Hey everyone! Sorry about the schedule slip, but life made a booty call and I was hung up for a bit. Things are alright now, so hopefully there won't be anymore long waits

Oh yeah, and we're getting new Helluva Boss content today, too. Funny how that works out.

Enjoy the chapter!


Chapter 2: Truant

The air atop the massive mountain was cold, the icy sheets of tearing wind well below -40C, but to the figures standing atop the peak, it was little more than a brisk breeze. Lisa-Lisa and George Jr. gallivanted up the slope, hands entwined, their Hamon surging between them like a shared current.

"Daaad~!" Lisa-Lisa grumbled upon seeing him. "Not fair!"

"Do you have to call him 'dad'?" George Jr. muttered. "Makes our whole thing kind of awkward…"

"Excellent form, you two!" Baron Zeppeli said, smiling. "Your Hamon-duet technique served you well! You made excellent time!"

"Don't patronize us, Uncle Willy." Lisa-Lisa growled, the air somehow getting colder.

Jonathan turned around. "Enough."

The entire group froze at the authoritative bark in Jonathan's voice.

"Dad?" George Jr. ventured. "What's wrong?"

"It's Joseph." Jonathan turned his gaze back to the jungle, his sharp eyes parsing the clouds and whorls of snow, he could see his grandson and Caesar spar as they each made for the peak. "Was he always so… impetuous?"

"Hrm." Baron Zeppeli grunted, nodding. "Indeed. He does not act his age. He's…"

"A bit of brat," Junior mumbled, flinching at the acid glare his wife shot his way. "What? He's a good man and I'm proud of him, but It's true!"

"Ach!" Lisa-Lisa spat, slipping a cigarette between her full, luscious lips and lighting it with a crackle of Hamon. "You beautiful, stupid boys!"

They all turned to her at this repudiation, awaiting an explanation. Lisa-Lisa dragged on her cigarette deeply, burning a third of it in a single, graceful inhale. She turned to them and spoke, smoke issuing from her lips and nose as she did. "Look at you! Each of you, casting judgment when you all died young!"

"I–" Baron Zeppeli began.

"In your prime!" She cut in. "You were all healthy and vibrant when you shuffled off the mortal coil. Him? He lived. He carried on. He got old. You can't possibly know what that's like, to see yourself fade and degrade, to feel it. Feel your bones weaken, your muscles fail, your joints ache. It holds its own humble glory, to feel overburdened by a life well lived, but there are times when you wish harder than you ever have in your life for just one day in your prime. That is where Joseph is right now. That is what he's feeling, like a wish came true. After a slow, painful decline, is he not entitled to a little exuberance at his restored youth?"

The mountain-top was silent for a moment, save for the roar of the wind.

"-IIIIIIII!" Came a triumphant bellow. "WIIIIIIIN!"

Joseph Joestar crested the peak on a pillar of glowing purple vines, setting down atop a snowdrift with a crackle of Hamon, standing atop a single blade of hoarfrost, a snarling Caesar just moments on his heels.

"HA!" Joseph bellowed, sticking a middle finger in his rival's face. "You lose, Loserino! I drink Kronenberg Blanc, chilled! Buy a keg!"

All eyes turned to Lisa-Lisa, who rolled her eyes and flicked away the cigarette butt, which vaporized before it hit the ground. "Well, maybe he's indulging in it a touch more than others."

"Victory dance! Victory dance! Winner gets a victory dance~!" Joseph sang, cutting a jig and snapping his fingers, jeering. "Loser buys the beers~! Loser buys the–ACK!"

A hand the size of a hubcap set down upon his shoulder and squeezed, halting his capering. He looked up to see the flat, unimpressed face of St. Jonathan. "Uh…"

"A true gentleman does not gloat, Joseph."

"D-dying…" Joseph croaked as the huge fingers dug in.

"Oh!" St. Jonathan released his grandson. "Apologies!"

Caesar growled something unthinkably foul in Italian, setting after Joseph before being adroitly intercepted by Baron Zeppeli and led away.

"Oww…" Joseph grumbled, rubbing his shoulder, rolling it out. "Gramps needs to lay off the forearm exercises, ow…"

"A Saint's touch is painful to the unvirtuous…" George muttered, a facetious smirk on his face.

"What?"

"Junior!" Lisa-Lisa hissed.

