Here it is, the chapter I'm sure a lot of you have been dreading. I'll admit that I was in tears near the end. I felt like I captured that scene perfectly, given the characters I had used. And if I actually make you guys cry, then I'll know I've done my duty to tug at your heartstrings. As always, please enjoy this chapter.

Ch. 38
Ice Cold

JANUARY 16TH, 1989
14:40
CAIRO, EGYPT

"M-My lord! I-I have the most exciting news!"

"... Speak, Nimrod."

"Well… some bad news first… One of the groups that had been split up… Joaquín, Avdol, Polnareff and Iggy… Well… They eliminated Kenny G…"

"... So his Tenor Sax's illusion has been dispelled… And what of the good news..?"

"Ah, yes! Well, Vanilla Ice… He's done it..! He's killed off Avdol!"

"... Are you certain he has been killed..?"

"Indeed! Swallowed into the subspace of his Stand! There is nothing left but his arms!"

"... After all the sacrifices I have endured… I have finally managed to snatch something meaningful to them… The life of the fortuneteller… It may be a last moment victory, but it is pleasing to hear nonetheless…"

"Vanilla Ice is engaging the others as we speak! With his power, he'll certainly kill the others!"

"... And what of you, Nimrod..?"

"I? I-I shall engage the others myself! I'll return with their blood, my lord!"

"...

"You know, with him being a vampire, and with no physical strength to him, he is bound to fail.

"Of course… But seeing as we have come this far, it is too late to stop him… A shame… He is the last of my experiments… Only this time, he is a failure…"

"You realize that he isn't as undyingly loyal to you as that monster Vanilla Ice, correct? If the opportunity arises, he may betray you."

"... Until such a moment arises, I shall respect him as one of my own…"

~+JO*JO+~

Instantaneous.

That's how fast it had happened. Nobody had time to react to Mohamed's warning before Joaquín was punched into the others. And then, when he knew what had happened, it was too late. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. And he knew that his friend, the man he had come to know for over fifty days, would not have wanted him to.

Mohamed… This can't be happening… You said… You can't be dead..! You can't be!

But there was no denying it. The reality of the situation hit him as hard as that punch. He was gone. It wasn't like back in India, where a bullet simply grazed his head and left him unconscious. He wasn't going to magically reappear and burn their enemy to ashes. Mohamed was wiped completely from this world. He would never come back.

They all landed a few feet away, right against a wall. Jean Pierre and Iggy slowly got up, but Joaquín only stood to his knees. His mind was reeling and his heart was aching from what happened. He was left in shock over his friend's untimely fate. There was no fight or anything, nothing to even show what had just happened. All except for what remained on the spot he had been taken: his two arms severed at the elbows, the gold bangles that wrapped around them, and scraps of his robe.

"H-Hey, Avdol," said Jean Pierre with fear rising in his voice. "Where are you..? W-What the hell was that just now..?" There was no response. He then noticed the arms and started to shake. "W-What the… T-Those arms… H-Hey! Avdol! Where did you go?!"

The deadly silence hanging in the air was all that answered him. The only noise they could hear was the frightful panting that came from Iggy, who felt the mounting pressure as much as they did

"Avdol!"

"J-Jean Pierre," Joaquín pleaded shakily, still dumbstruck.

"AVDOOL!" The Frenchman's scream reverberated all around the room. But it was in vain. There was still only silence. However, the same Stand that killed Mohamed manifested out of nowhere, right over the arms. Looking closer, Joaquín could see its dead, lamp-like eyes and the pink horns tearing through its hood. It gagged out its clawed hands from within its mouth but kept the rest of itself in its mouth.

"W-What is that..? Where did it come from..? Why didn't the flames detect it..? Why couldn't Iggy sniff it out?!

"Jean Pierre," he said again, this time louder. "H-He's not coming back…"

"What do you mean he's not coming back," he shot at him. "He told us to watch out and just disappeared! Where did he go?!"

As he opened his mouth, ready to deliver the horrible news, a voice echoed from the Stand. It was emotionless, filled with the same frigid bloodlust he felt when it had first appeared.

"Mohamed Avdol," it said as it picked up their fallen friend's arms and held them out, "… is dead, reduced to pieces. Where the inside of my mouth leads to, I don't know… But I know it's a dark space. He has been blown away there… You're all next… Your pretentious thoughts of defeating Lord Dio… I must correct them…" He then stuffed the arms in his mouth, where they were utterly eradicated. The final remains of the fortuneteller was gone.

From within the dark void of its mouth, a man's head slowly emerged from within. He was with sharp, maroon eyes, his empty face framed in long blue hair. His golden, heart-shaped earrings matched the crest of his headband. The same voice from before emerged straight from him as he rose out. "One by one… turn by turn… I, Vanilla Ice, will scatter you within my dark void…"

The pressure was reaching its peak. His presence was as dark and imposing as Dio, and his ability was the most dangerous of anyone they had fought. It was nothing they could properly fight. They needed to run. But seeing the man who took the life of one of their own dispelled all the fear and shock in Joaquín's heart. Burning bright and powerful in its place was nothing but hatred and anger towards him. He wanted to make him pay with his life, no matter what.

