Ch. 25
Sparkle
DECEMBER 27TH, 1988
17:58
THE RED SEA
The Red Sea.
The most beautiful, clearest sea in the world, according to divers. But it wasn't called this because its waters were crimson, but rather due to the deserts whose eastern and western coasts it parts. An endless expanse of blue untouched by pollution. No city was cruel enough to do it, whether they had rivers that poured into it to dump waste in or not. It was just too beautiful.
It was the perfect scenery for Joaquín and his group, who finally left Saudi Arabia and the Emirates behind them. The morning after their crash, they were saved by a rescue team and taken straight to Mecca as promised. Everyone managed to relax for a while and fill their stomachs before they took off for Jeddah and chartered a small speedboat to head to their next destination. But before they left, they had decided to hand over Mannish Boy to someone who was more than happy to adopt him.
Noriaki was oddly relieved afterward.
It had been quite a while since they left. Everyone had just finished a quick dinner and were anticipating what lied ahead of them. Or rather, everyone except Jean Pierre. As opposed to going west straight for Egypt, they were going south towards a small island. Joaquín had pointed this out, simply to rouse his French friend's curiosity and prepare him for what they had in store.
"There's a reason I haven't talked much about it until now," said Joseph, sounding serious to not give the ruse away. "There's someone we have to meet before we enter Egypt. I'm simply taking a detour. This man… is important to this journey.
"Someone important," asked Jean Pierre, his curiosity piqued. "Living on a small island like that?"
Joseph nodded and left it at that. He was right about this being an important person. They had received word about him earlier that day from the Speedwagon Foundation. He had woken up two days after the incident, but he had finally been able to stand and walk about three days ago. He was safely flown out of India to this isolated island, where their next, safer mode of transportation awaited them. That is, if he had managed to procure it on time.
They parked their boat along the beach of the island, disembarking and walking towards the jungle that lied ahead. Joaquín would have thought something dangerous lurked within, but he knew better to think that. It would be safe within, whether they were attacked or not. The man they were about to meet would help them.
"Joestar-san," Noriaki spoke apprehensively and low. "Can anyone really live here? This small island feels like it's deserted." He sounded well rehearsed, even more so considering there was no rehearsal for this. The only thing they needed to work with was that they came to meet someone important to their journey. Everything after that was improvised.
"Only one person lives alone here," answered Joseph, just barely whispering. "That's what he told me in India earlier."
"Huh? Who is it? Who is he?!"
"What do you mean by Indian curry," asked Jean Pierre, having misheard what Joseph said. It was funny enough to make Joaquín chuckle, but not Joutarou. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention. He was more focused on the bushes, where a pair of eyes as stoic as Jotarou's were looking out from within.
Those eyes…
"Hey," called Joutarou unworriedly, "we've got someone eavesdropping on us." And as soon as he pointed him out, the man turned tail and ran. From where he stood, Joaquín could make out his dark skin, his matching robe, the white hair tied up in a long tail and smaller ones atop his head… And the golden medallions that made up his bizarre earrings/necklace. It was an all-too-familiar sight they hadn't seen in weeks.
They gave chase, but it didn't last long until they arrived at a small, fenced-in house that was as old and lonely as the runaway. The man slowed down to pick up a bowl before passing through his gate. Nobody could see what he was doing properly, but given the sounds of clucking and scattering seeds, it became apparent that he was tending to some chickens.
"Now, now," he muttered tiredly, yet lovingly to his flock, "calm down! Are you really that hungry, Michael? Prince? Do not be greedy! I put a lot of thought into this properly nutritious meal; it even has your favorite: shellfish! Get yourself big and fat so you'll make a delicious chicken, Lionel."
"Hey, who are you," asked Jean Pierre hurriedly.
"From the back," said Noriaki in surprise, the two trying to approach. "It can't be! That hair is-"
But Joseph stopped them. "Just wait a moment," he barked before turning to the man. "I'll speak with him. Everyone just wait here." And so he approached the fence, addressing the hermit formally. "Excuse me, sir. My name is Joseph Joestar. I'm traveling with my companions and family to Egypt, and we-"
But the man, who had frozen in his feeding, stopped him with a harsh, "Go away! I will not hear it! I… I want you to stop talking to me! Whenever anyone comes to visit me, it's to tell me bad news! It's always only whenever something horrible happens!" The man turned to face them, a look of pained anger as he pointed away from them. Everyone except Joseph gasped. They knew that face. "I will not hear it! Now go away!"
