London, England, 1868. It was supposed to be a night celebrating the birth of their newborn baby, Jonathan Joestar. And it was, at first, quite the night. The adults partied, mingled and discussed the future amongst themselves whilst showing off their children, newborn or not. Jonathan was the cutest baby they had ever laid eyes on. George and Mary had wanted kids, about four, and Jonathan would be the first chapter in a long, beautiful line for the family. Once it was time to go home however, the skies didn't smile. They poured.
The horses carrying the family of three were speedy and determined to make it back home, a twenty minute carriage ride was ahead, but the family needed to make it home. Thunder and lightning forced tears out of the eyes of Jonathan, and so his mother pushed him into her breast, cradling him as she whispered calm praises to him. "Shh.. It'll be over soon, darling. Lightning is scary, but it can't find us. Stay strong for mommy and daddy, okay?" Mary's voice paired with her words were enough to calm down both her son and her husband. George sighed, his grip on the horse's neck lightening. That's when the turn appeared.
The sudden lack of force against the horses shocked them. George couldn't move them with the sharp turn at the edge of the road, so he lost control. The man let out a scream that had young Jonathan howling alongside his parents in milliseconds. The crash was horrific - George was thrown out the door of the carriage, his arm shattering against the ground yet luckily broke his fall. He passes out immediately. Jonathan wails against his mother's chest as the two are thrown around like they had been engulfed into a tornado, however Mary's grip only became stronger.
"J-Jonathan-!" She yelled, doing her very best to comfort her baby boy. Her efforts were halted when the carriage finally met the ground below. In reality, the crash was only four seconds. It felt like twenty minutes. Jonathan didn't stop crying, the rain didn't stop splashing, lightning and thunder lived on.. His mother's voice died. She was silent as an abandoned hospital. The horse's whining stopped too. The one other noise that didn't stop was the sound of the stone mask digging into the dirt, stained with blood.
A glass bottle of vodka is harshly placed onto a pub counter in London. A large, oval shaped man known as Dario Brando wipes the contents of the bottle with his messy suit sleeve, sighing in satisfaction. A woman watches him, sitting with her full attention on him. He pulls out a baggy filled with rings, jewelry and fake silver dollars. "Check dis one out, Marie, you know how much money this is alone?" He points a sausage finger into the bag.
After moments of squinting, the woman answers. "Um.. Much more than what I make in a year?"
"Good! It certainly is, do you know where I got this beautiful stash from?" She shakes her head, eyes still on Dario's possessions. "Well, I was out hustling! More specifically, I bought this off of a very legitimate business man by the name of er.. Uh.. Hirohiko."
"A Japanese man sold those to you? You must make quite a lot, sir!" He's shocked that works.
'Doll face here must be an even bigger bimbo than I thought!'
"Yeah, exactly! Here, for yer troubles. I can tell the world 'asn't treated you as ya should be treated." Fifty euros piles in Dario's fat hand. He hands her the cash, smiling with a little less than half of his teeth missing. More than impressed, Marie takes his arm, kissing his cheek.
She leans in close to his ear and whispers. "The rain should be dying soon.. Should we head home so we can discuss more.. Business?"
The horses rush through the slow rainfall, horseshoes dirty and muddy as they hurriedly pound their hooves against the ground. Dario allows the woman to sit on his lap so she can control his stallions - the stallions he rented and not actually owned. His pudgy hands fondle at covered breasts, her voice guttering out moans at the pure excitement of it all. Before the turn, the horses suddenly stopped and looked down at the wreck below. Dario stopped his touches, climbing out of the carriage to see what the matter was.
"They must just be shy, my dear, do not worry. They are not so used to other hands controlling them." He explained calmly, strutting over to the rented horses. Marie looked down from where Dario had exited, rain covering the older man and the leg of the lustrous woman. She couldn't step out - she would get her heels muddy for one, and secondly there was something cold nipping at her. Not temperature, but a feeling like a chill. "Come on, you pieces of shite, I got me a sexy lady to play with all night long and THIS is how you ruin everything?!"
Marie held herself, rubbing the goose bumps on her arms to calm them. "Dario, dear, I'm getting kinda freaked out.. can we go now?" Dario threw up a thumb in agreement, patting the left horse on its brown rump.
"Of course, just give me a- uh.. woah." His eyes flipped down, catching the broken carriage below. The first thought in the man's mind wasn't to help them or call for help. "Baby, you wouldn't believe this! Come out here!"
