JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Voodoo Kingdom

[XIIIthewanderingpaladin]

October 11, 1992.

You're finally here. My child. The fruit of so much labor and time that it whiled through the years like nothing. And you're a good weight and warm. Loud too! Father Pucci had cried and praised God when you screamed into the world for the first time...

I can't wait to see you grow up.

I love you already, and you've only been here a few hours. My sweet little Daniel. Whenever I look at you, more possibilities are laid out for you. Far more than anyone ever set out for me. I feel like I could've made better decisions whenever I held you.

I swear to you, son, you weren't one of the bad ones.

---

Church was boring when I was little, but nowadays, it's noisy. I remember sitting up near the front as my father preached about God's goodness and the loveliness of Heaven, how we're all guilty and deserve punishment.

Just like today.

My father preaches fervently, his dark eyes burning with intensity as the sun shines through the stained glass. More calls of 'amen' rise up and echo to him. His grayish-white hair almost makes the light halo brighter. His skin is dark, and his voice radiates power and drips charisma. I wish I could speak like he could. I could rise and proclaim my message if I were this fabled miracle. Why haven't I gained the right to lead them? Why hasn't anyone given me the keys to my kingdom if I were that important?

"Look around; this world is in turmoil, but we have hope in this child!" he calls as he sweeps his hand towards the ceiling. But I have found the truth. One of His messengers! The one with whom the Miracle Child shares blood!"

"He was a powerful man with the ability to bring time to a halt. A man whose legacy keeps flourishing to this day! Money, power, prestige, it can all be yours if you follow me." He continues to talk about vapid things such as tithing that he'd use for more luxuries.

Although he doesn't have much interest in them, pushing for traditional values and standard Megachurch ideals makes us more approachable for vulnerable people, and it also tightens the noose around people's necks in turn once they join.

"God has chosen to move through this child." He looks at me, and I smile up at him. "God has chosen him to do great things, as will all the little children who inherit Heaven." His smile shines like a light I rarely see.

After the first service, his acolytes would escort Father away while people crowded around him. But this time, he stayed as I helped clean up the sanctuary, watching me with those fiery eyes turning cold.

I never understood why.

Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed when Father Pucci approached, his voice breaking through my reverie, "Lord Dio," he states as he grabs my hand and leads me behind him, "menial work is beneath one as holy as you."

We walk through the church halls and past all the pretty columns and soaring windows. All it does is make me fear what he'd have me do.

"Father, I wanted to help. Mother says—" I begin, and we stop. He looks down at me with a harder expression, but it softens.

"Oh Dio, you're such a kind boy," he sighs and shakes his head, tipping my face up to look at it better. "Do you remember your purpose here?"

"To save the world? Like Jesus?" I answer, unsure of everything. The way he sounds is weird and sweet. I'd later learn that it was one of his most classic forms of manipulation. But to me, right now, it worked like a charm.

"Why yes. Almost," Father Pucci nods and winds his arm around my shoulders. "See, you were a miracle sent by God, sharing the blood of a great man. He strongly desired to save the world, but people never understood him."

"That's mean," I said.

"Yes, it is!" Father exclaims with that fire in his eyes again, "But he persevered, even cheating death and battling those who would get in the way of his holy mission." He sits me next to him and runs his hand through my soft, almost downy golden hair, "Yet, you're here now. There's hope for the world with you."

"Now, do you know why you're so important to me?" he looks out into the courtyard where everyone else is working. "You're above them, Dio. You're the king of kings. You're God's fist poised to strike the sinners of the world. You're going to work wonders."

He stands and pats my shoulder, "I need to handle some things, I'll see you at the next service my son." As he leaves, I can't help but notice the fact that he's going off towards the processing area for exports.

I wonder why?

Ah well, its not my place to question it.

The wider cult compound was bustling with people. The watchmen on the walls come down for the service, and one swaggers by tipping his hat to a passerby while the other speaks to him about the wall's integrity. He wears a parody of Templar-like armor, and the symbol of the church is proudly displayed on the front.

"Cashe, we should inspect the weaker part of the wall. We can't just let it lie." the swordsman says, "Who knows what could get through."

"'A course, Antony. I'll get a crew out there soon. Ever since the incident with that thing outside th' walls we're kinda short-staffed." Cashe answers before waving to me. I wave back, and they pass me by.