Joseph opened his mouth to question when a thundercrack split the air. All eyes turned to St. Jonathan as he stood with his back to them, facing the open sky looking over Malkuth, his middle finger and thumb still trailing vapor and ozone from a simple finger snap. "Attention! Agent of Heaven inbound!"

They all turned to face where the Saint was looking, all standing at attention, save for Joseph, who boggled about. The air before them crackled before splitting into an incandescent portal exuding light and a choir refrain. Out of the light fluttered a Cherub, a female Putto to be exact.

The Cherub, dark-haired and rosy cheeked, bowed differentially before the Saint before extending her arms outward as though to embrace them. "Honored Saint, Cherished Saved. My name is Elizabeth. I am here on behalf of the Emanation Gevurah and Her loyal representative Iustitia to request the presence of one Joseph Joestar. While I apologize on their behalf for this intrusion upon a treasured family outing, I have also been instructed to inform you all that this request is… urgent."

All eyes turned to Joseph, who smirked and shrugged. "Now, when you say 'urgent'...?"


Netzah , The Emanation of Endurance, The First Realm of Heaven.

The immense city reached out into the endless horizon, kilometer-high skyscrapers of shining celestial marble were connected by clear crystal roads above the abyssal blackness from which the city appeared to grow like wheat. The sky above was at once the color of sunrise and sunset, a medley of pink, orange, purple, and gold set in the soft glow of the partially eclipsed sun. In the sky hung countless enormous floating discs, on them were pleasantly appointed estates lined up in rows, the greenery as carefully curated as the humble, elegant houses. Crystal roads extended straight up from the vast highways interconnecting the skyscrapers, bridging the floating habitats to the city below.

On one such road was a vehicle, it was fairly unassuming, a stark white Kia EV6 with brightly polished rims and chromed bumpers, a bumper sticker of a noble lion within a rainbow heart slapped on the back. The vehicle effortlessly shifted its gravity to adhere to the immaculate transparent roads and ascended to one of the floating islands. The occupant hummed to herself, hooves tapping on the steering wheel to the tune of an upbeat, reverent hymn. The road led into the underside of the platform, stores, shops, and cafes lining the street as plain, humble apartment buildings doubled as structural pillars throughout the immense structure. She sped on by as fast as was permitted, eager to get out of the drab interior of the habitat platform. The road led into a tunnel, curving gently 'downward', the gravity shifting with it until she was only on a slight upwards hill. The tunnel opened into the beautiful pastel sky of Netzah, now atop the habitat, surrounded by green grass, flower beds, and meticulously trimmed hedges.

"Finally," Dearie muttered aloud as she pulled up to a particularly large estate. "Out of the slums."

The gate opened and she rolled on in, glancing out at the Saved as they milled about, tending to the estate. Work in Heaven, while paid, was practically leisure, as concepts such as fatigue and pain were long forgotten, the satisfaction of the labor as much its own reward as it was gainful employment. All who worked in such positions did so because, in life, they adored working with greenery and landscaping, and could now apply their skill for eternity. So it was for all other fields of employment in the Celestial Realm.

The Kia rolled to a stop just outside the main building. She stepped out and straightened out her dress, pressing the 'autopark' button on her fob, the vehicle trundling off to find a parking space. Her wings flapped and she smoothly glided up the polished granite stairs. She was immediately approached by Lionheart's communication administrator, Tristao Masvidal, in his hands a gold-trimmed white tablet and a hot latte.

"Ms. Deerie!" He said, handing her the tablet and steaming drink. "Here's today's schedule and all the name lists and profiles in order of relevance."

"Thank you, Señor Masvidal," said Deerie, levitating the tablet out of his hand as she sipped her latte; it was sweet and a little cool, just how she liked it. "Gracias. Muy bein."

The cervine Cherub flew away down the hall, missing the somewhat dirty look Masvidal shot her back.

The ornately carved wooden doors swung open as Deerie flapped into the committee room, sipping her latte and not looking up from the tablet as she flicked through the files. Seated around the long, oblong table were her fellow members of Lionheart. Beau, a short, woolen ram-Cherub, looked up from whatever he was reading, his wool shifting as his obscured eyebrows raised.

"Look alive, everyone," he announced, his voice a much deeper timbre than his short, rotund demeanor would suggest. "We're back on the clock."

Rachel, a tallish ewe-Cherub, snorted. "Hit traffic, Deerie?"

Deerie irked almost imperceptibly, for there was no traffic in Heaven. "Oh, no~ Just some pressing matter."