"Avdol," spoke Joutarou in disbelief.
"M-Mr. Avdol," exclaimed Della. But nothing they said stopped the man from fleeing into his home and slamming the door shut. There was a shocked silence amongst them all, which only Della was brave enough to break with a whisper. "B-But that's impossible… Mr. Joestar… was that-"
"That was Avdol's father," he answered solemnly. "He's abandoned the rest of the world to live alone on this remote island. This is why I haven't spoken to any of you about this until now. Because if Dio found out we stopped here, then his peace would be more disturbed than it already is… I didn't want that…"
"So we're here to…"
"Recruit him… But to tell him that his son had passed…It's going to be hard…" It was harder for Jean Pierre, still unknowing of Mohamed's true fate. He still blamed himself for what happened in India. Being here now, he undoubtedly felt worse, considering his shameful expression. Joseph reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Polnareff, his death wasn't your fault."
The Frenchman shrugged him off and began to walk away. "No, it is," he refuted. "It is my fault. And it's my responsibility to bear the guilt."
Seeing his friend still mourning the supposed death of their friend was too much for Joaquín to bear. They had kept him in the dark for so long. And while he agreed that he needed to be back then, now that they were within walking distance of Mohamed, it almost felt insulting. There's no more reason to keep it up now. You need to know the truth. It's the very least you deserve…
With a sigh, he began walking after him. Della noticed and asked, "You're going to keep him company Jojo?"
"Of course," he said with a backward glance and a smile. "You think I'm gonna let him get himself into trouble while he's sulking? I'll be back, don't worry. Just, uh, tell 'Mr. Avdol' I said hi, okay?"
"Just be careful yourself, Joaquín, warned Joseph," who looked to have an inkling as to what his grandson was planning.
"Don't worry, I said. The only thing you gotta worry about is if those chickens blow up before they're fried." And with that, he ventured into the jungle, keeping an eye for that signature pillar of silver hair. It didn't take long to venture through the foliage and find him sulking atop a small rock overlooking a part of the beach. The sun was already setting behind the grey clouds that reflected the poor man's heart at the moment.
He didn't say a word as he took a seat beside his friend, who didn't look his way. There were mercifully no tears on his cheeks or water in his eyes, but his expression was quite mournful. After a moment of silence, Joaquín said in an understanding tone "I was there too. Don't forget about that, Jean Pierre. I felt horrible that I was there while that bastard shot Mohamed. But if he were here right now, he wouldn't want either of us to sulk about and wonder what could have been."
"I know that," Jean Pierre muttered. "And I know that I wasn't the one who killed him. It was Sherry's killer that led to his death. Had he not been there, Avdol would have melted that bullet. Sure, I avenged his death and my sister's, but I still feel responsible. Now more than ever… I mean… how is this going to happen..? With Avdol's old man..? Where do I even begin..? "
"Well… You can start by giving him a hug. After all, he's- Huh?"
He was about to tell him the wonderful truth when something caught his eye. Something sparkling and half-buried in the sand. It looked like a golden teapot, infested with barnacles. But it looked too old and too bizarre to be one... "What the hell is that..?" And before Joaquín could get up to get a better look, Jean Pierre had already gotten up and approached it. "H-Hey, don't touch that!"
"And why not," he asked with the air of a boy being denied his mother's cookies.
"Because it could be dangerous. Think about it, what good ever came out of either of us touching weird and out of place things? You got attacked by a vengeful doll and I got trapped in my worst memory."
"But this is neither." He then knelt and lifted it out of the sand. Once Joaquín had stood up as well, he could see that it wasn't a teapot at all. It was an oil lamp, glistening in the light of the setting sun. "Just look at how old this is. It must have been washed up here from a shipwreck or something. Who knows for how long."
As old as it did look, he still felt unease from it. Even as he approached Jean Pierre, he just couldn't trust it. Not its beauty, not the age, not even the odd, beast-like face protruding from the side of it. Something within him wanted to call out Preciosa and obliterate the lamp.
"Say, what was that about Avdol's father?"
