Ch. 18
Maneater

DECEMBER 13TH, 1988
05:30
CAIRO, EGYPT

"Lord Dio... as we speak, both my son and his partners are currently targeting the Joestar group... However, I wish to discuss a plan we can enact behind their backs. As you are unfortunate to know, we have suffered several consecutive losses. But I'm certain the assassins we've sent have dealt some damage and have not allowed them the pleasure of rest. Right now, they are all surely worrying about their own protection, while their headquarters are completely vulnerable."

"By headquarters, I refer to the Kuujou residence in Japan.

"Holly Kuujou, the daughter of Jonathan's grandson, is currently in the care of that wretched Speedwagon Foundation. However, not a one is a Stand user except her. And she has no control over it. In other words, eliminating that woman, the Joestar family's woman, is possible. Once she's been finished off, we will airlift the body to Cairo so that you may drink her blood. Her's would surely help you adapt to Jonathan's body faster, would it not?

"And with her dead, the Joestars would lose their will to continue on. What do you think, my lord?"

"..."

"I have already dispatched several Stand users there. All I need is your permission, Lord Dio! And the death of Holly Kuujou shall be yours! Please, my lord! Consider this!"

"... Quite the suggestion, Lady Enya. A malicious and crooked scheme that even I, Dio, wouldn't have thought of. It is vexing, but I suppose that's the wisdom of the elderly. You are one step ahead of me. While I may have lived almost a century, you, Lady Enya, have such cunning that you could have lived for far longer. Were you several years younger, I would be honored to bear a child with you."

"My! H-How flattering, my lord! L-Lord Dio knows I only speak the truth!

"However, you must excuse me... I must meditate upon this plan..."

"... Very well, my lord..."

~+JO*JO+~

Mohamed Avdol was not going to get back up.

He had seen it himself. Emperor's bullet had made its impact on his forehead. The blood streaking from the wound to the ground was enough to tell them all he was dead. But Noriaki was too astonished to believe it was true. He was gently shaking their friend, even going as far as to feel his pulse. But it would do him no good. Joaquín knew he would feel nothing. It was too easy. His life wasn't supposed to end like this, he mourned. Not from some chump's bullet.

His assailant could only smile, having caught and lit his cigarette. "It's a cryin' shame," he spoke through his smoke. "Death can be such an abrupt curtain call. It's almost become the norm to not even say goodbye when you die. Now, it may seem like I'm a know it all, but-"

"Just shut the fuck up," spoke Joaquín in a low, venomous voice. Both he and a teary-eyed Jean Pierre were approaching him, ready to return the favor for his crime. "You… You screwed up… You killed one of our friends… We're not going to forgive you for this. None of us…"

"Joaquín, Polnareff," cried out Noriaki from behind them. "Don't let his words get to you! All he's doing is luring you into another trap! I know you're both fighting together, but he still has his partner out there! Your drive to avenge will get you both killed!"

"Then what do we do," Jean Pierre said hollowly.

"Avdol-san went after you both because he was worried you would die. We all were. And look at what happened! You both went into a fight you knew was unwinnable! Neither of you knows what their Stands do! And that lack of knowledge led to his death! It could have been any of you two! Any of the rest of us! We have to retreat now!"

"Avdol was cruelly stabbed in the back. My sister… was killed with little effort. And you expect me to hold onto such regret and escape?!"

"If you know you're going to die, then don't fight! That's what Avdol-san has been trying to say!"

They had stopped just within a few feet of Hol Horse. Any closer and he would already be sliced and punched into oblivion. But Joaquín, and hopefully Jean Pierre, knew that their friend had a point. They needed to fall back and form a proper plan, without putting any of their lives at any more risk than they already had. He knew none of them would think of each other any differently if they did.

"Come on, lil' Pol-Pol, Jojo," instigated Hol Horse. "You're almost there! Come a lil' closer!"

Neither of them moved. Noriaki called out again. "Don't listen to him! Just come back over here, slowly. We can use a truck to get out of here."

There was no other choice. They needed to retreat, no matter how much they didn't want to. Silently, their eyes not leaving Hol Horse, they nodded and slowly backed away. They were only several feet backward when a sickening whisper filled their ears.

