Ch. 21
Even In The Shadows

DECEMBER 17TH, 1988
18:00
CAIRO, EGYPT

"Lord Dio. I come with a report."

"... Speak."

"I regret to inform you that Empress, Far Away Eyes, and Wheel of Fortune, have been defeated."

"... I see… So the last of Lady Enya's personal assassins have all failed…"

"Correct. Which leads me to a related, personal report... It would seem that the witch has left the manor."

"... What?"

"She had left a moment after I relayed the news to her. Forgive me, Lord Dio. I could not stop her. Even after you calmed her, she still remains embittered over her son's death. She is still… insane."

"... I miscalculated… A mistake on my behalf… No matter… I am prepared for whatever outcome arises from her confrontation with the Joestars."

"You're not concerned that she might lose?"

"I stand by my statement… However, I do have but one small concern. Her Stand, advantageous as it is, has been weakened because of me… There is a possibility she may lose this battle…"

"What do you think will happen, Lord Dio?"

" … I don't know…"

~+JO*JO+~

The ride through Pakistan was easier now that they were no longer followed. In the midst of their drive, they needed to stop and replace their lemon with a sturdier jeep so as to avoid getting stranded. All throughout, Joseph told them all the stories he had relayed to Joaquín and Della back on their flight, but in more detail. Some were slightly emotional, like the loss of his father to one of Dio's supporters, and others were funny, like his decision to dress in drag to trick some Nazi troops.

And then there was the topic of Caesar Zeppeli, his best friend and Della's grandfather.

He was as Joseph had described him before: proud, cocky, and a complete Casanova. He was also a troubled man whose past had driven him to fight for the honor of his besmirched family name. His life's tale was a sad one, and Joaquín would have been lying if he said his girlfriend didn't cry through some parts of it. Especially when she found out he had siblings.

"I never searched them out," said Joseph, wiping his eyes on his gloved hands. "What could I possibly say to them about his brother's fate? About a brother they can probably barely remember? I couldn't bear to think about facing them."

She understood everything. And as a relative of his friend, she felt no hard feelings for him. She was proud, if anything, to have learned more about her grandfather, and happy that they both shared such a strong friendship. "He'd be proud to see me fighting by your family's side," Della told him, reaching over to hug the old man.

This was all earlier, of course. The hours passed, and their drive had become silent. Everyone was on alert, not because they were being followed, but that the road around them had been blanketed in a haze of fog. It had been like that for some time now. And since they were driving around cliffs with no guard railings around them, they were at risk of falling off. Into a ravine. That would have been an embarrassing way to go for Joaquín.

"Hey, Jean Pierre," he asked, tapping him on the shoulder. "You want I can take over driving? This fog looks like it's getting thicker."

Jean Pierre confidently shook his head, leaning ahead of his wheel slightly. "It is a bit dangerous. But I can see clear enough to know where I'm going."

Joseph was looking at his pocket watch. Looking over at it, Joaquín noted that it was 2:54PM. "It's definitely getting harder to see past the car. And it's not even 3 yet…" He looked closely outside, where a small town rested a small ways away from them. "I guess it can't be helped. We should get into town and find a hotel until this fog goes down."

"Will there be any good hotels? I hope we can find a hotel with good toilets. I'm still not accustomed to the ones in India and Asia where all you have for washlets is your hands."

You and me both, Joaquín agreed silently, remembering the awkward in-ground toilets he had seen in India. But his mind wasn't on the toilets at all, but rather the town. Something about seeing it covered in such fog made him shiver. It reminded him of a dream he had about the streets of Queens being barren and covered in fog. It was uncomfortable, and he had half a mind to tell Jean Pierre to drive through. But their bodies needed the rest.

Sitting on his other side, he noticed his brother looking out his window, eyes wide for a brief moment. His shaken expression was one he never liked seeing on him, for it meant he just witnessed something truly horrific. "Hey, Joutarou," he called out to him, snapping Joutarou's gaze back at him. "What did you see out there?"

"N-Nothing," he said, the shiver in his voice not at all reassuring. "I thought I saw something back there."

Looking behind him, he couldn't see anything except for a faint, still shape. Almost like a dog. But he pushed it out of his mind as they wheeled into town. It was not a bustling or overpopulated like Calcutta. Were it not for the eerie mist, he would have felt at peace seeing the serenity there.

Joseph took in his surroundings as he and the others got out. He looked back at them and said, "Well, this town's a lot cleaner than I anticipated. With everyone here, I estimate its population is in the thousands… Which means there's bound to be a hotel or two around here."

