

Wordlessly, effortlessly, Jason commanded his Stand to retract its arm. It did so. It immediately threw another punch at the officer, ramming its fist into his face with just as much force as it did before. Then it threw another punch. Then another, and another. Then it kept going. The punches came faster and faster until Jason could hardly keep up with them. As its fists flew it let out a frenzied yell, one that grew in pitch and intensity the longer it lasted.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"

With its final punch Jason's Stand knocked the officer across the room. He landed just shy of the wall, but the sheer force of the blow made his body slide into it headfirst. He yelled in agony before passing out. The other prisoners screamed in surprise and fear. From their point of view, an officer was blown into a wall by a malevolent unseen force. Their shrieks quickly summoned guards.

"I swear, if Grayson's losing his temper again I'm gonna..." The guards stopped dead when they saw what had happened to Grayson. One rushed to his side while the other one drew his pistol. The prisoners may not have understood what happened, but they knew who to blame. "It was him, that boy!" "That kid in the red jacket!" "He's possessed!"

Jason knelt down to help Donna. Aside from the bump on the back of her head, she seemed alright. "Donna, we have to get out of here. We're gonna..."

He heard a loud bang. A bullet whizzed by him and implanted itself in the wall, in a brick inches away from his head. He heard one of the officers yell at him. "That was a warning shot! Surrender or we will use deadly force!"

Jason's heart skipped a beat. Not because of the bullet itself, but because of the realization that dawned on him as he stared at it. That brick could have been her. In that moment he knew Sawyer was right. One wrong move and Donna was dead. She was safer here.

"Donna..."

"I know. I don't want you to do what you're about to do, but I know I can't stop you. I can see the resolve in your eyes. I'm a light sleeper. I heard what you and Sawyer talked about. I heard rumors earlier this week... rumors that people with strange 'powers' were cropping up in different parts of Bolum. I guess it's really true. I don't know what's going on anymore. Sawyer was right, I'd only slow you down. I can't go with you. I have to balance the scale. Your freedom for mine... it's a good trade."

She looked into Jason's eyes and smiled. "Just promise me that you'll stay safe."

Without a word Jason wrapped his arms around Donna and hugged her tight.

"This is your last warning! Step away from the civilian and surrender, or we will open fire!"

Jason slowly raised his hands in the air and stood up. As the troops cautiously approached him, guns drawn, he looked over at Sawyer. "It's time to walk."

Sawyer couldn't help but grin. "Guess we're doing this now rather than later!" He jumped to his feet with a spryness belonging to a man half his age and dashed towards the two guards. By the time they had noticed him and turned their guns on him he had already summoned his Stand. "Clean Bandit!" The indigo apparition reached for the two pistols, touching them and pulling a silver key out of each one.

"Open fire!" Both guards pulled the triggers of their guns and heard clicks. They frantically tried again and again to fire but to no avail. Jason turned around and within half a second the officer to the right ate a fist and was knocked out cold. Instead of giving the other officer the same treatment, Jason's Stand held up its right hand, its fingers open and its palm in the officer's face. Jason knew what to do instinctively, the way a spider knows how to spin a web without ever being shown. A small conical dart-like object about the size of a tack shot from the Stand's palm and embedded itself into the officer's face. The officer couldn't see it, and the impact felt like a mosquito bite, so he was none the wiser. Jason motioned for Sawyer to follow and they fled through the open doors.

Three more guards met them right outside the doors, charging at them with guns at the ready. Jason punched the first two guards into the third, knocking them down long enough for the duo to step over them. Sawyer disabled their guns along the way for good measure. They reached a fork in the hallway, allowing them to go either straight or right. Sawyer immediately started down the right path, but Jason grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back behind the wall.

"Are you crazy?! The exit's right there! We can get out of here now before reinforcements show up!" Sawyer loudly insisted on going out the main entrance even as Jason dragged him along as he ran down the straight hallway, which soon opened up into another empty waiting room. With frenetic voices behind them yelling for backup they ran for the emergency exit, and with a mighty kick Jason's Stand forced it open. Beyond it was a long flight of stairs that ran the entire length of the six-floor clinic. They traversed two sets of stairs and went through the exit, putting them on the second floor. Clean Bandit sealed the door behind them.

They were in another dark hallway. No guards could be seen or heard. Sawyer grabbed Jason's shoulder and turned him around. "You wanna explain what that stunt was back there?! The exit was right there! You're gonna get us killed if you keep making stupid decisions like that!"

Despite Sawyer's exasperated tone Jason's response was quiet and thoughtful. "Didn't you think it was strange that there weren't any guards down that hallway, even though it's right before the main entrance?" Sawyer looked befuddled at the question. "That guard that I didn't punch back there had a radio. I noticed it on him when I turned to hit him. So instead I used this." Jason's Stand held out its palm and shot another dart, this time into the floor. "I knew that guard would call for backup on the radio. This is what he said: 'Two of them! There's two with powers here! They're near the entrance!' After that, someone on the radio replied 'We've got nine men surrounding the outside entrance. Sending five more to swamp them. They won't leave alive.' That's how I knew not to take that route."

Sawyer looked even more befuddled. "How did you know all that?"

Jason looked over at his Stand. "I heard him. That's what this Stand's power is. It's the same as when I heard that radio conversation from yesterday; I heard it through someone else's ears. When I tasted chocolate, though I didn't notice it at first, there was a little kid there eating a chocolate bar. I tasted what he tasted. And when I saw myself, like I was having an out-of-body experience, I was looking through the eyes of my Stand."

Spotting a painting on the wall, Jason walked over to admire it. It depicted a scenic summer day, complete with laughing children and a breeze gently scattering leaves across the ground. He stared at it longingly for a few moments, then quickly turned back to Sawyer with a defiant but confident gaze. "A schizophrenic... that's someone that sees and hears things that aren't there, right? That's my power! To see, hear, and feel what 'isn't there'! That is my Stand! 「SCHIZOID MAN」!"

-To-Be-Continued-