"You fucking... piece of shit," growled Joaquín, slowly rising to his feet. His eyes were locked solely on their enemy, who stared emptily back. "You… are nothing but pure scum…I.. I can never forgive you… And I… WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU!"

"PUTAIN DE MENTEUR," roared Jean Pierre. Both their Stands burst out of them. While Preciosa flew at him, Silver Chariot had zipped right behind Vanilla Ice. Joaquín nearly forgot how fast it was, but he set it aside when both of them punched and stabbed right into it. He disappeared in the middle of the attack, but it didn't matter. They let loose all their anger and tore through the room, from its chairs, to the walls, to even the billiards table. Whatever they reached broke under their fury.

When it was over, they were left in silence and rubble. The entire room had been torn apart from the magnitude of their rage, as if a bomb had suddenly gone off. In a sense, it did. And as the dust settled over the wreckage, Joaquín swore loudly. "FUCK! We didn't kill him..!"

"No, but we hit did hit him," assured Jean Pierre. "But at that moment, he just shrunk and disappeared into nothingness..! Both him and his Stand had… had… Oh god..!" He leaned against one of the pillar-like protrusions on the wall and held his head. It looked like he finally realized what had just happened. "He… He's really…"

Joaquín nodded somberly. "I saw it… Completely wiped away… There was no way he could have survived…"

"He… He told us… to think only of ourselves… that he wouldn't save us..! It was the same as in India..! Always sticking his neck in when he didn't need to..!"

"He did it for us… Jean Pierre…" He rested a hand on his shoulder. "He did it so we can keep fighting…That's all we can do now… We can mourn him later… But right now, we have to keep going and find that fucker… And we can do it together… All of us…"

His eyes were watering, and so was his friend. The pain was greater than any injury they've endured, but this was not the time. Joaquín was right, he knew he was. And when he nodded, it was a sign that his words got through to him. He stepped off the wall, and before they knew it, a large scoop of it disappeared. No sound, no warning. It just vanished.

Vanilla Ice had struck again.

"We have to go, now," he shouted, grabbing Iggy and running out of the room. Jean Pierre stood for a moment to look at the chunk of missing wall before joining them. They quickly entered a storage room, filled with assorted chairs and other forgotten decorations. The Frenchman shut the door behind him and barred it with whatever he could find before getting away from it. Sure enough, they could hear the blockade being torn through by the space-erasing Stand.

It didn't even stop there. As they climbed up the stairs, their enemy tore right into them. Twice. But they managed to avoid each attempt on their lives. They had reached a tiny dining area before tearing out of it. The entrance to the mansion lied before them, no longer warped by the illusion from minutes prior. There was another staircase right in front of it. It's still open for us, thought Joaquín. But I'm not running away… None of us are..! We're not leaving until we kill Dio..!

"Upstairs," he barked, leading the others up them and into a large, hall filled with suits of armor and statues. Another door rested at its end, as well as yet another large stairway. The air felt cold and evil here. Dio was waiting nearby for them. He could feel it. And he had a sneaking suspicion he lied upstairs, waiting for them to approach him. As much as he wanted to confront him now, there was a more pressing problem at the moment:

Vanilla Ice, whose Stand tore out from the floor before them.

"He's here!" Everyone's Stands came out, even The Fool. "Jean Pierre, watch my six! Our Stands can watch our sides! Iggy, on our backs!" They all gathered around one another and watched the entire room. They may have been in danger, but there was no other strategy he could think of. Their foe was completely invisible. He could appear anywhere. Even below them. And they would never know until it was too late.

How the fuck can we fight something we can't sense, Joaquín wondered nervously.

"COME OUT HERE, DAMNIT," Jean Pierre heatedly roared."I'LL CUT YOU APART! MY CHARIOT IS FASTER NOW! YOU PUSHED ME TO THE BOILING POINT OF FURY BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID!"

There was no response. All they could feel was the cold dread that filled the hall. But Joaquín swore the moment they saw the Stand, he would unleash the same fury on it he tried before. Just as he thought this, he heard his friend suddenly gasp. "What?! H-He's in a crack beneath my foot! CHARIOOOT!" Both he and Preciosa turned around just as Silver Chariot stabbed underfoot. They were too slow, as Vanilla Ice shot through the ground…

And took with him all of his friend's left toes.

He fell back and screamed in pain, just as the monstrous Stand made itself known again. Joaquín paid it no mind, grabbing his friend's cleanly erased foot and focusing his hamon. He couldn't heal it, but through his power, he could reverse the flow of blood so that he wouldn't bleed out form it. "I got you, Jean Pierre," he reassured. "Just breathe! Control your breathing!"

Vanilla Ice's cold triumph rang through his Stand as it flew straight at them. "I've taken the mobility from your foot..! It's impossible for you to escape now..!" But both of their Stands, still out, had not kept its eyes off it. They shot out and punched as much as they could at it, but it disappeared before they could touch it. At this point, the Frenchman's pain and anger were far too great to control his Stand. It slashed wildly and destroyed everything it could reach: the walls, the statues, even the floor.

