Waves lapped against the docks, where the everyday dockworker labored intensively, unloading the shipment that had just arrived during the night. The tall buildings in the distance were masked by the dense fog rising up off of the water that morning, as a bell buoy donged somewhere on the ocean's surface. Red pulsing lights pierced the fog from on high, serving as a beacon for incoming watercrafts. The AI's on the docks exchanged words to one another about work related matters, carrying on with their jobs despite the intrusive thickness. By now, they were used to it.

The fog drifted, granting a sliver — a peek — of the warehouse stationed not too far from there. Those working the docks knew to keep their distance from this particular place if they wanted to avoid regrettable confrontations. Not only was the warehouse abandoned, and in awful condition, but it had become the site infamous for drug trafficking, non-stop partying, and violence. Around every corner, there was at least one Motorhead gangster trudging around aimlessly. Some lazily carried an alcoholic drink around, while others just loitered about, smoking and running their mouths.

This morning was no different than most mornings. The warehouse had been left in a disgusting mess the night after the gang threw a rager. Due to the heavy consumption of alcohol, people were passed out wherever they were standing or sitting last. Lying on a table, amidst filth and grime, was a wine bottle with cigarette butts soaking in what liquid remained at the bottom. Next to that were three virtual simulation goggles, empty beer cans, food wrappers, and dried blood stains. Light from a broken window shined down on half-eaten candy bars as a fly buzzed around Tiny Dancer's nose. He couldn't be more unaware of it landing on him if he tried. Too busy dreaming about god knows what.

A loud clank echoed throughout the warehouse. It was the door. Dress shoes slowly clacked on the concrete floor, a cane tapping it as the person in question sauntered in. Gangsters slept soundly without a clue as to who entered Geil's domain. The footsteps stopped. Wearing his usual tailcoat with fraying cuffs, and spikey shoulder pads, was none other than Edguy, Geil's right-hand man. The tailcoat was tattered with a poorly executed stitching job done by him and him alone.

Despite looking like he'd shopped his clothes straight from a dumpster, Edguy was convinced that his shit smelled equally as lovely as a bed of roses. And these lowlives were going to respect him, goddammit. Edguy noted the snoring waste of space lying by one of the graffitied columns. The fly just wouldn't leave Tiny Dancer alone. It buzzed relentlessly around his face, then his jacket. Edguy's stomach churned as he regarded the mess these layabouts had made once again in his absence. Worthless scum.

He poked his cane to Tiny Dancer's shoulder a few times. Tiny Dancer groaned at the pain, rustling from a lying position. The second time, Edguy jabbed the cane into his arm harder, making his anger flare. "Motherfucker…!" he growled. Through his sleepy eyes, he looked up at Edguy, who was straightening his coat and brushing dust off of it.

"Ugh! How can you stand to live in such filth?" he commented. "Where's Geil?"

Tiny Dancer rubbed his eye and yawned, speaking in a groggy voice. "Fuck my head hurts. How should I know where the boss is, asshole? I'm trying to sleep here." The same fly from before zizzed past his corneas, coming to a hover over his cheek. Scowling, Tiny Dancer readied his hand for assault and gave his face a good hard slap, missing the fly entirely.

What an ignoramus. Edguy rolled his eyes and started for the stairs to the upper floor, while Tiny Dancer continued to swat the fly away from his face. As he walked along the metal catwalk, he passed by crates, boxes, and heavy equipment. He walked under metal beams until he came to an industrial shutter door. Swiping a keycard, it rattled open, allowing him entrance into a dark room. Everything was pitch black with the exception of a small ray of light illuminating the face of the person staring at a computer screen. Edguy especially found it disturbing how he'd faintly smile now and again at it. He watched him as he dragged the screen off of the device entirely, watching it in front of his face as if he was sitting too close to a television.

Bright white ovals radiated under his finger tips, slowly fading away as he removed his second right hand from the screen and made swiping gestures. Pages on the screen moved to the left, bringing up another page full of writing and circle-shaped images of younger people.

Edguy breathed in, about to speak, when the ominous person cut him off in a croaky, low baritone voice. "Whaddaya want?"

Smirking, Edguy responded. "I came to inform you that the shipment you requested should arrive sometime this afternoon."

"Good. Now get the hell out of here."