"We can ask at that restaurant for directions to one," said Noriaki, pointing to one near where they parked. A fat, bearded man gazed dully at them with no reaction whatsoever.

"Jojo," came a whisper from Della, who was eyeing the townsfolk suspiciously. "Have you noticed something off about this place?"

"You mean aside from the mist," whispered Joaquín.

"Yeah. Look all around us. Something's not right… It's too quiet here. Nobody's in a rush, nobody is crowding us, yelling 'Baksheesh!' or trying to have us buy anything cheap. It's like we've stepped into a whole 'nother world… I know we're in a different country, but… I would have at least expected something other than this. It just feels so… uncomfortable..."

He didn't like it either, and the thought of spending a night here was the last thing he would want to do. But if they really had to play it safe, what choice did they have.

"You have nothing to worry about, Della," reassured Joseph. "It's just the fog affecting peoples' moods, like rainy days. It will pass." He strode past them and stood a few feet from the uninterested restaurant worker, pointing at him with I thumb to get their attention. "Now, listen up, everyone. Here in Pakistan, and to the Islamic world west of it, there's a certain way you have to greet others. First and most important is a smile. Then…

"As-salamu alaykum!" The broad smile, friendly hand gesture, and the overall exaggeration of the foreign greeting to the worker were all so profound that it made Joaquín gape in disbelief. For once, his grandfather's over-the-top personality made him feel embarrassed. It didn't take a second for the man to flip the "open" sign by the restaurant to "closed" and stare at them all with the same dead stare and crossed arms. His message was clear.

"Way to go, jijii," muttered an equally embarrassed Joutarou.

"Abuelito, did you have to say it so hammy," groaned his older brother.

Their grandfather gave them a sheepish smile and chuckled. "Y-Yeah, I kinda did." He turned back and spoke sincerely to the man. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you were closed. I just have a small question for you. Are there any hotels in this town? That's all I wanted to know."

He received no response. The man's eyes continued looking forward, inattentive to Joseph and the others. As a joke, or perhaps to get his attention, he made a gesture of calling and dialing from a phone."Helloooooo," drew out Joseph. But the man still said nothing. And he kept looking past them. Or rather, he wasn't even looking at anything at all. The eyes looked too glassy, an unsettling, dead look that sent shivers down Joaquín's spine.

Finally, the large man grunted, "I don't know," and turned to walk back into his restaurant.

"Hey, wait a minute," called Joseph. "What do you mean you don't know?! Is there anyone else here who would know about any hotels? Do you? I just want to know!"

Joaquín was about to say something to him but stopped when he looked back at the disappearing man. It might have been the fog, or perhaps his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he saw several cockroaches skittering along his fat neck. He wiped his eyes, just to make sure, but they were gone when he looked again. It really must have been my imagination, he thought, though he still felt unnerved. And turning back to his grandfather, he could see a similar expression on his face.

He saw it too…

"Maybe he's ignoring you because of your awful pronunciation," suggested Jean Pierre, not at all hiding his amusement. "Forget that guy. Let's go ask someone else who might know."

Joseph simply nodded, but the thoughtful look on his face did not disappear. And neither did Joaquín's for that matter. They both saw something. And Joutarou… the look he had on the drive earlier was the same as theirs. Della's right. Something's wrong with this town. We need to figure out what's going on here before one of us ends up injured. Or worse...

"Hey! What's wrong?!"

Everyone turned to Jean Pierre, who had gone to a cloaked man sitting nearby. There was a look of horror and shock on his face that matched the man that collapsed before them, wide and glassy eyes staring out in fear to the foggy heavens. Two fat lizards scurried out of his scream-frozen mouth. He was dead, and it looked as if he died from a massive, fear-induced heart attack.

"W-What the hell happened here," exclaimed Joseph, the others standing back in shock. "Why's he dead here on the road?!"

"I don't know," Jean Pierre practically shouted. "It's like he had a heart attack and died screaming! He was like this when I went to ask him!"

"But what was so frightening that killed him," asked Della, hand covering her mouth under wide, frightful eyes. Her eyes roved over the man's body before falling on his hands. She gasped and pointed to it. "Guys! He's holding a pistol!"

And she was indeed right. Locked in his hand was a pistol, smoking from the tip as if it was recently fired. It was a chilling sight, for it meant that whatever killed him did so very recently. But there's no sign of a struggle, Joaquín took note as he kneeled before the man, inspecting his body. No visible wounds, no blood. Hell, there's not even bullet wound if this was a suicide. It's almost like that guy Peter used his Stand to kill him without any evidence. This is just too creepy.