For a long time... I had believed Father's words. But in very few and far between instances, there is this feeling of... boredom? Is that the right word? As I walked through the magnolias and sweet-smelling crops we sold for money, the other followers noticed me and paused their work.

"Why, hello there, Daniel!"

"Lord Dio! You look radiant today!"

But one always seemed a little too close. The girl sees me and clings on. Her name is Elise Arcenaux, and well. She's wearing a simple white dress and a long, almost wimple-like head covering. Whenever I'm around she drops what she's doing, in this case looking after the children, and books it towards me like she's running from some big monster. Just like that here comes the questions.

"Good morning, Lord Dio!" she coos, her blue eyes batting. How are you? Wasn't the service amazing? What are you up to?"

"I'm going to see my mother, Arcenaux," I answer. "So let go." I glare down at her like she's a bug under my heel, and I look at the growing crowd. "If you need a message, go see my father!" They all exult with...

"Praise Lord Dio!"

"Amen!"

"Thank you!"

All the false, happy smiles mask their true selves, making me sick. They are all accepting the constant services and the tiring rhetoric over and over and over, all day. Elise is one of the more stubborn ones. We walk side by side. Her blue eyes are like mirrors reflecting the world back at me. The weight on me a constant reminder of how much this bothers me. Surely I'm not someone to be clung to, right?

"Lord Dio?" her voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

"Yes?" I ask. The tension, heat, and annoyance is getting to me. I just want to go home, so *stop clinging to me!* I still try to stay polite about it, but the intimacy is driving me insane.

"Have you ever thought of marriage?" her eyes seem to shine a bit brighter and her smile curls up a little more, becoming an uncanny attempt at being pleasant.

"What do you mean, 'Have I ever thought of marriage'?!" my voice snarls out of me like the very notion was disgusting to me. A shot of anger pierces my chest, but I keep it from spreading too far.

"Well, we're both of age... don't you think it's time to ask someone for their hand?" she asks still with that serene smile of her's. Clearly, nothing is wrong with her at all. It's not like she could hurt me without getting hurt, "You don't want to be alone when you save the world, do you?"

"Elise. I'm not interested in that right now." I say. I can't let her down gently; otherwise she'll never get the hint at all. She blinks, a weird sound like she was coughing warbles out of her throat, and then she becomes quiet again.

"Oh, well, that's alright then!" she exclaims like it really didn't bother her like it did me. She's been at this ever since we both turned eighteen, so at this rate she'll keep going until I cave to her demands.

So, add an entire year of her trying to get me to marry her on top of everything else. A sneaking suspicion of it not being so 'alright' slips down my spine. Below that, my annoyance is palpable. It boils under the surface like the city's summer heat outside of this compound. It's almost like a square within a square, like a Socialist's paradise. It's all pristine and beautiful, but still, I want to see what's beyond it.

I can only see so much from my home's roof—so close to seeing it all, but so far. Lights would call to me like the stars in the sky, and I would hear the constant march of traffic singing through the air. The residence section comes up. It's a southern mansion complex with a modern but simple chapel and tiny houses dotted throughout, all surrounded by a farm. Mother's perspective on why they followed us is old-fashioned, but it sounds right. They chose to willingly commit themselves to the cause.

As Father had said time and time again that I'm special, and in turn, everyone here treats me as if I'm something special. But at the same time, it leaves a hole as deep and as cold as anything else. Everything was at my beck and call; I could ask for a drink, and twenty, thirty, or forty would come along, ice-cold and ready for me to suck down through straws. I ask for food. Even if they received their allotted portions, the others would use them to feed me without regard for themselves, It's very irritating. This is a prison with beautiful confines and happy people who wait on me hand and foot.

The silence between Elise and I keeps a gap between us, before long she walks away and I take a breath. Thank goodness. At least I wouldn't have to deal with her for now.

---

Things are a different story with Mother. She is in the same venerated position I was as the Holy Mother and the Miracle Child. She smiles at me as I come into our shared house in the center of the compound. It's a grand mansion that towers over the other houses. Its colonial style adds to its impressiveness. Even though it was for the two of us, it was bigger than we needed. But it was the only respite from everything handed to me.

I open the door and call out, "Mother? I'm home!" I hear soft music playing on the speakers. It was Clair de Lune. Mother comes out of the living room wearing a nice blue dress with her dark hair tied back from getting in the way in a short braid, almost like the segmented tail of a scorpion.

