"Ora?"

"Yeah, a radio this time. I can't miss this week's Speedwagon Podcast!" A 17-year-old Jotaro Kujo said to the spirit in urgency. The other night he got into a fight, as usual, but this time it was against several armed men, and somehow Jotaro was able to take them down unscathed. The only logical conclusion must be that an evil spirit possessed him, and he knew that he couldn't bring that home. Yes, his mother may be a bitch in his eyes, but she was HIS bitchy mother, and thus he had to protect her from whatever possessed him that day. The police tried to make him leave but no matter how hard they tried, the cell door stayed shut, as if something was holding the bars.

"Get me a drink too. I'm thirsty."

'Sorry, what was that? I don't think I heard you right...'

"Ugh, fine. Will you pretty please with my fist jammed into your nose on top, get me a damn drink?"

The can of beer came quickly. Before Jotaro could open it, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

It was his mother, Holly Kujo, and a police officer. Jotaro jabbed a pen in the bottom of the can and drank what came out. 'Was that really necessary?'

'Yes, it was necessary. It looks cool. Shut up.'

While trying to convince his mother he was too dangerous to be let out, an idea popped into his head.

'You're crazy! I've only existed for a few days'!

'I know this is stupid, but it's the only way I can think of that'll prove it to them...and to me. For all I know you're either a muscular boxing ghost or just a voice in my head. Now get his gun.'

A muscular phantom arm shot out of Jotaro's own arm, reaching through the bars and snatching the police officer's gun out of its holster. It was brought to Jotaro's hand, and the delinquent wasted no time in putting it to his head.

"I can tell. You guys didn't see it. Maybe this will change your minds."

He pulled down the hammer, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Jotaro's mother and several of the men in adjacent cells quailed in surprise and fear, but Jotaro's eyes were focused on the still smoking bullet nestled between two fingers next to his head.

'I know this looks cool and all, but I almost fucking missed it.'

'Just be glad you didn't.'

"My father also has a phantom spirit, but my own son...!" Holly exclaimed. She just wanted her little boy home!

Atlantic Ocean, off Africa, Canary Islands, 4 years ago

A small fishing boat had just discovered something large and heavy. Thinking it to be the legend, the men brought it out of the sea, and weren't disappointed. A large, gleaming coffin encrusted in gold and nicely decorated was fished up. "Finally, we found it! The chest that's been at the bottom of the sea for the last 100 years!"

"Ain't it a little long to be a chest...?"

"Whatever, let's open it up!"

"Wait, something's not right here! This doesn't look like a chest, and it looks like there's a name on it."

"Who cares? Let's just open it!"

Inside of the coffin, a huge, muscular man with blonde hair lay, his sharp fangs anxious to taste some much-needed blood. 100 years in the ocean left its mark, and he could finally feel what was left of his sanity scream for joy.

'They'll make fine morsels for a start. Wouldn't you agree…DIO?'

DIO smiled. The voice in his head made a compelling argument, and so did the throbbing pain of the scar on his neck.

Present Day

Joseph and another man came in not too long after Holly. "Papa! So glad you're here," Holly said, looking towards her self-imprisoned son. Jotaro's cell was covered wall-to-wall in items he had stolen from around the building; radios, mugs, a coffee machine, an RC car, even a goddamn elliptical machine!

"He's done it again. He's increasingly violent and has been taking more and more stuff from the jail," an officer told Joseph.

"No need to worry," Joseph replied. "I'll get my grandson out of there."

Grandson?

"Jotaro, it's your grandpa. He'll help you! Just please, come out!" Holly begged. No response.

Joseph walked right up to the cell and Jotaro did as well.

'Should I punch him? Ooh, maybe I can kick him in the shin! He's an old geezer, maybe it'll be more fun to slug him in the stomach and watch him keel over.'

'I wish, but that's not an option right now. Mom wouldn't be to happy if we punched her dad in the sternum…wait a minute. I got it!'

"So, you wanna help me? I'm sorry you had to come all the way over here from New York, but you can't help me." Jotaro held up a metal-looking, round object. What the hell was Jotaro doing with a dildo?

Joseph looked down and notice that the pinky finger from his prosthetic hand was gone! Ripped off, and he didn't even notice. Even worse, he thought it was a sex toy. 'Are my fingers that big?'

'Tomoko didn't seem to mind! Ha-ha!'

'Shut the hell up, Hermit. Don't make me laugh in front of my grandson, this is serious!'

'The only thing I find concerning is how you used me on Suzie. That was sick, man.'

'I might not like the Japanese, but their more mature…artwork is certainly something to be admired. Great, now I feel like a piece of shit.'

'As you should.'

'I hope you get clipped.'

"See, old man? It's an evil spirit, and you didn't even notice it. It's useless to argue," Jotaro said.

That sounded disconcerting. Hermit gasped and when Joseph asked what happened, Hermit didn't reply. What the hell could have gotten such a reaction? Whatever; no rest for the weary.

Joseph snapped his fingers. "Abdul, your turn. Show him exactly what he's dealing with."

From the shadows, a tall, dark-skinned man approached. "This is Abdul, an Egyptian I met years ago. Abdul, if you please, persuade my grandson to get his big ass out of that cell."

"You think I'm gonna let an ugly guy like him order me around? You've just pissed me off more, old man."

'You're not too good-looking yourself.'

'At least I'm not purple.'

'Racist.'

Abdul did a strange post with his hands, and with a grin something red shot out of Abdul's chest like a red rocket. It was like a man, huge and muscular, but had the head of a chicken and was covered in flames.

"Shyeeeeeeeeeeeet, are we finna throw hands with this rugrat? Oh hell nah!"

"This is my 'evil spirit', as you call them. The name of my stereotypical-young-black-man-in-the-projects sounding spirit is...Magician's Red!"