In the midst of the destruction, Joaquín picked him up off his feet and helped him to the stairs. Preciosa joined in on the destruction beside Silver Chariot, kicking up as much dust and debris as he could to hide their presence. Seeing the chaos before had given him an idea, one he remembered pulling off back in New York with Iggy once. He then called to the dog, "Iggy! Antlion's Den! Now!"

The dog's ears shot up in understanding and barked. The Fool's sand whirled around them and pinned them against the staircase, blending them and the grains perfectly against the marble steps. They could just barely see through it. It was a tricky plan. The last time they had tried this, it succeeded. But the one they used it against wasn't as smart Vanilla Ice was. Everything rode on how well they could fool their opponent now.

The dust slowly settled, and the Stand appeared again from nowhere. Its mouth parted for its user to survey the room. He must have thought that they were hiding somewhere in the rubble they had created. "You are all powerless before Vanilla Ice," he spoke aloud to the supposedly empty room. "However, while I can certainly defeat you… I must admit that both your Chariot and Preciosa were able to wound me… It was no fluke… Now… where are you bastards…"

As the man looked around, a low and equally chilling voice echoed from the top of the staircase. It was all-too familiar.

"Why is it so noisy… Vanilla Ice..?"

The man in question turned around, as did Joaquín. Descending from the stairs was a man cast in shadows All that was visible were his golden pants, his wavy blonde hair, and his shirtless, muscular physique. Even without seeing his face, it was clear to them all who this man was.

"L-Lord Dio!," gasped his servant, whose Stand unfurled itself and landed before his descending master. He emerged from the waist up, showing off the sleeveless, dark green leather tunic over periwinkle long sleeves. "Be careful, my lord! Joaquín, Polnareff and that dog are hiding around here somewhere! Please leave it to me. You don't need to be down here, Lord Dio…"

His back was turned to his master, still surveying the wreckage for their hiding spot. Without even making a sound, Dio raised his hand, as if ready to strike down. Joaquín and the others rose out of the sand, also ready to strike as well. To anyone else, this might have been very strange. But he knew what was happening. This Dio was in fact a copy of the vampiric madman, made entirely from The Fool's sand. It was all a part of his and Iggy's plan. All they could do now was pray that it worked.

Sorry, Vanilla Ice… As much as I hate attacking people from behind, you fucked up when you killed Mohamed. You deserve this kind of death, you sick hijo de puta!

The fake Dio brought his hand down, ready to cut him from shoulder to hip like a horse mackerel. Do it! Get that son of a bitch! But, to everyone's shock, he didn't. Mere inches from being sliced apart, Vanilla Ice immediately turned around and chopped the decoy' arm off with his Stand. The ploy had failed, leaving them vulnerable before the murderer.

"H-How the fuck did you figure it out," Joaquín couldn't help but mutter in disbelief.

"Sunlight is filtering into this room from the windows," he answered. And he was right. He had just noticed the light pouring into the room. He was so focused on his plan, on Iggy's quick thinking, that he neglected to remember Dio's one weakness. And the realization made him blanch. Vanilla Ice, meanwhile looked furious, veins popping up on his neck and forehead. "The real Lord Dio wouldn't dare descend into this room..!"

"IGGY!" The decoy tried get one punch in, but it was in vain. Their opponent was swallowed back into his Stand and immediately tore right through it. Iggy's sand scattered everywhere, as did Joaquín and Jean Pierre when the Stand made a hole into the stairs. The poor dog tried to get away, but the all-devouring fiend flew directly in front of him and stopped him in his tracks. Joaquín couldn't stop himself from screaming. "IGGY! GET OUT OF THERE!"

But he couldn't move. Not now.

"The real Lord Dio said he trusted me with this task..!"

Not as the man slowly emerged from his Stand's mouth.

"Therefore, no matter what happened, he would have no reason to come down to the second floor!"

Not when he was at the mercy of his rage. He was going to be erased into this madman's dark pit of a mouth. They were too far apart for them to save him. As for Iggy...

For the first time since Joaquín met him, Iggy was paralyzed with fear.

"HOW DARE YOU, YOU FUCKING MUTT," Vanilla Ice screeched. "HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME DESTROY HIS LIKENESS?!"

But he didn't erase him. Vanilla Ice instead punched Iggy straight in his jaw, sending him yelping and flying into a wall across the room. But why? The others were expecting to see him disappear without a trace, but he was physically struck instead. Not even by the Stand, but by its fuming user, who left it and stormed towards his prone prey. "Of all the things you did to me… How dare you..?! It might have been a fake Lord Dio made of sand, but how dare you make me destroy it?!

"I'LL KICK YOU TO DEATH! YOU FILTHY BEEEAST!"

His mind had finally snapped. He started to mercilessly drive his boot into Iggy's chest, causing the suffering dog to yelp in absolute pain. He screamed and cursed him with each merciless blow. "My dark space would swallow you in an instant! But that can't sate my anger now! It's your fucking fault! Your's! You were the one who angered me! It's all your fucking fault! "Have you realized it yet?! How's it taste?! HAVE YOU FUCKING REALIZED IT YET?! WELL?! WELL?!"

The insane fury that unfolded before him left Joaquín shocked to the core. This Vanilla Ice, he thought, unable to move now, is indecent… He's not normal... He lost his mind just because he damaged a decoy of Dio… His spirit… is just as dark and empty as his Stand… His heart's torn like a dusky crevice… And he's taking all his madness out on a dog… How can someone like him exist..?!

