SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER

EARLY JUNE, 2020

The early night streets of the coastal city of Carlsbad, California were busy with summer tourists, most of whom were college students who just finished their spring semester. This led to a fair number of traffic jams, people camping out for the night on the city's beautiful beach, restaurant goers, and the occasional disgruntled employee who was ordered to work after hours because of the population influx.

The very top of the sun was dipping down into to horizon to completely give way to the nighttime sky, where seagulls were using the last bit of light to guide themselves to their nests bellow the pier. Youths were continuing to celebrate and laugh. Cars were being parked for the night so their owners could rest. It really was an image of summer normalcy. But not everything was normal for this setting, because unknown to anyone in Carlsbad there was a certain individual who was at this moment very troubled over some recent developments in her life.

In a bar named "The Purple Tavern N Grill", located at the edge of the city where the waves of tourists crashed on through just hours earlier, was experiencing a particularity successful night. The bar was filled with dozens of young men and women busily chatting and laughing, enjoying their drinks and meals. But one of these visitors was unique from everyone else there in ways that not even she was completely aware of.

A girl who appeared to be in her late teens, maybe bordering on early twenties, was sitting alone at a small two seat table, having barely touched the french fries she ordered. She was at a striking height of six foot one, wearing casual street clothes (hoodie, skinny jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers) and whose only truly distinguishing feature besides her size was a blue streak running down her brunette bangs. She was in deep thought over an issue that was both new and foreign to her, and was the primary cause of her current predicament.

Just as she decided to finally dig into her fries, she heard the sound of a glass break and a man's scream that was close to an inhuman howl at the corner of the room, grabbing her and everyone else's attention. A large man in a leather biker jacket was standing over another man who was huddled on the ground, moaning as he cupped his bloodied and glass shard covered face.

"I told you not to bring it up!" the biker screamed down at the man. He looked around and realized that everyone's eyes were on him, with a few people even starting to reach for their phones. Grimacing to himself he grabbed the end of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing a pistol tucked into his pants. Most eyes were quickly turned away in fear while about a half of the bar's occupants who had a strong enough will to quickly react were running for any available exits. "Anyone who thinks of doing something stupid really needs to reconsider," he said, smiling a little to see that those with their phones out were quickly putting them away, faces filled with fear. All he had to do now was mount his bike outside and then get the hell out of there before any cops showed up.

"Then I guess I'm pretty stupid," said a heavily accented voice at the other end of the bar. Everyone turned their heads around again to see a man in raggedy street clothes with his jacket's large hood over his head, concealing everything but his lips and hairy chin. He had a beer bottle in his hand, and after taking a quick swig of it, he started to walk over to the biker, but not before staggering a little bit.

As he walked past the teenage girl's table, she caught a strong whiff of booze and unwashed clothes coming off of him, making her flinch back along with several others he passed by on his slow walk. He was clearly the most drunk one there.

"You seriously gonna do this, man?" the biker said, somewhat amused by the drunk.

"Yeah," the drunk slurred out, with all bar goers noticing whatever his accent was, it sounded romantic in origin, "you think you can just smash someone's face in th-hic-the bar, and get away with it, huh? Look at all the go-hic-good people whose nice night ya' just ruined. D-do you even care about the guy on the ground right next to y-" he realized that the biker's victim was now no longer on the ground, and was instead having his face looked at by one of the bartenders. "Oh, when did he get over there? Hey guy, how d-did you get over there?" he asked, now completely oblivious to the man he was originally talking to.

"Hey asshole, I'm right here," said the still amused biker. The drunk turned around and realized who he was supposed to be talking to.

"Hey, d-hic-don't call me an...wait, sorry, that word in English, I don't know how ta-to say it. I think that-"

"What the hell are you doing, man?"

"Wait, wait, I'm just give me a moment I-I'm trying to remember how to say it in your language...oh yeah, you can go eat a dick for all I care."

No longer amused and now beyond having a tolerable frustration with this man, the biker pulled back his fist and shot out a right hook. In the fraction of a second it took for everyone to witness the attack and flinch back in preparation for what they thought was about to happen, they instead saw something very out of place. The biker's fist was suddenly stopped just inches away from the dunk's face, who had as much of an unconcerned expression as he did when he first made his presence known. Most people in the room simply thought that the biker was just trying to get the drunk to flinch back by making a fake punch, but unknown to them it was truly the biker's intention to smash to drunken fool's face in. What was at first surprise quickly turned into confusion for him.