Edguy's smarmy smile fell to a sneer. Well, he was certainly feeling like his usual self. "Must you always have it so dark in here, boss?" He shuddered at the very fact he called him by such a word. "It isn't very good for your eyes to stare at a screen in all this darkness, you know. Doesn't it cause the least little bit of strain?"

"In case you didn't notice, Edguy, I'm busy. And I believe I told you to get the hell out."

"There's something else I thought you should know."

Geil uttered a low growl.

"It seems our plan to frame the stand users of Quiet Riot isn't quite going as expected." He approached his boss's desk, placing his gloved fingers over the screen and dragging it aside so that nothing would obstruct their eye contact. Taking a seat in front of the desk, he leaned his elbows onto it, propping his chin in his hands.

"Give it time," Geil said, "it's only been seventeen hours. Come to think of it, there is one thing I want to ask you."

"And that is?"

Geil pulled up a command tab on the floating screen and typed with his cybernetic fingers. A dim red light illuminated the room expanding on his sinister demeanor all the more. The tab pixelated down into the desk, disappearing from sight. He entwined his fingers and stared straight into Edguy's soul, the red beam of his cybernetic eye coming into focus. Why did he always have to give him such an evil look? "What I want to know," he said, "is how the new kid's doing after his initiation."

"Oh, him." Well, that's certainly a topic I wasn't expecting him to touch on. "He's rather obsessed with that portable he carries around with him everywhere."

"It's funny you mention that," Geil said, bringing his double-sided screen back up, "I was beginning to get concerned. Wouldn't want some double-crossing Quiet Riot spy leaking information to Angus, now would we?"

Edguy's heart skipped a beat. Was that really what the new kid was up to? Thoughts erratically sprang through his mind. Shit! What if he's caught wind of the plan to frame the stand users of Quiet Riot? I wouldn't put it past him. Not after our last spy got busted three weeks ago. Damn, it was such a fine plan, too. And I've got three excellent creations to show for his sacrifice. Collecting their DNA was such a pain in the ass for this operation. And it'll be over my dead body that I don't gain the advantage over these vile gangs.

He stared down at the desk, riled up by his current thinking process. These three clones show great potential that even Geil himself couldn't rival if he wanted to. Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, the spitting image of Léon Polnareff with the ability to manipulate his very being into metal. The likes of which he can melt and bend to his will. My stand, PATHGOD, has proven its unpredictability before, but for this creation…Lady Luck smiles upon me. "Can you be certain he's a spy?" Edguy asked.

Geil cackled. "Why do you think I'm studying this screen so hard? See for yourself. I've been tracking his internet history, his application activity, everything. Even his private messages. Whatever this snot-nosed kid is doing, I can pull it up with a simple command just like that ." He snapped his human fingers for emphasis."

Edguy's mouth parted as surprise filled his eyes. There was truly nothing suspicious going on in his digital life, or at least that's how Geil was acting. But something peculiar did grasp his attention. "Wait, open this tab here." he requested.

Geil's expression lost its mirth as he did so, bringing to light something Edguy found to be particularly interesting. The corner of his mouth quirked as he read the boy's private messages to himself. Well, isn't that ironic. Going over the messages, he'd come to find out that the new Motorhead recruit had a crush on a girl living on the very street Motorhead was trying to claim just yesterday. Apparently, he was in the same school program as her, chatting her up every chance he got. A name caught his eye. It was the same surname as Léon's. Sherry Polnareff, the username read. Their conversations were mundane — boring — but Edguy wondered if this could possibly be a door to new opportunities. Dastardly ones at that.

"Intriguing." he mused. "Relieving, isn't it? Knowing the boy isn't going behind your back."

"Yeah. Now about this shipment," Geil said, putting a pin in the subject, "I want you to send Canneberge and a squad down to the docks for unloading. But listen. I want you to understand what I'm telling you: this is an arsenal of high-grade military weaponry. I paid the arms dealer a fuckton just to get them shipped over here, so don't fuck this up."

Edguy couldn't look more unfazed by his attempt at hammering fear into him. Geil's debriefing was always nothing short of intimidating to most people, but he'd heard it enough by now he let it roll off his back, like water on a duck's feathers. Not to say he was intimidating to him when he first associated himself with Motorhead. Geil was just another grain of sand waiting to be stepped on, just like everyone else in Edguy's eyes. Nobody mattered, least of all Geil.

