There is no grass in front of the tombstone, just freshly turned black soil. A bouquet of flowers sits on the black dirt, the only memento left after the poorly attended funeral. The bouquet is crushed beneath the foot of a lanky man wearing a grey stocking cap and a black raincoat. He looks down at the blank tombstone and sighs. "Too cheap to pay for your name on your grave," he says in a low growl. "Why am I not surprised?" He reaches under his sleeve and produces a large rolled up piece of paper. He unfurls it, revealing a drawing of a shovel. He places his hand on the shovel and it pops off of the paper, transforming from a drawing into a real shovel. He begins digging. Ten minutes later, he's pushed away enough dirt to reach the casket. He produces a crowbar from his coat and pops the casket open, exposing the corpse to the mid-afternoon sky. The body doesn't look damaged or rotten. It just looks...peaceful. If the man in the grey stocking cap didn't know about the corpse's recent departure from the living plain, he might have, for just a moment, assumed the figure in the oak box was simply asleep. The man in the stocking cap reaches under his coat and pulls out a clean sheet of paper. He unrolls it over the body and activates his Stand. He rolls the paper back up, revealing an empty grave. "Hey, what are you doing down there?" a voice asks. The man in the grey stocking cap looks up at the middle aged man standing on the edge of the pit. "What are you doing up there?" he retorts. "Well, I'm a gravedigger, and I was double checking the plot when I found you standing there, at the bottom of a grave that appears to have been dug up with a shovel," the man at the edge of the pit says. "Mind telling me what's going on?" The man in the grey stocking cap moves quickly, summoning his Stand and absorbing the ground beneath the gravedigger into a piece of paper. The gravedigger falls into the suddenly expanded grave, right in time for the strange man to smash the crowbar against his head. The man in the grey stocking cap climbs out of the grave and wipes the dirt off his coat. Then he hears it, the sound of a cell phone ringing. He follows the sound and finds a burner phone duct taped to the back of the grave. Hesitant, the man in the grey stocking cap answers the phone. "Hello?" he says. "Did you enjoy the flowers?" the distorted voice on the other end of the phone asks. He recognizes the voice as that of Woodstock, the Stand User who stabbed him with an old arrow and slapped a bracelet around his wrist a month prior. "What flowers?" he replies. "The flowers I left at the grave. It was far too depressing without them," Woodstock says. "This grave has nothing to do with you." "Au contraire, this grave is clearly vitally important to you and thus falls under my purview. Tell me, for what reason have you stolen the body?" "I don't have to tell you shit." "I was merely being polite, I know you want the corpse as part of your convoluted revenge scheme. Speaking of which, how's that going? Assuming my information is correct, and it is, you still haven't figured out the identity of the killer." "I'm working on it." "Of course. That brings us to the subject of this phone call. I have information that you need. Specifically, I know the name and location of the man you're hunting." "What do you want in return?" "I've been very clear about my goals in the past," Woodstock says. "I wish to find the strongest Stand User in London. If you can achieve your revenge, then there will be one less Stand User to worry about."