While the brothers, Joutarou kneeling beside Joaquín, examined the body, Noriaki was arguing with a rather apathetic woman to call the police. She ignored him, leaving him to voice his shock at how everyone around them simply did not care.

"Niisan," calmly whispered Joutarou, gaining his brother's attention. "What do you think killed him? I'm curious as to what really did it. But the more I mull it over in my mind, the more I keep coming to the same answer."

"A Stand user," Joaquín whispered back.

"The usual reason."

"But why? If this is the case, what reason would a Stand user have by killing an innocent man before we even get here? This man obviously fired before we came. There was no gunshot, no disturbance the entire time we were here. Even a little kid could tell you that..." It was all too mysterious to him. There had to be a reason why he died. Shock alone was plausible, but that cause seemed too silly for him to accept. "Joutarou, I think we should check him."

"Are you crazy?"

"Yeah. We all are. But you said you wanted to find out what killed him. That's exactly what I'm gonna find out. You got a pen?"

"And if the police actually come?"

He looked back at his younger brother with a stony-look. It was a pitiful excuse given the circumstances and he knew it too. His brother reached into his gakuran's pockets and handed over a pen to him. Taking it, he used it to look into said pocket and found several bus and train tickets, along with Indian currency. He's a traveler, like us, noted Joaquín, but this doesn't give me a clue as to how he did. The pen was then used to move the neck of his shirt to expose part of his chest.

And what he saw next made him jump back.

"Jojo," exclaimed Della, who had just turned to see him back away. "Jojo, did you find something?

"Y-Yes," he said with a tremble in his voice. "L-Look at his chest! He's got a hole there!" Upon saying this, he got back down and pulled the corpse's shirt down, showing off a puncture the size of a silver dollar right on his left pectoral. It wasn't the worst injury he's seen, but something about a hole in someone's body made his blood freeze. "This hole… Whatever stabbed him like this… This has to be how he died…"

"B-But… there's no blood… A hole this deep, there should be blood everywhere…"

They all cast worried looks to one another. This bizarre murder was unlike most others they had dealt with. Nobody had seen anything, and the townsfolk were ignoring both them and the body. There were no signs of a Stand attack or the presence of a nearby user. It was as hazy as the fog surrounding them, and they were getting nowhere. They needed to figure out what was going on before they too suffered the same fate.

After a quiet, tense moment, Joutarou ripped apart his shirt. And it was clear that when he did so and opened it, he instantly regretted it. Covering the traveler's body were multiple gouges. Clean, deep and bloodless and the first. He looked like a human beehive.

"Mon dieu," gasped Jean Pierre. "He looks like one of these pieces of cheese you see in Tom and Jerry!"

"None of these have blood, either," cried out Joseph, just as shocked as the others. "How could he have died?! What's going on here?!"

Panic was slowly starting to set in. He could feel it, and he knew the others did. But they had to keep their cool. They could not let fear overtake them.

"O-Okay," said Joaquín, trying not to betray the shaking in his heart. "Everyone… We need to focus… We need to stay calm… There's a high chance that this really is a Stand-related death. And whoever did it could still be here waiting for us. They probably did this as a scare tactic. We need to stay together, search out this town, and-

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE," screamed Joseph, finally losing his nerve and running back to the jeep parked several feet away.

But, wait a minute… Our jeep's literally parked right here by us... So why is there a similar one over there? Unless...

"ABUELITO, DON'T!" But Joaquín's scream came too late. What appeared to be his grandfather jumping into the jeep immediately turned into him jumping into a metal, spike-tipped fence. Joseph was about to be skewered for his hastiness. But the prospect of death did not stop his quick thinking. His hand stretched out, the vines of Hermit Purple shooting out and wrapping around a nearby cable pole. He was saved just in time, the spikes barely poking his back and making him shriek.

Joutarou, confused at the sight grandfather flailing around, said, "Hey, jijii, what do you think you're doing? Dumbass…"

Once seated safely against the gate, Joseph looked up at them and his eyes widened. "Oh, no," he explained. "The hell was I thinking?! Why'd I think the jeep was over here?! It's right by you all!"

"Of course it is," said Jean Pierre slowly, pointing to it. "I parked it here. Or did you forget?"

"No," interjected Joaquín. "He saw the jeep there. I saw it too…Our eyes were tricked into thinking it was in a different position, only for it to have been here the whole time… This is definitely the work of a Stand user… I hate to say it, but we definitely have to leave this place."

