The ship was going down. Wooden beams snapped and crumbled before him, setting his skin ablaze faster than his vampiric healing could repair the damage. Normally, that was not a problem. Normally, he wouldn't be puppeting a body that was actively trying to root him out. His veins, Jojo's veins, really, burned with the heat of the sun as his vampiric essence pumped through his flesh, the fading energy of his life doing its best to flush him out even as the fibers of his muscle curled with his commands.

It was a trivial resistance, but resistance nonetheless. If he did not find somewhere to complete his takeover, he would surely burn to death.

Which was why Dio breathed a sigh of relief as finally, finally, his hands grasped the lid of his coffin. Jojo's body gave one last surge of resistance, almost as if his spirit could sense this was the last chance he would get to ruin his plans. A jolt of Hamon raced up his spine. Dio's flesh burned, and the skin on his neck began to peel away, his arms falling limp by his side. All Dio had to do was wait, and as the brief feeling of pain faded away and the feeling returned to his limbs, Dio smiled. At last, victory was his.

Dio pulled open the coffin, slipped inside, and dragged the lid shut behind him. As he laid down and relaxed, he could feel the fight slowly leave Jojo's body. Though the burns and the blood loss would take time to heal, it was only a matter of time before his vampiric essence bled through the rest of Jojo's body and put him firmly and completely under his control. Destiny had been so eager to pit them against each other, but now that they were one in the same, who was to say?

The lid ground against the coffin. Bright, flickering orange light can bleeding through as the coffin opened again, and suddenly, Dio found himself face to face with the stunned face of Erina Joestar.

Dio should have moved first. He should have lunged out with his vampiric strength and crushed her where she stood, or he could have split open her head with his vampiric essence eye discharge attack.

Then he blinked, and suddenly her hands were around his wrist, dragging him out.

Dio swung his hand out. His claws ripped through her throat, and Erina dropped dead before him.

But his arm refused to budge.

Dio's eyes widened, even as Erina hoisted his chest over the rim of the coffin. Jojo! What the hell are you doing?! Why are you refusing to fight back!

Again, he sent his vampiric essence down into Jojo's body, but he had wasted so much of it suppressing Jojo's body on the way here that he had nothing left. Erina grunted again, struggling to even lift Dio's weight, but when he couldn't even fight back, that was all she needed to do. Little by little, inch by inch, he could feel his body leave the safety of the coffin, all while he was completely helpless to do anything to stop her.

You can't do this, Jojo! Dio wanted to scream. This can't be what you want! If you let her do this, she'll kill us both!

But even as he thought those words, he knew that it was exactly what Jojo wanted. This was the same fool who had exploded on him because he had sullied Erina's reputation. Even if it meant destroying them both, Jojo would betray him in a heartbeat if it meant Erina would live.

Dio's back hit the wooden floor. His legs tumbled out not long after. Erina offered him one last pitiful look, before she sealed herself in the coffin and left Dio to burn.

She was not supposed to be here.

DIO knew this as a fact. He had been there when the police had told him his mother was dead. There was no one else to tell, not when his wretched father had spent that entire weekend out eating and whoring and... and now she was here, wiping the ice from his desk and dusting out his bedsheets.

It had to be a Stand attack. Some kind of mental projection or manipulation of his memories, or an illusion. Could it be a dream? Like the one used by Death 13? The Joestar group had somehow beaten him all the way in Saudi Arabia, but the Tarot card mercenaries had always been more loyal to Enya than to him, so it wasn't out of the possibility that the user had returned for revenge.

"It's so cold here," his mother mumbled, shaking her head. "I hope you aren't truly sleeping here. You might get sick!" Suddenly, she whirled on DIO. "Did someone force you to buy this, Dio?"

DIO grimaced. In truth, he hadn't bought this place at all. He'd liked how it had looked, so he had drunk the owner and moved in.

"No, mother. I wanted to sleep here," he replied.

"Are you sure?" His mother reached up and pulled his head down so she could touch her forehead to his. "Goodness, your skin is ice cold! You must be sick from sleeping here!"

And her skin felt hot to the touch, so it almost certainly could not be an illusion. She was really here. His mother was actually...

"I'm fine," DIO replied, but even the sound of his voice sounded distant.

His mother smiled and shook her head. "It's okay, Dio. You don't need to suffer any longer. Come here. We shall move your bed to somewhere far warmer after you have had something to eat, how does that sound?"