"Daniel, how was it?" she asks, her soft-red eyes glimmering, but dulled-out and tired. All I can think of is how she reminds me of those paintings of the actual Mary. "Was it normal or...?"

"Yes, it was." I nod and hug her. "I want to talk with you."

"Anything, dear." She smiles, and I follow her into the living room. We don't have a television, but we have plenty of books, records, and other such things. She has tea ready, and I smile as I accept the cup.

"I... have a question." I start, "I'm not supposed to ask this, but it's been eating away at me." I look out the window at the controlled and beautiful garden outside and the pristineness of the world.

"Go ahead, I'm all ears." She leans forward on her hand, and I take a deep breath. This question has plagued me for years, ever since I was little, and Father gave me a non-answer. The one searing question settles in my stomach like a weight burning a hole in it.

"What's beyond the walls?" I ask, and her brow furrows with the same face I get whenever this thing comes into our lives. Her lips purse in concern before she comes up with an answer. Of course, the idea of what's beyond the walls has crossed my mind.

"You climb out onto the roof; you know what's out there," she answers with a knowing gaze, "I never tell Father Pucci what goes on with you. I swear."

"But I want to experience it, Mother! How can I save the world if I don't know anything beyond what he tells me?" My voice softens, "I mean... wouldn't you want me to be a good savior?"

"What I want is for you to be happy and safe," she sighs. "You're at that age where you should be out in the world, but Father Pucci does what's best for you." She looks at me with a smile that seemed to be drained of all meaning.

"Pleeeeeeaaaasssse?" I wheedle, "Come onnnn, I'll do my chores and pay better attention in my lessons, just let me go outside a little bit! I won't go far!"

"I'll think about it." she nods, and the sad realization that I might never get out comes through again. She grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen.

We end up beginning to get dinner ready. Everything is grown in the farms or raised there. Slaughtered by the faithful and distributed for free. We work almost in silence but I can hear her humming something to herself. The air shifts and a transparent, red-shelled arm comes out and peels the potatoes at the touch of its fingers. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared; Mother's Stand doesn't really show itself very often. She smiles and nudges me.

"Go set the table, sweetheart." Mother's voice is oddly tense as if she knew this day would come. She works on the food like a machine. Just the idea of me leaving has her reluctant, her eyes set on her work, ignoring the fact that I'm even entertaining it.

I set out the plates, silverware, and cups as usual. Normally, Father Pucci would come eat dinner with us, but he was busy with that mysterious issue and couldn't come eat. So it was just Mother and I. She stares out of the window like she sees something there before we pray and eat. It was a good meal but I couldn't really savor it. There's something different about her. She sits slouched and drooping, and her Stand ripples behind her trying to fight against some kind of force holding it back.

"Mother? Is there something wrong?" I ask and she looks back at me. Her eyes are back to being bright and she's almost back to how she was before.

"To tell you the truth, there is." she looks almost defeated if not for the burning fire of hope in her gaze, "You need to get out of here, and I know its taken me forever to realize it, but you're right." her voice is heavy with urgency.

"When you get to the wall, use Sacred Heart's ability. Then run for it. Don't you dare stop or look back... No matter what you hear," Mother kisses me on the forehead, "It's time for you to go."

"What about you?" I ask.

"Daniel, I've been living dead for years, you're far more important than me." she wraps her arms around me and I can't help but let out a few tears.

"Come with me." My voice is a wounded hiss. Mother squeezes a little tighter.

She slips her cross necklace into my hand as she lets go, "I'll be right behind you, I promise. Just keep running." Her Stand appears as a red-shelled, red-eyed humanoid. Its lips fixed into a snarl but also it holds Sacred Heart the same way Mother's doing now. The armor is almost like a scorpion's exoskeleton but bright red and having a curved face-plate that slides into place like a mask. Its red eyes look just like her's, and it's also the same height as her too.

"Remember: whatever you hear, you keep running." she says just before we get outside. I don't even know what she's planning to do. She looks at her Stand, so it seems to know what to do judging by how it just ran off.

---

Crashing and smashing sings through the air thanks to Mother's stand C Moon. All I need to do is get through the wall, and thanks to her distraction, I can.

I creep out to the wall on the far side of the compound, a piece of it not exactly patrolled by the watchmen. It's weird we even have those in the first place. I focus on the wall's surface. With gold bangles on the shoulder and wrist, my Stand's white-bandaged arm comes out of my back and punches it. A golden pulse beats through it. The bricks pull away from the cement and form a tidy pile. It's as if they were never part of a wall at all. I step through the gap, and the bricks reassemble and re-stick together, leaving no evidence of me ever being there.

