The views expressed in this chapter do not necessarily reflect my own. So I don't wanna hear any flak from any SJW wannabes just trying to get attention. Alright? With that said, Star vs the Forces of Evil is owned by Disney and Stands are the creation of the brilliant and talented Hirohiko Araki. Yadda. Yadda. Enjoy.

A Clock in my Head: Chapter 11

(Right where we left off)

"You know, I met a lot of people during my travels. Some of them helped me. Some of them tried to kill me. Most of them just spoke to me once and probably forgot about me two minutes later. But no matter what they did, each and every one of them helped make me the man I am today. For without those encounters I never would have realized how limited my thinking had been. As a child, I'd internalized the stories my father told me and embraced the idea that people were inherently good and that it was my destiny to help them. But then as a youth I learned of humanity's sins and rejected everything my family stood for. It wasn't until I reached adulthood that I finally realized that neither my father nor my teachers had been completely correct. In truth, man is both a fallen angel and a rising ape. The potential for both good and evil exist in everyone, and the criteria for either is too complex to simply write off an entire species as one or the other." Jefferson explained as his voice suddenly grew even more bitter. "Unfortunately, my time in South America did nothing but prove the contrary."

The elder Stand User paused for a moment, as the unpleasant memories washed over him like a tidal wave.

"By the time I ended up in Tierra del Fuego I'd amassed over a hundred allies and recorded all of their contact information in a little black book. At any given time I could call upon the best and brightest on three continents to help me out of almost any situation. But despite having such vast resources, my journey back to the United States was a living nightmare. None of my contacts were of much help to me in South America. Occasionally, one of them was able to grease the palm of some corrupt politician or military official to allow me to cross certain borders, but for the most part I was on my own. And with very little money in my pocket at the time, I was back to scrounging just to survive. So I stuck mainly to the slums and low rent districts to avoid any unwanted attention. And it was in those places that I saw things that still haunt me to this day."

"What did you see?" asked Janna, sounding almost fearful of the answer.

"Human nature." Jefferson replied bluntly. "The true, ugly face of man. Granted, I was no stranger to it. I'd learned all about it in school and seen it first hand on three continents. But up 'til then I'd always had a more rounded experience. Seeing the best and worst of each new culture I encountered. But during my time with the Latinos I only saw the worst. I saw drug dealers feed an old man to a bunch of pit bulls. I saw paramilitaries torture a young woman until she bit off her own tongue. I saw so-called 'policemen' gun down a group of children for 'collaborating' with the cartels. And a long list of other such atrocities that would turn the stomach of even the most hardened nihilist. But it's not so much the acts of violence that haunt me as it is the people who committed them Those Latinos. So used to living in squalor. So used to the violence, the corruption, the cruelty. It's like they'd forgotten how to be human. Forgotten how to love thy neighbor or how to do unto others and all that jazz. Hell, I can't even call them people anymore. Nothing but rats. Filthy human cockroaches. Every last one of them. Some days I wish the seas would rise up and drown every square inch of land south of Texas."

Jefferson caught himself before his speech devolved into a delusional rant and paused for a moment to allow the venom in his blood to subside.

"Sorry… I know, morally, that it's wrong to condemn an entire race for the sins of a few. And likewise, I understand that racism in itself is illogical and has no place in a civilized society. But I just can't let it go. After spending most of my life as a cynic, my experiences in Asia and the Middle East taught me how to see the good in people again. But all throughout Latin America I saw only ugliness. No random acts of kindness. No tiny shreds of decency. No redeeming qualities whatsoever. And so my newfound optimism soon gave way to harsh reality, and by the time I finally made it to the southern tip of Mexico, I was but a festering ball of pure hate. And I nearly died because of it."

The older Stand User paused once again to calm himself down before continuing.

"By the time I reached Mexico I'd been traveling for a little over eleven months, and with the US finally within sight, I steered clear of the general population as much as possible; lest I see something that finally made me snap. But unfortunately things didn't go as planned. While I was hunkered down in this little town somewhere in rural Oaxaca, I ran into a familiar face; namely Escobar's. I spotted him from across the street one day while I was foraging through a trash can and suddenly all the rage that had been building up for months came boiling to the surface. Finally I had a target for my hatred. And more importantly, it was one I could justify rationally. Escobar had been the cause of all my suffering and he was responsible for addicting thousands, if not millions of innocent people to his poison. I could slit his throat and no one would even care. So I followed him for hours, just waiting for the perfect chance to strike. Eventually he led me to an underground cockfight in an old abandoned storm cellar. I thought that with such a big crowd and with everyone's attention on the center ring it would be easy to just sneak up behind him, stab him right through his black heart, and slip away in the confusion."

"But, you didn't go through with it, right?" Janna asked almost fearfully.

"No, kid, I didn't. Sigh. But not because I didn't want to. I was just so blinded by rage that I didn't stop to think things through. If I had, I would've realized that someone of Escobar's standing would never go anywhere without bodyguards. Next thing I knew, one of those Latin gorillas had me in a chokehold and Escobar was glaring daggers at me. Funny thing though, it wasn't really Escobar. Well, it was, but not the one I knew. It was his older brother Joaquin and he was not happy to see me. Turns out Joshua wasn't exaggerating when he said I'd been making too much noise. Apparently three months after I disappeared, the feds caught one of Escobar's couriers and got him to spill the beans on the whole operation. Dismantled his whole empire in less than two years, and the White Snake himself ended up doing a swan dive off his five story mansion just to avoid prison. And now Escobar the Elder wanted revenge. He blamed me for his brother's death and planned on taking it out of my hide. Literally. He said he was gonna skin me alive and throw me into a field of cacti. I could almost see that straight line of zeros. I thought for sure I was a deadman. But luckily that's where Brian jumped in."

