VIII: Shock Me

"Damn it," I screamed.

"What?" asked the baffled detective.

"Shit," I whispered. "Nothing, sorry. Where were we?"

"You just introduced yourself. I'm-"

"Detective Donald Roeser."

He was either confused or annoyed, or both. I hoped he was just confused. After Detective Bouchard's unfortunate demise, Detective Roeser had taken over what had come to be called the Virgin Killer Case. This was the twelfth body to be found, completely scorched except for a face twisted in agony. All of the victims were virgins, ranging from eleven to twenty-one years old. Hence the name.

"You like cigars?"

"I like a good cigar every now and then," the detective answered.

"Next time I see you I'll give you a box. I have access to the best of the best. It's not a bribe or anything."

"Of course not. What do you want to know about the Virgin Killer?"

"Just if anything new has been found since you took over the case."

"Other than bodies, we haven't found anything."

"You mind if I get files on all the victims? There might be some link we're missing."

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

I started to walk away when once again it felt like I was struck by lightning.

"Shi-aaaggghh," I screamed.

The detective started to ask if I was alright but I put my hand up to let him know I didn't want him to. I held my head and staggered away. Minutes later I threw up on the side of the street. For several days I had drank nothing but coffee and whiskey, and they were making me sick. When I got back to my office I poured myself a glass of water. I went to drink it but my hand stopped just short of my mouth. I could feel my hairs stand up and my heart start beating rapidly. I tried to bring my hand closer but finally I slammed the glass down. I couldn't drink water, but I couldn't keep getting by on whiskey. Coffee made me sick, but not as sick as the water so I made myself a cup. I realized I wasn't smelling very good so I ran a bath. I stared at the water cautiously before attempting to get in. My toe hovered above the water, I was scared to put it in. My nerves buzzed and my heart sped. Finally, I tapped the water with my toe. I screamed as a shock ran up my leg and shook my skull. I nearly fell into the water but caught myself in a most unnatural, precarious position. Finally, I managed to free myself from the threat of the tub. I sat down and panted, sweat ran down my forehead and I wiped it away with a towel. What was happening to me?

IX: Sound of a Gun

I sat down, still shook over the shocking water that had been tormenting me, and began to look at my notes. This case had started as an ordinary "is my wife cheating on me?" type of thing, but then the wife went missing and there was a pool of blood Lonesome Crow identified as hers. I didn't believe she was dead, but I doubted she was in a happy situation. Why were my notes so disorganized, I wondered. I began to put them back into order when my head began to spin and my stomach, swelled, shrunk, spun, flipped upside down, and everything in between. I ran to the bathroom and vomited up my coffee. What was wrong with me? This sickness, the shocking water, and completely random shocks had been going on for a week now and it continued to get worse. I cleaned up and sat back down to work on my case, the taste of vomit still lingered in my mouth. I stared at my notes blankly for only a few moments before getting up and leaving. I just needed a walk to clear my head. That's what I told myself, but I knew something else was going on. Even just the thought of going home and working on that case made my stomach sick, so I decided to head to the station and get the files on the Virgin Killer's victims. I collected the files and my unease faded away as I prepared to work on them. But before I could get back to my office I heard a scream.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

The desperate voice came from a nearby alley.

"Just hand over your purse and jewelry and you'll be fine," answered a calm voice. Far too calm for an ordinary mugger I thought.

I ran to the alley but my body stopped before I could turn into it. I could see the victim in my peripheral, her hands were raised and her legs were shaking, but I couldn't see the mugger. Adrenaline surged through my body as I tried to turn my head. The woman slowly removed her jewelry and dropped it into her purse. I strained against my body with all my might but to no avail. My body refused to enter the alley or look at the attacker. Even when he took the valuables from his victim my eyes turned so as not to see his approach. Then I heard the sound of a gun going off. The woman screamed in pain and finally, I managed to run into the alley. I shot blindly in the direction of the fleeing attacker before getting to the woman's side and tending to her wound. She had been shot in the side and was bleeding quickly. I held the wound and called for help. No one came. I was about to pick her up and carry to her to a hospital when Lonesome Crow wrote across her body, "She will survive." I let out a sigh of relief.

X: Perfect Water

The woman was in shock and unable to tell us anything about her assailant, except that he was a man, which I already knew. After we left her room Detective Roeser turned to me, his face full of concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Normally I would have ignored a question like that, but I was in a bad mood and was prepared to make an issue of it.