She leaned out, looking at the man who seemed hyper focused on the ground below. "But me shoes-"
"You might be able to buy six of em if you check this out!" That had her out of the carriage in no time, stepping around with a disgruntled moan about every two seconds.
"What is it?" Dario pointed down to the cliff below. It wasn't a long fall, maybe ten feet. The slope down even seemed rideable.
"A carriage is usually how the rich travel, we could be rich, do you see that?!" He shook the woman by her shoulders.
"I thought you already were wealthy..?"His eyes diverted from her confused gaze.
"Y-yes, but I need to add money to the pile. Gotta keep me business up, sweetie. Now, come on and help me dig out the treasure!" She hesitantly followed him as he slid himself as if he was on a snowboard down the muddy slope, dirtying his also rented fancy loafers. Marie let out an "Ew" every second she slowly slid down the slope.
Upon hitting the ground, Dario rubbed his hands together, approaching the carriage. Marie stood behind him, hiding behind his bulky shoulders. The crying of a baby startled the two to its presence. "Darling, look.." She points down to a gruesome sight, Mary has been impaled on a sharp, splintery piece of wood that once supported the roof of the carriage. Blood covered the floor around her, her body twitching and her mouth overflowing with red substance. Jonathan is safe, if not absolutely terrified.
Marie nearly barfs, grasping at her mouth to prevent herself from coming off as gross. Dario groans, shaking his head. "Poor, dumb kid. Boy's gonna grow up a complete loser."
"Where's his dad?" Marie looks around, however her question is mute when her eyes land on a particular object lying on the floor, scraping at mud. She begins approaching it.
"Perhaps he was born a bastard, like me. Little buggers gonna have to work his way to the top, like me." Marie hasn't heard him, picking up the stone mask jittering on the floor. It nearly digs into her hand, but is dropped upon the sound of a man gasping for air behind her.
"Agh! M-Mary..? You're here, yes? I need your help, m-my arm is broken, I think." His voice is quiet, but loud enough for the couple to hear. Dario approached him, kneeling down to his body. George stares at the man, eyes strained and adjusting to the grey sky. Vodka smells hit the fallen man's nostrils.
"Oi mate, your horses and carriage are totaled. Your arm is broken, yeh?"
"Where is my wife and Jonathan? Where are they..?" His voice croaks. Tears threaten his eyes, mixing with the irony rain drops from the heavens. The taste of blood stung his tongue. Dario and Marie stared at each other, unsure of how to deliver the news.
"Sorry, bloke, your wife didn't make it." Within seconds, George cried, sniffling hopelessly on the ground.
"No.. It should have been me. She's been through too much in life to have suffered like this. She birthed our baby only a month ago, you know." He choked out, staring into Dario as a way to distract him. He studied his eyebrows, broken teeth and greasy mustache, anything to not look at his dead family. "W-where is Jonathan? My baby boy, did he live?" The cries of the boy erupt as lightning strikes. Marie takes the baby from Mary's corpse, holding him in a way that he was buried in her stomach.
"He's right here, sir." She allowed him to see, and he immediately smiled. Jonathan didn't calm, wailing into her dress.
"Oh thank God. Thank you so much, you've truly saved my life. I owe you everything." Dario took another glance at his lover, surprised. A glint in his eye gave off his greed to the girl. Marie quietly took the stone mask off of Mary, slipping it behind her dress and into her panties. It wasn't the most dignified thing she had done, but who cares? She'd be rich enough to buy a million dresses and donate to hundreds of charities with this!
"Oh, uh it's nothing, really! We'll get you and your boy outta this ditch and into a hospital." Dario grabs George, hoisting him over his shoulder. George watches the carriage and finally sees his impaled wife. He understands how close his son was to death and sobs harder.
"If you need anything , take my address from my breast pocket. I.. I can't stay conscious much longer." Jonathan holds out a hand for his father to grab, his crying beginning to tire his little body out. George holds his hand out back, passing out on Dario's shoulder.
"Will do. Rest easy, mate."
Twelve Years Later
The son of Dario Brando awakens from slumber. Six in the morning. Dio Brando is his name. He stretches, yawning himself awake. Rain hits the only window in the room. Dio heads for the bathroom, washing up and showering, changing into new clothes - a tattered white shirt and beige pants. His shoes were brown and the soles were damaged so badly that he couldn't walk four steps with his socks touching the ground. Luckily, Dio kept a clean house with his father around.