"Hey… Pol… nareff… Joa… quín…"

"W-What was that," said Joaquín as he wildly looked around. Jean Pierre simply turned to one spot, a flash of recognition in his eyes. Soon, his own followed his friend's line of sight, which was on the window of a store. In its reflection, they could see the puddle beside Mohamed's body begin to stir. A hand rose, then a head, then a body. It looked like a poorly wrapped mummy with stone-like, slate-colored skin, empty yellow eyes, and a hole in his head revealing a robotic brain.

Through a wrapped mouth, the mummy spoke in a sadistic, menacing growl. "He died for you both. You owe him your lives. If it hadn't been for your recklessness, he'd still be among us." As the chuckling creature propped itself, Joaquín noticed that both its black, robotic hands were left hands. Or perhaps they were right hands, seeing as they are mirrored. This mummy wasn't any ordinary monster, but a Stand. J. Geil's Stand, Hanged Man.

When he and his friend turned around, they noticed nothing ominous about the puddle. Nothing had emerged from it at all. But when they turned back to the window, the mummy had stalked up behind them.

"S-Salaud," swore Jean Pierre, right before rounding on a giggling Hol Horse. "Where the hell is the user! Tell me!"

"Polnareff, calm down," cried out Noriaki again. The moment they had looked back at the mirror again, the Stand raised its arm. There was a retractable blade under it, extended and ready to attack.

"But don't feel down," crooned Hanged Man sickeningly. "In fact, you should rejoice… You'll be joining them soon enough. Avdol… Sherry… Carlos… You can all be together in the next life."

Hearing his father's name was the last thing Joaquín was expecting to hear from any of Dio's servants. It triggered the memory he was forced to relive back in Singapore of his father's death, and his blood began to boil. "What the hell do you know about my father," he couldn't help but yell.

The mummy chuckled again, and he could almost envision a twisted smile beneath the wraps. "That he picked a fight with the wrong person and died embarrassing himself in front of an audience. Your father was a weak man, but how much so, I couldn't tell you. I wasn't the one who killed him. But I know the man who did. And he's working for Dio."

His blood, which was rising in heat with his anger, soon froze over upon his words. He couldn't believe what he heard. There's no way, he thought dumbfounded. He can't be working for him! There's no way! The wave of unnerving cold soon melted, and the burning anger returned hotter than before. "¡MENTIROSO! ¡ESTÁ MINTIENDO! HOW THE FUCK IS HE WORKING FOR HIM?!"

"He just is. But don't get it twisted. He wasn't hired until after that. And he doesn't know that one of the Joestars is that guy's son. When Dio explained it all to me, I just laughed myself silly imagining you dying the same way your poor little daddy did. Embarrassed, crying, and begging."

Joaquín had enough. Preciosa was already out, ready to decimate the mirror. But before he could break it, a familiar scream echoed out from a nearby alleyway. Everyone, including Hol Horse, turned to the direction of the noise. There was no need to wonder who it belonged to. For even in seething rage, Joaquín recognized Della's screams immediately.

Hanged Man hissed in annoyance, "Shit. He was supposed to silence her. Did he really forget to do that first?"

"'Fraid so," muttered Hol Horse, shaking his head in disappointment. "Damn. And here I was hopin' Otis was gonna kill the others discreetly. Guess we were wrong about him."

"Wait…" Joaquín's anger abated slightly when he turned to Noriaki. "You mean you didn't come with just Mohamed?"

"No, the others came with me," he said apologetically. "When Avdol-san ran out, we followed after him. We ended up losing him and had to split up. Della wanted to come with us. I'm sorry, Joaquín."

"Damnit! They shouldn't have come!" He then turned to Jean Pierre, ignoring Hanged Man in the reflection. "You guys need to run! We can deal with these bastards later! I'm gonna go help the others!"

His friend nodded, and Joaquín ran off. Hanged Man was starting to say something, and Hol Horse had called out, "Hey! I ain't through with you, boy!" But he ignored them both. There were more pressing matters to attend to. The rest of the group, his family and his girlfriend, had just run into a third Stand user while they were looking for him. There was no time to be feeling guilty for putting them in danger. He needed to save them.