DIO said nothing, not as she led him out the door, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She asked him how the stove worked, and he was fairly sure he'd said something in reply because she managed to turn it on after a few tries and started throwing things into a pot, but for the life of him, he could not remember what.

He had finally finished gathering himself by the time she was finished. Through some... strange sequence of events, his mother had been torn out of that hellhole that was the 19th century and ended up here. Here, right in front of him, in Cairo, Egypt, on the night he was to become God.

How? With the limitless possibilities of Stands, there could be any number of explanations for how she could be here. The existence of Divine Anubis and Divine Ptah proved that Stands had been around for hundreds of years, and although he was certain that none possessed the complete and total dominance over time that was his, it was not impossible that there existed a Stand with a... lesser influence on time, one that could have sent his mother hurtling out of his childhood and to here.

Then why here? DIO would have dismissed it as sheer chance, one thing out of hundreds that had refused to go his way over the past two months, but the timing, it was almost too perfect. As perfect as Zeppeli's arrival, as perfect as Erina chasing Jojo on that ship. Turn after turn, there was always something in his way.

He had already resolved to throw away everything that made him Dio Brando tonight. If he was to reach for the highest of highs, there could be nothing left that tied him down to his mortality. As his eyes slid over to his mother, he scowled. This would be no different.

Then his mother slid a bowl of soup in front of him, and suddenly, he found himself back home, under creaking floorboards and bathed in the silver moonlight pouring in through a shattered window.

Down the hall, he could hear his father snoring away. His mother knelt down in front of him, and she smiled.

"Eat," she said.

And he did. The soup was tasteless. Everything was, except for the pulsing of sweet human blood, but the smell alone was almost enough for him to remember how it was supposed to taste.

"How is it?" his mother asked, once again sitting across from him, her elbows resting on an ornately polished wooden table.

"Passable," DIO replied.

His mother frowned. "Oh. I thought you would have loved it. It used to be your favorite, when you were a boy."

Had he? It had been so long, he honestly could not remember.

DIO narrowed his eyes. "You're taking this awfully well."

"I'm sorry?"

DIO motioned to himself. "As far as you remember, the last time you saw me, I was but a child. Now, here you are, and your son has grown into a man. Nothing seems to work the way you remember, the world outside is hot and dry... don't you find it all a little strange?"

His mother shrugged. "Stranger things have happened to me. I have faith that, whatever this is, it will turn out alright. After all, you are here with me."

"Yes. I suppose I am."

His mother hummed. "Is your father here with you?"

DIO curled his lips in contempt. Ah. Of course, she was bound to ask that.

"He's dead," DIO replied.

"I see. Did he become a better man, once I vanished?"

"He did not."

His mother lowered her head and ran a hand down her face. "Oh. I'm... sorry I could not have made him understand."

And what was she apologizing for? That man would have never changed, even without the poison. He was rotten to the core, and here his mother was, apologizing for it?

"It doesn't matter," DIO said instead. "That man is long dead."

"I suppose he is."

As DIO finished drinking from the bowl, he heard his mother open a few more cabinets.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I'm just a little... you have so much. I just think it's so wonderful that you have been blessed with such good fortune. This was the life I always wanted you to have, and yet I..."

Her voice hitched. For some reason, DIO clenched his hands on the table.

"Don't make a tragedy out of nothing," he said. "I'm doing just fine now."

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I can see that now." DIO watched as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve, before she turned back to him and smiled. "I'm glad that you were able to find happiness, even despite my failures as a mother."

"Hm."

"I'm sure if your father could see you now, he would be so proud."

There it was again. His father, proud? DIO had spit on his grave and vowed that he would not fall to the same vices that his father had. He would not satisfy his needs feasting on whores and cheap drink, he would not stop until he had reached the very top. If his father could see him now, he would be screaming in envy from the lowest pits of Hell.

And she had the gall to believe that he would be proud?

DIO shook his head. There he was again, bringing up his past. Tonight was supposed to be the night he went beyond that. He could not afford any more distractions.

That was why she was here, wasn't it? To distract him? She was watching him right now, her hazel eyes examining his face as her lips pulled into a smile. He had to... yes, he had to discard her. That was what he had told himself, and that was what he was going to do.