He heads for the kitchen, the closest room to his father's. He pulls out eggs, bacon and toast, as well as a cup of water. Then he adds a dash of rat poison into the cup, light enough so it blended into the transparent liquid. He turned the stove on, bashing the eggs against the pan before placing the yolks into it. The bacon was put onto a separate burner. The sizzling makes him think.
"You bitch, because of you we'll never be rich!"
"Dio, where were you? Your mother needs help taking off her cast and I got work due in two days. I gotta get going, ya bastard!"
"Dio, you fuck.. You think you're better than me just because you ain't suckling on a bottle like me, dontcha? You bastard. I hate you as much as I hate your whore mother."
"Dio.. your mother is dead. I need your help burying her. If anyone asks, she died of natural causes."
"My boy, this- ugh! This cough is getting worse.. what's 'appenin to me?
'I hope you choke on these eggs too, fucker.' Dio thinks to himself, shaking himself back to reality.
"Dio, where the 'ell are you?! I'm starving- agh! Get the food to me immediately! I need to talk to you, you slow bastard!" Dio clenches his fist around the wooden spatula in his hands, flipping the eggs rougher than he should.
"In a few minutes, father." He called back. Once finishing the process, listening to his dad spurt out insults and cough like mad, he brings their plates and his cup of water into the bedroom.
"There you A- AGH!" Dio wants to smile. He wants to laugh, actually. He keeps it in.
"Are you alright? I can get the paper for you while you eat."
"..G-good idea. Give it." Dario is much different now. His blonde hair is now grey, his teeth are all fake now. He wears his blue and white striped PJ's pretty much all day now. He is sponge bathed by his son often, but not daily.
Dio walks away, grabbing the paper that's just outside of their home. The front cover displays a black and white, blurry photo of the president and his wife with the King and Queen of England. Dio envies them, bringing the paper inside. Luckily, it was out of the cold rain's range. Upon returning, Dio pulls up a chair, sitting down next to Dario with his plate of breakfast on his lap. "Shall I read to you while you eat, father?"
"Go on. I'd read myself but this sickness is making my eyes water so often that I can't focus." Dario explains, taking a bite of the bacon on his plate first.
"No problem." He clears his throat. "It's July 6th, 1880. It will rain in London all night, however other territories such as Liverpool and Wallasey are set to be sunny. In political developments, president Funny Valentine and first lady Scarlet Valentine of the US paid the UK a visit for a feast with the King and Queen. The economy is falling slowly, criminal activity is suspected to be going on throughout London regarding gambling and theft, so please watch out. Speaking of which, thirteen year old Lucas Evens was reported missing last night after he was kicked out of class. If you have any information regarding his whereabouts, contact an officer immediately. Have a great day."
Dio notices that Dario has left his water untouched. "Father, you must hydrate."
"I will, if you get me some bourbon instead of this cheap well water, you stupid- ought! Ack!" A coughing fit takes over the elderly man. Dio watches, taking pleasure but not showing it. He finishes his breakfast.
"Water is better for you. Can't you see I just want you to get through this alive?"
"I.. fine.." Without another protest, Dario drinks up the entire glass. Dio takes the cup and dishes, bringing them to the kitchen to wash. Once done washing, he grabs his bags for school and brushes his teeth, much sturdier bones than his old man's. "Come back before eight. I need to bathe and be fed. You left me high and dry last time."
"Of course. There are leftovers in the cupboards. Good day, father." The door shuts, leaving Dario completely alone for the rest of the day. He pulls out the address from Mr. Joestar all those years ago and reads it. He sighs to himself, then heads back to bed.
Dio walks into the debate club later that evening, walking past a teacher who just congratulates him on his A+ for the test he took last week. He mouths a thank you as he takes a seat, eyes of other kids settled on him. He scoffs at them and focuses on the topic at hand. "I'm sure you all read the paper today?" The students nod. "Good. Our topic today: Would you rather have one man rule the world, or several men ruling different parts of the world as we have now? Start writing and explain your answers when you're done."
The kids talk rapidly, everyone but Dio discussing why one man would ruin everything, why one lawful man could be great for the country, etc. Dio focuses on writing his argument, and once the teacher calls for pens and papers down, he's already finished. "Veronica, how about you go first?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Robinson. I believe that having one person rule the world would be detrimental to society. Imagine if one manipulative, evil person was to become leader of the world, no one to stop them, that could spell disaster for the world."