When he entered the alley and turned a corner into the next, he came upon a chilling sight. Hanging between the buildings and homes was a massive web. The strands were everywhere, haphazardly stuck without much thought and intertwining into a thick, white net. Even the ground was covered in webbing. What made the whole scene worse was that several people, including his grandfather, were trapped in the net, their bodies and mouths covered in the threads.

In the middle of the web, there as a hunched figure wearing a very furry grey jacket that matched his hair weaving a cocoon for his next victim. It was clearly Della, the bushy hair tangled and caught in the webbing around her being a giveaway. She was struggling to break free, growling and cursing at the man who trapped her. "Let me go, you freak," she spat. "The longer you keep me here, the harder your ass is gonna get kicked! You'll see!"

The man, who Hol Horse had called Otis, was chuckling as he took his time tying her. "And who's going to do it? Joutarou? His idiot brother you were chasing after? They can try, but I doubt they can do anything to me." His voice was laced with a husky venom that made him feel sick to his stomach. "I'll trap them here, together with you, and drain them of all their blood. I promised Dio half of it all to drink. The rest? It's all mine to soak my hair in."

Oh god, this guy's insane, thought Joaquín uncomfortably. This bloodlust is… inhuman. It's like he's a vampire, like Dio… But, if he was, he'd be dead in the sunlight. God, to think someone like him was hired to kill us.

"Niisan."

The whisper broke his train of thought. It belonged to Joutarou, who had caught up beside him. He looked just as unnerved as his brother, but also ready to fight. "Joutarou," he whispered back. "What happened? I heard all of you went looking for us."

"We did. You have quite the girlfriend, Joaquín. She cares about you a lot. And when you and Avdol left, she didn't hesitate to let us know. We had to split up to find you. Where's everyone else? Where's Avdol?"

His heart grew heavy knowing he would have to deliver the horrible news. He wasn't ready for this yet. Taking a deep breath, he solemnly whispered, "Mohamed… has been shot. He's dead. There was another Stand user with Hanged Man. He died saving us…"

"I can hear you, you know," exclaimed Otis, pausing in his work. "I may not speak slope, but I heard Mohamed in there. So tell me, what happened to him? Is he dead?" And then his head turned around completely to smile and bear his fangs down at the brothers. "Cause I sure hope so!" His entire face was covered in thick waves of dark grey. Everywhere from his forehead to his nose. It then became clear that he wasn't wearing a coat at all.

Otis laughed as the rest of his body twisted around like a toy. "Hello, boys! Welcome to the nest! Please, by all means, make yourselves comfortable. After all, I do have a line of fresh little morsels before you all came. So just be good little Joestars and get in the web. You wouldn't want me to use force, do you?"

"You won't have to. Because my brother and I are gonna do it for you!" And without hesitation, both Preciosa and Star Platinum made their presence known. Otis smiled widely and laughed before bounding off the web and onto one of the web-coated building walls. Preciosa's arm swelled up with oil before slinging a wave of it, infused with hamon, straight at him. He avoided it with another leap, letting the oil melt his former perch.

Eyes locked back on the man in mid-flight, he noticed he had spat out something thick and white from his mouth. A string of webbing, just like any other spider could produce. Joaquín had sidestepped and grabbed it as it was still in his attacker's mouth. When he yanked as hard as he could, Otis did not come flying in his direction. The rest of the web did, and it spread and covered him in very sticky silk. He tried to wipe it off, but he was finding himself getting stuck to his own body.

"Maldita sea, he wanted me to do that," growled Joaquín, his arms stuck to his chest as if he were holding himself. If he tried to use his Stand, then he would only end up stuck as well. "Joutarou, don't touch me, you're only gonna get stuck too!"

His brother seemed to have thought ahead, as Star Platinum had picked up a nearby rock and threw it with the strength to destroy someone's skull. Otis, who had landed back in the massive web, spat a glob of it in retaliation. It caught the rock and slowed it down enough for him to catch. "Nice try, you bush league bitch," jeered Otis. "Go back home and practice a bit more. Or better yet, throw some more! I bet you none of them are gonna hit me."