"He's dead," DIO said, as his breath sucked in the heat from around him. The nearby glass cabinet frosted over. The leftover soup in his bowl froze.

And his mother did not seem to notice. "You are right. It does us no good to dwell on the past. You're here now, and I am here by your side. That is all that matters." His mother closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled. "So, when are the Joestars arriving? Shall I help you make a meal for them?"

DIO opened his mouth to reply, when he heard the sound of wood splintering in the room next to them. DIO narrowed his eyes.

The World.

His Stand reached out and snapped the legs of the chair his mother was sitting on. As she tumbled to the floor with a yelp, a hole appeared to her right, and her hair was cut a few centimeters short. DIO saw the dust in the air part, waver, then stop, before Cream's gleaming yellow eyes appeared out of thin air, and its teeth pulled apart to reveal the glowering face of Vanilla Ice, blood running down his face and half of his shirt ripped away to reveal the raw skin peeling off his shoulder, sand pooling in the folds of the fabric.

"Lord DIO. Why have you come downstairs?" Vanilla Ice asked. "And why is... she still here?" His voice tapered off, and the normally expressionless man's eyes widened just a bit as, piece by piece, he took in the scene before him. How strange it must seem to him, for his lord and master, his God, sitting at the table with a normal woman, like a boy being served dinner by his mother.

But DIO was not a normal person. He was DIO, he was a man who had discarded his humanity and had survived a hundred years at the bottom of the sea. He held power that no other man could even dream to hold, power that would let him rule over his lessers with nothing less than an iron grip. He was his God, and he would not let that notion waver, not even looking like this.

The candles his mother had lit strangled and died as the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Without raising his voice, DIO said, "Vanilla Ice. Have you still not taken care of the problem?"

On instinct, Vanilla Ice dropped to his knees, his head bowed low enough that his hair touched the floor. "No, I have not. These wounds shall not hinder my capacity to serve you, my Lord."

"See that it does not. Do not return to me until it is done, or I shall be most disappointed."

"No. I shan't even dream of it! To disappoint you would be my death, and I shall not rest until our enemies have tasted death themselves!"

Again, Cream lunged out from behind Vanilla Ice, swallowing him from head to toe. Glass fell to the floor and shattered as a nearby cabinet exploded, and what cutlery remained tumbled through the hole that had suddenly appeared in the middle.

Then, he was gone.

"Dio," his mother said, her voice just a little shaky. "What was that?"

DIO thought about it for a moment, before he settled on, "Pest control."

"Oh. His wounds looked so serious... I hope you aren't pushing him too hard."

"I know what my servants are capable of. Vanilla Ice should be able to take care of this on his own."

His mother shook her head. "Dio... that man adores you. He would do anything you asked, no matter how difficult. You have to take care that he doesn't hurt himself!"

If he was wounded fighting off the likes of Iggy and Polnareff, then that meant he was not worthy to serve DIO's grand cause. "I fail to see how that is my problem," DIO replied.

"Dio... surely you can feel sorry for him, right? I remember how much we suffered back then... even if you own such a grand manor now, surely you haven't forgotten where you came from?"

Oh, remember he did. How could he ever forget the smell of dirt booze in the air, the feeling of shattered glass on his bare feet as his father came home from a long night of drinking. How could he forget long nights digging through the trash just to find something to eat?

How could he ever forget the sound of owls through the night as his mother sat beside his bed, her hand combing through his hair as she whispered soft, meaningless words to him until he fell asleep.

"I do," DIO huffed, glowering at his mother, "and I don't see much point in straining myself like that. My childhood was suffering enough."

His mother shook her head. "That is not how I raised you, Dio. If you can't help those in need, then how could you go to Heaven?"

"Why would I need to?" DIO raised his hands and motioned to the room around him, at the lavish decorations and decorated silverware on display. "I shall never have to suffer like that again. You said it yourself; I am blessed with good fortune. This is Heaven enough."

"Then surely it would do you no harm to share it? After all, if your father had a life like this, he would have been a much happier man."

He wouldn't have. Dario Brando was a wicked man, who only lived to fill the empty void he called a soul with carnal pleasures. Nothing would have made him happy, not even if he had all the money in the world.

DIO opened his mouth. Then he stopped. What had he been about to say? Not that. He'd already had another excuse on the tip of his lips. Excuse for what, his father's behavior? Why had he been about to say that? Because it would hurt his mother?