"I'll bet," said Rachel, smirking. "Very pressing. And pushing. And pinching, too."

"Eeeheeheehee!" Tittered a small bee-like Cherub named Bea. "Blonde, brunette, or redhead? Oh! Lemme guess… that dishy dirty-blonde Saved at the coffee shop!"

"Oh, please!" Deerie scoffed, brandishing the coffee. "Dear Señor Masvidal got this for me… and it was the redhead at the café."

The two giggled as the fifth committee member, a lanky Bee named Honey, leaned towards Beau. "Isn't Tristano Brazilian?"

"Yes," replied Beau, a serene smile on his face. "He is. Now, if we can get underway…?"

"Yes, let's." Deerie fluttered over to her chair and sat down, taking a final sip from her latte before clearing her throat. "Okay! Now that we're all here, let's get down to business. Rachel, progress on our current funding drive?"

"Good," said Rachel, examining her tablet. "Projections predict that we'll reach our goals for the C.H.E.R.U.B., P.U.T.T.O. and V.I.R.T.U.E. organizations by the month's end. We're still going over the data, but our people tell us that all three organizations have reported a 10-15% drop in casework since the last quarter."

Honey cleared her throat and spoke. "Too early to tell if it's a fluke or not, but it would seem that our fundraisers and awareness campaigns have sent a lot of attention towards combating misfortune and consequent sin in the Mortal Plane."

"I'll get some spin people on it," grunted Beau, tapping at his tablet. "Shake up some more solid numbers and correlate that with what we're doing up here, which should reflect well on our fundraisers and polls. On that subject, Bea, if you would?"

"Here you all go!" Bea chirped, sending them the data. "As you can see, positive opinion among the Saved has gone up 20% since the last poll! Mind that we've also increased the study pool, as to better reflect public opinion. #Lionheart and #StopSinAtTheSource are trending on Flutter, #16 and #21 respectively."

Deerie hummed approvingly as Rachel clicked her tongue, grousing: "Still at 41% with Cherubs, lower outside of Netzah."

"Puritans," Bea scoffed. "You know them! They don't trust any Cherub that isn't in a Trio. Lookin' down on us Odds'n'Ends!"

"We need to drum up some extra publicity," opined Honey. "Something to really get the message out there!"

Deerie looked down at the chart and scowled; Cherubs came in threes, it was a function of their nature. Something something personality balances something something cooperative existence. Three Cherubs of differing nature were, supposedly, drawn to one another, their differences filling in one another's shortcomings to create a more efficient whole, a scaled-down Trinity. It was a relationship beyond what Mortals were accustomed to, a deeper, more spiritual connection.

Supposedly.

Deerie, and the rest of Lionheart for that matter, just never… clicked with anyone. It simply never happened. They surely didn't click with one another, but instead found camaraderie in ideals, a shared goal: to see Heaven free of corruption, of impiety, of sin. Not that God was complicit in such, gracious no! The Father was simply… too loving. Too forgiving of his so easily waylaid children, the Mortals. Too accepting of their faults and foibles that, as clear as the day was long in Netzah, where the sun never set, were beginning to affect the Celestial plane, and not for the better. Sin followed them, lingering on them, stuck to them like a bad smell. Minor infractions were acceptable so long as the Soul was sufficiently pious and compensated for them with good deeds and devotion to God's Will, but other Souls…

She thumbed through the list on her tablet, clicking her tongue: so many had slipped through the cracks.

Sometimes it seemed to her that Mortals thought that a simple sacrifice or great pious deed could make up for a lifetime of sin, of debauchery, of murder and violence. Egregious sins were being forgiven in favor of showy, extravagant displays of virtue, allowing the saved Sinners to galavant about in Heaven, sowing misfortune and strife in their wake.

She bit her lip as she landed upon a particular 'Saved'. His resume was impressive, no fewer than two distinct world-saving events under his belt, a lifetime of philanthropy and cooperation with the Speedwagon Organization (Robert being another example of 's slip-ups) and a general good-naturedness.

But he was unfaithful to his wife.

He sired a bastard.

He was a truant father.

Such sins were heavy, crushing, even. And he was the grandson of a Saint no less! That St. Jonathan's righteous, fabulously muscular loins had produced such a sour stock ate at her.

…However…

His profile picture was… appealing. And he seemed to have inherited more than just a birthmark from his grandfather. Hm. This would require 'investigation'.