"Don't do it, Joutarou," cried out Della. "He's only baiting you!"

"Will you shut up, you bitch? Geez, I'm lucky Dio warned me about the hamon users in your group. Speaking of which..." Without warning, Otis had already shot a small bit of web to completely cover Joaquín's mouth and nose. He couldn't breathe properly, and he could not get it off even if his hands were free. Preciosa slowly faded away. "Yeah, I'm not taking any chances whatsoever. Hamon is the only thing that can break apart my Stand's webs. And since I got both you and your grandfather, my victory is guaranteed."

Otis turned back to Della and resumed tying her up, continuing to speak unconcernedly to the others. "You know something, being born the way I was, I was instantly labeled a freak. My hair literally made me look like Chewbacca from Star Wars. I was bullied for it on a daily basis. Even my parents made jokes at my expense. They were ashamed of me, and they were vocal about it. They had every right to. How often do you see a guy like me in your lifetime? Never.

"But you wanna know something? I liked being me. I liked being special. I had something no normal man has. Even moreso nowadays. And I didn't let anyone stop me from enjoying that feeling. Not even my parents. I didn't kill them, but I did run away from them and joined a traveling circus. And it was there where I became recognized as a true freak. I was called 'The Woolly Bear'. I was both the hairy man and the living noodle rolled up into one amazing performer."

To emphasize this, Otis twisted his body in such a complex manner that it almost looked impossible. His arms knotted together on his chest as he bent back and coiled like a spring. He gave the brothers a brief smile before uncoiling himself "A natural gift, honed over time through intense training. The crowd loved me. Until eventually, my feats became boring. That was when I became re-branded as something more sinister. Something that would knock the socks off little kids. A vampire."

Otis slowly climbed his way to one of the innocent bystanders that he caught. The captive's eyes found his, and began to writhe in desperation for freedom. "As 'The Maneater', I was fed animal's blood. And wouldn't you know, I actually enjoyed it. It was harmless at first, but as time dragged on, I began to crave blood. I tried to sate my thirst by drinking the blood of our captive animals, but that didn't work. I wasn't satisfied until one night, out of curiosity, I snuck into one of my co-worker's quarters."

He had reached his prey. It wasn't clear what he did, given that his back was towards them all. But whatever it was, it caused a brief spurt of blood on the victim. And then came the sickening sound of slurping. Joaquín couldn't help but look on with wide eyes. Beside him, his brother was rooted to the spot, a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. Is this how we're gonna die, he thought fearfully. Having our blood literally drank from us while we're alive?

His victim went limp, and having had his fill, Otis turned back to them. What they saw was so horrifying that, were his mouth not covered, Joaquín would have screamed. Peeking out through the man's fanged, open mouth was a spider's head, mechanical and black with eight unblinking yellow eyes. Its pedipalps twitched hungrily and it mandibles clicked unnervingly. A lone string hung between them, connected to a hole in the sack right where the neck would be.

"This is the guy that helped me do it," he said even with his mouth open. "I named him after myself, Maneater. And as you can all see, it has the ability to form some of the strongest web known to man. Nothing but extreme heat can break it. Anyway, I killed the other performers that night. Left behind a nice nest for the authorities. And the best part is that I was never caught. I've managed to keep up the killings even to this day. All for the sake of a nice, bloody meal."

"You won't be getting ours," mumbled Della.

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't stutter. You won't be getting ours."

Otis chuckled and moved back to her side, Maneater retreating back inside his mouth. "Oh, I beg to differ. You're stuck. Joestar is stuck. Hell, even little Joutarou over there, who doesn't have a single strand of my webbing on him, is stuck! And if they survive their battle, the rest of your friends will be, too! I told you, my Stand's webbing is the strongest there is! Everyone I've caught throughout the years has never escaped! They've all become my next meal! And today, so shall you!"