"I don't know you, but there's definitely something off about you. The way you were acting earlier." I lit up a cigar to show my indifference. "And then today, a guy with a record as good as yours shouldn't have missed such a close target five times."

"Five? I fired six times, so I must have hit him once," I said. "Did your boys find a blood trail?"

He shook his head.

"I know what a job like ours does to a man. I know a guy, one of those psychologists. He can help you."

I glared at him. I wanted to say something cruel but my mind went over all the strange things that had been happening to me in the past week. Maybe he was right. What was I thinking? Of course he wasn't.

"I'm not insane, if that's what you're implying."

"No, that's-"

"Or an alcoholic."

I stormed away. Back at my office I sat down to look at the files of the victims. I noticed a glass of water on my desk and stared at it intensely. I thought about my inability to move earlier, even to help a woman in need. Why couldn't I do these things?! It enraged me. I slowly moved my hand toward the water and tried to pick it up but my hand began to shake. I was so thirsty, and I couldn't have anymore whiskey or coffee, but I couldn't even wrap my fingers around the glass. In a fit of rage I slapped the glass off the desk and it shattered across the floor. My eyes fell on my hand. Water had spilled on it, but there was no shock. I slowly brought my hand to my mouth and eyed the water hungrily. It had been almost a week since I had come into contact with water without a shock. I stuck my tongue out and carefully placed my hand against it. When no shock came I rapidly slurped the water off my hand, leaped over the puddle full of broken glass, and began drinking water straight from the kitchen faucet. I had never enjoyed the taste of water so much in my life. Once I had drank my fill I finally took a bath. Afterward I felt refreshed and reborn and was ready to get back to work. I started to look at the Virgin Killer files but knew that I should work on my own case first, even though I felt an aversion to it. Especially since I felt an aversion to it. My hands shook and my body fought against me, but once I began working the feelings went away and everything was normal. I was cured, I rejoiced. I had just finished reviewing everything and had some questions prepared for Mr. Johnson, the husband of the missing woman, when the sickness suddenly returned. I flipped my notes over and closed my eyes. The sickness faded. I began to read the notes again and the sickness returned. Why had it taken me this long to understand? I stood up and walked to the sink. I winced as the water shocked my hand. This wasn't something in my head. This was the work of an enemy stand user who was trying to stop me from investigating the case. The mugger must have been the stand user, testing his stand's ability on me. After I shot him his stand's assault on me faltered, and now that he recovered it had resumed. I needed to talk to Mr. Johnson immediately.

XI: The Mirror Maze

As I walked out the door of my office I felt an unpleasant shock. Not only had the stand's attack resumed, it had gotten worse. I slammed on Mr. Johnson's door but there was no answer. I was about to give up when Lonesome Crow wrote "Death stalks its prey within these walls," across the house. I broke down the door and found Mr. Johnson, passed out and on the brink of death. "Thirst has nearly slain him," was written across his face. The enemy stand user must have targeted him as well. I found the telephone and called for help. Now was as good a time as any to look for clues I figured, so I began rifling through the Johnsons' belongings.

"Hey, Lonesome Crow, how about you tell me something useful right now?"

The black feathered spirit stared at me with its singular blank white eye. Lonesome Crow never showed any expression, I figure it would be hard for it to do so with only one eye and no mouth.

"What's this?" I muttered as I fingered through a book I had just found under the mattress. "Looks like Mrs. Johnson's diary," I told Lonesome Crow.

Mr. Johnson had told me she didn't have one, but I wasn't surprised that he was wrong. I flipped to the most recent entry.

"Dear diary, I'm going to see Dr. Lucassen today. I believe that today we will finally get to the heart of my problems. After all our talks about my childhood dreams and traumas I just know we'll find the truth soon. Then Dr. Lucassen will be able to make these strange symptoms of mine go away. But even if he can't, it doesn't matter, because even just being with him is the most wonderful thing imaginable. When I think about it, I don't even know what I would do if he cured me and didn't want to see me anymore. I don't think I could bear being without him and the feelings he gives me."

So my prime suspect was one Dr. Lucassen, a psychologist. I pocketed the diary and left before the police arrived. A shock ran through my body as I went out the door. A closer look at the diary found that the psychologist's first name was Arjen. More importantly, Lucassen was recommended to Mrs. Johnson by her friend, Marcella Miranda. This meant that he was most likely affiliated with the Padavona crime family, and almost certainly the enemy stand user. It wasn't hard to track down Lucassen. Dusk was falling when I knocked on his door. My hand was on my revolver and I was ready for anything. There was no answer, but I heard a telephone ring inside the house. "The phone is for you," Lonesome Crow wrote. I shuddered. The door was unlocked. I went in and answered the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Joestar. I'm glad to see you're alright, I was worried that your mental state was becoming too unstable."