Then it hit him. Why she had appeared before him. If he was to become God, he needed to discard everything of his past. On the night of his betrayal, it was said that Jesus Christ climbed the Mount of Olives and prayed for strength to cast off his humanity.

Now, on his own Mountain of Olives, his prayers for strength had been answered. DIO had long ago swore to surpass his father. He had thought it had been bad fortune haunting him every step of the way, from Jojo's discovery, his defeat at the manor, the appearance of Zeppeli and Erina at the cusp of his victory. But now he was here. He had outlived every last one of his foes, and he had become stronger than they could have ever dreamed. Were they alive to witness it, not even the likes of Tonpetty or Straizo, Hamon masters of a hundred years, would have been able to stop him.

He had far surpassed the likes of Dario Brando, so if he could surpass his mother as well...

DIO threw his head back and laughed.

Across from him, his mother flinched. "D–Dio? What's wrong?" she asked.

"You believe that, don't you? You well and truly believe that," DIO purred. "You think that someone like Dario Brando would ever be pleased by riches and wealth? No! That man would never have been happy, not with all the money in the world."

"Dio! Please don't speak of your father like that," his mother protested.

"That man was not my father. He does not deserve the glory of even sharing my name! I have come this far not because I was raised by him, but despite it. And despite you." DIO's lips stretched into a grin, and he heard his mother gasp as she finally caught sight of his fangs. His vampire fangs. "You called me blessed, did you not? Allow me to show you just how blessed I truly am."

The door burst open behind them, and who would walk in at just that moment but Jean Pierre Polnareff.

"Mr. Joestar! Where are–" He locked eyes with DIO, and his face, wide with panic, narrowed into a snarl in an instant. "DIO!"

A sound like singing steel split the air in two, and Silver Chariot stepped out from behind him, its armor gleaming blue in dark.

"Jean Pierre Polnareff," DIO said slowly. "Just the man I was expecting."

"What the hell are you talking about? And..." Polnareff's eyes slid over until they landed on his mother. "What the hell are you doing to her?!"

"Dio, who is this?" his mother asked.

DIO ignored them both and inspected his nails in the dim blue light. "You know, I was considering giving you a chance. Extending you an olive branch of sorts, give you one last chance to return to my service."

"You must be a fool if you think I'd ever serve you again!"

"Yes. I was... desperate. After all, you have managed to get so far without losing a single member of your group. Fortune seems to favor you Joestars, wouldn't you say?"

Silver Chariot flashed its blade, and Polnareff spat back, "Then if you understand, why don't you do us all a favor and go die!"

"Because that is about to change."

His mother took a step back, away from Polnareff and closer to him. "Dio? What are you–"

Then DIO lunged for her. Not the World. Just him. She couldn't have seen it coming. Her pathetic human senses were not nearly fine tuned enough to keep up with his vampiric speed.

But Polnareff's were.

"No!" he screamed, and he shoved her out of the way.

DIO's fingers sank into his neck. The man gasped, blood bubbling in his throat. His nails frantically scrabbled against DIO's grasp, and his legs kicked out into the air. Silver Chariot rushed to his side, but the World slammed him into the wall, and Polnareff's Stand sputtered out of existence as DIO could feel his struggles grow weaker by the second.

"R–run..." he rasped out, his hand reaching toward DIO's mother.

Then DIO let go, and Polnareff collapsed on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

His mother gasped. DIO did not miss the splotch of Polnareff's blood over her coat. "D–Dio. What have you done?"

"What I have always done, mother," he replied. He flicked his hand out, and Polnareff's blood splattered over the floor. "What I've done best, since I was a child."

His mother shook her head. "No, Dio. This... this is murder! Why... why would you do this?"

"Because this is how it is, mother." DIO waved around at him, at the cold, empty room. "I wasn't blessed with riches. I killed and stole them. Everything I have, I tore away from someone else. Tonight, the Joestars arrive with fate on their side to punish me for my sins, and tonight, I shall take that fate from them and become the God I was always destined to become!"

Rewatched that bit where Polnareff meets DIO on the stairs, and I was surprised just how much Polnareff was considering surrendering to DIO before he remembered Avdol and Iggy's sacrifices. Really helps to sell just how terrifying DIO is, as well as just how courageous Polnareff is for turning him down, and I really liked that.