"Brian?" Janna asked confusedly.

"Yeah, you know, Diaz' old karate teacher. Remember, I told you this part before. Joaquin was about to start carving me up like a turkey, when out of nowhere he jumps in, drunk and/or stoned out of his mind, and starts beating up everybody like it was an action movie. I didn't know what the hell was going on and I didn't care. I just grabbed on when he told me to and we got the hell out of there. We had to spend the night in a ditch, but eventually we lost 'em. Then when he finally sobered up the next day we got to talking and, surprisingly, we really hit it off. Naturally, I couldn't tell him the real reason those guys were trying to kill me, so I made up a story about stepping on someone's rooster. He bought it and we spent the next few weeks bonding while he helped smuggle me back into the states. Once we were finally over the boarder we parted ways and I headed straight for Boston."

"So what happened?" asked the plump Filipina with a subtle hint of urgency. "Did you go to the Speedwagon Foundation and tell them you were still alive?"

"No, kid, I didn't." he replied hollowly. "Although I did consider it. I even had one of my contacts introduce me to a lawyer who was certain he'd found a legal precedent that would've let me argue that my parents weren't in their right minds when they disowned me. He assured me that within one year I'd be running the Speedwagon Foundation and have all the money I could ever want. Sigh. But at the last second I decided not to go through with it. The Foundation was running just fine without me and a lengthy legal battle could've crippled its philanthropic efforts for years, maybe even decades. No, I wasn't the same stupid kid who sold cocaine to WASPs and I wasn't gonna ruin anyone else's life just to fill my pockets. So, after paying my respects at the family mausoleum, I left Boston forever and started bumming around the country. Eventually, I made the acquaintance of Dale Biederbeck, the guy who runs that Stand User database I told you about, and after helping him out with some legal problems he was having with the Disney Corporation, he offered me a chance to lead a semi-normal life."

"Wait, Wait, Wait. Back it up." Janna interrupted. "What kind of 'legal trouble'?"

"Eh… I'll tell you when you're eighteen. Anyway, once I performed my… 'service' for him, Dale made me an offer. He said he could set me up somewhere where I could live the rest of my life in peace, without fear of being attacked by another Stand User. At first I didn't believe that such a place could exist, but then he showed me his records and I knew he wasn't just blowing smoke. According to his information, this place not only had the lowest percentage of Stand related incidents in the entire country, but it was also so overshadowed by its neighboring city of Los Angeles that it was almost completely beneath the notice of even the most experienced traveler. By God, it was perfect."

"Wait, are you talking about Echo Creek?"

"Yeah, it seemed perfect at the time. Shame Dale didn't know anything about Chemical Romance, otherwise I would've gone with my second choice and moved to Mobile, Alabama. But anyway, after I was convinced he went ahead and made all the necessary arrangements. Made me a new ID, birth certificate, social security number, the whole magilla. He even set me up a bank account with enough scratch to last me until I found a job. So, with a new background and a new name, I settled down in Echo Creek, where I thought I could live out the rest of my days in peace and quiet. Right up until Star walked in front of my car. And the rest, as they say, is history."

With his story finally complete, Jefferson let out a long sigh of relief and took another swig from Ludo's canteen. His throat was killing him. It had been years since he'd told anyone even a fraction of that story. And even longer since he'd needed to say anything to anyone for such an extended period. It was murder on his vocal chords. And yet, the aged Stand User couldn't help but feel as though a tremendous weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. For the first time since… he couldn't remember when, Jefferson Speedwagon felt almost totally at peace with himself.

Unfortunately, this inner tranquility was soon shattered by a random question from his young protégé.

"What did you mean by, 'that straight line of zeros'?" Janna asked bluntly.

"Eh… what?"

"Earlier, when you were telling us about how Joaquin almost killed you, you said you could almost see a straight line of zeros. What does that mean?"

"Oh… y-you noticed that?" he replied nervously; mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. "It's… uh… it's just an expression, kiddo. You know, like 'kicking the bucket' or 'buying the farm'."

"Really? I've never heard of it."

"That's… because it's rarely used in English. In fact, it's used almost exclusively in Poland."

"But you never lived in Poland."

"Did I say Poland? I meant Belgium. Belgium."

"You never lived in Belgium either."

"Germany then!"

"I'm not buying it." The plump Filipina said stubbornly. "I know you're hiding something, so fess up."

"I… I'm not hiding anything."

"Jefferson, you've lived with me this long. You know what I'm willing to do to get my way."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. But only if you swear you'll never repeat this anyone."

"Fine, I swear."

"This isn't a joke, Janna!" Jefferson yelled harshly in spite of his aching throat. "If I tell you this, you have to take it to your grave! You can't ever tell anyone! Not Diaz! Not Jackie! Not even your mother! You got it?"

"Okay, I'm sorry." She replied, almost timidly. "I swear on my life that I'll never tell anyone."

"Good. Now what about you two idiots?"

"All my fiends are right here. I have no one else to tell." Ludo admitted rather bluntly.

"And I'm barely listening to you anyway." Said Glossaryk.

"sigh. Good enough." The aged Stand User said wearily before he proceeded to reveal his deepest and most heavily guarded secret. "You see, the truth is…. I… sort of have a… clock in my head."

End Notes:

And that's the end of Jefferson's backstory. But not quite the end of his tale.

The next chapter will finally reveal the meaning behind this story's tittle.

But until then, thanks for reading and I'll see you next time.

Peace.