His voice was definitely the same as the mugger's.

"Where the hell are you, Luccasen?"

"Why don't you let your stand answer that question?"

"So, you know how Lonesome Crow works then?"

He chuckled.

"Let's get this over with, Joestar."

He hung up moments after Lonesome Crow wrote down the origin of the call. Lucassen was calling from a fun house well-known for its mirror maze.

"This should be fun," I said sarcastically.

XII: Out of Sight

I stood outside the funhouse in the dark. All the nearby street lights were smashed. I went into the funhouse and looked around at my countless reflections. Why would anyone do this for fun, I wondered.

"Lucassen!" I shouted. "Tell me where Mrs. Johnson is!"

"I'm not holding her hostage," he said. "We're in love."

He wasn't shouting but his voice sounded close, too close. I guessed he was speaking through his stand.

"If she has any love for you, it's because of your stand. You had your stand punish me for doing certain actions. It made me sick when I worked on your case to prevent me from pursuing you, but you didn't think that was enough. You tried to drive me to a death from alcohol by punishing my consumption of any other liquid."

I walked through the maze with my revolver drawn, waiting for any sign of Lucassen or Mrs. Johnson.

"But your stand has a good side," I continued, "your stand can give rewards for actions as well. You reward Mrs. Johnson for being with you by giving her pleasant feelings. When she's not with you, she can only think about the wonderful feeling you would give her. She doesn't love you, she's addicted to the feeling of being with you, like a drug."

"You understand Day Sixteen: Loser's ability of operant conditioning perfectly. You live up to your reputation, Mr. Joestar."

"And since you understand how Lonesome Crow works you know you can't keep hiding from me. And once I find you, it'll be all over for you."

"To the contrary. Just because you understand the conditioning doesn't mean you can fight against it."

My eyes were forced down to the floor. He must have entered the maze. I flashed my eyes around to see where they could go and shot where they couldn't. There was the sound of mirrors shattering but nothing to indicate I had hurt Lucassen. I looked up and saw no sign of him.

"Don't waste all your bullets on my reflections. In case you're wondering when I could have conditioned you to have such an aversion to my face, I've been stalking you ever since you took this case. Whenever you felt a random shock, you cried out in pain and embarrassed yourself, it was because you caught a glimpse of me lurking, or passing by in a crowd, without even realizing it."

His stand emerged from a mirror and unleashed a barrage of rapid punches. Lonesome Crow blocked them all, punch for punch. The barrage stopped as Day Sixteen: Loser dived back into the mirror. Lonesome Crow began to write something but before it could write more than a few letters Day Sixteen: Loser returned and punched me in the side, breaking one of my ribs and sending me through a mirror wall.

"Damn it," I groaned as I pulled myself to my feet and removed a large shard of the mirror out of my back.

Tiny shards filled my back and side. My snow white suit was quickly turning into a crimson one. Day Sixteen: Loser was gone and Lonesome Crow was writing again, but this time it remained overlapped with me to defend against another blow. Then my eyes involuntarily turned away from the writing. My eyes flicked back and forth wildly, unure where they could land without me being shocked. Who knows how many reflections of Lucassen danced around me on the walls of the mirror maze. Lonesome Crow once again defended me against Day Sixteen: Loser. I kept trying to look at the writing but my eyes refused. I shot wildly, hoping I could at least scare Lucassen.

"What will you do when you're out of bullets?" Lucassen asked. "You'll run out soon if you keep this up."

I ignored him and moved around, hoping that another vantage would allow me to look at the writing. Then I heard a gunshot. Lonesome Crow blocked it but left an opening for Day Sixteen: Loser to land a blow on me.

"Trust me Lucassen," I muttered as blood spilled out of my mouth. "When I find you, I'll kill you regardless of how many bullets I have."

I knew the writing must have already been fading but I still couldn't look at it. In fact, my vision was rapidly decreasing as Lucassen was reflected off the countless shards of broken mirrors I had created by shooting. My eyes were darting around so much I couldn't see at all. I closed my eyes and started running toward where I thought the entrance was. Day Sixteen: Loser rose up in front of me but Lonesome Crow knocked it away and I kept going. I ran straight into a wall and tried peeking through my eyelids but Lucassen's reflection forced them shut. I shot back toward where I thought he was.

"You can't beat me, Joestar!" Lucassen declared.