"And what if it doesn't?" The class states at the one who asks this: Dio. "What if one man ruling the world only does good for it? There would be no wars, only revolution. If the people hated this man so much, they could turn on him. Of course, the military would be on this man's side. You'd be stuck with him until he dies, but if a lawful man he is, you'll never want to let him go. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are like this, and yet none of you seem to think this is a good idea. Even our King and Queen have been from the same family for years, so why?" The room falls silent for a few moments, the kids and teacher looking towards each other. "And, if this man was to become ruler of the world.. I'd want it to be me." Now came a flurry of laughter. "What's so funny?" He questioned, his expression both hurt and confused.
"Y-you seriously think you could become ruler of the world? A poor, disgusting boy like you could never! The only reason you probably want to be in charge is so you can legalize murdering your own mother!" That girl from earlier chuckled out, the other kids and even the teacher laughing with her. Mrs. Robinson tried to calm down.
"C-calm down, kids, this isn't nice!" And yet, she laughs. Just like them.
"I.. I didn't kill her. Why does everyone think that? It wasn't me!" He wants to fall and cry, but instead he slams his hands down on the table and glares at the group.
"Whatever you say!" More laughter erupts from the crowd. Dio leaves the room.
"Divorce?! You want a divorce? Why!?"
"You're no good. I was stupid to marry you just for your fake silver dollar. You're ugly on the inside, just.. I hate you!"
"Mummy, father, please!"
"Go to your room, sweetie. I'll come get you soon." A soft kiss is placed on eight year old Dio's forehead. He hesitantly waddles off to his room, slamming the door behind him.
"I won't allow it. I need the money, you need to work those streets, bitch!"
"I never wanted to be a hooker to get rich!"
"Then we'll never be rich at all!"
"Fine! I'm taking my baby boy out of here- agh!" The next few minutes were the sounds of gagging and what seemed like choking. Dio hid under the blankets and waited for his mummy. Dario was the only one who came to get Dio. They buried the body together. Dio never forgets.
A school bell sounds loudly. Now in Liverpool, England, Jonathan Joestar is twelve years old and finds his loyal black and white dog sitting outside the school. He smiles, grabbing his leash. "Ready to go, boy?" Danny yips back happily, following Jonathan closely. The dog is big, a hound dog/dalmatian mix. He hands Danny a treat from his pocket. "Sorry if it's cold, buddy." He jokes, heading over a hill to check out the beautiful, sunny fields.
Upon coming up the green grass, the pair hear the yelp of a female. Unsure of who it is or what's going on, Jonathan crouches down next to Danny, stealthily following the scream. Danny copies his master in his sneakiness. Just past a few bushes are two boys, one very round and short named Lyle, and the other lanky and tall named James. Between them is a weeping girl. Her name is Erina Pendleton. Jonathan watches carefully to try and see what's happening.
"Erina the crybaby, Erina the crybaby!~" The two loud boys sing, running around her as they toss her dollie between each other. The girl is unable to keep up, her efforts to catch the doll that looks somewhat like her in vain.
"J-just give her back! She's my only friend, why do you even care that I'm a crybaby?"
"'Cause it's funny! Duh." Lyle replied, snickering as he tossed the doll a bit too far, right in front of Jonathan. He stood up from the bushes and grabbed the doll, shoving his bare knuckles into the nose of James, who was running to grab it. The skinny boy stumbled back a bit.
"Quit bullying that girl! She didn't do a thing to you!" Danny quickly ran up behind the blue haired kid. James wiped blood from his nose with his sleeve, looking down on Jonathan. Lyle stood in shock, Erina simply catching her breath.
"You.. You punched me, you shit stain! I'm gonna destroy you!" James made a mad dash for Jonathan, fist flying right into his face. He missed, a gentle sway of his head was enough to dodge the skinny lad. He countered with a flurry of punches to James's abdomen. They stunned the boy, but Lyle was behind Jonathan in seconds, pulling his arms back in the full nelson position. James recovered from the assault and proceeded to bash the boy's ribs with his fists.
Jonathan grunted and groaned with every hit, his glare on James only pissing the boys off more. "You got a crush on the cry baby, buddy? We can kick both of ye in the teeth if you'd like!" Lyle taunted, his hot breath hitting Jonathan's ear in a way that only made him squirm harder. That's when Danny attacked, growling before taking a bite out of Lyle's arm. He drags the chubby boy away from Jonathan, however he still gets punched in the face by James. After a few kicks to the stomach, James grabs Lyle. "A-ah! F-fackin' dog! You're a bunch of pussies!" Lyle and James distance themselves from Danny, who is currently demanding them with his growls to piss off.