Della moved her head to him the best she could, not even flinching as her hair was being pulled taut between scalp and web. Her glare was a fiery one, and her voice was both low and confident. "You won't win. We've all landed in worse traps than this, and we've escaped every one. Every last one of Dio's cronies that have gone after us has failed. No matter how dire the situation, none of us have given up hope. There is always a means to prevail. Your little nest is nothing, you monster."

And then she spat straight into his face.

There was a heavy silence. Those who were not blinded watched mesmerized at the scene, Otis wiping the spit off his brow. He was angry, and everyone around him could feel the mounting fury. Then, without hesitating, he punched straight into Della's stomach. And it wasn't a simple punch. It almost looked as if his fist was disappearing behind her ribs. When he pulled out, Della was left coughing uncontrollably.

"Y-You bastard," muttered Joutarou, as his older brother let out a furious, muffled scream. He didn't bother running, instead struggling hard to break loose of the web that bound his arms to his body. Seeing Della harmed triggered something within his brain that tuned out all other rational thought. All he cared about was breaking free and lunging at the man. Tearing him apart. Killing him in cold blood. He would pay for his crime of hurting his beloved.

"It serves her right for calling me a monster," he shouted into the alley at them. "I may be a freak, an abnormality to nature, but I am a human! And I deserve to be respected as such, whether I drink blood or not! You fucking pricks! To hell with splitting the blood with Dio! You're not worthy enough to be drunk by him! I'm going to do the honors of sucking you all dry! And I'll make you all suffer!"

During his outburst, Della continued to choke and cough. She was doing everything in her power to breathe, having had what Joaquín was certain to be pretty much all of her breath forced out of her lungs. It looked too painful, judging by the tears forming in her eyes. But once Otis finished shouting, her breathing slowly calmed down. She took one deep breath, in and out. And in that one breath, the most shocking thing happened before their very eyes.

Her body sparked.

"W-What the?" Otis looked very confused, as if he had just hallucinated. When Della, who looked just as confused about all this, steadied her breathing and released more sparks, he backed away in fear. "Y-You're a… a hamon user too," he shouted. "Dio never told me there were three! I wasn't prepared for this!"

Nobody was. And yet they all worked together as if they were. Joaquín ran straight into the web and jumped back first, attaching himself beside his girlfriend's outstretched hand. Joutarou had picked up several rocks and threw them at the distracted Otis, who was too shocked to even avoid having them hit his head and disorient him. Meanwhile, Della grabbed ahold of the webs as much as she could and focused on her new-found power.

Her breathing steadied. The sparks surrounding her slowly grew, though not with the same intensity as her boyfriend's. They were still strong enough to weaken the bindings that held them all. Slowly and steadily, the captive Indians dropped to the ground and ran, and Otis hung beside her quaking in fear and anger. "No, no, NO," he screamed, right before Maneater crawled out, ready to fire again. But something purple and thorny wrapped around his mouth to stop him. Joseph and Hermit Purple had been freed.

Joaquín, Della, and Joseph soon landed safely on the ground as Otis was tossed down at their feet. He propped himself on his arms and turned to look at them with blazing eyes. The hair on his body seemed to bristle the way an animal would. "T-That's not fair," he growled through his Stand. "Three hamon users… How the hell are you one, you bitch? The only ones who should even have that are the Joestars…"

"I-I don't know," said Della, her voice high and surprised. "I-I wasn't born with any hamon! I never knew about this!"

"We'll deal with that in a moment," said Joaquín, patting her shoulder before looking down on their attacker. "Right now, I wanna deal with you. See, I bumped into your partners earlier, as you're already aware. And they made a grave mistake in killing one of our own. On top of that, I just found out that my father's killer is working for Dio. And on top of that, you decided to put my family and innocent bystanders in danger. So naturally, Preciosa and I are extremely pissed off."

"Someone died," Della gasped. "I-I heard Avdol's name earlier… Did he…"

"Yes." His answer made her clasp her hands over her mouth and Joseph quake in disbelief. It pained him to have to be the bearer of bad news, but he couldn't keep it from them. "And that's exactly why I'm pissed. He died to save us. Jean Pierre and I both tried to take on a Stand user we knew nothing about. It was all our fault. I can never forgive myself for allowing one of my own friends to get killed… but more importantly, I can never forgive those who led to their deaths."