I was seriously beginning to believe him before I felt Lonesome Crow writing on my arm. I pressed my arm against my eyes and opened them. It was hard to make out, but Lonesome Crow had written down the movements I would need to perform to escape. I did as it said, running two yards to my right, then three to my left, and so on, while Lonesome Crow deflected barrages from Day Sixteen: Loser. As I ran out of the funhouse a shock ran through my body, and with a scream I stumbled to the ground.

XIII: Day Sixteen: Loser

As I fell to the ground Day Sixteen: Loser kicked me back into the air and then punched me back down. Lonesome Crow only managed to soften the blows. I coughed up a small pool of blood and struggled back to my feet. I turned to Lonesome Crow, it was writing something, but I couldn't tell what.

"I knew you would get out of the funhouse," Lucassen said through Day Sixteen: Loser. "That's why I broke all the street lights. Without them, Lonesome Crow's writings simply blend into the darkness around you and you can't read them. So what will your next move be, Joestar?"

I couldn't go back into the funhouse, I was certain of that much. I needed to find somewhere else with lights, but I couldn't be certain that Lonesome Crow would repeat itself once I was in the light. It could at least tell me something useful though. I ran away. Day Sixteen: Loser continued its barrage and I knew it would only be a matter of time before something allowed it to break through my defense and land what would most likely be a deciding blow.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lucassen asked.

I smashed down a door of a random house and ran in. I turned on a light but Day Sixteen: Loser smashed it.

"Over here, Joestar."

I could tell immediately it was the real Lucassen speaking. I pointed toward the sound of his voice and fired.

"I said I'm over here."

I pulled the trigger again but I had run out of bullets.

"Damn," I cursed.

I ran up the stairs of the house and smashed out a window. A shock ran through my body as I jumped out it and I fell to the ground. I got up and staggered into another house, hoping I could find a place to hide and think of a strategy.

"You're trapped now," Lucassen said.

"Wha- hngh- what do you mean?" I asked.

My hand clutched my bleeding side and I struggled to stand.

"My conditioning has taken full effect on you. You see, when we met in the alley, while I was mugging that woman, my stand began a new conditioning lesson on you. You would be punished whenever you left a building. Normally my conditioning takes days to take full effect, but your mind was already weakened by your other conditionings, and now my conditioning has been backed up even further. When you left the funhouse the shock left you vulnerable to an attack that broke at least several of your bones, and when you jumped out that window the shock made you fall. I'm sure that broke a thing or two too. Your body simply won't allow you to leave now because it considers doing so to be too dangerous."

"My body will do whatever the hell I tell it to."

The door opened and my eyes turned away. He was right there. I went to reload my gun but my spare ammo was gone. I must have dropped it when I fell out the window.

I grabbed my knife and ran at the door, only to stop just in front of it. He was right, I couldn't go through it. I tried to stick my arm through and stab him but it was like there was an invisible wall. He pointed his gun at my head and fired.

XIV: Guilt Trip

XIV: Guilt Trip

The gun went off and in that split second my eyes managed to focus on the barrel of the gun, despite Lucassen's face lurking right behind it. The flash of the gun going off illuminated Lonesome Crow's hastily scribbled words, "This man died hours ago." Lonesome Crow batted the bullet away at the last moment and I stumbled backward, baffled by the message. Lucassen chuckled.

"I got so lost in the drama of the moment that I forgot how good your stand is at deflecting bullets."

He slowly reloaded his gun. I stood in front of him with my eyes averted to the floor. My mind was spinning trying to understand how Lucassen could still be here if he was dead.

"No matter," he said. "It will only prolong your suffering."

He pointed his gun at me and Day Sixteen: Loser appeared by his side. After one last fruitless attempt to stab him I jumped away from the approaching barrage. If my earlier experiences were anything to go off of, Lonesome Crow could not defend against the gun and the stand at the same time. I needed to hide. I ducked under a table but Lucassen rounded the house until he had a good shot.

"I want you to understand something, Joestar. I know Briana Johnson doesn't love me. I know she felt bad about leaving her husband. She will feel guilt over cheating on him for the rest of her life. And as soon I'm done with her, she might even try to get back with him. And I'm sure you're wondering about that blood you found. Briana let me spill it, and my stand made her take immense pleasure from it. I'm sure that will haunt her."

I dodged the bullet and crawled toward another safe spot. I couldn't even hide from him as long as his stand was on me.

"But, you see, that's what I like about it. I'm sure that in your line of business you've met quite a few sadists. Hell, you have quite a few in the family."