Smiling, I step out onto the sidewalk and begin my trek into the city. But, against my better judgement, I look back. Mother isn't there at all and fear shoots into me like a sort of poison filling my veins with guilt. The compound itself seems to overlook downtown. High-rises and the streets dotted with headlights and trolley cars almost have me spellbound. The odd popping noises in the distance don't detract from it all.

Still, the nagging itch to return gnaws at my heart.

Should I turn back? Should I go on? Mother said she'd be right behind me! I stop right in the dead middle of the road ahead and the road back, a crossroads in my mind opens up too, do I go back and help Mother, or do I keep heading on? I suck in the air through my teeth and turn back when off in the shadows something growls in the darkness. A figure creeps toward me in a tattered Revolutionary War uniform. Bullet holes riddle the fabric.

Then, my Stand appears, wrapped in white. It has golden Pharaoh-like armor and a serene, sleeping face before it opens its eyes.

"Sacred Heart, attack!" I yell, "Make sure this monster doesn't touch me!"

The odd Stand's eyes burn bright red, and my stand rushes forward with a heavy kick before it gets stopped by the monster's own tube-like, sinewy arms. The ground under its feet cracks from the force and the leg armor of my Stand steadily rusts.

"Muuuudaaaaaaa!" my stand yells as it pushes back against it, "MUDA!" Breaking the clash, the monster stumbles back. My leg lights up in pain, and I fall to one knee.

The monster looms over me, and in the golden light of my Stand, I notice it's stitched together from all kinds of other fabrics and metallic parts. Something in it hisses like a snake. It's oddly mechanical, and it scrabbles over on all fours.

Wet rust bubbles out of its snarling mouth with the heaviness of tar.

"Seudddddeeeeeee..." With a growl it stalks towards me, and I try to move back toward where I came from. But before I can strike back with Sacred Heart, it rushes toward me drawing its hand back in a clawed swipe!

"SHOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!" it screams as I match it, squeezing my eyes shut and clapping my hands over my ears as if that would protect me. The world is scary! I want to go home! Father was right, I'm not ready! Someone, help me! The hot, acrid breath, the strength almost about to cave in my skull, and the oncoming death never came. Sacred Heart tears out at it with a vicious barrage of punches hammering into it repeatedly. The air bursts with the steady drumbeat of the blows and the stand crumples.

Fear becomes courage.

Courage in the worst hands leads to mistakes.

I end up turning back and going right back through the wall, Mother promised she'd be with me, and I intend for her to keep it! It's a forgone conclusion. Why would I ever abandon her? I'm not a monster, I'm not some cold unfeeling person who'd much rather spit on the woman who showed him nothing but love, I'm her son, and she's in trouble.

That's why I return.

Crushed buildings and vehicles are all that greet me as I came back inside the compound. Chaos reigns as people dart back and forth from God's hands wreaking judgement. I don't ignore them, I can't ignore them, so I rush towards where the crushing is the worst. Sacred Heart's time ability acts against the gravity crushing the rubble into bits, reversing it just enough to have some avoid their deaths. The faithful look to me as their savior, and I can't help the disgust welling from deep inside like an infected wound.

"Bless you, Lord Dio!"

"Lord Dio's back!" They chorus like crows and flutter off like them too. As they do, I realize one thing: I barely even left for that long. Do they really depend on me that much? Am I truly a savior, or am I just a pawn in another's game?

I take one step forward with a sudden dullness in my right leg. The world goes sideways and I'm on the ground. What the- I look down. My leg's being eaten by that strange rust! Sacred Heart's on its side too! Off in the distance is that Stand loping and growling. Standing (or sitting) near it is a thin man bowed over a typewriter. At a few strikes of the keys a flood of shadowy tentacles sweep towards me, and hook into my arms and legs. A ripping sensation takes over my senses as Sacred Heart's too busy trying to reverse the rust on my leg.

Yet it keeps going.

"Gaaahaaah..." I groan as the hooks drag me over and lift me, "What... are you?"

"... not good enough." the man mumbles, shrouded in shadow and smelling like death, "...not enough pain..."

"Not enough for the ink... pitiful."