Panicked at what just happened, the biker withdrew his fist and this time threw out a left hook, only to find the same result. He could have sworn to himself that it was as if something was there to block him. He let out a yelp and took several quick paces back in shock.

"What gives, amico? Are ya even tryin to fight me?" the drunk said sarcastically. In a fit of terror, the biker pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the stranger. While most people there screamed and panicked at the mere sight of the gun and didn't dare run outside as the gun's barrel was being waved around, the drunk just gave out an unimpressed 'hmph'.

"What the hell are you doing, man?! J-just back off, got that?!"

"The second you pull th-hic-that trigger, I'm not gonna be very friend-"

BANG!

"-ly."

Everyone either gasped or screamed in horror at the sound of the gun going off, with half the room immediately becoming paralyzed with shock. But they didn't see a bloody body hit the floor. Instead they and saw a completely unharmed, still unmoved stranger and a shooter even more terrified then before. The most unique thing about the incident was that the bullet that was shot out the gun seemingly didn't land anywhere, with no holes in anyone's body or even the walls of the bar. Did that guy load his gun with blanks? This was an assumption most people were coming to.

"Okay, I'm in a pretty decent mood tonight, so I'll give you that-"

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

CLICK!

CLICK!

CLICK!

"-one. Seriously, tipo?"

Most people were now hiding under their tables and chairs, but they still had the courage to look up and see that, just like the first time, the strange man was completely unharmed. This pretty much confirmed to them that the biker was just firing caps with no lead.

The biker was too stunned to notice the man's hand slowly fold around the smoking barrel of his gun. Immediately the gun was ripped away from him, where he watched with wide eyes as it was then immediately crushed to pieces in the drunk's hand and clatter to the ground. He looked down at the many broken pieces of what was once his prized sidearm, his forehead covered in sweat and his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out.

"L-look man, I just wanna-"

Then abruptly the same hand that grabbed his gun now held the scruff of his jacket, and without warning he felt an incredibly fast and powerful force being put onto his face. The very last thing he could sense before he lost consciousness was excruciating pain, and a second later his back was slammed into the wall, breaking the wooden boards as the two came into contact. As of now, multiple bones were broken and there wasn't even a slim chance that this now heavily wounded man would be able to stand up from this once he woke up. Just how was it that a single punch was able to do all of this?

"See what happens when you in-hic-interrupt me?"

Casually walking over to the bar, he reached over the bar's main table and grabbed a bottle of vodka, which he popped open and started to drink from. He eyed the witnesses warily as he was getting closer to the door.

"Two things you need to remember...folks," he slurred out. "One is you do not follow me. Two, you didn't see anything, got it? GOT IT?" And with that he walked out and the door slammed behind him.

Everyone was at a loss for words, with some either covering their mouths from shock or sitting down in their chairs as they attempted to process everything that just happened, while a couple more were quickly dialing for 911. But the girl with the blue streak was at a loss for different reasons, because only she was able to see what no one else could that came out from that man. For several months now she had been coming up empty with any legitimate answers about a certain 'self-discovery' she made. After seeing that thing come out of that man she was now thoroughly convinced that it had something to do with her own 'issues'. Even though a part of her was uncertain if her gut feeling was true, she just knew she had learn for herself. This was probably her only chance to obtain even a semblance of clarity. Without warning from anyone else, she cautiously went out the backdoor.

Her server was happy to see a large tip on the table.

The stranger was walking through the alleyway in a slight daze. Taking another gulp from the vodka bottle, he wiped his lips on his dirty sleeve and continued to his destination.

'Why did I have to get involved, huh? I could've just left. I could've just left!" he thought angrily to himself. He started to grumble a bit as he tipped back the bottle again, but this time only a few drops trickled into his mouth. Eyeing the bottle with distaste, he chucked it over his shoulder and heard the glass break. 'Dammit. That thing must've been half empty by the time I took it.' Swearing to find another drink tomorrow, he continued to trudge through the alley to his makeshift home.

CRASH!