He slowly approached the prone Stand user before them, who sat up and slowly backed away. "O-Okay, I-I get it," stuttered Otis nervously. "You're all pissy about losing your pal. I would be t-too! But keep in mind, I didn't k-kill him. Avdol's death was caused by… er, who was it?" When Joaquín's next step turned into a stomp, he yelped and pulled himself back more. "Okay, okay! It doesn't matter! But like I said, I didn't do it! You should be taking your frustrations out on him, not me!"

"But he's not here, is he?" Otis backed up far enough to bump into Joutarou's legs. He looked back for one fleeting, frightened moment before turning back to the three approaching him. "No. And don't act like you're innocent. You've done enough to get on all of our shit lists. And I'm pretty sure you can guess what happens to those who're on it, right?"

Before Otis could say anything else, Hermit Purple's thorns wrapped around his body again and held him in place. Both Preciosa and Star Platinum began to punch every inch of him, filling the alley with the sounds of fists on flesh and the mixed roars of "¡TOMATOMATOMA!" and "ORAORAORA!" After a few seconds, Joseph let go, and the brothers punched the crumpled, hairy mess straight through the sky beyond their own sight.

"That's one problem dealt with," said Joaquín, right before turning to Della and hugging her. "You saved all of our skins today. I can't possibly thank you enough."

His blushing girlfriend returned the hug and chuckled. "I didn't know I had it in me. I mean, A Stand is one thing, but… I have the same thing you and Mr. Joestar have!" She let go of him and focused her breathing again. The sparks that enveloped her were small and brief, nowhere near as intense as earlier. "It's so crazy. I think whatever that Otis guy did must have triggered something inside me."

"What exactly did he do," asked Joseph.

"He just punched me in the stomach. I think he might have pushed on my diaphragm, cause all the air in me was just pushed out."

Joseph rubbed his chin thoughtfully before speaking again. "You know, this lines up with something both uncle Speedwagon and my grandmother Erina once told me. When she and Jonathan were in the countryside, they met Caesar's grandfather William. He did the exact same thing to him and unlocked his potential to use hamon, just like that. Only he used his pinkie, if I remember correctly… Either way, you seem to have acquired it just like he did."

Della looked back at her hands and smiled. But her happiness was brief, for sadness took its place. "I should be happy, but… We just lost one of our own. Mr. Avdol's dead."

The reminder of Mohamed's untimely end wiped away the last few minutes of the alley battle. "He is. Like I told Joutarou, he was shot by one of the other Stand users. He had been stabbed in the back… I think it was by J. Geil. But it was Hol Horse who landed the final blow…

"Didn't you say you found out about your father's killer, too?"

"Yeah. One of them told me he works for Dio. But he doesn't know I'm Joaquín Trejo. And he wasn't working for Dio at all at that time. Trust me, I'm furious about that, but… right now, Mohamed's more important… We need to go back for him and give him a burial… It's the least we could do."

With everyone agreeing, he led them all out of the alley and back into the long-since deserted street. There was not a soul in sight, though thankfully, the prone body of their fallen comrade was still there. He was exactly where he had been left, his face covered in blood and his torn headband resting beside him and the puddle that sealed his fate. They slowly approached him, as if afraid they would wake him up. But Joaquín knew nothing could bring him back.

"It's n-not fair," muttered Della, holding back a sob. "He was a g-good person, even when we f-first met him in N-New York… God, why did he have to be taken..?"

"That's simply how life works," said Joseph as he approached and knelt beside his friend. He too sounded choked up, but he was more composed than her. Clearing his throat, he reached over to the headband and dipped it into the puddle before wiping his friends face clean. "We have to make the best of the time we have with our friends and family. Never take those relationships for granted, because you never know when they'll-"

He had stopped cleaning him, eyes widening and trained on Mohamed's face. "W-What's going on, Abuelito," asked his eldest grandson worriedly.

"Come over here! Everyone! You need to see this!"