"S-Stop it," he pitifully croaked, though his plea never would reach him.

"Lord Dio had told me," he continued, foaming furiously at the mouth. "The power of human resolve isn't something to underestimate! But after all, you're just a shabby fucking pup! You have no resolve! You have no proud soul! YOU HAVE NOTHING AT ALL!"

From his spot, Joaquín could see the breaking, bleeding dog gaze up at his attacker and offer him a condescending smile. Even in the face of death, Iggy still had the proud guts to mock his foe. Unfortunately, he was nearly puking them out when he was kicked continuously again, harder than before. Seeing his friend suffer this indignity finally snapped Joaquín out of his trance. The raging flame he felt before after Mohamed's life was taken reignited. And it burst out of him all at once.

"I SAID STOP, VANILLA ICE," he roared as he stood back up and rushed the monster, Preciosa and Silver Chariot flying by his side.

Said man ceased his torture and leered emptily over his shoulder. "I'll kick you both next," he hissed. Just as they approached, he backflipped into his Stands's mouth, making it eat itself and disappear. Both of the other Stands tried to strike but failed once more.

"DAMNIT," roared Joaquín. "I'M THROUGH PLAYING GAMES! SHOW YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING-"

"Joaquín,"shouted Jean Pierre, who still rested on his stomach nearby. "It's fine! That plan might have failed, but Iggy's Stand's sand gave me a hint as to how we can read his movements. Watch!"

Silver Chariot spun his rapier as swiftly, stirring the sand beneath them. He slashed all about and scattered it until every last grain hung in the air. Sure enough, spherical pockets of empty air began to appear, all making a path in the room. Joaquín couldn't believe it. "Y-You figured it out," he exclaimed. "We can track that fucker easily now!"

"Oui! And look at its movements!" He did. It looked like he was moving about blindly, uncaring where he went or what he absorbed. "Tell me, what did you notice every time he attacked?"

"He… His Stand appeared, and then he appeared in its mouth…" And then it hit him the same moment it appeared before them and opened its mouth.

"ITS TIME YOU FELL," Jean Pierre proclaimed as his Stand's rapier stabbed into its gaping maw and out the back of its head. Caught in between, from what Joaquín could see, was its horrible user pierced through his own mouth. "YES! GOT YOU, SALAUD!

Of course he did, thought Joaquín. That bastard can't see when he uses his Stand! He has to look outside of his Stand to see what's going on! That's how he's managed to attack us perfectly each time!

Vanilla Ice gargled up blood, shocked that he had been struck. He was finished. "NOW EAT IT! EAT MY SWORD, YOU WORTHLESS SON OF A BITCH!"

But then his hand grabbed at Chariot's neck. He wasn't supposed to. He had just been stabbed. Why was he still moving? "I-I just skewered your brain stem through your throat," choked Jean Pierre, the Stand's handprint making an impression on his neck. "D-Drop dead already..! It's a fatal wound..! Hurry up and die..! Go to hell, Vanilla Ice!" To drive his point, he stirred the rapier fiercely into him, trying to tear him apart. And yet he still didn't die.

Their enemy's response was grabbing the Stand's free hand. By proxy, Jean Pierre's was dragged forward. Vanilla Ice, blade still in his mouth, growled, "I will not die… I have no time for pain… I will surely kill you..! I will surely consume Iggy and kill the rest of the Joestar group..! Only then will I die..!" He dragged the armored hand into the void of the Stand's mouth. Both his pinkie and fourth finger were erased, as were his now screaming master's fingers.

Silver Chariot immediately pulled his sword out before that could be absorbed too and tried to stab once more into the mouth. His neck was let go, allowing its hand to be stabbed instead. Holding on, he gave the arm that held the rapier an accusing look before striking into his elbow, making the user share in the pain. Joaquín would have none of it. He rushed towards Vanilla Ice, who repeatedly chopped into the arm and used his Preciosa to punch him off.

Once they were separated, The Stand swallowed himself up again. But before it was completely gone, both fists and blade tried to strike him. They couldn't let him get away. He felt his fist connect, but the monster simply vanished again. The sand had already fallen, making him invisible to them again. Before they could return to their users, it struck. His leg was barely cut, but his comrade had a chunk of his left one.

His user couldn't even scream in pain anymore, given all he was going through.

This is too much, Joaquín thought, his rage and worry battling one another. Mohamed's dead, Iggy's dying, Jean Pierre's getting crippled… Everyone else is too far away… We're not dealing with any other Stand user… This guy's a fucking lunatic… And his obsessive loyalty's overwhelming us… Nothing we do barely works..!

But… I won't stop until he's dead for good..! None of us will! "Jean Pierre," he called out. "Use the sand again!" Silver Chariot complied and scattered the sand again. As before, Vanilla Ice's flight path was visible to them. Just as he was about to be stabbed again, a giant hole appeared in the wall, revealing the city of Cairo right outside. But this surprise was nothing compared to what else was erased. "Y-Your blade! Half your blade is gone!"