Spinning around, the man's eyes widened as he saw a girl in street clothes with what he could unmistakably make out as a blue skinned arm protrude from her left elbow, with its fist slamming against the alley wall, creating a small hole.

Immediately turning around, he was confronted by a teenage girl looking at him with terror evident in her eyes, who at this moment was desperately trying to force the mysterious arm back into her body with her right hand. He cursed internally as he readied himself for this confrontation. To him this was more than just some stupid teen, and he immediately got on the defensive, completely ignoring the sheepish grin she was making in the hopes of diffusing the chances of hostility.

"Wh-hic-what do ya' want? You think you can take me, ragazza? Well I'm right here!" he yelled out, making the girl flinch back a little.

"W-well, I-I, you see sir, I-" she spluttered out, trying to find some level of cohesion to her sentence. "L-look sir, I-I know what you said back there," she said as she slowly walked forward, "I just want a few questions answered is all."

"Few questions answered? What questions?!" he snapped at her.

"About that...thing that suddenly appeared next to you." with her question out, she felt a bit more confident in her ability to speak to him. However, this only seemed to confirm whatever the man's suspicions were, and in an instant the girl felt a powerful force being applied to her jacket, lifted up in the air and quickly slammed into the alleyway wall.

She choked as she felt the air leaving her body and started to gasp for any more she could find. Even in her terror stricken state she was able to see clearly what was holding her in place and was close to shattering her ribs. Just as she perceived it to be in the bar, it had the appearance of a tall, muscle bound human with orange skin, long braided silver hair, and wearing what could best be described as a kilt with a zigzag design and woven sandals. All in all it had a terrifying presence that made the girl suddenly feel very small. It scowled down at the her along with it's apparent master, who was standing next to it. In just a glimpse she could now make out his full face behind the hood. He seemed to be in either his late thirties or forties, with his dirty blonde hair and beard matted with grime. But one would overlook this detail if you looked at his lips. They were covered in small, crisscrossing scars.

The arm that she managed to hold back earlier once again shot out, this accompanied with a right one as well.

"Maybe I'll ask you a few questions, capire?" he seethed. She cringed a bit once his boozed breath hit her nostrils.

"I-I don't-" she gasped out.

"Shut the hell up! Don't act like you don't know! I know what you are! I know what you do! I know who you work for! I know why you followed me! I know everything!"

"Then w-why did you ask for-uff-questions i-in the first place?" she pointed out, causing the man to only scowl further. She then realized this probably wasn't the best response.

"Looks like Illus' agents are getting lazy, huh? Thinkin' they can act all innocent so they can get away," he said in a mocking tone.

"Illus?" the girl said between compressed breaths. This made the man give her a doubtful glace, and then go silent, apparently in some sort of thought. His eyes wandered away from her and then back, inspecting whatever he was thinking about.

"So, how's Danna doing?" he asked with caution, looking to get a reaction with drunken yet analyzing eyes. The girl only gave him a confused glance.

"Oh, don't know? How about Hausten?"

Only more confusion.

"B. Lenny? Stacks? Stronglo? Senthia Mollen?"

Still only more confusion.

"Illustratum?" He said with special enthusiasm, apparently hoping this name would hit the nail on the head. Once again he was met with no expression that indicated familiarity. The girl started to feel the orange behemoth's grip on her loosen slightly, but she was still firmly in place against the wall.

"Who are you?" The man harshly asked.

"M-my name is Joanne Joestar," she said after a brief hesitation. The man swore under his breath, debating his options.

"Okay kid, what did you want to ask me?"

"I-" she paused and looked up at the thing that was staring down at her, "I just want to know what that thing is." She pointed at it with a shaking hand.

"So you can see it but you don't know what it is?"

"Yeah."

"Iesus quid mihi et tibi est explicare?" he said in his native tongue and then looked off into space in frustration before turning his attention back to the girl now identified as Joanne. "When did you first get yours?"

"My what?"

"One of these things," he pointed at the orange giant.

"J-just about two months ago."

"And you don't know how to use it?"

"N-no, I don't."

"Then why did those things attack me?" He gestured to the blue arms, hopelessly struggling to get free of the giant's steel grip.

"I-I can't control them. I haven't been able to control them since I got them."