That's when I hear the chapel doors opening behind me. Father Pucci's voice rings out, "Let him go, Pontius."

The hooks immediately leave my body and Father Pucci walks over to me, "Lord Dio, what is the meaning of this?" he asks, "You believed in your mother's delusions?"

"Delusions...?" I hiss, "I lost my leg thanks to that... that thing!" I point to the snarling Stand and Father Pucci glares at it. The Stand hisses and lopes away back to the wall. All that's left to do is try to make the best of this horrible situation.

He looks down at the rust eating my leg and casually walks towards me as if it wasn't such a horrible thing. He kneels and grabs it. Just like that, a sharp and burning pain breaks through my senses like a runaway train. Just like that pins, needles, pain, and the rush of blood. All of it comes screaming back at once. I couldn't even cry as he supports me by winding his arm around my shoulders. My anger falling back into pitiful and impotent rage at myself.

I should've just run.

In the haze of pain everything fades away.

 

[XIIIthewanderingpaladin]

November 20, 1997.

It's almost Thanksgiving, Daniel! Only a few years in, and you've changed everything for me. It's hard to believe you're supposed to be the Lord of the new world. You're such a happy baby, and I always think Father Pucci isn't smart about not letting you explore alone. Although little Elise is rather rambunctious for the new children.

You're downright peaceful to be around. This fate to become the Lord of the New World seems so far away and unlike what you are. The way they describe him is almost cruel. A man who could bring the whole world to heel. Charismatic, vindictive, able to kill men and beasts alike.

Yet you're so small, and all you can think of is me and your father. You're so happy and bright; all you did was list the books of the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. And your favorite story from it is Zacchaeus. How can someone so innocent come from someone so vile?

But I know in my heart that you will do the right thing. You will persevere and win whatever fights come your way! I love you.

I always will.

---

An icy splash of water is the only thing that wakes me from the pain-caused sleep. My eyes snap open to see the cold stones and soft clinking of the chains in the velvet dark. Father Pucci stands over me, his sleeve rolled back, and his dark eyes blazing with crosses of hate. Or was it disappointment? I couldn't tell in the shadows of his body. In the halo of light he stands in, there's a bright sheen of a knife.

"Lord Dio, this is a test of your faith," he says. Blood courses down from a cut on his arm, rivulets of red gush towards the floor as he holds it out. It drips, calling to me like I needed to drink it, and in my deepest shame I loll my tongue out towards it.

Father Pucci looks upon me in total disgust, now shaded in the dark so I could see his face. His eyebrows furrowed. His lips are scowling and his eyes... they're flashing with righteous fire. With a swing of his leg, pain glances off my cheek. He kicked me. I'm lying on the floor. The cold... wet floor. The shackles dig into my wrists and I let out a whimpering cry. Father Pucci steps back toward the door. His only instruction is to:

"Resist the call of the blood, my son. Resist and you shall save your mother." that gives me some small hope it can all end. Father Pucci swings the door shut with a heavy CHUNG and there's nothing I can see anymore.

I can't even see my hands in front of my face. Panic rises in my chest as I almost want to summon Sacred Heart, but decide against it. The heavy metal of the shackles dig further into my wrists. Familiar, cold, and the edges cutting into my pale flesh. Cool air breathes on me through the door; fortunately, there's just enough to keep me from baking alive. A breeze is better than nothing. I paw for the door itself and slide down to the wall. The thudding of my heart thrums through my ears.

I can hear my bones creaking and muscles pulling. My breath hissing out of me like there's not enough air to breathe.

Get me out of here!

Get me out!

LET.

ME.

OUT.

'Calm down. The last thing you need to do is panic.' The thought is nice, albeit not a solution. More of a reminder. I don't bite the inside of my cheek. The prisoner's bodies are taken and burned after a few months, even though total isolation and darkness can drive someone to madness within a few days. I can't let that happen to me.'

Minutes? I don't know how long it's been.

Hours? Maybe he'll let me out sooner!

Days? God, has it been that long?

Weeks? Please, don't let it be this long.

Months? For the love of God, please don't let it be this long!

Years? There's slack in the chains.

I can move.

I find a ball in the darkness and I've been rewinding and fast-forwarding it repeatedly. Fresh out of the tube to a squashed, cracked core and fuzz-less surface. Again and again, I focus on that while I remember some Bible verses.

'Proverbs 19:8, Whoever gets sense loves his own soul; he who keeps understanding will discover good.'