Jonathan pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, the name Joestar soed into it. He wipes the blood from his cut lip, whimpering. Tears do not fall, but he wants to cry. "Oi!" James calls out, pointing at the napkin. "That's the Joestar family name! That kid's a Joestar!" Lyle is disgusted.
"Now I definitely don't feel bad about kicking his ass. Have fun in life, rich boy!" Lyle grabs his friends hand and sprints away, slightly afraid that the Joestar kid would snitch. Jonathan continues to wipe his face. A concerned Erina slowly walks towards him, hugging her dolly close to her heart.
"T-thank you so much.." She mumbles, unable to look him in his bloodied face. Jonathan is unsure of how to react, but takes one look at his handkerchief and knows he can't bring it home. He tosses it to the ground, thinking of something to say.
"Don't thank me. I didn't do this for you. I did it because it's what a gentleman does for a lady." After organizing himself once again, the faint sounds of hooves clopping against the grass are found by his ears. He mouths a quiet "Crap.", stares at Erina for a few more seconds, then runs away. Erina picks up the bloodied handkerchief on the floor and sees his full name.
"Jonathan Joestar.. He's my age too." The wind purrs. The carriage is approaching her, so she quickly shoves the used thing in her dress pocket, regaining her composure and drying her eyes to look safe and organized. When the carriage and it's driver finally appear, an older, blonde haired man with a grey mustache and a fair complexion struts out of it.
"Erina, are you ready to head back home? I have to go to work, so you can't leave the house."
"Hm..? Oh, no thank you. I was actually wondering if we could go to your hospital together? I.. I'd like to help some of the patients today." She steps forward. Mr. Pendleton smiles at his daughter's innocence.
"Oh yeah? But of course, hun. Come on."
Night time settles in London. Dio walls down a sidewalk alone, the streets mostly empty aside from the occasional worker going home from work or the occasional homeless drunk. He frowns upon all of them, and yet he stumbles into work: an old, foul pub.
The pub isn't full tonight, just a few Scottish immigrant's slugging back beers, the usual bartender slumped over the counter. Behind him is a menu for drinks and food, all very underpriced. Dio walks towards the man. "I'll have steak and milk. No ice." Behind him, Dio hears his coworkers shuffle into their usual spot. The steak smells of rubber when it's brought out only a minute later. Dio isn't picky. He takes his dinner to the table and settles down. The faces surrounding him are much older, thirties and late twenties with killer beards and a poker face stronger than any child's. Dio believes himself to be a good liar.
"Oi, it's the kid again? Wha happened, your daddy can't get off of his arse to support ya?" One of them questioned, bringing laughter to the table.
"He's dying. Shut up and play." The news doesn't sadden a soul. Dio shuffles the cards given to him by one of the older fellows.
"You ain't supposed to talk to adults like that, mate. But I'll let it slide if you win."
"Whatever. Let's just get this over with." Dio deals the cards, €100 in his pot. All the money he has left. He breathes, stroking his ear absentmindedly as the game begins.
Dinner at the Joestar Residence is mostly filled with brief conversation and the chainsaw noises coming from Jonathan's mouth as he devours the porkchop on his plate. George watches, shaking his head with a "Tsk, tsk." As he eats like a true gentleman. "JoJo, not like a slob. Eat as if you're on a date with the most wonderful woman in the world."
Jonathan stops chewing, throwing a piece of broccoli under the table for Danny. "The most beautiful woman? Like.. mom?" George's cheeks flush red.
"Y-yes. Your mother certainly was beautiful." He smiles, looking back toward the wall where the stone mask was mounted. "Though I have to admit, that thing she carried around on that night wasn't nearly as pretty." He chuckles. Jonathan analyzes the mask as he had done so many other meals, making sure he didn't miss a detail.
"I want to wear it after dinner." George stopped eating, signing against his fork.
"I.. Forbid that, JoJo. You know that. I'll get you some sorbet instead for dessert. We don't mess with Mary's mask."
"Right.. It would upset her soul." He's disappointed, but understands.
"Indeed. I may move it to the library soon, but for now, I like it just where it is: home. Not disturbed, not harmed, not out somewhere.. Home." George gazes at the mask for so long that when Jonathan speaks up, it startles him.
"I wish I had met mother for more than my first year."
"Me too, bud. Me too."