"Damnit," cursed the Frenchman. "Any other ideas you have?!"

"No! But we have to-" Another hole in the wall. The Stands and Joaquín avoided it before they were erased. And then another hole. And another. Along the wall and from the floor beneath them, they dodged and weaved past the wild ball of nothingness. He needed to get out of their and regroup with his wounded friend, and fast. With the way their enemy was recklessly moving, they could be swallowed up at any moment.

After avoiding yet another attack, Preciosa quickly grabbed Iggy and flew back with his user to Jean Pierre, the other Stand following suit. Resting the poor dog down, they could see the extent of the damage. There was major blood loss, and his chest looked almost hollow. Given how shallow his breathing was, his ribs had to be almost piercing his lungs. It was a terrible sight. He looked ready to die at any moment.

"Iggy," Joaquín said gingerly, trying his best not to break at the sight of his ailing friend. "Don't use your Stand anymore… Please… Let us take care of everything… We'll kick his ass… And after all this… I'll take you home… I promise…"

More of the wall disappeared this time, but rather than make a hole, Vanilla Ice's dark void scrapped along it like a scooper along fresh ice cream. He wasn't aiming at anything, merely dragging himself recklessly in a circle around the room. But then he moved to the floor, a bit further from the walls. That was when Joaquín noticed that he was moving in a spiral. And it all became clear rather quickly.

He's not just moving blindly around, he thought as he beheld the sphere moving closer. He's homing in on us! That spiral's getting smaller with each second! It's like some mosquito coil! It doesn't matter where he'll appear, or if he even does..! He's still gonna hit us at some point!

He helped his friend to his knees and shouted, "Jean Pierre, we gotta move, now!"

"I-I can't," he hissed. "My leg… my foot..! He had it planned all along..! I can barely move..!"

"Then let me help you!" He grabbed him and Iggy and jumped out of Vanilla Ice's way. But with the way his Stand was moving, they were still in its path. "Damnit! I didn't mean-

"It's fine," grunted Jean Pierre, who fell onto his back when they landed. "But we have to hurry! This guy's carving around like a needle on a record! He'll catch us in five rotations! We have to get out of here!"

"I know that! Come on, we'll take turns!" He gently picked up Iggy and waited for Vanilla Ice to make another rotation. Once he passed, Joaquín jumped past the carving on the floor and set the dog down just as carefully as he got him. But now there was the problem of how his friend was going to cross. His injuries made him nearly immobile. "Jean Pierre, let me get you out of there! There's still time, I can-"

"Don't you dare," he spat suddenly. "If you tried saving me, you'll only end up erased! What could I tell the others if that happened?! To Della?! Damnit, Avdol died because he thought about us and not himself! It's harsh, I get it, but if anyone needs to live, it's you!"

It wasn't harsh. He had a point. Despite his knuckle-headed personality, he almost always had a point. But he was his friend. He couldn't leave him to die. His way of thinking at the moment was going to get him killed. "Jean Pierre, just let me-"

But he interrupted him harshly. "Non! I will help myself! Our friends are too far to help us now! I'll pull myself out!"

The void was down to three rotations. He wanted so badly to pull him out of its path and save him, but the man's pride and concern over their safety was too great. If he tried, he would die. If he didn't, he could never forgive himself. He was damned either way, and it was killing him. Meanwhile, Silver Chariot appeared between the path of the oncoming Stand and his user. It reached out and tried to pull him away. But he couldn't. The Stand wasn't that strong, and Jean Pierre's strength was waning.

Unable to take anymore, Joaquín summoned Preciosa reached out for his friend. But the moment it did, the space between his friend and his Stand disappeared. They had let go just in the nick of time, some of the Frenchman's arm left scratched and bleeding. "Jean Pierre!"

"I-I told you," he said, tired and biting back his pain. "I told you… I'll do it myself..! Even if I have to… Iggy, what're you doing..?!"

Iggy was standing, but just barely. He had gathered most of the scattered sand to form the Fool behind him. But in his ragged, severely injured state, he could barely hold the crumbling Stand or himself together. "I-Iggy, I said no," pleaded Joaquín. The dog fell, but he wobbled back up. "Iggy, sit! No! You'll die if you use your Stand! Please, don't! I have to-"

"Shut up! You fucking… Are you both trying to look cool in save me?! Even if it means dying for me?! I'm the one trying to save you! You're the ones that have to survive and tell Monsieur Joestar and the others! Especially you, Joaquín! You have to be the one to defeat him! Avdol might have died to save me, but you're not going to do the same! If you all die, then everything we've gone through will be for nothing!"

He couldn't believe it. Jean Pierre wasn't making any more attempts to escape. He had taken too much damage and couldn't move. But he kept refusing help. He didn't want hem to stick their necks out for him anymore and die trying. For him, he had fought all he could, and he would rather die knowing that. For him, it was all over.

There was one rotation left. It was too late to save him now.

"La vie est une telle garce," he muttered in defeat, just as the all-consuming sphere barreled towards him. "Oh well… This guys obsession… won over me…"

"Jean Pierre…"

The Frenchman, succumbing to his impending fate, gave them one last salute with his good hand and smirked. "Au revoir… mes amis…"

"JEAN PIEEERE!"