Rewind, Fast Forward.

'Tongue of the wise brings healing.'

Rewind, Fast Forward.

'The soul of the lazy man desires and has nothing, but the soul of the diligent will be made rich.'

Rewind, Fast Forward, Stop.

I hear footsteps outside. Or is it inside?

"Do you really think this would stop you, Daniel?" a voice echoes through my mind, "Sacred Heart can free you and help you rule the world."

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I am your ambition, your need for freedom, your life stretching before you forever, and your future, should you reach for it." The figure looks just like me but older, with some kind of suit on and sunglasses on his forehead.

His long blonde hair is in three long ponytails ending at his waist. The suit, jacket, and pants have a spiderweb pattern. He smiles and puts away the sunglasses. He has a silver band on his right ring finger and seems much more muscular.

I notice he has sharper canines and sharp nails.

"So wait... am I seeing my future because of Sacred Heart?" I ask.

"No, I am the you you wish to be," he states.

I must be insane already. I lost my sense of time, and now I'm losing my mind by hallucinating what I wish myself to be. The other me smiles and kneels. Of course, this could just be me going mad, pretending I'm okay with being in this unearned world—everything I need without the struggle.

"So what's it like?" I ask.

"My life isn't here yet, Daniel." he answers, "So you have a choice. Would you rather stay here and have everything given to you? Or would you leave and become a man who can stand alone?"

I hug my knees to my chest. "I don't know."

"Then I'll ask again," he states. "Will you escape? Or will you languish?"

Daniel did not fear the lions in the den because God was with him. But what's with me here? Why am I so calm? Why does my chest burn with fire?

"Use that anger, Daniel. Use that righteous fury. You're God to these people? Show them your fury!" the other me exclaims, "Grab the horns of your life and be free!" It wasn't a few hours into my tenure in isolation or a few days.

In the dark, however, was another figure cloaked in the darkness almost like a veil. It sits near the door, so no light gives it any form. It's a mass of shadow vaguely shaped like a person. It looks at me with pity.

I don't know where I am or how long I've been here anymore. A cold, dark, and tiny cell where there's a pool of blood waiting for me to lick it up. *Like a dog...*

The figure's voice is bitter, gently sighing through my hair like a winter wind. My head swims with confused desires. I want to get out but... it hurts. The world outside hurts, even if it's sanitized, controlled, and under the heel of someone else.

"You poor thing." it says.

"Mm..." I can't say anything, so I let out a grunt.

"Why are you so sad?" the figure asks, and it pads over. The dark veil brushing the ground, the chill of its arms wraps around me like a mother comforting her son.

"Poor lost lamb. Just drink the blood and they'll forgive you." it continues, "Why bother acting out? You'll have the world at your feet."

"I want to earn it." My eyes cast down to the pool of blood. That was one truth I could cling to above all others. This world was not meant for me, it was built for me, but not meant for me. The chains on my wrists still dig in.

"Then do it." 'Future Me' says, "Tear those chains out of the wall and raise hell."

"No, stay here! Stay here and change it all from the inside!" the Shadow-Woman crows. I'm left with two options:

One, stay and change things from the inside.

Or...

Two, I drink the damn blood and escape.

I still sit at the door, thinking, and running over all the options. I could drink the blood, rip the chains out of the wall, burst the door open with Sacred Heart, and get out with no problems.

Or...

I could wait until Father Pucci comes to check on me, snap his neck like the fool he is, and THEN escape. Handling two birds with one stone. What was with that aside about the neck snap, me? Anyway, there are two paths I could take. So I grip the chains and swing down, the pool of blood still cooling on the floor, and I lick it up. The taste bitter like I'm sucking down a lemon. Why is his blood so-

My arms swell with muscle, my legs too, and my mouth hurts. The darkness becomes light. I can hear more than just my body! Smells, sounds, colors! All of them a symphony unseen and unfelt by humanity! I keep drinking the blood with renewed fervor, and slaking my thirst as the blood pours down my throat. Then, I pull, yanking at the chains like Samson in the temple. I want nothing more than to break the cult apart.

The first chain snaps like a toothpick and the second does as well. They drag against the floor and I stand tall. The two figures stare at me as I wrap the chains around my arms. Regardless of how I came to this conclusion, I'm going to get out of here.

"There's only one way out of here," I hiss, "and it's through!" Sacred Heart appears and punches the heavy iron door with a mighty strike of golden power. In moments, it disintegrates into rust and age.