I scrambled into another hiding place to avoid a hail of bullets.

"I'm like them, but while most of them like to draw blood, or make their victim scream, I like to make mine hate themselves. I like to make their friends and family hate them. Nothing gives me more joy than when I make someone find pleasure in a terrible act, and the guilt from it drives them to suicide."

A bullet struck right beside my ear and I repositioned myself.

"I love working for the Padavonas. I'm sure you figured out my connection to them already. Some times they have me condition witnesses so they give false testimony. Condemn someone innocent. In one move I ruin so many lives. The Padavonas pay me handsomely, but I don't care about that. I just do it because it brings me so much pleasure."

While he repositioned himself again I dashed for the stairs. A bullet grazed my shoulder. I ran up the stairs and turned on a light. Lonesome Crow put all its energy toward defending it. All I needed to do was get Day Sixteen: Loser off my back long enough for Lonesome Crow to write a message. I grabbed a chair and positioned myself in waiting.

"You should feel lucky Joestar, that I only tried to kill you instead of ruining your life," Lucassen said through Day Sixteen: Loser.

I peeked through a window and he shot it out. I immediately threw the chair out and Day Sixteen: Loser flew to intercept it. I ducked down out of Lucassen's sight and stared at Lonesome Crow.

"Well!?" I shouted. "Aren't you going to write anything?"

It stared at me with its usual blankness.

"Well damn it, what was the point of this?" I groaned.

"You know what, Joestar?" Lucassen said. "I can't shoot you. That was a stupid idea."

I waited for the catch. When he didn't continue I peeked out the window. He wasn't there. Did he give up? I stood up and looked out some other windows. There was no sign of him. I went downstairs and opened the front door. Of course I still couldn't leave. I made my way to the telephone and was considering who I could even call to help me when Lucassen's voice came.

"You can't leave this house. Your weak mind won't allow it. But, what if we do a little experiment? Will the threat of certain death drive your brain to overcome its conditioning? Or will your brain let you die?"

I looked out the window and saw Lucassen splashing gasoline all over the house.

"Lonesome Crow! What do I do!"

The stand gave me no response. I threw another chair but Day Sixteen: Loser knocked it away.

"Don't bother resisting, Joestar. Just enjoy the ride."

He threw away the gasoline can and pulled out a lighter. I grabbed the telephone but Lucassen had already cut the line. I turned to Lucassen, my eyes still unable to look at him. But I saw something else. Blood. Blood was all over the ground. That's when I understood Lonesome Crows words, "This man died hours ago."

"You can't kill me," I declared to Lucassen.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked. "Look around you Joestar, I'm about to send you to hell and there's nothing you can do about it."

"No. You're the one who's on his way to hell."

"Joestar, yo-"

"Look around you."

"What am I supposed to be look at, Joestar?"

"The blood."

"That's yours. You didn't manage to hit me this entire time. You've become delusional in your last moments."

"You're right. I didn't manage to hit you during this fight."

He held the lighter up in the air, preparing to throw it.

"But what about earlier?" I finished.

"Huh?"

I couldn't see it, but I could imagine the panic covering his face as he noticed what must have been a gaping wound. The lighter fell from his hands as strength fled from his body. The lighter landed far enough away from the gasoline to not ignite it.

"After I shot you in the alley you probably had it sewn up by some half-rate criminal doctor and thought you were fine. But somewhere along the line those stitches came undone. You've been bleeding out this entire time, and who knows what other internal damage you've been enduring. You've basically been dead this entire time."

"No..."

He bent down and tried to pick up the lighter. His hands struggled to grasp it and he fell to his knees.

"I'll kill you, Joestar."

"You're too weak."

I removed my tie. Day Sixteen: Loser picked the lighter up and began trying to light it. I threw my tie into Lucassen's face and he fell over like a piece of paper. Day Sixteen: Loser faded away.

"Have fun in hell," I said.

It turned out the owners of the house were on vacation and the police couldn't get me out of the house. No matter what they did, my body refused. It took five days before I managed to break my conditioning and leave the house. Mrs. Johnson had returned to her husband in that time and he forgave her. It wouldn't last though. Mrs. Johnson took up a habit of cutting herself and eventually she killed herself.

I met up with Detective Roeser again to talk about the Virgin Killer. Two bodies had turned up while I was locked in the house.

"Say, what was the name of that psychologist you were recommending me?" I asked him.

He glanced around nervously, thinking of a lie.

"He left the country actually, family business. Sorry about that."

"Right," I said.

Liar was written across his face.