"I think I have a candidate for our next publicity stunt." Deerie smirked, sending the profile. "Something big and gaudy. I'll have to do some probing first, though."

Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes as Beau shook his head, smirking.

"Ugh!" Bea exclaimed. "Lucky~"

"A-are you sure?" Honey said, uncertain. "Him? But what about–?"

Deerie snapped her hooves and waved her off. "Our case is solid and, given the precedent we've set so far, no one could stonewall us without risking an accusation of favoritism. No, I'll give the suspect a once-or-twice-over and get back to you all. If he fails the test, Lionheart has its sacrificial lion in Joseph Joestar."


Gevurah, The Emanation of Judgment, The Seventh Realm of Heaven

The massive chariot streaked through the sky. It was large, some fifteen meters long by eight tall and five wide, with multiple decks and lines of windows along its polished platinum hull. It was hauled by an octet of giant, glowing horses, their manes, tails, and hooves all glowing with the same silver-white flame, leaving whirling trails of smoke and lightning in their path. It streaked over the endless, sterile desert of Gevurah, the white sands glowing like snow, with the innumerable mirror glimmers scattered about like glitter, catching the hard, cold light of the realm's sun across its endless, dazzling dunes.

"Phwoar!" JoJo grunted as he gawked out the window. "Look at those dunes! Does anyone ever get some buggies and tear around? Or sandboard? OOH! Kite sandboarding! Do they do that here, Jotaro?"

Across from him, looking as though he'd rather be chewing sand, was Jotaro Kujo. The tall, well-built young man sat with his arms crossed, the gold-brimmed black cap atop his head standing in stark contrast to the ankle-length ivory-white duster coat trimmed with polished silver–no–not silver. Whatever the threads were made of reflected light too well, shone too purely, to be any metal crafted by Mortal hands.

"No."

"Has anyone ever done that?" Joseph continued, apparently deaf to his grandson's irritation.

"No."

"Can I?"

"No."

"Whoa!" Joseph exclaimed. "What's that?"

The chariot rolled through the air, cresting a particularly massive dune to reveal a huge, treaded machine. It was hexagonal in shape and massive, hundreds of meters across at least, its ugly, industrial appearance contrasting sharply with the beautiful, glittering white sand. It trundled along, snow-white dust billowing up from under its body as a huge, ash-gray plume emanated from its aft, reaching high into the sky.

"It's an ore trawler," said Jotaro, pointing out the window. "It sifts the sand for tiny fragments of ore and stockpiles it before taking it to the forges."

"Ore?"

"Look at the sand. See the little glitters? That's the ore. Concentration's about 1/10000000."

Joseph rolled his eyes, his grandson had an affinity for detail, but was about as obstinate as a bull. "Yes, but what kind of ore?"

"There isn't a word for it in Mortal languages, even calling it 'ore' isn't strictly correct." Jotaro said, leaning back in his chair. "It, like the sand, is a byproduct of this Realm's existence, sort of like how stars transmute hydrogen into other chemical elements."

Joseph spun his wheels on this for a bit, his grandson sure had a talent for answering questions while spawning new ones.

"Seraphim steel," Jotaro said, finally. "The ore is forged into Seraphim steel by the Hecatonchires. Seraphim steel is one of the most valuable and dangerous substances in all of Creation."

Joseph turned back to Jotaro, eyebrow raised. "How come?"

Jotaro's eyes took on a cold glint. "Because it's one of the few things in existence that can destroy souls. Any object crafted from Seraphim steel can not only kill someone, but erase their soul from existence."

Joseph was silent, looking back out the window at the ore trawler as it vanished behind the dunes, its dust cloud visible for many more silent minutes afterward, endlessly collecting the deadly stuff.

'...Why would anyone need such a thing…?'

A massive shape grew over the horizon, initially looking like an abnormally large dune, peering through the thermal haze rippling off the sand. It grew and grew, a shining pyramid of Celestial Marble, bracketed with a dozen dark bands. Joseph's eyes bugged out as the pyramid slowly dominated the skyline, the dark bands now slowly becoming more defined: cities. Sprouting from the slopes of the structure were buildings. Innumerable buildings ranging from squat office structures to skyscrapers dotted the exterior of the pyramid, connected to each other by crystal roads. Aircraft flitted from one structure to the next, as small as gnats against the sheer bulk of the mountainous structure.

"Ori Maestus," said Jotaro. "Base of operations for Iustita, Angel of Justice, and the capital city of Gevurah. It's basically a federal bureau the size of Everest with an inner city growing out of it."