Joaquín's mind snapped back to attention, noticing that his friend was now wiping some barnacles off with his wristband. "Oh, sorry," he said, shaking his head to clear him of his mounting doubt. "I was, er, gonna say that he's-"
"W-What the hell?!"
And he was cut off again by the golden treasure, which shook in his friend's hand. The light emanating from it seemed to be its own, glowing brighter. And hot. Joaquín could feel a powerful heat coming from it. His friend must have felt it too, for he immediately let go. Just as he did, smoke erupted from the spout of the lamp. It could have been just the smoke and the light, but he could have sworn he'd seen something large and inhuman coming out as well.
The two fell back on the sand for a moment but immediately sprang to their feet. The dust had settled, but there was nothing in sight but the lamp stuck in the sand again.
"W-What was that just now," Jean Pierre almost yelled, his eyes glued on it again.
"I don't know," answered Joaquín, now holding a defensive stance. "But I told you not to touch it! What if it was dangerous?!"
"It's clearly not... I-I guess it was just had some air clogged in it. Me wiping it must have disturbed it or something."
Joaquín scoffed. "What, were you expecting a genie to pop out like in that story Aladdin?"
"Kind of." He turned to him with a smile, his somber mood now behind him. "A shame, really. We could have gotten ourselves a wish just for letting one out."
"THEN HOW ABOUT THREE?"
The duo turned to see something large and robotic standing behind them. If they could call it a robot. Upon its magenta body were cream-colored limbs, large, shoddy shoulder pads, and a bizarre head sporting green, lamp-like eyes. It stuck out three fat fingers and spoke to them in his robotic, enthusiastic voice like some game show host. "THREE! TELL ME YOUR WISHES! AND I'LL GRANT THEM FOR YOU! WHATEVER THREE DESIRES YOU HAVE!"
Both Silver Chariot and Preciosa emerged from their users, primed and ready to fight. "Who the hell are you," Joaquín shouted, not at all trusting this mechanical being. He knew precisely what he was.
"MY NAME IS CAMEO," he answered, unfazed by the Stands or the edge in Preciosa's user's voice. "I WANNA THANK YOU FOR FREEING ME FROM MY LAMP. AND AS SUCH, I OFFER YOU BOTH THREE WISHES. I'LL GRANT ANYONE YOU WANT."
"Y-You're a new Stand user," announced Jean Pierre, having thought the same as his friend. Both Silver Chariot and Preciosa attacking Cameo with sword and fists respectively. But rather than being gouged or dented, the clunky robot effortlessly blocked every single blow with his hands. And with such speed! It almost matched them both. With an opening in his sights, Cameo, swung his arm at the same time the others did, making the uses stagger back with a shaking arm.
Not only was he fast, but he was rather strong. Which only meant one thing…
"You're close by," stated Jean Pierre, having regained his bearings. That's why your Stand is so strong! So where the hell are you?!"
Cameo crossed his arms and asked, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR FIRST WISH? ARE YOU OKAY WITH ASKING FOR SUCH A BORING WISH?"
"What do you mean by 'three wishes'?! Why do you keep saying you can grant wishes?"
"Maybe because he believes he can," muttered Joaquín to Jean Pierre, still on guard as he and Preciosa eyed Cameo cautiously. "So you know what we should do, Jean Pierre?"
"Kick his ass?!"
"After. But let's see if he's really a wish-granter." He then spoke to the robotic Stand floating wistfully before them. "Okay, Cameo, or whatever you're really called… We'll humor you and ask for a wish. Let's start with something simple, shall we?"
"IF YOU SO CHOOSE," he said patiently.
"Hm… Let's see…" He thought for a moment about what most people would immediately wish for. Only one word came to mind: money. Every person would jump at the opportunity to become financially stable with plenty of money to last them their entire lives. And it was a simple wish to grant. "Okay then, make us millionaires."
"IS THIS YOUR FIRST WISH?"
"Hold on a second," Jean Pierre butted in. "Why would you want that much money?"
"I don't," assured Joaquín, looking back at him. "It's a test, just to see if he's bullshitting us or not. I mean, money's nice. But I'd probably just give a good chunk away if this actually does come true." He set his sights back to the "genie". "Go ahead. If you can really grant wishes, then make us both millionaires."
Cameo didn't even hesitate when he said. "VERY WELL. IT'S BEEN GRANTED."
"What?" He wasn't expecting that answer.