It was over for him. The ball had reached its final destination. But Joaquín couldn't bare to look. He couldn't handle seeing another friend be erased. When he felt the inevitable was over, he looked back to where his friend was. Sure enough, the spot where he was before was eaten away. There was no sign of him at all. All that was left was his only earring laying dead on the ground. The sight made him want to scream again. But it was stuck in his throat.

Quite suddenly, he reappeared. Vanilla Ice emerged from the dark void, outside his own Stand and absolutely covered in blood. His eyes rested hollowly on his prey as he began his slow, purposeful approach towards them. "Polnareff," he panted. "This blood was not his doing… Nor was it yours… It was Avdol's…" His face twisted in fury, teeth bared as he continued to pin the blame on the man he had killed earlier.

"At that time, I was going to erase him and the rest of you, all at once..! But that Avdol… he knocked you out of the way..! At that moment, it should have been a natural reflex for someone in his predicament to protect himself..! That is what lead to his accomplishment… But… while I may still be wounded, it will take some time before I die… Now… I will kill the rest of you..! I bring you down without question..!"

It was all up to him now. If Joaquín didn't end him now, the others would be finished. He needed to make sure there was nothing left of the monster, to make sure he felt the pain of those whose lives he so callously stole. But as Joaquín and his Stand stood up to take him on, something caught his attention. The small sound of something dripping onto the floor. Turning to it, he saw blood leaking from above, which led up to a still living Jean Pierre stuck on the ceiling.

And keeping him up there was a wall of sand, which belonged to-

"Iggy," Jean Pierre whispered in heartbroken disbelief, tears in his eyes. Turning back to Iggy, he could see his little friend wheezing beneath a pile of his own sand, unable to move and clearly at his own limit. "You were told not to use your Stand… But you just had to look cool, didn't you..? We told you not to…"

"Iggy, why," Joaquín murmured, his heart breaking as well. Even he was in tears. "No…"

"Polnareff," Vanilla Ice growled in shock. "How… How did you survive?! How could that mutt have saved you?!"

Something he had said earlier to the dog came back to him. And the answer to his demands were clear. "I'll tell you why…" His watery gaze returned to he madman, burning with hatred. "You said earlier that a dog like him had no resolve… That he didn't have a proud soul… But what you don't get is that Stands are a manifestation of the soul..! And Iggy's… is the proudest of them all..! It moved on its own..! It couldn't help itself..! A monster like you will never understand that..!"

There came a weak sound from the dying dog, a humored bark. Looking back at him, Joaquín saw the poor thing giving him a wavering smile. He looked happy in this moment, happy to know that there was one person who finally understood him. And it was one of the first few people to ever treat him with any dignity and respect. He could see the pride and happiness in those mischievous blue eyes of his. With the last of his energy spent, Iggy spat up blood once more and went limp.

And from above, the sand finally gave way. The Fool lost its form. It was nothing but an empty husk now. When the grains fell upon him, he could sense it. It was cold annihilation, the extinguishment of its life. There was no denying this feeling. Another one of his friends was gone. And once again, they were the ones who were left surviving.

The guilt and pain in his heart had reached its peak.

Joaquín finally screamed.

"IGYYY!"

His pain, loss, and the absolute hatred for Vanilla Ice tore out from his throat. As did Jean Pierre's. They rushed the murdered with their Stands, his own summoned to try and swallow them up. But they beat him to the mark, Preciosa bringing him into a full-nelson and Silver Chariot choking and piercing him straight through the head. "You're too slow, you filthy bastard," hissed Joaquín through his Stand.

"And you were right," lamented Jean Pierre. "My luck with friends is sad… I was supposed to save Iggy, but he saved me instead… Break his neck, Joaquín…" Preciosa grabbed his prey's head and twisted it to face his fiery gaze. The surprised look in his eyes was brief, just as what life remained in them faded together with his Stand. Silver Chariot and his master fell, and their foe was tossed away like trash. Their battle was over.

The room was quiet now. The dust and sand had settled. And all that lingered in the air now was pain. Not from the injuries they sustained, but from their hearts shattering. They had lost two of their own, all at the hands of some fanatical maniac. It was expected, but not at the speed or the manner it was delivered. They weren't prepared for it. The two were their friends. And rather than heed the warnings not to, they gave their lives up for them.

Joaquín approached the still form of his little friend and dropped to his knees. He then picked him up gingerly and cradled him as if he were just a puppy. The tears in his eyes flowed freely, his words coming out choked as he spoke to him. "Iggy… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry… You... You shouldn't have been brought into this mess… You should have been in New York… You didn't deserve this… But… don't worry… I'll… I'll take you home where you can rest… You've…

"You've been a good boy, Iggy…"

"Damnit," Jean Pierre cursed, trying his best not to break down. "Why..? I just now realized how much I liked him… I've always been like this… I never understand until they're gone… I just thought he was just some shitty, bitter dog, but the way he defied and never got attached to anyone… I liked that… And I get it now… why he never showed any kindness… It was that proud personality of his…"

"Even in his last moments," Joaquín whispered, "he was still proud. He's always been like that… But… I think… I think he respected you too, Jean Pierre…" He then gave the dog a kiss on his forehead and placed him back on the sand. He then took a deep breath and focused his hamon, letting some flow into Iggy. "I don't know if this will work.. I doubt it, but… I want his body preserved… I don't know how long it'll be, but I want him okay when we come back for him…"

The moment he finished, he felt something stirring behind him. It wasn't his friend, neither was it Silver Chariot or Preciosa. It was cold and unfeeling, a shadow of death looming over them.