"But you can't leave," called out a reedy, old voice from within the mist. Everyone turned around to the voice, which belonged to a squat figure walking through the fog, a tapping sound coming from a walking stick they were carrying. When they came into view, it was revealed to be a small old lady, cloaked and wearing a square, striped mauve cap on her snow-white hair that matched her scarf. A massive cloud of hair hung behind her.

The lady gave them a toothless smile and said, "I couldn't help but overhear your concerns. A poor man lost his life, a fear over something I don't understand, and you wish to leave town? The fog is too thick and dangerous to drive through. If you don't mind, I think it's better to shack up at the hotel here. I'm the owner of it, just looking around for business. And I offer cheap prices and quality rooms. Not to mention safety."

Jean Pierre lit up at this, but none of the others shared the sentiments. Noriaki, sweating out of nerves, spoke what everyone was thinking. "If we stay here, then the chances of being attacked are greater. Especially in this fog. They would have an advantage here…"

"That may be," said Della, the fear in her voice lessened, "but we've landed in worse traps before. It's not like any of us is gonna keep our guards down."

"You're right about that," agreed Jean Pierre, looking back at the corpse. Policemen had finally arrived, taking him onto a stretcher. They looked just as vacant and uncaring as the other townsfolk. "But, to be honest, I'm less concerned about a Stand user and more about this town. Just look at how the police are handling that man. They don't even look concerned about his death."

The old lady tapped her stick to catch their attention, pointing to a building a small ways away. "This way, Joestar, darling. My hotel's just this way. I'll show you around once we're there and book your rooms."

With some hesitation, the group followed her. While the little lady was kind enough to offer them somewhere to rest for the night, there was something very off-putting about her. Was it the bandaged left hand behind her back? The toothless smile? Or…

"I know it's a bit small, but they shot part of a James Bond movie here 20 years back. And there was a little episode when the famous John Lennon stood here. Quite the celebrities I've served!"

"Really," asked Joseph and Jean Pierre excitedly, the former a big fan of The Beatles.

The lady chuckled and looked back with a teasing smile. "I got you good there, huh? But no, I'm afraid not. It's just a little white lie I tell to get customers. My little, old hotel is my pride, and I'm happy to run it whether I lie about its guests or not. I don't have anyone at the hotel at the moment, so how about I cook something special for you all? Some prime meat, or perhaps some fish?"

"Wait a second," spoke up Joaquín, now realizing what was off about the woman. "Just now… you just said Joestar... How do you know that name?"

She stopped right in her tracks. From behind, he could see the gears in her head working on overdrive to think up of an excuse. This entire time, nobody said Joestar. So how would that name even come to mind? Surely everyone else must have been feeling the same suspicions he was. The air tensed up the longer she didn't answer him.

After a minute, she turned back and smiled. "Oh, come now, dear. I heard your friend there say Joestar not too long ago." She pointed to Jean Pierre, who looked confused, but supposed that he indeed said his name. It was a flimsy excuse, and the others knew it. They had to. But to his surprise, they let decided to let it slip by. Perhaps it was out of naivety, or some silent agreement to watch over her. Either way, Joaquín couldn't trust this woman. He just couldn't…

~+JO*JO+~

The hotel, despite its age and coziness, held no comfort for Joaquín. The enemy was nearby, and the halls were filled with the same fog that hung outside. It was like they couldn't escape it. And he knew that old lady had to be behind it, including the townsfolks' bizarre behavior. When everyone had settled in their rooms, he voiced his suspicions to Della, who held the same doubts in her heart. After finishing, she had brought up a harrowing thought, something he didn't think of before.

"What if this lady's that hag that one Stand user told you about? The one who taught Dio about Stands and whose son was J. Geil?"

Quite the unsettling suspicion, especially when he thought back to that bandaged hand. She had shrugged it off as a burn. But he needed to find out if Della was right. Because if so, then they were in far more danger than they already were. Especially Jean Pierre, who murdered J. Geil in revenge. He was not going to wait to see what she could do if she truly was a Stand user. She had to be taken care of immediately.

His girlfriend stood behind as he stepped out of his room, silently moving down the hallway. When he reached the end of the hall and into view of the reception lobby, he hugged the wall and took a cautionary glance into the open. And who did his eyes fall upon but a familiar man with a wide-brimmed hat, a smug grin, and the jingling of spurs strutting into the hotel and ringing the bell at the counter.