"Oh, quit your worrying already, will you?" Edguy leaned against the back of his chair, propping his black boots on Geil's desk. Geil looked at him with displeasure, a growl rumbling in his throat. "It's not like Quiet Riot will come Sunday-driving up to the waterfront and take them from under our noses."

Geil harrumphed at that statement. "You don't know Léon and Angus like I do. Léon's far from being the yellow-bellied loser he used to be in collége ."

"Hmm, yes, yes. A likely story. One I'm sure you can indulge me in some other time. But for now, let's just focus on what's important, shall we? I will assemble a team to accompany Canneberge to the waterfront. Meanwhile," he rose from his seat and sauntered for the door as he spoke, "I have a prior engagement."

"I'm telling you, Edguy." Geil warned. Edguy turned his head, not quite fully looking back at him. "I've lost nearly all my stand users in the past few months to these assholes. Fuck this up, there won't be a single shadow for you to hide in. 'Cause if it's one thing I know, it's the darkness." His cybernetic eye beamed up at him, adding to his ominous appearance.

Edguy smiled. "Why, Geil, you wouldn't be threatening me, now would you?"

"It's not a threat," he assured, "it's a guarantee."

Leaving the warehouse, Edguy caught a whiff of fresh air tinged with a salty scent. It was one of his favorite things about being near the waterfront. Well, his only favorite thing. He strolled through the lot where he passed by other Motorhead gangsters, who were loitering around. They glanced in his direction as he moseyed along, then shortly after returned to their usual conversations. A few were horse-assing at the main gate, laughing up a storm. Edguy didn't see what was so funny. Probably something distasteful if he had to guess. The one in question that was laughing so hard was the same gang member that had taken the video of Léon just last night during his fight with Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

"Hey, hey! Edguy!" he called to him. Edguy's lip contorted as he leaned away from the boisterous thug on his left. "That was a balleriffic fight last night, am I right?"

Edguy blinked. "A what? "

"You know, that droid of yours! We were just talking about it. Man, that's the first time I suppose any of us have seen it in action. Not counting yesterday's mass shooting. How'd you program it to do all that stuff anyway?"

Edguy looked off with half-lidded eyes and a jutted chin. "Pardon? What droid?"

The thug exchanged glances with his friend behind him, who was leaning against a crate. He shrugged at the man speaking to Edguy. "Well," he continued, "I got some footage that I thought you might like to see." He brought out his cell and scrolled through his videos, stopping on one of them. Holding it up, with his hand cupping over it to block out the sun, Edguy squinted at it. Watching Léon in the midst of action with Red Jumpsuit Apparatus barely evoked a reaction out of him at all. The least it got was an arched brow.

"So, yeah!" the gangster said, pocketing his phone after the video ended. "How did you pull that off?" Rolling his eyes, Edguy shoved passed him. "H-hey! Salaud grossier! Je te parle! Ahhh, casse-toi. Didn't like talking to you either, asshole." His buddies snickered on the sidelines as Edguy departed the lot and made his way up Boulevard de Rêves Brisés, fuming.

"Motorhead needs to hurry up and fall off the face of the earth already." Heat boiled in his stomach as his pace picked up. Nothing was going as planned. Fearing his efforts were all for naught only cultivated more anger. "A droid? My stand's creations? Pfft! As if PATHGOD is anything like Stroheim Robotics." Non-stand users are so amusing to me. Droids…puh! He briskly walked along the cracked road, going past storage sheds.

Edguy stopped walking, and placed his hands over his cane in front of him. A slight gust of wind cooled his face, carrying his golden hair on the breeze. A chain link fence rattled to his right. Turning to look, he tilted his head back and gave the ones looking at him a wry smile. Red Jumpsuit Apparatus was standing there along with Tenmei and Avdol's doppelgangers. Three pairs of red eyes stared emotionless at their creator — at PATHGOD, who hovered by Edguy's side. With a glowing blue aura, he turned to face them.

"Now, now. There will be more work for you soon enough." he promised the troublesome trio. "Trust me. I know exactly what I'm doing."

Edguy held something between two fingers in the sunlight. Storing up to 300 million currents was a U drive with an engraved name reading: Joliet Jousset.