Her words seemed to be completely sincere. Thinking things over in his head again, he let out an annoyed grunt.

"Fine." And with that the muscular hands let go of the girl now identified as Joanne, causing her to unceremoniously fall on her bottom, choking as she now had complete access to air again while she felt an ache on her chest as the huge weight that was put there was finally taken off. The secondary arms dissipated into nothingness. Collecting her breath, she gripped her wrists and massaged them, relieved to know that they weren't broken. But what happened next was something she didn't at all expect.

Without provocation, the orange giant brought back its right hand, formed a fist, and swung it right into Joanne's direction. She could only stifle a scream, put up her arms in defense, and close her eyes, but when nothing hit her except for a powerful gust of air, she opened her eyelids and saw that the giant's fist was only a couple of inches away from her face. It then back away suddenly and then vanished into thin air.

"Wha-wha-I-I what?!" she yelled out while she made short, panicked breaths.

"Wanted to see if you were telling the truth that you didn't know how to use your own," the man said plainly.

"Why couldn't you take my word for it?!" she asked in disbelief.

"Trust me, the one thing you want the most is to be sure."

"Sure of what?!" she yelled out, still in a bit of an understandable panic because her face was almost smashed in. This question made him pause.

"In time I'll tell," he said. "In time. Now I'll need you to listen to me carefully, ragazza. You're going to need a very open mind for what you're about to hear."

"Um, s-sure," she asked more than said.

"The world that you and most others see is only a part of the whole picture, you got it?"

"W-what do you mean?" This made the man sigh in annoyance.

"I guess you could say that there's a kind of layer that surrounds everything. Prevents people from seeing the whole picture on a more 'spiritual level', you get it?"

"I...not really," Joanne admitted.

"Okay, fine, let's back up a bit," the man sighed. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to come up with a way to explain things to the girl. "So, how about this? what do you think this is?"

This question made Joanne pause in thought. To be honest it did remind her of something, but she was too embarrassed to admit it. "Um, I don't-"

"Of course you've been thinking about it. It'd be odd if you didn't. Whatever it is just go ahead and tell me."

"Well...superpowers, right? Like laser vision and flight and stuff? Like from the comics?" This made the man snort a bit in amusement.

"No?" she asked, a little dejected by the blunt response.

"Nah, that's a pretty common belief that one, but no, that's not what we have. Well, that or being haunted by ghosts. It used to be only that one before those asini from Hollywood showed up and made everyone crazy for those caped fools. For most it would look like our powers and the ones from the comic seem to be one in the same, but once you start digging they couldn't be more different."

"So you aren't a superhuman?"

"No. Well, not like what you just described, no. What we have is a little more complicated than that. We're not something that gets a huge box office franchise. What we have is something almost no one knows about." He really put some emphasis on this last part.

"So, just what is it that yo-we have?"

"Have you ever heard about guardian angels?" He asked.

"Yeah?" She replied with some uncertainty as to where this was headed.

"Well, what we have is what created those stories in the first place."

"Wait, s-so what I saw back there was a guardian angel?!" she asked with even more uncertainty than before.

"Nah," he waved his hand, "those stories were just made up to explain something most people couldn't understand. The things we have go by lots of names throughout the years. Specters, guardians, possessed, familiars, you know, that stuff."

"So what's the word for these things now?" she asked with hopeful eyes, knowing this was the closest she had ever been to getting a good answer.

"Stands."

"Stands?"

"Yeah, Stands."

"Why are they called that?"

"Because they always stay close to their masters."

"Wait, master? you can control yours?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yeah, just look." He pulled out his left arm and held it out for her to see. Suddenly a familiar muscular arm appeared right next to it. The man wiggled his fingers and the arm's fingers did the same in perfect harmony. "In time you'll be able to do that with yours. That and more."

"Wait, I can do the same?" she questioned with astonishment, but tried to hold back her surprise.

"Of course you can. All it takes is a bit of will, something you clearly don't have."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked not as much out of offense but more out of confusion

"Exactly what I said. Whenever someone gets theirs it takes almost no time to get it to work for them, all they need is to will it. Since you still can't use yours, given how you couldn't prevent it from smashing into that wall, you'd either have to be stupid or just lack any proper motivation, but by looking at you you seem smart enough, so I just narrowed it down."