I see, he thought. This explains everything, Vanilla Ice.

The monstrous Stand roared behind them, but it didn't have a moment to strike before Preciosa's fists slammed into it. From behind, he could see through his Stand's eyes the impact he was making on the reanimated fiend he was pummeling. With one punch straight to the face, he slammed him against a wall, which he bounded off as if nothing happened. His eyes looked as dead as always, but now it was obvious why.

"So that's how," muttered Jean Pierre, who realized the same thing.

"Yeah… Stay down, buddy… He's mine, now…" He rose and met his opponent's murderous gaze. "I was wondering how you survived getting stabbed twice like that… That bastard did it to you, didn't he..? He gave you his blood… You probably didn't even realize your body had changed until now…" Preciosa's arm swelled with oil, blazing with hamon, and flung it onto Vanilla Ice's arm. He immediately panicked as it began to burn and crumble from its heat.

"W-What is this," he shouted. "Y-You..! What have you done to me..?!"

"I didn't do shit… Blame Dio… He did this to you. But you should be happy... You're just like him now… A soulless, filthy vampire…" As he tried to lunge at him, he had another glob of oil strike his leg. It crumbled too, leaving Vanilla Ice roaring in pain and wobbling on one foot. " But bet Dio didn't tell you that… He probably thought it was unimportant, that you'd finish us off easily... What did it matter if you didn't know about your new weakness..?"

Vanilla Ice hissed as his former prey approached. There was defiance in his eyes, as well as disbelief hiding in plain sight. "Lord Dio… is vulnerable only to the sun… How is it that you..."

"Can harness it..? This isn't any Stand ability… It's a technique passed on for thousands of years…" He took another deep breath and began to glow with sparks. "This is hamon, the ripple of the sun… And it all starts… with a trembling heart…" Joaquín punched him across the face, letting him feel the heat of his power break his cheek.

"And scorching heat.." He kicked him straight in the stomach now, making him stagger and clutch his crumbling chest. "I'll cut through you… with my blood's beat!"

Having had enough, he roared "DAMN YOU, TREJO!" and made one final, desperate lunge for his prey.

His attack would never never came.

Joaquín had caught him in a powerful, rage-filled maelstrom of hamon-infused fists. The room grew bright with his intense light, and his scream echoed all around. "SUNLIGHT YELLOW OVERDRIIIVE!" He made sure the vampire suffered for his crimes, letting him feel every ounce of pain burning in his very soul. When there was barely anything left of him, he grabbed Vanilla Ice by the face and threw his crumbling remains straight out of one of the holes he made leading outside.

The evening sun finished and disintegrated him to dust.

It's over… But… He looked down at his glowing hands. I don't… I don't feel any satisfaction… I avenged them, but… It's not like when I avenged Abuelita and Dad… I don't feel happy… I don't… It doesn't even feel like I won… Their deaths… Their deaths could have been avoided… It's my fault they died… If they never got involved, they might have lived… Why..? Why did they do it for us..?

Just as his own guilt overtook his mind, something mysterious happened. The two men witnessed what look like more dust flying towards the city outside the hole. It swirled gently in place, growing larger until it took a cloudy form of a man with a bizarre shape on his shoulder. The details filled out until at last, floating with their backs to them were two familiar faces looking down from the sky. They couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"Mohamed," Joaquín whispered as tears filled his eyes again. "And… Iggy… I…" But he couldn't say anything else. The rest of his words faded before they left him. He wanted to apologize, but he just couldn't. He didn't know if they would even hear him. It didn't matter. Somehow, they knew what it was. Their stoic, yet urging eyes pierced his heart. And he knew that they forgave him.

The spirits of his fallen friends gave one last nod and began to drift away. Before he could even call back out to them, they were gone. They left no sign that they were even there to begin with. Just what had happened? Was what he saw real? Did he dream it? He didn't question it further, for his awestruck trance broke when he heard Jean Pierre fall behind him. "H-Hey! Are you okay?"

He groaned in response and was helped to his knees. "I-I'm fine," he muttered. "Was that… an illusion..? Or…"

It felt too real to have been some hallucination, but too impossible not to be. He just didn't know. But seeing them both that way, and the nod they gave him... It was a sign. A sign that Mohamed and Iggy, at peace with being avenged, wanted them to continue fighting before they left. And he promised them, as he looked out into the sun-soaked Cairo, that he would do just that. Him, Jean Pierre, and the others.

"We gotta climb those stairs," said Joaquín as he carefully helped his friend to his feet. "We don't have time for sorrow… We can save it… We can…"

But he couldn't wait. Everything had finally caught up to him and crashed hard. And Joaquín couldn't stop himself from breaking down and hugging his friend, his tears and cries of anguish escaping him. The Frenchman returned the embrace and let him mourn. For he too felt his pain and expressed it through his silent tears. It was the price they paid. The price for allowing them to be involved in this bloody feud.