"I thought I wasn't in Hell."

"Whatever." Grumbled Jotaro. "It's a big place, so don't get lost. Iustita doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The chariot approached a docking bay in the side of one of the larger buildings on that side of the pyramid, guided in by hovering lights. The Celestial Horses bellowed and winneyed as they pulled to a stop, their flaming hooves sparking on the carved stone floor of the hangar. A ramp extended from the resplendent chariot and the passengers disembarked, Jotaro and Joseph among them. The pair of guards dutifully checking over the passengers took silent note of Jotaro and let them pass without so much as a frisk. Jotaro simply nodded at them, tipping his cap.

"So, Jotaro…" Joseph said, cautiously. "You, uh, you work for these guys?"

He glanced back at his grandfather. "'These guys'?"

"These justice angels or whatever you call them."

"That's right." Jotaro nodded, gesturing for Joseph to follow. "C'mon. Follow me."

They made their way through the reception area, the citizens of Ori Maestus indistinguishable from the bureaucrats, lawyers, and guards. Everything, for all around, seemed to be a sea of suits, ties, suitcases, and horn-rimmed glasses flowing about them. They stepped out into the city and waited on the sidewalk, ants among huge grey and black blocky buildings lined in row after row after row, grim and identical brutalist structures as far as the eye could see.

'I'm in Hell,' Joseph thought to himself, grimacing. 'That's all there is to it. Jotaro's taken me to Hell!'

Jotaro snapped his fingers and a cab pulled out from the unending stream of unnaturally flowing , the door opened and they stepped in, the driver not even asking where they were headed. The cab moved to merge into the speeding traffic without so much as a signal or honk. Joseph instinctively flinched in preparation for a collision. He waited for the screech of tires followed by a stream of colorful repudiations towards the virtue of one's mother, the species of one's father, and the circumstances of one's conception.

But no. There was nothing. The traffic broke seamlessly and let them in, like a piece added on a vast conveyor belt.

"This place creeps me out!"

"You get used to it," grumbled Jotaro, looking out the window.

"Really?"

"No."

The cab pulled left and turned away from the cityscape and towards the immense bulk of the pyramid and, after a brief time in an orange-lit tunnel, entered the vast inner structure of the city. Joseph boggled out the window as huge glowing pillars reached kilometers up and down, supporting the massive bulk of Ori Maestus upon their unbreakable pillars. Hovering between them, up and down, were countless diamond-shaped office buildings of polished Celestial onyx with crystal windows, pulses of teal energy surging between them, lighting up like neurons with each pulse.

"Why is everything up here so abstract and weird?" Joseph grumbled as the taxi entered a glowing teal pad. "What's next? A–"

The cab vanished in a flash of teal light, a bolt of hissing, sparking energy streaking out into the floating swarm of black diamonds. The energy pulse bounced between them at incredible speed, glowing and arcing as it intersected with other, similar lightning bolts. An instant later and the cab materialized on an identical pad, now inside somewhere that appeared to be a hangar of sorts.

Joseph peeled his face away from the window, his skin and hair prickling with static. "Nevermind. This is much worse."

They stepped out of the cab and stood back as it vanished in a flash of light, Joseph once again patting down his hair as it once again became a mess of static. He looked over at an enviably unperturbed Jotaro, who merely gestured for him to follow.

"Oh, yeah," said Joseph. "I've been meaning to ask. Why am I here?"

"Don't know," Jotaro replied as they approached the elevator. "Didn't ask."

Joseph sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. "Can you guess, at least?"

"I can."

"Please do so."

The elevator door whirred open and they stepped in, Jotaro made a show of contemplating the request.

Joseph fidgeted as banal elevator music played in the background. "...Well!?"

"I'm an agent of the Celestial Bureau of Justice, even my guesses regarding the motivations of Heaven are considered proprietary information." Jotaro crossed his arms, the ghost of a smile on his chiseled face. "In other words: classified."

"Why you smug little–!" Joseph growled, stamping his foot as the elevator jerked to a halt, the doors opening with a whirr.

Jotaro stepped out of the elevator, followed by an incensed Joseph. The hallways were drab, almost austere, and wouldn't have looked out of place in an office on earth were it not for the fact that doorways on the floor and ceiling leading to staircases and hallways at opposing angles to the plane they were on. The mundanity of the decoration stood in stark contrast to the bizarre, abstract nature of the realm it occupied, like an MC Escher painting of a law firm. They walked down the hallway, literally. Jotaro stepped through one of the doorways in the floor and alarmingly lurched forward as though to fall flat on his face. Joseph rushed forward and looked down, only to see Jotaro casually strolling down the wall of what seemed to Joseph to be a bottomless, well-lit shaft.