Clouds of smoke hissed out from all over him, clouding himself from everyone's vision. And through the noise, Cameo's voice boomed loud and clear, as if they've won a grand prize."
"HAIL!
"TO!
"YOU!"
And with that, the smoke cleared, and the men were once again left all on their lonesome. Cameo was nowhere to be found. What's more, there was no sign of any money. Not even a feeling of their bank accounts fattening. While his trust in the Stand was nonexistent and could care less about becoming rich, Joaquín felt just a twinge of anticlimax from the grandiose display.
"W-What was that just now," exclaimed a flabbergasted Jean Pierre, picking up the lamp off the sand.
Geez, all that for nothing... Looking over to his friend, he had no doubts Jean Pierre thought the same thing. I guess he was just nothing but hot air, just like his smoke. Still, I gotta wonder… why didn't he attack us? Except for when he blocked us, he made no active plans to strike… He just kept going on about granting wishes… Maybe he was just trying to trick us… Either way, we both gotta be careful… There's another person here besides Mohamed…
Which Jean Pierre still didn't know.
But as much as I wanna tell him now, I gotta hold off on that. We gotta find out if this Stand's friend or foe first… Cause if I just blurt out Mohamed's alive and this guy turns out to be working for Dio, we're fucked... "Hey, Jean Pierre," he addressed his friend, who tossed the lamp over his shoulder like rubbish. "I think we should let my abuelito know about this."
"You think Avdol's father might have something to do with this?"
Before Joaquín could tell him why he doesn't think this, there came the distinct sound of an oil lamp striking something metallic. It managed to catch their attention. Curious as to what happened, they looked through the brush where Cameo's lamp disappeared to. It was there, and so was the golden hilt of a sword, coins, and an almost completely buried chest.
"Sacre bleu," gasped Jean Pierre, who didn't waste any time digging through the sand. It was an incredible sight. Within the chest he unearthed was a mass of ancient golden coins, mixed together with chalices, swords, and other beautiful jewels. "These are... These are Napoléons! Francs from when Napoléon ruled France! This isn't some hallucination… Or a dream..! It's real! It's genuine, real treasure! H-He's gotta be mocking us!"
Joaquín knelt and picked up one of the swords, waving it carefully before his eyes. It felt so real, all of it. Everything before them was enough to make them millionaires ten times over. It feels like he is mocking us, he thought before giving an experimental slash to the air. Like all this is just too good to be true… But if he was, then why is this treasure here? It doesn't look like it's always been here… At the same time, it's not like it's just been buried… Just what gives with this Stand..?
"TELL ME YOUR SECOND WISH," came the voice of Cameo from above. He was sitting patiently atop a palm tree. "AND I SHALL GRANT IT."
Jean Pierre swiftly became defensive when he saw the Stand again. "B-Bastard… Just what are you planning?! Whatever you have in store, we aren't falling for it! If you're really an enemy, then come down and fight us like one! Or we really take this treasure!"
Once again, Cameo asked, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR SECOND WISH? ARE YOU OKAY WITH ASKING FOR SUCH A BORING WISH? I TOLD YOU, AS THANKS FOR FREEING ME FROM MY LAMP, I WILL GRANT YOU ANY WISH."
"So you're actually serious about this," muttered Joaquín as he drove the blade back into the sand. "I'll give you props, whether you're friend or foe…" He turned his attention to Jean Pierre. "If you wanna make a wish, go ahead. I have mine, but I'd rather work towards them."
"What do you wish for," asked his friend.
"Something that can't be wished for easily. It's okay." He waved his hand dismissively. "I can grant that myself."
"Hm… Alright…" He looked back at the Stand and pointed at him, his expression turning from serious to almost excited. "Alright! My next wish… is to become a cartoonist! I've wanted to ever since I was a child! I wanna appeal to kids more than Disney ever could! I don't want to be some miserable artist! Famous enough to create my own 'Polnareff Land'!"
The uncharacteristic giddiness in his voice was rather amusing to see. It reminded him of how excited he got around women.
"Non! Attends une minute, attends… I want a girlfriend instead!" Such a sudden change to the same thing he was thinking actually made Joaquín bust out laughing. The Frenchman gave him a brief scathing look before going back to explaining his wish, putting emphasis on his words. "Love is far more important than fame and fortune, after all! Someone amazing and cute, bound by the red string of fate! A girl whose feelings and interests are like mine!