Quickly getting over his comment, she remembered how he suggested that it was more than just the two of them who had these things. "You've been talking like there are more of these 'Stands' out there. Just how many are there?"

"Can't say. Maybe a few hundred. Maybe even a thousand. I just can't say for sure, but what I can say is that we're not the only ones."

"So does that mean you've met others?" This made the man give her a sour look, like it was bringing back memories he wanted to forget.

"Yeah," he said under his breath, "sure have." Joanne gave him a curious look, which he only returned with an angry one, making the young woman drop any more questions related to this.

"W-wait, let's back up. Just what are Stands exactly?" Joanne felt like she needed some greater detail into just what it was that has been afflicting her recently.

"They're the physical embodiment of a person's spirit."

"A person's spirit?"

"Yeah. Here, let me show you." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a quarter, slowly turning it around between his fingers. "Imagine this quarter as a person. On one side is the physical side, which makes up the kind of people you see walk down the street. The human being. On the other side is the spiritual self. The astral self. The Stand. All they are is just another side of the same coin. Everyone is just like a coin."

"Than why doesn't everyone have a Stand?"

"Because there's some sort of natural barrier that prevents the two from ever mixing. You can call that the space or middle between both sides of the coin which prevents the heads and tails from meeting. It's just that some of us don't have that barrier. That's what makes someone a Stand user, you get me?"

"I...think I get it," she said, happy that he was able to explain it in a way that was easy for her to understand yet a bit overwhelmed with being given so much information all at once. "But, well, how do you become a Stand user to begin with?" This gave the man pause, pondering the question himself.

"I really don't know. From what I've heard, most get them as they grow up, but there are a few of them out there who get them the second they're born. Let's just say it's random."

"W-what? You're telling me any baby that has one of these things can do the stuff you can do with yours?! Like how yours was able to flick that guy's bullets out that nearby window?!" She asked in astonishment.

"Actually, my Stand is pretty rare. Most don't come even close to being as strong as mine." This puzzled the girl.

"What do you mean?"

"You see, Stands represent their user's inner self, the kind of person they truly are. Because of this, each Stand has its on unique ability. While mine is very strong, others can be pretty weak but make up for it with strange, more unique abilities that you wouldn't believe until you saw them for yourself." That last part caused Joanne to tilt her head to the side in confusion.

"Well...like what kinds?" she asked once more. All she got was a blank stare from the man.

"Do you really need to know?"

"W-well, I guess so..."

"Look, if I were to tell you then I think you would just go into a panic, knowing how easy it was for you to get frightened just a few minutes ago." He glanced up at the night sky and rubbed his head. "Listen, I'm sorry, I really am, but I've told you everything you need to know for now. If you were just half as grateful about the wealth of knowledge I gave you you would thank me and be on your way by now. So addio, hope you figure out how to control your Stand." And without warning he turned around, stumbled a little, and started to walk away while waving his hand.

"Wait, h-hold on! Is that it?! Y-you're leaving just like that?!" she called out to him. "Can you at least tell me how to control my...Stand thing so I don't hurt someone with it?!"

The man, still facing away from Joanne, stopped walking for a moment and let out a huff of air in annoyance. "Perche ho bisogno di un consapevole?" He whispered to himself before turning around and faced Joanne once more.

"Tomorrow, from 1 to 4 o'clock, meet me down at this old building at 1059 Guerro Road. Huge place, can't miss it. After that I will leave this town and you'll never see, hear, or even look for me again. That clear to you, ragazza?"

She quickly nodded her head in understanding, but had one final question. "I-I'm sorry to ask, but can I have your name?"

"It would be better for the both of us if you don't know."

The man, after finishing up his little meeting with that girl and getting a bit more sober, was starting to evaluate what just happened. A growing number of questions rose in his head. What if she was lying about being ignorant of Stands? Was she just luring him into a trap? Is she just another one of those psychos? Right now all of these thoughts seemed equally likely in the man's opinion, but he guessed he would take the chance. He thought she looked innocent enough, right? Right? Boy how he had learned how that could be wrong. Blame it on the alcohol maybe. Oh, how the good old drink can take away your sense of reason. Make you loosen your tongue and pour your heart out.