It was Hol Horse.

Shit! Why the hell is Hol Horse here?! Did he follow us?!

Before he could think more on this, the cowboy spoke out, "Beggin' your pardon, Ms. Enya, but is the Joestar group stayin' on the third floor?"

The reedy voice of the lady called out "Hol Horse. So you've come." And that alone was all he needed to confirm his primary suspicion. She was the Stand user. But as to whether it was the mother of J. Geil was yet to be seen. He hid back behind the wall and listened in on them, hoping one of them says something.

"That's right. That failure ZZ told me where they would be and I moseyed on over to where they ought to have been. It took a while, but I found 'em, and from there, I followed 'em straight here. But, I'm surprised, Ms. Enya. I didn't expect to see you going after 'em this soon."

There was silence, then, to the surprise of both Joaquín and Hol Horse, Enya began to sob. It was the last thing he'd expect someone like her to do.

"W-What's goin' on," asked Hol Horse consolingly. "Enya, you never cry. Tell me what's got you crying a river? H-here, let's move this elsewhere. We don't want the Joestars eavesdropping on us."

"Oh, Hol Horse," Enya choked, her voice moving further from the lobby. "I'm sorry… I'm just so happy you came for me…I've been so lonesome without my precious, baby boy in this world… You… You were a good friend of his, weren't you, Hol Horse..?"

And there it is, thought an unsurprised Joaquín. Looks like Della's hunch was right. But now this means we're in deep shit. This is Dio's right-hand woman. She's not gonna pull any punches, especially considering Jean Pierre killed his freak for a son. I gotta deal with her quickly. Without wasting another second, Joaquín jumped over the balustrade and landed on the bottom floor, loud enough to catch the attention of the two from the lounge they had ducked into.

"What in tarnation- Trejo!" Hold Horse wasted no time forming his Stand Emperor in his hands and taking aim. A teary-eyed and falsely fearful Enya looked up at him from having her face buried in a chair. "Damn, boy, don't scare me like that! Ain't your mama ever taught you not to eavesdrop?"

"No," said Joaquín truthfully. "That would have been my abulelita. But given how I've been feeling the whole time I've been in town, and because your little friend there," he pointed towards Enya, "said my grandfather's name as if she knew him, I had no choice but to be a bit nosy. And I'm glad I stuck my nose right where it shouldn't be, Enya Geil.

The little old lady, still on the floor, dropped her innocent look immediately. The lines in her face looked deeper, and her grey eyes bore deep holes of hatred into Joaquín. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her head drooped to the floor as a low chuckle escaped her mouth.

"I'm so happy," she muttered, almost as if to herself. "So, so happy… I have everyone right where I want them… My son's murderer, his accomplices… and the coward who left him for dead…"

Hol Horse's gun lowered as he cast a nervous look at her. It looked like he was also in trouble as well. Trying not to panic, he calmly pleaded, "L-Look, Ms. Enya, to be fair, J. Geil lured ol' Polnareff on his own volition. He would have wanted me to stay behind."

"The dead cannot cry out for justice… It is a duty of the living to do so for them… That's why I've been blessed with my Stand… For today... For my son…" Her head shot up to show the pure rage in her ancient, reddening face. "JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED!"

The room temperature dropped to a freezing degree. Joaquín felt a large presence right behind him. Slowly, both he and Hol Horse turned to the arched entryway. He wished he didn't. Standing silently with cold, dead eyes were well over a dozen Pakistani men and women. He recognized the surly restaurant keeper amongst the throng, and, to his horror, the corpse of the Indian traveler. And from his and several others' holes that were exposed, the fog drifted through like strings on a puppet.

And above them all was the misty shape of a wicked, crowned skeleton with cruel hands.

"T-This is your Stand," gasped Joaquín, not keeping his eyes off the group. As they slowly advanced upon their prey, their puppet master stood back and laughed maniacally.

"That's right," she jeered. "This is 'Justice'! The fog that shrouds this town controls all those who have died here! And it's not just the dead, but the living too! All it takes is a simple hole, you are instantly my Stand's puppets! With Justice, I needn't worry about having a single Stand, for I can control an entire army to kill those who have done wrong! Starting with you, Hol Horse!"

"Stand back, Hol Horse!" Preciosa had already appeared beside Joaquín, gloved fists sparking with hamon. If these puppets are dead, then that meant a simple burst of hamon should be enough to destroy them. His Stand slammed both fists into the fat corpse's chest as he cried out, "OVERLOAD!" The man stopped in his tracks, shaking from the impact from the punch, but he wasn't disintegrating. There wasn't even a single burn on his clothes.