"So if you can really do that, then do it now, damnit!"
The Stand stared unblinkingly at him. "A GIRL, EH," he asked. "VERY WELL-"
But again, Jean Pierre dismissed it, rubbing his head as if the thought of getting his deepest desires granted made it hurt. "No, wait… Just… wait a minute…"
"Hey, don't stress about it," consoled Joaquín. "Thinking about a wish shouldn't be a cause for a headache. Just think of something that comes to mind. No matter what it is."
There was silence for a moment. The gears in Jean Pierre's mind seemed to be moving in high gear, trying to decide what the perfect wish would be. He looked very nervous as he did though. While his friend couldn't tell what was going through his mind, he was certain that what he was thinking would be a difficult wish to make. After he finished mulling it over, he finally whispered something that wiped the smile off Joaquín's face.
Something that froze his heart.
"Can you… revive the dead?"
And once again, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR SECOND WI-"
"No!" This time, it was Joaquín who interrupted frantically. "No, it's not! Jean Pierre, out of all the things you could ask for, asking to bring back the deceased is the stupidest, most dangerous wish you could ask for!"
"And why is that," asked Jean Pierre, his brow furrowed and their noses an inch apart. "How would you know?! How would you know he wouldn't give back the ones I've lost?!"
"You ever read that one story called The Monkey's Paw? Look, I know the first wish was a success. I personally don't care about how that treasure got there. But… messing with the dead has severe consequences. It's tempting with nature and fate. And I've seen and read enough to know that your wish, for who you want to bring back to life, can backfire horrifically on you. Now get your head on straight and get out of my face."
He heeded his request, but his face was set. "I want to see my sister again… And Avdol… Think about it, Joaquín… Don't you want to speak to him at least one more time..?"
"But you don't-"
"And don't you want to just hug him when you see him?"
"I mean-"
"Then why don't you just have him come back and spend the day with him the way I want to do with Sherry?! It's such a simple wish!"
"Jean Pierre, that's not the problem! That wish is utterly impossible!"
"Just watch me!" He turned to Cameo and tossed him a photograph of a beautiful woman with long black hair. "Bring my sister Sherry back to life! And our friend Avdol! See if you can do that!"
Joaquín shook his head, slowly losing his temper. "Jean Pierre, I told you, that wish is impossible because-"
"VERY WELL," interrupted Cameo with certainty "IT'S BEEN GRANTED."
"What?!" He wasn't expecting that answer either.
Once again there was smoke, and his voice could be heard clearly through the hiss. "HOWEVER, YOU ASKED FOR TWO THINGS AT ONCE JUST NOW. THAT COUNTS AS TWO WISHES, SO I HAVE TO GRANT THEM BOTH SEP-"
"HOLD IT!" Preciosa was immediately out, and the smoke stopped fuming out. The Stand looked inquisitively at the frog-like warrior boring his eyes onto him. With a calm tone, Joaquín said to him, "How do you know Mohamed Avdol is dead?"
Cameo tilted his head. "BECAUSE I CAN SEE HIM WITHIN YOUR HEARTS. YOU BOTH FEEL IMMENSE GUILT FOR LETTING YOUR CLOSE FRIEND DIE FOR YOUR CARELESS MISTAKE BACK IN INDIA. BUT BY REVIVING HIM, YOU BOTH CAN HAVE A CHANCE TO MAKE AMENDS!"
"See, on any other day, I would believe that. But there's one thing you didn't account for." He pointed straight at him and raised his voice. "Mohamed Avdol is still alive! And trying to bring back someone who is still alive proves to us that you're nothing but another of Dio's expendable dogs!"
"WHAT," exclaimed both the Frenchman and the "wish-making" Stand.
"That's right. Hol Horse's bullet only grazed him. Mohamed survived that little attempt on his life, and he's been recovering since. He's just been able to stand three days ago and came here. He's alive and well. And you saying you can revive him just proved that you're indeed our enemy. Not to mention what you were about to do is very disrespectful to our friend."
There was silence, broken only by Jean Pierre's confused babbling. He would have to explain everything once this was over. Cameo simply chuckled and floated down from his perch, clapping all the while. "WELL, THAT'S SOMETHING I WASN'T EXPECTING," he admitted. "SO MUCH FOR HOL HORSE'S AIM. AND FOR MY SCHTICK. I WAS REALLY ENJOYING GIVING YOU GUYS WISHES, EVEN IF THEY HAVE NO VALUE."