"Hey Gramps," said Jotaro, glancing over his shoulder. "Hurry up."

Joseph hesitated for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut and rushing forward, not sensing so much as a shift in gravity or forward momentum, his foot setting down on short, gray carpet with a dull 'thud'. He stopped and turned around, through the doorway were ceiling tiles and overhead lights.

"This place is so fucking weird…"

Various office workers swerving to avoid them, most outright averting their eyes. Jotaro carried on as though this were normal. Joseph followed closely after, trying to emulate his grandson's swagger.

His attempt garnered him incredulous double-takes from the otherwise obsequious staff.

They came to a stop outside a slightly more ostentatious door to an office section. Upon examination, Joseph found he couldn't quite place what, exactly, made this particular office stand out. It looked exactly the same as any other, right down to the drab-yet-robust potted Sansevierias flanking the entrance and the uncomfortable-looking cubic chairs astride them. But something in the air hummed, a vibration emanating from the office that assured power and clout.

"Stay here," said Jotaro, adjusting his coat. "I'll assess his mood first and get back to you."

"Who's mood?"

"Iustitia, he runs things in this realm." Jotaro stood up straight and pointed to one of the chairs. "Sit here. Don't cause trouble. I'll be back in five minutes."

Jotaro disappeared into the office, leaving Joseph to stand about in the hallway. He examined the chairs, fully aware that nothing in Heaven could possibly be as uncomfortable as those chairs appeared to be.

Nah.

Joseph crossed his arms and turned up his nose. "Nah."

"A wise choice, JoJo," said a horribly familiar voice. "Reject Heaven's superficial charms."

Joseph spun around in a second, his eyes wide: he could never mistake that voice, that sheer, unadulterated self-conceit. Before him stood a glowing blonde-haired man, his perfect smile wide and gleaming below a pair of amber eyes. A wolf's eyes. A predator's eyes.

"D-Dio?!" Joseph choked out.

"You thought you had to be a good person to enter Heaven?! That you'd meet God?!" Dio bellowed, triumphant, jabbing a thumb at himself. "But there's no God here! Instead it's just me, Dio!"

"Khooooo~" Joseph hissed, his body glowing with a surge of Hamon that would have been impossible for a mortal human to sustain. "Chuck Norris Overdrive!"

Joseph unleashed a ferocious roundhouse kick that shattered the sound barrier. A gargantuan blast of Hamon surged through Dio's body in a thunderclap, the hated vampire's head easily parting from his shoulders. The detached head, smirking all the while, splattered on the wall in a dry splash of white sand that tumbled down the opposite wall in a pile.

Joseph cocked his head, cocking an eyebrow at the headless body standing before him. He examined the stump of Dio's neck, the shorn edges of dusty crumbling sand. He glanced at the remains of the disembodied head, a pile of sand.

"...Iggy?"

The headless body melted away to reveal a decidedly smug Boston Terrier, his smile sour and sarcastic, but his eyes glowing with affection. "Took you long enough, dumbass."

Joseph's eyes went wide, a huge smile spreading across his face. "IGGY!"

The huge, muscular young man rushed forward, his arms extended, open and ready to embrace. The little dog scoffed and licked his paw as a 'STOP' sign manifested before him, Joseph's face smashing into it with a shrill metallic 'clang'!

"Nah." Iggy shook out his hackles. "None of that."

"You smug mutt…" Joseph growled, his hands dropping from his sore nose, a thankful smile on his face, his green eyes bright with happy tears. "I missed you, dammit."

"I know." Iggy smirked at this, examining his claws. "I'd miss me too."

The little dog squawked as a quartet of thorny purple vines wrapped around the small canine, pulling him into Joseph's arms in a tight hug. "C'mere you surly mutt!"

"I'm…" Iggy grumbled, blushing slightly. "Allowing this."

"I knew all dogs went to Heaven, but I didn't think they'd let a dickhead like you past the pearly gates!" Joseph said as he set Iggy back down. "Also, you talk now?"

"One of the perks of saving the world, Old Man. Ol' Pete gives you a fast pass," said Iggy, smirking. "Suppose that's why I'm talking to your ugly mug right now."