The youths knelt around Mohamed, whose forehead Joseph had pointed to. "The wound," he whispered. "Look closer…" They did so. It looked clean, all the blood was wiped away. All that remained was broken skin and exposed muscle tissue. But there were no signs that a bullet had pierced through. In fact, when Joaquín lifted his head and looked at the back of it, there was no exit wound. Which meant…

"The bullet just scratched him," he exclaimed with shock.

"Exactly! He must have moved at the last second! It must have had just enough strength to incapacitate him, but not kill him!"

"Which means Mohamed's alive!" And without warning, he tackled Della into another hug, coupled with a deep kiss. He felt absolute relief wash over him knowing that their comrade had survived the encounter. When he broke the kiss, he laughed and kicked his legs back and forth in a little jig. "He's alive, he's alive, he's alive! Oh man, this is great!"

"Yare yare daze," muttered Joutarou, covering his eyes with his cap. "This actually is good news. But now that we know he's alive, what're we going to do with him?"

Joseph thought for a moment before speaking. "I have an idea. It's a bit tricky, but it plays well into what I discussed the other day. Straight through Pakistan, sail to Saudi Arabia, then through the Red Sea, and we've reached the home stretch. But, we have to be inconspicuous. Avdol and I talked it out, and we agreed to order ourselves a submarine."

"A submarine," asked Della quizzically.

"Yes, to pass through the Red Sea undetected. Avdol can help us do it. But we need to do it discreetly. We can't let Dio's men discover that he's alive, otherwise they'd target him. He can recover here until he's awake, then we can send him to where we need to go in order to set the plan in motion." He stood up and helped Mohamed onto his back. "Let's find some transportation to a hospital, and quickly. The sooner we get him patched up, the better."

It didn't take long for them to find someone willing to take them all. The driver was more than happy to help, given that he was paid for his service. Within minutes, they had admitted Mohamed, who the doctors immediately began looking over. His pulse and breathing were irregular, but they were all reassured that he would make a full recovery. They soon bid their farewells, promising the sleeping fortune-teller that they will meet again.

Not long after they were brought back to the empty market, they heard distant gunshots, along with the loud calls of, "C'mon, J. Geil! Where are you?! I got 'em all ready for you!"

"Is that him," whispered Joutarou as the group silently snuck into a nearby alley.

"Yeah," Joaquín whispered back. His blood wasn't as heated as earlier, but he still felt hatred for the man who attacked them. "That's Hol Horse. He was working together with Sherry Polnareff's killer." And then he smiled, knowing that there was only one reason he would be calling out for his partner. "I think Jean Pierre finally got his revenge."

"You think he actually survived, Jojo," asked Della. As if on cue, a stream of annoyed French filled the air. "Never mind. Looks like he did."

It took a minute before the sound of frantic running rose in volume towards them. There were three sets of footsteps, one more desperate than the others. It was almost easy to discern who those belonged to, and Joaquín's was ready to knock them off the ground. Soon, a figure skidded into the alley, and his fist immediately flew into his face. Hol Horse was knocked away as he and the others stepped out from hiding. He looked up to see him and gasped, "Y-You! You survived!"

"We did," confirmed Joaquín as he cracked his knuckles. "Your friend Otis was the perfect target practice for when I saw you again."

"Everyone! You're okay!" It was Noriaki who exclaimed his relief for their safety. Beside him was a cut-up, bloodied Jean Pierre. Despite the tiredness and anger in his expression, there was an air of accomplishment about him. He did win.

"We already know about Avdol," Joseph gravely spoke as they all began to surround Hol Horse. "We buried his body, although it was a crude funeral."

"J. Geil may have been the one to stab him in the back," Joaquín began, "but it was your Emperor that killed Mohamed. A simple bullet that could have been burned to ashes. So..." He looked around at the others, each not looking away from their enemy. "Has the jury reached its verdict?"

Jean Pierre nodded as Silver Chariot came forth and took aim with his rapier. "I find him guilty of all charges. His sentence: the death penalty!" And just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, someone had lunged straight into his leg. It was a young Indian girl who held him in place, wearing an elaborate purple dress with a matching hood-like veil. She had appeared out of nowhere, shocking the entire group.