"W-What do you mean by 'no value," stammered Jean Pierre, even more confused.
"YOUR 'WISHES' CAME FROM THE EARTH. LITERALLY. I CAN SHAPE IT AND TURN IT INTO WHATEVER YOUR HEARTS DESIRE. WANT TO BE RICH? I CAN TURN DIRT INTO FAKE GOLD. WANNA BRING BACK THE DECEASED? I CAN MOLD CLAY INTO WHOEVER YOU WANNA SEE AGAIN. THERE'S NOTHING I, JUDGMENT, CAN'T MAKE FROM ONE'S POOR AND HASTY DECISIONS."
"So let me take a guess as to what you were gonna do," said Joaquín, Preciosa cracking his knuckles and preparing for the impending beating he'll deliver. "If I hadn't interrupted that wish, you would have brought back copies of Sherry Polnareff and Mohamed and turned them against us. Am I right."
"YES. BUT WHO SAID YOU INTERRUPTED ME?"
The ground before them rose and broke apart, two figures slowly digging themselves out. The first was a beautiful, limber, and completely naked woman with long, flowing black hair. The second was the robed figure of a black man neither have seen since that fateful day in India. But these two were not Sherry and Mohamed. Their origin and the disfigured region around one of their blind, hungry eyes proved otherwise.
"HAIL TO YOU," cried their master, and they sprang to their prey unquestioningly. Preciosa wasted no time either, a stream of "¡TOMATOMATOMA!" emphasizing the pummeling of his fists. The clay replica of Mohamed crumbled at the might of Joaquín's Stand, nothing left behind. Sherry, meanwhile, had leaped straight for her deceased counterpart's older brother. He was frozen in place, eyes widened in fear and grief. It was clear that couldn't bring himself to hurt her.
"Jean Pierre, use your Chariot," called out Joaquín. "She's not the real Sherry! Your real sister wouldn't want you to die to her fake!"
This seemed to work, his grief replaced by burning determination. His Silver Chariot burst from within him and diced the impostor to irrecoverable bits. The Stand users and their spirits stood side by side, each looking up at their bemused enemy. And together, they smirked and growled, "En guarde…"
Judgment simply chuckled as more earth began to crumble around them. And this time, more Sherrys and Mohameds rose with the intent to kill them. It was Pakistan all over again, only without the stench of death. The two roared and drove through the horde, breaking and slashing apart everything they could reach. But with each one they destroyed, three more emerged to take over. And as relentlessly as they fought, the duo was slowly starting to run out of steam.
"G-God, how many of these things are there," panted Joaquín, avoiding a swipe and slamming one of the Sherrys back to the ground. "I'm kinda getting tired here!"
"I don't know," growled Jean Pierre as Silver Chariot decapitated a Mohamed. "But I swear, I'm going to tear off that damn Stand's head off with mine's own hands!"
Cameo simply laughed and hovered above them. "OH, YOU CAN ONLY HOPE. SO LONG AS I HAVE A GOOD SUPPLY OF EARTH, I COULD CREATE AN ENTIRE ARMY OF GOLEMS TO HOUND YOU DOWN! GO AHEAD! KEEP FIGHTING! KEEP EXHAUSTING YOUR ENERGY! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU DO! VICTORY IS ALL MINE!"
For a moment, Joaquín was ready to believe it. He could feel the power in his Stand's punches weakening with each second. Everyone was too far away to come and help them, and by the time their voices would reach their ears, it'd be too late. But then he could sense someone else nearby, along with a familiar hear growing ever closer…And his hope for victory was reassured.
"DUCK," he shouted, and Jean Pierre instinctively did so. Nearly grazing them both was a massive ankh wreathed in flames. It roared straight into the stunned crowd of clay minions, crumbling and melting from the intense heat. Judgment, who was in the line of fire, floated out of its path before it dissipated. Everyone's eyes turned to the one who did it, the man whose image half the golems mimicked. His finger was ablaze with a sole flame, which he waved and snuffed out as he clicked his tongue.
"YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME," groaned Judgement.
"Oh, you better fucking believe it," happily exclaimed Joaquín.
