Enormous, invisible fist pummel the tracksuit man into the wall of the house, battering him all over and leaving thick cracks in the plaster and concrete. Abruptly, the barrage ends, and he slides down the wall onto his butt, bruised, bloody and very unconscious.



“That’s for hurting my sister.”

There is a clink of glass, and Josuke looks over to see Shizuka duck shakily through the shattered window. He helps her down from the sill, a hand on her shoulder. “Are you OK?” he asks, both standing on the lawn.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I heard most of it. Are you going to go after the old man?”

“Yeah. Alone. I can’t send any of my guys after him, not after when he’s a Stand user. They wouldn’t be able to take him in, not when even I don’t know what his powers are.”

“OK… When do we leave?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said it’s a Stand user. You said you can’t send any cops after him. Only Stands can fight Stands, we have to go get him.”

“I said I’m going after him. Me. Alone. You’re going to go home, sit down, watch a movie or something and recover from getting shot in the gut.”

Shizuka frowns up at him. “I can’t do that! You said you don’t know what his powers are, you might need help!”

“I’ve put you in enough danger already. Of all the doors we could have knocked on, seriously… It doesn’t matter. I’m calling someone to pick you up, and that’s it.”

“Wait, no!” Shizuka cries, catching her brother’s arm as he turns away, “The old man knew something about my mom, he didn’t finish his story! He might be our only lead, Josuke…”

“You really believe that? Shizuka, he was bullshitting us! Probably made it up as he went along, just to stall for time while he caught us in his trap.”

“No way! I don’t believe! You saw him, you heard the story, he couldn’t have just been making it all up. He must have…”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” he roars. His sister jumps and bites her tongue. “This conversation is over! You are not coming with me, and that is final! Do you understand?”

Her answer is a shocked stare. Josuke holds his glare for another second, then strides away and pretends like he doesn’t feel terrible. He takes out his cellphone and dials the police station. In his imagination, a bullet tears its way through his sister’s stomach over and over. In his imagination, he is numb and fumbling and slow, and he watches his sister choke to death, slowly and painfully.

“Hey, you,” someone says, a voice colored with drowsy outrage, “what did you do to that guy?”

He looks up, and sees for the first time a crowd of people assembled on the front lawn. He recognizes them as inhabitants of the neighborhood, around twenty of them, men and women. There is something wrong with them.

“Hey, what are you looking at?! Police business,” Josuke says, waving his hand dismissively, “be on your way!”

But there’s no response. The crowd just mindlessly hobbles around them, their bloodshot eyes filled with simmering hostility.

“Josuke,” Shizuka whispers, creeping cautiously to his side, “over there, look!” She points, and Josuke sees him. Sanjo, watching from across the street, sucking his pipe. A dark plume has gathered over him, where all the other neighbors were before they entered Sanjo’s house. An arrogant smirk forms on the old man’s face, as he departs.

Suddenly, one of the neighbor lets out a roar, as he hefts a golf club over his head and swings it down, aiming for Shizuka’s outstretched arm. Josuke clenches his teeth, and CRAZY DIAMOND catches it and bends it. A fat man in a dirty shirt howls wordlessly and swipes at Josuke’s arm, his filthy fingernails cutting through Josuke’s uniform and slashing his skin.

“AHH! Bastard…”

CRAZY DIAMOND knocks the man out, as the remaining demented neighbors creep closer.

“Get inside!” orders Josuke, and the siblings rush back into the house through the broken window. The crowd trample after them, as Josuke and Shizuka sprint into the kitchen and throw themselves against the door. The crowd on the other side pound wildly at the door, with surprising strength.

“Holy hell,” Josuke growls, inspecting his slashed arm, “what in God’s name is this?”

“I don’t know,” Shizuka replies, then yelps as she is thrown forward by a powerful strike against the door. She quickly pushes back against it. “There’s something wrong with them. Did you see that smoke? I think the old man must be controlling them!”

“I’ve seen the look in their eyes before, it’s like they’re high on something. Sanjo must be screwing with their heads with a narcotic effect. But that doesn’t explain how that guy could cut me so easily!”

Shizuka interjects. “I remember reading something like this in Florida. There was a guy who got high on bath salts, or something. He went completely crazy and got super strong out of it. He attacked a homeless man, beat him up and even ate his face!”

“…Is that the kind of thing that happens in America?”

“Not the point! We have to get out of here, these people are going to kill us as long as they’re under the old man’s influence!”

“There’s too many for me to just beat the crap out of! Even if I heal them all at the same time I beat them, I don’t want to have to hurt innocent people. How are we going to do this?”

A pause, then Shizuka steps away from the door. “I can get us out of here,” she says, her aura growing and distorting the air around her. Josuke watches the aura take form into a humanoid shape, though not quite. The thing that emerges has segmented mannequin limbs, a doll’s face painted in white, bold red beneath a mane of wild pink hair.

It waves its arms in flourishing movements, the long flowing sleeves of its mini-kimono flapping like wings.