Backing away in shock, he yelled, "B-But how?! That's supposed to work on the undead! What kind of brujeria is this?!"

"Your silly little ripple is useless against my army," cackled Enya. "They are more than the undead! They will never fall to anything! No amount of punching or shooting can stop their unholy advance! You're all dead!"

That didn't stop them from trying. Preciosa wailed on every one of the corpses he could find, sending them out the window nearby. Hol Horse, meanwhile, shot at one of them through the head. The bullet that shot out whizzed about and pierced through the rest of them. They all fell to both fists and bullets, and for a moment, Joaquín felt proud to have showed her she was wrong. Until, of course, they all slowly got up and glared at the two.

"S-Son of a bitch," growled Hol Horse, putting his Stand away. "She was right! Nothin's working! Can we even beat her?!"

I don't know," muttered Joaquín, wracking his brain as to his next move. "No hamon, nothing physical…What about Enya? Can we even atta- ARGH!"

Something was digging into his leg. Looking down, he noticed a baby boy riddled with holes on his naked body sticking his tongue right into him. He kicked out and sent him into Enya's waiting arms. The blood that oozed out of his wound drifted into the air, mixing with the fog. After a moment, he felt the hole widen and the pain disappear. He looked back at the hag smiling wickedly and rushed to punch her, but he was immediately hooked by the wound and suspended into the air.

"MALDITA SEA MADRE, PUÑETA," screamed Joaquín, angry that he would let his own guard down for a moment. He couldn't do anything like this, and his Stand could only reach so far. Calling for help would only endanger the others. So what else could he do? "YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS, ENYA!"

Enya laughed at him as he helplessly hung upside down. "That was all I needed from you," taunted Enya. "Just one little hole! And now you're trapped! I told you there was nothing you could do! Not to my minions, and not to my Stand! As my master would say, your efforts are useless! Useless, useless, useless, useless, USELESS!" She allowed herself a manic cackle of victory. "Go on… Keep saying you'll defeat me... I want to hear how pitiful your words are as you die, Trejo!"

He could feel the blood rushing to his head. If he hung like this for any longer, he would suffer major consequences. There's no way she's completely invincible, he thought defiantly. Sure, I can't attack her or Justice directly, but there has to be some way I can beat her. There has to… What's another way I could beat a Stand? Come on, think!

And then it came to him. Something his grandfather told him on the flight to Japan. That Stands are like hamon. Not only did they need to remain focused, but they also needed to breathe. Without air, their power waned. Joaquín had seen this twice before, once after trapping his brother with Preciosa's slime and once with trying to drown Rubber Soul. There was the answer! But he was too high up to hit her with any Sapo Sap. So what else could he do? Unless he could get a hold of the Stand and-

There was the second answer. And he knew exactly what he had to do.

With his mind clear, albeit with building pressure, he composed himself and said, "You know, Enya… Not everyone's Stand is as invincible as you tote yours as… Each person who said that got their assess beat by us… So stop wasting your breath with that 'useless' crap… Because with the next one you take, I will defeat you and your Stand…"

The old lady scoffed and cupped her ear towards him. "What was that? You'll beat me when I do what? YOU FILTHY LITTLE BOY! I'll show you… Heh… Take another breath…" He watched as Enya do just that. Or, at least try to. It looked as if it was difficult to take in one small breath. Her face reddened before she dropped the undead baby and began clutching at her throat. She couldn't breathe. When she and Hol Horse looked up, they could see just why.

Preciosa floated beside Joaquín, taking in a deep breath. He was inhaling the fog all around them, from which the skeletal figure of Justice lurked within. He had figured if she can't choke her, she could choke her Stand. It was the only way he could win. Slowly, as he was trapping the Stand, he was lowered onto the floor. The corpses all around them shook and collapsed, no longer under Enya's influence. And the user was gasping desperately for the air she couldn't breathe.

"P-P-P-Please," she croaked, her face now blue. "S-S-Stop i-it…"

Now it was Joaquín's turn to scoff. "Why? So you could go after all of us again and return to your beloved master with our heads? I don't think so, bruja. Sure, you'll live, but you'll live with the knowledge that you failed. Both to your son and your master."

She couldn't take it anymore. She let out a pathetic croak and collapsed, falling unconscious as the last of the fog was inhaled. He wanted to see if he could harm it from within by using his hamon, but even he thought that would be taking it to far.