One which Joaquín Trejo vowed to end once and for all.

~+JO*JO+~

"... Vanilla Ice… has been annihilated…"

"What..? How did you know that..? I never used my Stand on him… I never formed a bridge, I wouldn't have been able to sense him…"

"No… but I did… I would not call it a blood connection, but, even outside his loyalty, my connection to him as master and servant has let me sense his defeat… He has more than likely been destroyed by the sun… Or… Joaquín… He has that power.. the same accursed power he had…

"So… You mean to say that…"

"Yes… With the exception of Nimrod… The last of my subordinates… is dead… Damn it… Damn it all… I've lost everyone… My mansion has been exposed… I, Dio, am all alone now… And yet… despite the desperation of this situation, I am certain that, because of what I can anticipate, I can face it with my resolve… If this were a future I had seen and understood… then perhaps I could have met this without hesitation… I suppose this is what heaven is meant to be…

"I must see heaven… reach it… and overcome all that stand in my way… I will claim victory…"

"... Given Vanilla Ice's ability, he should have at least finished off one more of their own. Either Polnareff or the dog, Iggy. If not, then at least caused grievous harm…

"And even if there were more survivors, regardless of his intellect, Iggy is but a dog. Meaning Joaquín and Polnareff… are the lone survivors…

"... Call this useless, Lennox, but… I think I'll challenge them… Especially Polnareff… I may not have another chance at him again…"

"Do you believe gravity may be on your side?"

"You might surely say such a gravity exists between him and I… Even if I cannot form an alliance with the Joestars, with my subordinates gone, I would be thankful to have Polnareff return to me… Kakyouin is with the others… Even if negotiating with him is impossible…

"There wil still be Jean Pierre Polnareff.

"Precisely… Yet, had I not implanted a flesh bud on him, he would bear no direct grudge against me… He has already avenged his sister… And unlike Noriaki Kakyouin, he has never personally met Holly Kuujou… So depending on how I negotiate, it might be possible to win him over… I must do this before he catches up with the Joestars again…

"Will you succeed..?"

"... I hope so… I shall return…"

~+JO*JO+~

They were sitting upon the first set of steps, right by the landing leading halfway to the next floor. Joaquín had taken a moment to ease the pain in Jean Pierre's wounds and change his blood flow. He had no bandages, but he did cover them with some fabric he tore from a nearby curtain. "This is some nice material," commented Jean Pierre.

"The kind only rich snobs would get," said Joaquín, finishing up covering his missing fingers. "And given who's living here, it'd only be natural. That bastard was able to pay a hefty price for all his minions."

As he started to tie up his foot, he couldn't help but think back to the past events. At some point, he would have to deliver the terrible news to his friends and family. He wish he didn't have to. It weighed heavily on his heart. But he had no other choice. This wasn't like India. It was worse. They had to know the truth, and hard as it would be, he had to tell them.

Once he finished, he helped Jean Pierre to his feet. "Alright… Can you stand a bit better?"

He shrugged and added some weight to his mended foot, then jumped lightly on it. "Looks like it.… I can hop around and move better than before… There's only a bit of pain, but there's no time to worry about that now."

"Of course not… Pain is second only to what's up ahead… Come on… Let's get…"

And then it came. A rush of pure, chilling evil flooding from up above, far greater than anything he had ever felt. It was the same evil presence he had felt in the now destroyed room earlier. But that was early, when the man who radiated this nauseating aura was resting on the next floor during Vanilla Ice's attack. Right now, he was standing upon the next landing, gazing down at them within the darkness that awaited them.

He was a handsome man with a gorgeous, muscular body and beautiful, wavy blonde hair. His ears were pierced with rings, the left one sporting three small moles near its lobe. He wore a golden jacket and matching pants, both opening up to a black unitard. A green band adorned with a heart-shaped crest held up his hair, which matched his knee pads and the buckle to some unused suspenders. Golden bands covered their wrists, which matched the ones over his clogs.

They knew this man. One had met him. The other dreamt of him. It was the very person they had spent fifty days searching for.

He was smirking, his amber eyes flashing with murderous excitement. "It's been a while, Polnareff," he spoke silkily, almost like a long-lost friend. "And, Joaquín… We meet at last."

"Indeed," Joaquín agreed, letting his hatred burn through his tone. "I've been waiting years for this."

"So you've finally shown yourself," said Jean Pierre with determined eagerness.

Indeed. The time had come to finally confront him:

The man known as Dio.

~IGGY (1983-1989): RIP~

~VANILLA ICE (1957-1989): RIP~

Finally, he has shown himself. You can insert Holy Diver into this if you'd like. I've got no other words other than I enjoyed this fight so much. Given all the action that went down, I managed to write it pretty quickly. It was intense. Oh, and before I forget. Joaquin's use of Overdrive rather than Overload. Given the emotions he was undergoing, the seriousness of the battle and out of honoring the men who used the technique, he had forgone using his version and channeled his ancestor's will to defeat Vanilla Ice. A fitting way to end the vampire.

I've got nothing more to say except to get ready for the next chapter.