The city looked different from above.
His memories of another life, one on Earth just like this, seemed so far away yet so close.
John sat on a cushioned bench beside the wide hospital window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. From the upper floors of the Speedwagon Foundation Medical Center, Central Park stretched below like a quiet sea of green, barely touched by the chaos that had torn Harlem apart days ago.
At first, he didn't quite understand the shards of memories he received from the [System] , but slowly it came to him.
The Hulk. The Abomination. Tony Stark being the Iron Man, in the news. He realized that he seemed to be reborn in the Marvel Universe. But then, there was more. He was.... a Joestar. They didn't belong to Marvel, so what were they doing here? And the timeline was all messed up too, wasn't Joseph already an old man or possibly dead of old age in 2011? Yet he was still in his 40's here....
His reflection stared back at him in the glass—bloodshot eyes, pale skin, dark circles like bruises under his gaze. His hospital gown hung loosely on his frame, but he refused to change out of it. Not yet. Not until he saw his parents.
He turned slightly, glancing at the two adjacent rooms behind glass walls across the corridor. Private, guarded, silent. His mother in one. His father in the other. Monitors beeped softly inside. Machines breathed for them. The fact that he was now a Joestar seemed so exciting yet unreal.
He clenched his fists. Now was not the time to reminisce.
"They were just trying to help people…" he whispered. "Why did she have to…"
The name stuck in his throat. Holly. A little sister for so many years, but the knowledge that she was just a fictional character in his past life didn't do anything to alleviate his grief. His sister was gone. Killed by the Hulk's recklessness.
His baby sister.
A soft knock tapped against the doorframe. John didn't turn. He already knew who it was.
"I thought I might find you here."
The voice was older, warm, and familiar. John finally looked up.
Smokey Brown, Joseph Joestar's sidekick at the start of Part 2 in the original universe, stood in the doorway in a crisp dark suit, sleeves rolled up just enough to show a bit of personality. His face had aged gracefully — smile lines etched into his skin, but his eyes still had that fire. He held a small brown bag in one hand and a folded coat in the other.
"Figured you wouldn't want hospital food," Smokey said gently, stepping inside. "So I brought you something from that old deli on 84th. Still your favorite?"
John gave a slow nod, though he didn't move.
Smokey's eyes swept across the room... and paused. His brow furrowed as he noticed the fresh hole in the far wall, a perfect circle punched clean through plaster and brick. Bits of dust still clung to the floor under it.
"…What the hell happened here?"
John blinked and glanced at the damage. For a second, he debated coming up with a lie, but instead, he just shrugged faintly.
"Guess Harlem left more than just emotional trauma."
Smokey let out a low breath, clearly unconvinced but not pushing it. "Well, whatever did it, maintenance is gonna have a field day."
He crossed the room and set the food down on the table before crouching beside John, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Your folks are tough, John. And your sister…" He stopped himself, then looked away. "…She'd want you to keep going. Not just surviving. Living. That's what your dad always said, remember?"
John nodded slowly.
"…Come on. Let's get you out of here."
He hesitated. "What about them?"
"They're getting moved upstairs to the recovery wing. Foundation's pulling every string for them — top floor, full staff, 24/7. You can see them whenever."
After a long pause, John finally stood. His legs were shaky, but his eyes were steady.
-<<>o<>>-
The elevator doors slid open with a smooth ding, revealing a private lobby bathed in dim golden light. A single glass door opened into the Joestar family's penthouse—an opulent space stretching across the top floor of the Speedwagon Foundation building, with tall windows overlooking Central Park like some kind of modern palace.
John stepped in slowly. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
No laughter from Holly. No voice calling him for dinner. Just the faint hum of the city below and the blinking red light of a standby security system.
Smokey followed behind him, setting John's duffel bag by the door. "Hasn't changed much," he said softly, eyes sweeping across the living room. "Feels... emptier now."
John didn't reply. He just walked forward, his eyes scanning the familiar furniture, the tall bookshelf his dad always claimed was "for show," the family photo still framed on the coffee table—Holly's smile frozen in time.
Smokey cleared his throat, voice gentler now. "John, your parents... they're still alive. Still fighting. Your dad's tougher than he looks."
John didn't turn around. "I know," he said, but it sounded like he didn't believe it.
"You know... back when I first met your father, he was already a menace," Smokey said with a small chuckle. "Reckless, loud, full of himself. But when it came down to it, that man stood up against monsters no one believed existed."
John blinked, finally turning to look at him.
"I used to think he was just... exaggerating," Smokey went on. "But I saw it with my own eyes, kid. Joseph Joestar fought creatures older than history. The Pillar Men. Beings that could wipe out entire cities. He didn't just survive—he beat them. With his own two hands. With the Ripple."
John's brows furrowed. "The Ripple… that breathing martial art thing he always talked about?", memories slowly coming back to him of Hamon ( Ripple in Japanese ).
Smokey nodded. "Yeah. It sounded like nonsense to most people. Hell, even I didn't believe it at first. But your father mastered it. He could channel energy through the flow of life itself—Sunlight Energy, they called it. The only thing that could kill vampires."
John slowly sank onto the leather couch, staring out at the city.
"After what I saw in Harlem... the Hulk, that thing he fought... and now Iron Man is a thing..." He exhaled shakily. "If that kind of power exists... maybe Dad wasn't lying all this time."
Smokey placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've got his blood in you. You've already survived something most people wouldn't walk away from. Maybe now's the time to stop doubting."
John didn't answer right away. But deep down, something clicked.
Maybe this world had always been full of monsters—both the kind you could see, and the kind hiding in plain sight.
And maybe it was time he learned how to fight back.