"D-Damn, son," whispered Hol Horse, slowly approaching his boss's aide and toeing her with his boot. "No wonder she and Dio wanted you dead… Heh... If you could beat this hag on your own, I reckon you might stand a chance against that bastard."

That compliment sounded so sincere that, against his better judgment, he smiled at his former killer and said, "Thank you, Hol Horse." He looked back at the lady and sighed. "Such an incredible power. To think that Dio enlisted her… I have so many questions about her. How she knows about Stands to the point of influencing such a monster… How many more Stand users are working for him… And…" He swallowed a lump in his throat, voicing the most important question of all.

"What is Dio's Stand power?"

The cowboy scratched his forehead and shook his head. "He's never shown me. All I know is that it's the most powerful Stand of all, accordin' to him. He only lets the closest of his associates know. She might know, but… I'd advise against asking her. Cause if you somehow convince her, y'all might just end up givin' up on your crusade. Just a fair warnin'."

It felt like an empty threat, however, there was weight to it. Dio's Stand has been a mystery to them all. Every night before sleeping, he always asked this question. Could they defeat it? Would they die trying? Unless they had a clue as to what his power is, they would be going in blind. And yet, here they had an opportunity to find out. If his grandfather's Hermit Purple worked the way it did, if it could project her thoughts for them, then the answers would be there.

"Thanks for the warning. But I'll take my chances. Now, if I were you, I'd high-tail it out of here. You're still on everyone's shit list. Including mine."

"Fair enough. See ya later, Joaquín Trejo!" He waved at him as he fled through the broken window. As he did so, he heard the sound of frantic steps descending from the stairs in the lobby and heading towards him. Turning back, he saw his friends and family look into the room with shock at the aftermath of the battle. Jean Pierre knelt and inspected the corpses as Joseph stepped over them to reach his grandson.

"What happened here," he asked slowly before his eyes fell upon Enya. "And what happened to her?"

"She's Dio's right-hand servant," explained Joaquín. "She controlled everyone in town with the fog. She even got a hold of me. But I beat her. Oh, and Hol Horse was here."

"Hol Horse," everyone but Joutarou exclaimed.

"Yeah, he left a few seconds ago. He was gonna try to kill us. But as it turned out, Enya, the bruja, wanted him dead for abandoning her son."

"Her son," asked Jean Pierre before his eyes widened. "Wait, you mean… J. Geil is her son?!" To show him he was serious, he went to the old lady and undid the bandage on her left hand. Underneath was a misshapen, right hand, which made the Frenchman gasp. "Mon dieu... I'm lucky I didn't bump into her. And she seemed so nice earlier to me."

"I didn't want anyone fighting her. I know it was risky, but if we all tried going up against her, we'd all have been screwed."

Joseph smirked and patted his grandson's back. "Well, thank for thinking about us, Joaquín. Just be careful doing things like that next time. I'd hate to lose one of my grandsons. Now… what should we do about this hag?"

~+JO*JO+~

"Lord Dio, a second report."

"... Speak."

"Hol Horse has reported the defeat of Justice at the hands of Joaquín's Stand, Preciosa. Enya had been left alive and is in the Joestars' company."

"... Then my suspicions were correct… Her Stand was not at its full power…"

"Lovers is en route to their next destination... What is your next command?"

"... Finish her…"

~+JO*JO+~

The town they had left, as it turned out, was also a part of Justice. A simple mirage meant to fool them all, just like Lollipop Land but less enticing. It had turned a graveyard in the middle of the desert into a town filled with skeletons wearing guises of their former lives. It was little wonder as to why hamon didn't work. They weren't the undead, but simply dead. The trap was a rather clever one, but in the end, they all managed to escape. There was, however, one thing they didn't account for.

Hol Horse had stolen their jeep.

A sheepish Joaquín chuckled and guiltily said, "I'll take the blame for that one, guys. I kinda let him go since he did technically try to help."

But it wasn't too bad. The group had found a real town much later that day and bought themselves a horse-drawn carriage to use for their trip to Karachi. There, they would sail to Saudi Arabia, and by then, they should be ready to enter Egypt. Everything seemed to have been falling into place for them. All they could hope for was to avoid bumping into anymore Stand users along the way. With Enya defeated, he was certain Dio would be sending his top men after them.

Two mornings after that battle in the fake town, the group had arrived in the metropolis that was Karachi. It looked far more beautiful than some of the towns in India, and it was obvious that they did not suffer the same levels of poverty as Calcutta did. The streets were cleaner, and the denizens were not swarming them like flies. While that town was entertaining on its own, it was nice to be in a much calmer environment. And with their regal carriage, they didn't look too out of place.