Moving like a storm, I break into a dead sprint coming towards the guards already forming up. My chains lash out and strike their weapons to pieces. They all run away and cower somewhere away from me.

Effortless. This is effortless.

The night air sings to me and the moonlight shines its cold light, I can't help but take a second to bask in it, and now I'm on my way to save my Mother. There's no way I can fail, and no power can stop me!

The power in my veins rushes through my body as a cold sear of flame. My heart thunders out a growling fury even though I shouldn't even have it beating. A group of guards creep through the underbrush. I hear them before I see them, so I move off towards the main plaza of the compound. It seems like there're a lot more people around there than back in the residences. Which can only mean one thing: Mother's going to die.

---

What I come upon is a scene straight out of a horror movie. The cultists and Father's acolytes are gathered in the center as he stands on a risen platform. He looks down at them with a sad expression. The wind rises and the noxious smell of the torches fill my nose with their burning ruin. The clear night air smoking and hazy like a nightmare. He stands over them with a bandaged arm from the cut. Some of the buildings are crushed and otherwise ruined by Mother's stand. Supply warehouses, infrastructure, and other important buildings were laid waste to. The people gathered together jeering and heckling things like:

"Blasphemer!"

"Apostate!"

"Liar!"

Tied to a post, already beaten bloody, is my mother. My rage burns through all caution or common sense. My stand almost wants to pulverize everyone there, like Samson and the jawbone. But I hold myself back. Moving through the crowd, but nobody moves. They are entirely captivated by Father's message.

"My children, it has come to my attention that the Holy Mother has corrupted the Miracle Child with thoughts of leaving our family!" he exclaims, "Thanks to our dear Sister Elise, we managed to stop the child from getting too far from us."

There's nothing but lies and deception spewing from his mouth. Elise I can believe would turn around and do this. But Mother corrupting me when she looked like she had planned this escape for years?

I can't believe it was a slapped together plan. The crowd has noticed my arrival and are looking at me, also hurling insults at me too. Father Pucci gazes down at me.

All it would take is one blow! One blow, and he's gone! One blow, and I stand superior! The shadows around him bend and explode outward; a blunt end of a square hammer knocks into Mother's post and tosses her in the way of Father.

Sacred Heart's fist goes right through her chest, and blood rains from the blow.

"Mother...?" I gasp, seeing her fall onto her back with blood reddening her robes. "Mother!" I start forward, and my rage is immediately replaced with remorse. "God, no! No, no, no!" I hold her close, and she lets out a soft cry.

The blood floods out of the wound and I press my hands to it. I can stop this! I can save her! Just... just stem the flow, just do it! "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I sob, "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, Daniel..." she breathes, "Oh my sweet boy... Please don't waste this..." Tears fill her eyes as she looks right into mine. I bury my face close to hers, wanting nothing more than to help her. I wanted to be free! I wanted to bring her with me! I didn't- I wouldn't-

I did.

I hit her.

I killed her.

"I'm sorry..." I warble, "I'm so sorry..." Tears stream down my cheeks, her breathing becomes shallow. Panic washes over me, I can't take it if she dies!

"SACRED HEART! REWIND HER!" I sob as it tries. The golden light only reverses the damaged clothing from its own punch. She smiles and touches my cheek with her bloodied hand. My own clutching her hand to at least try and stay grounded. It's all just another nightmare, right? I'll wake up any moment! It'll all be normal again!

Her eyes tell me 'It's not your fault.', and Sacred Heart appears, looking distraught. Everything blurs and my throat rips out a cry. Slashed raw in rage and raining down guilt. Blood and tears mix together in a salty froth. His cold, dark eyes soften their gaze, and he reaches down to run his hand through my hair. I cry out a breath, and as Mother dies, all I can think about is how I caused it. How I wanted to see what was beyond the walls.

The moon peeks over the wall and the silver light dances down upon me and him I'm covered in my parents' blood. He kneels in false concern and wraps his arms around me.

"Oh Dio... it's all your fault. If you hadn't gone beyond the walls, she'd still be here," he sighs, "But it's alright, my son. All boys must bury their mothers someday."