Dio hears his illegal 'friends' laugh at his misfortune for the third time that night. He's lost all of it. His money's gone. "One more game. I can win, I'll bet whatever I have left!" He opens his wallet, checking for money. He finds more, but this is for his college fund. The cash was dirty and weary, showing its age. Next to the cash was a black and white picture of his beautiful mother. When he looked up, he noticed the three men were standing now, staring down at him with shit eating grins on their faces. There was nothing Dio wanted to do more than to stab them in the stomachs and watch them bleed to death. For now, he clenched his fist against his top and pocketed his wallet.
"You're done, kid. You can't come back here, you can't offer us anymore cash, and daddy dearest is finally croaking. You're trash."
"You're a bastard, but you don't even know it yet!"
"Aww, you gonna cry? What scum!"
"I bet you really did kill your mom. Maybe after you touched her or something-" Dio tackled the man who dared utter that obscene rumor. He grabbed his skull, forcing his fingers into the surprised eyeballs of the man below him. Blood and pus covered his hands as the man's eyes popped against his fingertips. "EUUUUGHHHHH!" The scream he let out could be heard even from outside. It caused Dio great pleasure.
"Fuck you." Was all he could get in before the two other men grabbed Dio. One of them held him like a bear, squeezing his stomach as another punched his ribs out, eventually hitting a sweet spot that made Dio vomit. The bile erupted onto his pants and shoes, eyes becoming blurry.
"This little.. Get him outta here! We gotta go!" Dio felt the man holding him preparing to throw him but couldn't do anything about it. His body was tossed into the streets, clothes muddied as he rolled into the sidewalk. He coughed and wheezed, wiping his clothes of the dirt and grime to no avail. Finally, the door slammed on him and he was able to regain his breath. Nothing broken, but he was in serious pain, not to mention his puke and mud covered clothes and skin. The rain makes the mud even worse, and his hair becomes wet and dirty. He wants to cry, but Dio is not weak. He checks his pocket. His wallet is gone. His mother is gone too. Everyone is. Father is next.
Dio opens the door to his home ten minutes later, still absolutely disgusting. The first words he hears screamed at him are his name. He groans, tuning his father out as he washed his hands and grabbed his PJ's. He throws out his clothes from the night and takes a hot shower. Dario calls for him the entire time, followed by the worst coughs thus far. He smiles, realizing that not only did he dirty his house by stepping in with his muddied shoes, but also because Dario was close to death. It had been an excruciating year for the old man. Dio took solace in that.
When the shower stopped and Dio was fresh and clean, he bandaged up his wounds before heading for Dario's room. "Yes, father? Did you eat?"
"N-no. It doesn't- augh! It doesn't matter. Come here, son." Dio approaches his father, bare feet flapping suspensefully against wooden flooring. A smile so desperately wants to express itself despite the pain in Dio's stomach.
"Father..?" He pretends to be concerned, frowning. Dario reaches out for his son's hand, placing a piece of paper into Dio's palm. It's an address. "W-what does this mean?" Fake tears draw over his eyes. Dario coughs into his elbow before answering, letting out desperate groans to speak.
"T-this is it, boy.. I'm dead. I'll die within a few hours, in my sleep. You'll have to call the goddamn coroner," his voice strains and he wheezes more, coughing up blood into his shirt. "You'll be at your dad's funeral at this age.. how shit."
"Oh.. I'm scared, dad.. what would a life without you be like..?"
"A worse one. Now, when the police come to take you, I need you to give this address to 'em.. They'll get the people who live here and you'll meet your godparent. His name is George Joestar." Another coughing fit later and Dio is already walking away.
"Thank you, father. That'll be all. Goodnight."
His corpse lays in bed the next morning. Dio does as instructed with a smirk and the best acting he's ever done.
At the funeral, only Dio stands before his grave. George Joestar arrives soon after his body is lowered into the ground. He gives a hand to Dio's shoulder, shaking his head at the grave. "He saved my life once."
"Oh." Dio's more interested in the rain than his godfathers dribble.
"Mm.. He was a good man who made bad decisions. I'm sorry for your loss." Dio twitched.
"I need to be alone."
George brought his hand away from him, nodding. "Of course. The carriage is ready whenever you are." With that, he leaves the boy alone, heading for the vehicle set up for them.
"I don't understand why you would do something so selfless. You must have ulterior motives. These Joestars are a wealthy bunch, so I can only assume that you understand me. Shocking, considering how little you cared and how stupid you were. Fine then. I'll rise to the top like you want. Like I want. I'll become ruler of the world." Saliva hurls from his lips, splashing against the grave. He turns his head and begins his new life.