"Mohamed Avdol," Jean Pierre shouted in shock.
The fortune-teller brought his finger down and exclaimed, "YES! I AM!" Standing proud behind him was Magician's Red, glaring at the offending copies of his master. As he burned them down to nothing, Mohamed approached the two and helped them to their feet, speaking in his ever-so calm and deep voice. "It seems that no matter where we are, I always end up having to save you both."
"Maybe," chuckled Joaquín, brushing off his clothes of some sand. "But we weren't looking for trouble this time."
"Of course. You look different, by the way. As if something heavy has been lifted from your heart. You've grown.
"You're kinda right on that one."
"And, Polnareff," and at the mention of his name, the Frenchman looked nervous, "I am afraid to say you haven't. Your thoughts still dwell on your little sister, and as such, you continue to face the consequences of doing so. You must move on, my friend." He smiled and patted his shoulder. "Still… It is great to see you again."
Jean Pierre wiped his eyes and gave him a warm smile. "My third wish actually came true," he choked out.
"As for you," his and the others attention turned to Judgment, who flinched when the fortune-teller pointed to him. "You say you are Cameo of the 'Judgment' card, correct? Fighting you is my top priority. And through that, I will pass my judgment upon you: straight into the pits of hell. Hell to you!" To have his words twisted made the Stand grunt in amusement. "'Mohamed Avdol is still alive.' Quite the bad news. Enough to inform Dio and the other Stand users right away, correct?"
"ACTUALLY, IT'S PRETTY AMAZING NEWS," Judgement said unworriedly. "HOWEVER, I'M GONNA HAVE TO TWIST THAT NEWS WHEN I DELIVER IT. HOW'S HIS SOUND? 'AVDOL MIGHT HAVE SURVIVED, BUT CAMEO'S JUDGMENT KILLED HIM AND POLNAREFF, AND JOAQUÍN AT THE SAME TIME!' OH, HOW LOVELY TO CHANGE THAT TO GOOD NEWS!"
"Or so you think… Magician's Red!" The bird-headed Stand swung his flaming claws at the robotic one, who swiftly dodged the strike. Judgment grabbed one of the Sherry's by the hair and threw it like the doll it was, right at his attacker. It crumbled when Mohamed's Stand cloaked itself in flames, but the impact was enough to make the fortune-teller stagger backwards.
"HAIL TO YOU," Judgement exclaimed happily as his creation floated down to Earth in flaming pieces.
"B-Bastard," shouted Jean Pierre angrily. "That might have been a fake, but it's still in my sister's image! My sister, damnit!"
Mohamed carefully stood up, his Stand still behind him. "This man… his Stand has considerable power…"
"Not to mention fast," added Joaquín. "We tried to attack him earlier and he just deflected everything. Even Preciosa." Their enemy simply chuckled. "But that doesn't mean we can't beat you, you bastard!"
"AVDOL," said the Stand, ignoring Joaquín's threat. "WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME YOUR 3 WISHES? I'LL GRANT THEM THIS TIME BEFORE YOU DIE… COME ON! TELL ME YOUR THREE WISHES!"
He's playing with us again, thought Joaquín angrily. And he thinks Mohamed's gonna fall for it!
Said fortune-teller did not hesitate when he said, "Give me four instead."
"WHAT?!" Nobody had expected that answer.
"That is my wish. For my three wishes to become four."
"BASTARD… WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THAT..?"
"Are you denying my wish, Cameo?!" Magician's Red flared with the rage of his master. "I gave you one! And you will keep your promise!"
"AVDOL! COMPARING YOUR POWER TO MINE IS STILL USELESS!" They both attacked, Judgement with his fist, Magician's Red with his flaming leg. Joaquín expected them to reach a standstill until the armor of the robotic Stand shattered upon being struck. And that made him finally scream in pain.
"That was my first wish," said Mohamed, "to make you vocalize your pain. And it came true."
Judgment floated back, his bravado crumbling like his creations had. "I-IMPOSSIBLY STRONG! YOU'RE STRONGER THAN WHAT WE WERE BEFORE!"
"That was nothing. My back has not healed yet from the stab wound from 's Hanged Man. That was why I did not use my full power, because I was protecting it. I was just able to stand back in India three days ago. I then took an airplane here, and up until now, my journey has gone without any complications. Now, for my second wish..!"