By now the man was on the very edge of the city, where almost no buildings could be found with the exception of a few rundown homes. Still lost in his mildly drunken thoughts, he almost walked into a stationary car next to the sidewalk. Correcting himself, he went around it and continued his trek.

"There it is," he said to a person who wasn't there after he spotted what he was looking for.

Continuing to walk, the now completely visible outline of a large structure was in the distance, contrasting against the distant lights of the city. As he got closer he could now see that familiar little factory. Clearly no longer in use, it had a faded paint job, windows either broken or tinted from age, and garbage strewn across its premise. On the front of it was a large and decaying sign that read "SPEEDWAGON FOUNDATION PHARMACEUTICALS".

"Well, here we are," the man said to his invisible friend as he lazily gestured to the entire structure, "casa dolce casa."

'Yeah, I can see how this suits me just fine,' he thought bitterly to himself, looking down out his smelly and ragged clothes.

Walking over to one of the few relatively still intact windows, he slid it up and climbed through, tripping a little but finding his footing and continued on his way. Once through and having the window shut behind them, the man grabbed what could be barely seen as a lantern next to the opposite side of the window, and with a flick of a switch a good portion of the equally deteriorated interior was now visible. It was barren of any equipment that was once there, now with only the darkened outlines to what were likely huge machines on cracked cement being one of the only clues to the factory's past. The man abruptly let out a long yawn, stretching out his arms as far as they could go as he heard the distinct, satisfying popping sounds being made in his joints.

"Okay, it's around here somewhere," he said, scanning the facility with his light. With the shine guiding the way to the far end of the factory, he could finally see a small room that lost its door long ago, with only the hinges remaining. As he entered, he could make out in the corner a beat up, raggedy mattress with a full backpack next to it. A squatter's sweet home.

Placing the lantern not far from the bedside, the man stretched out his body and threw it on top the mattress. "Honey, I'm home," he said with a small, dry chuckle.

Sitting down on the mattress and trying to get comfortable, he reached out and grabbed the handle of his backpack, pulling it forward as he yanked down one of its zippers. Pulling out a small paper card, he examined it for what must have been the thousandth time. He rested it against his forehead, hoping against all hope that it was a true lead instead of a false start or empty promise like so many others. It might be his last chance of freedom from this terrible ordeal. Noticing how tired he really was from both physical and drunken exhaustion, he put the card in his back pocket, turned off the lamp and fell asleep.

Officer Michaels was one of the several cops that showed up to The Purple Tavern, getting people's written accounts of what occurred only minutes ago. He sighed as he watched the ambulance drive away in the middle of the night with the bloodied perp/victim. From what he heard of the man that was attacked by the biker, the whole incident started when he asked his future assailant if he still had in his possession any of the 'good stuff'. It turned out that the biker was a well know heroin dealer in this neighborhood, and after the man (now definitely recognized as one of the biker's 'clients') kept pestering him about it when the thug was on his down time, something in the guy snapped and in the next minute the junkie had a face covered in shards of glass.

A situation like this was unsurprising. That is, if you didn't count what happened immediately after. Michaels, along with every other cop on the scene, couldn't help but feel a little bewildered and puzzled about the claim that the dealer's outburst was abruptly stopped by scraggly vagrant who by chance called the thug on his bluff about his gun being chambered with real bullets. But Michaels was quickly able to accept this story given how he was suffering from both sleep deprivation and a slowly growing level of apathy for his job because of unsatisfying pay. It might have also been because he had an open mind to weirdness. Hey, anything's possible in this crazy, crazy world, right? Not like strange occurrences are an impossible possibility.

As he watched some of his fellow officers try to disperse a small crowd of spectators surrounding the bar, he could have sworn that he caught a glimpse of a man with large yet unidentifiable tattoo on his face walk away from the crowd with a pleased grin. For some reason he felt a chill go up his spine, like some sort of danger was near. Unfortunately, he decided to ignore whatever it was that he just saw, passing it off as just a stranger who didn't have any part to play in anything that occurred tonight.

=To Be Continued=

Next Time: With Joanne trying to learn about how to properly wield her powers through the stranger's guidance, another more malicious individual has them in his sights.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Please make constructive criticism if you're going to review.