"Uh… (ahem) yeah…" Joseph mumbled, his smile faltering. "So, uh, what are you doing here, anyway? Like, in Gevurah, specifically."

"Well, I work here." Iggy replied, shrugging. "There's some bullshit title for what I do, but I'm a cop."

"They need cops up in Heaven?" Joseph muttered, cocking an eyebrow. "Isn't that, like, against the message of paradise?"

"People still get into disagreements, and a lot of the assholes up here tend to be pretty powerful. Me and my colleagues basically act as mediators, deescalate the situation, but are strong enough to bust heads if we have to." Iggy said, gesturing to himself. "Besides, people like dogs, so it's easier for me to talk a dickhead down."

Joseph scoffed. "You never struck me as the 'conflict resolution' type."

Iggy grinned. "I'll be real here, mostly I just get a kick out of putting guys like Trajan and Urban II in their place. The looks on their faces when getting told to sit and behave by a dog is just… mwah! Chef's kiss."

A deep, resonant chuckle sounded from down the hall, a familiar chuckle. "If you expected any different from our four-legged friend, Mr. Joestar, perhaps you're not the keen intellect I pegged you for."

Joseph spun around at the voice, eyes wide and gleaming. Before him stood a tall, well-built man of Nubian descent, clothed in white swirling robes with platinum trimmings, his curly black hair done up in meticulous rows that ran down the back of his head. On his handsomely proportioned face was a wry smile set beneath a pair of warm brown eyes that held within them a familiar camaraderie.

"A-Avdol?" Joseph stammered.

"Pleased to see that you still recognize me, Mr. Joest–ACK!"

Joseph wrapped his arms around the Egyptian man's midsection, picking him up off the ground as he hugged him. "AVDOL!"

Joseph laughed as he spun his old friend around, Abdul looking somewhat embarrassed as the scene garnered looks from the passing employees. "It's… good to see you too, Mr. Joestar. You may put me down, now."

"Huh?" Joseph grunted, glancing around before setting his old friend back down on the ground, blushing. "Uh, right. Sorry…"

"Nonsense!" Avdol said, patting Joseph on his shoulder. "Look at you, my friend. Young again! I admit, I liked you better with a beard."

"Yeah, been thinking about regrowing–wait…" Joseph pointed to Avdol, then to Iggy, then to the building around them. "You're… you're not here on business, are you?! Avdol, buddy, I thought pork was haram, and here you are, working for pigs!"

"You misunderstand, Mr. Joestar," the mystic said, chuckling. "Up here I work as a medium to help people reconnect with their loved ones all over Creation. I am presently working here as a civilian expert."

"Oh, I see…" Joseph murmured, eying up his friend, a question on the tip of his tongue, but one even he would hesitate to broach. "So… what're you, like, I mean, are you…?"

Avdol smiled and nodded. "I am still Muslim, Mr. Joestar. There is only one Heaven."

"Then how…?"

"All righteous paths lead to God, Mr. Joestar." He said, serenely.

"Yeah," Iggy chipped in, deftly unwrapping a stick of coffee gum with his paws and plopping it into his mouth. "Turns out denominations are a dipshit filter. Like, 7/10 disputes I resolve are people discovering that their dumb religious practices are less important than, you know, not being an asshole."

"Well, I guess that makes sense–" Joseph did a double take at the pugnacious little dog. "Do you have thumbs now?!"

"You know, I don't feel so bad about dog years anymore," Iggy grumbled to Avdol, jabbing a thumb at Joseph. "He lived a hundred human years and he's still a jackass!"

"Hey!"

"I could actually ask you much the same, Joseph," said Avdol. "What is a new Saved like you doing all the way up in Gevurah?"

"Oh, well, I got invited by 'Yus-titty-ah'-or-whatever's flying baby-thing, so Jotaro swung by in a chariot and picked me up!"

The office door swung open, revealing a sour-faced Jotaro. "Huh? Oh, right. I forgot you two were here today."

"Oh, hey Jotaro, good to see you," grumbled Iggy. "I'm doing fine, you?"

Avdol looked between them, a crease of worry forming on his brow. "Ah, Jotaro, it is good to see you again."

"And you, Avdol," said Jotaro, tipping his cap. "So they brought you on for Project Farsight, huh?"

"Many mediums and psychics have been," replied Avdol, glancing over at Joseph. "May I ask what Mr. Joestar's purpose in being here is?"