"Hey, is anyone hungry," asked Joseph from the front, looking back at the others seated behind him.

"Now that you mention it," said Della after her stomach growled. "I am feeling a bit hungry. But not too much.

"Agreed," said Noriaki. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"Indeed I do. Wait here, everyone." The carriage stopped, Joseph stepping off to go talk to a robed man in sunglasses tending to his food stand. Right in the middle was a delicious slab of meat being spit-roasting before their eyes. A doner kebab, which would be served shaved and on bread.

"Man, that actually looks really good," proclaimed Joaquín, his mouth already watering. "Kinda reminds me of the gyros I sometimes got from New York."

"I had some before," said Joutarou, turning to face his brother. "I'm not too fond of the sauce they use on that."

"Me neither. I usually just order mine without. Once I went to a Spanish store that sold them, for some reason, and they put pico de gallo on it. It sounds really weird, but it was a lot better than you think." He looked over at his grandfather and noticed that he and the man were haggling over prices. "Looks like someone's trying to get Abuelito to pay more than he should."

Della shook her head in exasperation. "Do all countries do this to foreigners?"

"Not that I know of," said Noriaki. "But apparently, it's standard practice here in the Middle Eastern countries. Vendors set their prices higher than what they would normally sell for in the west or in Japan. Foreigners can be easily exploited if they don't know the true value of whatever they're purchasing. Apparently, Joestar-san seems to have caught on to this and is trying to get our food for cheaper."

And with that, they both seemed to agree on a price. Joseph paid the man and he gave him their food. Although judging by his smug grin, he still ended up duping him. "Not cheap enough," muttered Joutarou with slight disappointment.

"It's no big deal, Jojo. We're all still getting our food."

But before they could be presented their food, Joseph stopped in his tracks and pointed into the carriage. "Hey, everyone," he exclaimed. "That hag's awake!"

Everyone spun to see Enya, awake and wide-eyed. She looked none too happy to be in their presence. "Oh good," happily proclaimed Joaquín, clapping his hands and turning completely around to face her. "You're finally up. You almost had me worried." His words were sincere, although there was an edge of snark in them. "You were out for two days after I beat your 'invincible' Stand. I almost thought you had died or something. Say, you want some food before we begin the… Enya?"

She wasn't looking at him, or at anyone else for that matter. She was shaking where she sat, sweat forming on her face. Looking closely at her, he noticed that her eyes weren't filled with any rage or disdain, but fear.

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" His snark was replaced with worry at the sheer terror she wore on her face. "We're not gonna kill you if that's what you're thinking."

But Enya didn't listen. She was backing up against the wall of the carriage, eyes looking straight ahead. "I-I-I said nothing," she hastily said in a panic. "W-Why have you come for me?! I would never reveal Lord Dio's secrets to anyone! E-Especially the Joestars!"

They all turned back to see that pleading was directed towards the meat vendor Joseph just bought food from. He stood silent for a moment, then slowly began to take off his shades and his hood. Before Joaquín could properly see what he looked like, all hell broke loose behind him. Enya let out a pitiful, gargled screech as fleshy tentacles whipped all about from her nose, mouth, ears, and even through her eye sockets. Blood spurted everywhere as she writhed in absolute pain.

He and the others fled the carriage as she slowly tumbled out onto her knees, suffering before their eyes. "Why," she moaned out in disbelief. "Why would you kill me?! I've done him no wrong!"

The man, who had disguised himself as a vendor, spoke in a cold, unapologetic voice. "You haven't. But that doesn't mean Lord Dio ever trusted you. He simply saw no further use for you after embarrassing him with your defeat. Enjoy your death, and rejoice that he's not the one killing you. As for the rest of you, you'll all be joining her soon."

"Enya," cried out Joaquín, upset that Dio was so cruel as to betray her. Sure, she was a wicked lady, but she did not deserve such a horrific death. He spun back at her killed and growled, "I'm gonna make you pay for-"

Joaquín's blood, and the whole world around him, froze. The chaos all around him faded to black. All he could see was the man who killed Enya taking off the robe he was wearing. Even though he had never seen those cruel blue eyes before, he instantly recognized him. He knew that youthful, handsome face, and that jet black wavy hair that fanned in the back to make him look like a vicious bird of prey.

For the first time in over a year, Joaquín Trejo stood face to face with his father's killer.