I don't lean into his touch. I don't let go of Mother. Sacred Heart appears over us, staring down at him and me. The whine of the cicadas and muggy southern air boil me with angry heat and endless noise. All she wanted was for me to live. I want to live among the people he told me to look down on, experience the world and all its pains and pleasures, love and lose, and be someone else. This world isn't one I want, so I reject this future of unearned things. With tears in my eyes, I stand up, and my Stand darts in faster than I can follow. Its punches flash like lightning and hammer into him like a storm given form.

"USELESS!" I yell, Sacred Heart's strike knocking Father away from me, "YOUR WORDS ARE USELESS, USELESS, USELESS!" The flurry of blows is like a storm slamming into a levee. Year Zero deflects most of them with minimal effect. It breaks the clash and glares at me with its hollow blue and black eyes.

"Don't stop me," I snarl. "I'll come to my own conclusions about the world." I turn to the crowd with rage in my heart and tears still streaming down my cheeks. "That goes for all of you! Every single one of you will feel my wrath should you follow!"

Father grits his teeth. "As you wish, Lord Dio." He smiles and moves off. I kneel and close my mother's eyes. My wrath leaves me with a hole—a hole I can't even begin to fill.

"It's Daniel. It's the name she gave me," my voice softens. "Goodbye, Father." It was more of a whisper. With a heavy heart and a hand around Mother's necklace, I take my leave. The gates swing open, and I march my way out.

I don't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do, but there's no other way to do this. I need to stop this. I need to live beyond the wall now.

I will earn this world.

---

As he goes, I watch after him with gritted teeth. 'Calm down, don't throw this all away, this could be beneficial' my thoughts soothe me. I loosen my hands from cutting into my palms, I'm mostly doing so to mitigate the fury I feel seeing the product of years of genetic work and filling in gaps leave like he was able to. All in due time, Enrico. All in due time, he will come to the same conclusion that his father did. That the world is meant to be subjugated under his heel.

I stare down at Rio's body, her dulled eyes closed, and her body shaded red by the blood from our little God's wrath. Her tantrum had caused my flock the most grief it had felt since its inception, so they were frightened by her.

But Lord Dio...

How he looked made us all freeze, and our blood turn to ice in our veins. Almost as if we'd see the hardened crystalline beams Lord Dio used to employ shoot out of his own gaze, and a twisted form of pride settles into my chest. Of course! That's it! I could spin this! I could make this something worth rallying them over! I clear my throat over the wailing and confusion, and everyone stops. Quickly turning dead silent as my Stand appears behind me. Gold and black tethers all in their heads as they settle down.



"My children, this is a test of faith in our God. He has led his hand on this Earth astray, but we must remember Satan's temptation of Christ. He will be tested and tested constantly by the world's sinful nature. As his followers, we must support his decision to undertake this holy mission." That's when that girl, Elise Arcenaux, raises her hand.



"Yes, Sister Elise?"



"Why don't we help Lord Dio with his testing with our own strength?" she asks.

I can't help but smile at her, "Why, that's a wonderful idea, my child." I hold out my hand to her, and she takes it. I lead her into the chapel, and the rest follow, chanting in Latin. I step almost reverently with her steps sounding next to me. Everything is well in hand, and that old witch's Arrows would help my little God see the light. See the error of his ways. I grab the ancient bow and an even more ancient arrow.



She knelt, staring up at me suppliant and waiting. Almost reverently, I string the bow.



"In the Odyssey, Penelope had challenged the suitors to shoot an arrow through twelve axe heads. In the Bible, countless trials were set against God's disciples. This is yours." After nocking the arrow, I pull the string back, "Go with God, my child."

The arrow flies and hits her square in the heart. Burrowing in a brilliant flame eats away at the arrow's shaft and consumes the fletching. The head comes out, and through blood and pain... a miracle happens. She stands and basks in the fire only she can see. For the rest of the night, six of the faithful were shot other than her. Only one hadn't made it.

At the end of it, I have six.

The arrow had struck Cashe in the shoulder, and through gushing blood his Stand was born, inspiriting his holster and pistol. Antony had held down the child, and the arrow had struck the boy right between the eyes before a knight appeared and cut it. I shot at Janis Lightfoot was enough to cause her body to tear out large eagle's wings and fly up to the church steeple, letting out a cry of sheer triumph at being able to fly. The last two, Jett and Blackheart, were both met by odd crystal orbs and five bird-like beings that whooped and hollered.

Six holy missionaries, six guardians of the will of our God.

Rio's body rests in my arms and I pull it close to my chest, "You're not finished yet in your work, my dear." I mutter.