"Please run, Hol Horse, my love," she pleaded desperately, Jean Pierre swearing and struggling in place. "I may not understand the circumstances, but I am always thinking about what's best for you! You are my reason to live! Please, run! Hurry!"

"Oye, what the hell are you thinking," scolded Joaquín as he tried to pull the infatuated girl off of his friend. Try as he might, her hold was too strong. "Shit! Joutarou, Noriaki, get him before-"

It was already too late. The sudden appearance of the girl had distracted them long enough for Hol Horse to move out of the throng and disappear. It didn't take long for him to trot back into view upon a horse, his grin dripping with smugness."Thank you kindly, baby," he called out to the girl. "I humbly accept your love towards me and live to fight another day! So don't think of me runnin' away as cowardice, baby! I do it out of my feelin's towards you! I love you, baby! Forever!"

And so Hol Horse galloped off, the group absolutely dumbfounded that he was able to escape them. Jean Pierre was the only one who made an effort to try to go after him, still held back by the girl he dragged along. A pained whimper from her was enough to make him snap at her. "What are you complaining about, petite chienne?! You let him get away!"

"Let her be, Polnareff," consoled Joseph, the girl nursing her now bleeding elbow. "She was simply being used by him. Besides, it was obvious he had no intention to fight us. He didn't attack when he had the chance, and we can't go after him now." He took tore off some of his undershirt and helped bind the girl's nasty scrape. "Besides, we don't have time to deal with that lunatic anymore. Avdol is gone… And we have to keep moving. It's already been fifteen days since we departed from Japan."

"He's right," said Joaquín as he patted his friend's shoulder. "Mohamed wouldn't want us to just mope around like this. He'd want us to keep going. All of us, even if we don't like it, are prepared to put our lives on the line to hunt down Dio and end him. He knew this. And you know this. That's why he risked his own life for you, not to show you the dangers of fighting alone, but because he cared about you. And me."

The Frenchman looked at him with tired eyes and a melancholic, bloody face. It was hard to tell if his words went through to him. After everything they went through today, it didn't matter too much if it did. He only came for J. Geil, he recalled him mentioning the other day. Dio was never his concern. It's ultimately his choice as to what he wants to do at this point.

He walked past them, wiping off the blood on his face as he did. For a moment, Joaquín was certain he was leaving them. But he soon stopped, turning back to them with a fierce and determined expression on his face. "You know what, Joaquín? You're right. And so was Avdol. My actions were conceited. I went into battle alone, knowing that all of you would have done what he did in his stead… And as a result of taking his words and assistance for granted, he paid the price…

"No longer… Too many of my mistakes have cost me friendships, and I'll be damned if anyone else pays for them! I will no longer fight alone as I have my entire life! From this moment on, I will work together with you all! My strength is yours! "He raised his clenched fist to emphasize the seriousness of his words. "And as is my life! I swear to you all, we will find Dio and make him pay for his countless crimes! Together!"

They all smiled, but none were brighter than Joaquín's. For if anyone's faith and trust in him had been strengthened, it was his.

And he would continue to trust Jean Pierre Polnareff until the day he died.

~MOHAMED AVDOL: INCAPACITATED~

~OTIS: RETIRED~

~J. GEIL (1941-1988): RIP~

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Otis (オーティス)

STAND NAME: Maneater (人食い(マンイーター))

POWER: E, SPEED: C, RANGE: E, DURABILITY: D, PRECISION: B, POTENTIAL: D

ABILITY: Maneater is a Stand bound only to the mouth of his user. Its ability is a simple one: spitting webs from his mouth. It is multipurpose, being used to form massive nests, traps, ropes, and even simple balls to ensnare his prey. The webs are made of stronger fibers than that of the Darwin's bark spider and are more adhesive. If something ends up stuck, it had no chance of breaking free (Otis is exempt from this). Only extreme heat, fire, and hamon can break apart the web, which can temporarily be used as a conductor. Despite the spider-like ability, Otis cannot cling to walls, needing to rely on his webs to hang from his perches.