"You can ask all you like," Jotaro said, brusquely, before turning back into the room and beckoning to Joseph. "C'mon Gramps, we don't have all day."

With that Joseph slowly followed his grandson into the unnerving office, smiling apologetically back at his friends. The door swung shut with a 'bang' leaving Avdol and Iggy standing silently in the hall.

"That Kujo kid is still a dickhead, eh, Avdol?" Iggy waited a moment before looking up at the tall mystic. "Avdol? Hey, what's up?"

Muhammad Avdol stood in silence, sweat running down his furrowed brow. "I do not know… yet. Excuse me, I need to consult my sources."

"Sure, sure. See you around," said Iggy as the fortune-teller turned and walked away, before saying, under his breath. "...You're not the only one getting a bad vibe."

Joseph followed after Jotaro, head swiveling about as he took in the scenery. If one were asked to picture an office, this would be it. Beige panel walls, gray carpet, and white ceiling tiles. Occasionally there would be banal pattern breakers like pictures, plants, and maybe the occasional 'employee of the month' placards. Regardless, Joseph could feel it. Something in the air was active, alive with… something. It hung in the air like electricity, almost palpable, and it intensified the further in they walked.

"So, uh…" Joseph said. "What am I getting into here? This Iustitia guy, he some kind of big shot?"

"Iustitia is the representative of Gevurah, the Emanation of Judgment, and is the Cardinal Virtue of Justice. I guess you could compare him to a supreme court justice or something."

Oh, okay," Joseph said, going a bit pale. "A big big shot, then. Any pointers?"

"Stow your bullshit, speak only when spoken to, and don't stare at the scars."

"Jotaro, please!" Joseph scoffed as they approached the door. "I'm not some snot-nosed brat! I mean, how bad could they be–"

Jotaro opened the door and they stepped inside. At the far end of the room was a desk with a pair of those same uncomfortable-looking chairs. The desk was made from what appeared to be ebony, carved in a style that was at once understated and breathtaking in its beauty and skill, all polished to a mirror shine. Behind the desk was an angel, a Dominion to be precise, donning a fairly mundane human form with slicked-back black hair, pale skin, and icy blue eyes. While he was, as an angel, incredibly handsome, his human form pointedly lacked the somewhat uncanny aura of perfection most angels tended to have. It must have had something to do with the fact that a full half of his face was a ghastly blasted ruin. Joseph's mouth hung open in shock and disgust. Calling it a 'scar' was charitable, for it seemed to be a fresh wound. The left side of his face was a mix of raw red flesh and black flaking char. It was with no small measure of horror that Joseph noticed that the blackened flesh was still smoldering, trailing thin ribbons of smoke and steam. The skin of his cheek had been partially stripped away, his scorched teeth visible through the tatters. His eye, still bright and blue, sat in a crater of red flesh and charred bone, locking him with a cool, flat stare.

"Your Honor," said Jotaro, bowing shallowly. "Joseph Joestar, as requested."

"Thank you, Jotaro," Iustitia said, his voice deep and even to the point of flatness. "If you would?"

Jotaro bowed again and turned to leave, Joseph watched him leave with silent, begging eyes. Jotaro shot him a chiding glare over his shoulder and made his exit. Joseph stiffly turned around, Iustitia's gaze partially boring a hole through him.

"Please," said the charred angel, raising his left hand, which was in a similar state as his face, smoke and steam trailing up from the black sleeve of his suit. "Take a seat."

Joseph nodded and scurried over to one of the the funny little cubic seats. He sat down and was surprised to note that the chair, despite their appearance, was quite comfortable.

"You are no doubt wondering why you're here," said Iustitia, pouring them both a glass of what looked to be scotch, but Joseph suspected it was ambrosia or some other celestial absurdity. "You may speak."

"Err… uh, y-yes!" Joseph said, taking the glass. "I mean, yes sir, Your Honor. Uh… have I done something wrong?"

"Your sins and virtues have been thoroughly documented and categorized." The Dominion sipped the scotch(?). "That's something I'd rather like to talk to you about."

"Okay?" Joseph said, leaning back in the chair, examining his glass and the golden liquid within dubiously. "Well, what in particular did you want to discuss?"

"I just thought I'd take this opportunity to warn you." His eyes flashed teal for a moment as he leveled a stare at the young man opposite him. "That for your sins you may yet be damned and evicted from Heaven."

Joseph's eyes snapped open wide. "What?"