Magician's Red flew behind Judgment and choked him with a chain of flames, hard enough to make those green eyes shatter. He backed away and shrieked at his misfortune.
"Is to make you shriek in fear! And lastly, my third wish..!" Magician's Red delivered one final kick to his back, crumpling and sending the broken, howling Stand flying, "is to make you howl in regret!" With that final blow, Judgment had clearly had enough. Without so much as another word, the Stand disappeared in his usual cloud of smoke. The clay figures who had watched the incredible display of power soon crumbled, unable to fight now that their master had been bested.
Joaquín, who had been grinning ear to ear the whole time, finally spoke, "No matter how many times I see your Stand in action, I'm always amazed at what he could do. That was so awesome!"
"Thank you," said Mohamed with a smile of his own. Their Stands returned to their masters and faded. "But I am afraid we are not done here. With his power and speed… the Stand user himself must be close by. Such is the essential rule of Stands."
"But where could that bastard have run off to," Jean Pierre nearly shouted, to which Mohamed shushed him. He led the two through the bushes carefully, his head turning here and there as they searched around for the user. They didn't go too far before finding something peculiar sticking out of the ground. It looked like a bamboo pipe, about two feet out and unmoving. Curious, they all squatted before it, Mohamed taking a nearby leaf and placing it upon the hole.
Something from below blew it off.
Everyone cast each other a perplexed look. Then Joaquín plugged the hole with his finger. It took a moment before he felt something struggling to draw in breath. When he freed it, there came a gasping from the pipe, and it became clear to them all. Cameo's hiding under here, he realized. That bastard has been here the whole time… You son of a bitch… trying to trick us with phony wishes and getting Jean Pierre's hopes up. We'll give you hell… Hell to you!
Speaking of Jean Pierre, it seemed he was thinking the same thing. This man, even in hiding, was still playing them. He was going to pay for his deception. And Joaquín had just the idea to play back at him. He looked around and began to pick up whatever he could find; dirt, sand, spiders, ants, and even a match. He spilled everything down the hole, which was forcefully blown and coughed out by the Stand user beneath them. They weren't done yet, however.
"Excuse me," Mohamed pardoned with a wry smile. "But has anyone went yet?"
"Went," asked Joaquín, his head tilted. "Went where?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Joaquín." He straightened himself up. "Come, boys! Let's do it together! We should all bond after being apart for so long! Come urinate with me!"
"U-Urinate?" He looked at him as if he lost his mind. But when he wagged his finger and clicked his tongue again, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. And it was hilarious. Without so much as another word, everyone undid their pants and relieved themselves, aiming straight into the tube. Out of the three, Mohamed seemed to be having the most fun, laughing all the while. "Hey, you okay Mohamed?"
"Of course I am! Come on, boys, laugh with me! It is proper manners to laugh while you urinate! So laugh with me! Laugh, boys! Wah ha ha ha ha!"
Jean Pierre smiled somewhat nervously. "A-Avdol," he said in slight amusement. "Did your personality change or something? Before now, you've never come up with something as vulgar as this!" His nervousness faded as he chuckled. "It must have been because of that head-shot you received back in India!"
In response, the fortuneteller lifted his headband, which revealed the healed-up, bullet-shaped scar across his forehead. He was still smiling. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just missed your silly actions so much that I wanted to do what you would have done in this situation."
And the three shared a hearty, genuine laugh, knowing that he was right. While what they did was crazy taking a leak together with their reunited friend was actually a nice little bonding experience. They both missed Mohamed, and Joaquín personally didn't mind what they did together. He was just glad to have him back.
The moment was almost ruined when the ground burst before them. A fat-lipped man with long, balding ginger hair dug his way out, gargling with urine and coated in dirt. He crawled out and immediately threw away his pipe and urine-filled swim visor in disgust, having had enough done to him. When Cameo turned to look at them, he shrieked and begged to them, "Oh god! Please forgive me!"
"And that is my fourth wish," said Mohamed, his mirth replaced with his familiar stoic seriousness. Magician's Red blazed to life beside him. "As for your wish, I cannot grant it for you. Because my Magician's Red… will not forgive you."
Cameo was left behind a burnt and defeated man.
~MOHAMED AVDOL: REJOINED~
~CAMEO: RETIRED~