[System Status Updated]
Name: John Joestar
Age: 18
Race: Human
Title: None
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Stand Slot: Tusk Act 2 | Weather Report
[Stand Abilities:]
[Tusk - Act 2]
1) Nail Bullets
2) Hole Manipulation
[Weather Report]
1) Atmospheric Control
2) Stand Barrage
3) Heavy Weather (Locked)
[Physical Stats]
Strength: 15
Agility: 15
Endurance: 20
Constitution: 20
[Mental Stats]
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 8
Fighting Spirit: 2
[Skills]
Spin Mastery: 42%
Hamon Mastery: 37%
-<<>o<>>-
A few hours later,
The hum of the airplane filled the cabin, a steady white noise that drowned out everything else.John Joestar sat by the window, his face half-lit by the cold sunlight slicing through the clouds outside.
The world below stretched in endless white fields, clouds shifting like a living ocean.It looked peaceful. Calm.
Deceptive.
It had been a year since Harlem. A year since the battle that had torn his family apart.He absentmindedly traced a small scar on his wrist, a souvenir from that night — a reminder that no matter how strong you were, you could still lose everything in an instant.
But this time, he wouldn't let that happen.Not again.
Tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket was a single steel ball. A gift from Smokey Brown before John left for New York — seemingly ordinary at first glance, but John knew better. He had spent months experimenting with it during training sessions.
It wasn't normal.The ball felt lighter than it should have.When thrown, it absorbed the force of the initial impact and released it violently on the second contact, hitting with bone-shattering power.Even stranger, no matter what material he hit — brick, concrete, metal — the ball didn't just bounce off. It sliced through, reducing it to rubble as if it were paper.
John had no idea what kind of metal it was. Steel? Titanium? Neither behaved like this.
Something told him the answer was way bigger than he realized.
But for now, he kept the ball close, like a lucky charm. Or maybe... like a weapon of last resort.
I won't let what happened to Holly happen again, John swore silently, clenching his fist.
The promise hung in the cabin air, heavier than gravity itself.
--
The plane touched down with a jolt, tires screeching against the runway.John waited impatiently as the seatbelt sign blinked off, grabbing his duffel bag and weaving through the crowd toward the exit.
The moment he stepped into the arrivals hall, he spotted a familiar figure waving at him through the sea of strangers.
Smokey Brown.Older now, a little grayer around the temples, but still carrying that same easy smile that could disarm anyone.
"Welcome back, kid," Smokey said, pulling John into a quick, rough hug.
John grinned, clapping him on the back."Miss me that much, old man?"
"You wish," Smokey chuckled.He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Got a ride waiting. Come on."
John noticed two men in suits lurking nearby — plainclothes, but their posture screamed bodyguards. Speedwagon Foundation muscle, no doubt.
As they weaved through the airport crowd, John lowered his voice."How's the city?"
Smokey's smile faded a little, lines deepening around his eyes.
"Different," he said."Darker. Weird things happen at night. Especially in Hell's Kitchen."
John raised an eyebrow. "Define weird."
Smokey gave a helpless shrug, almost sheepish. "You'll see soon enough."
John didn't press further. But deep down, a knot started to form in his gut.
That Night – The City That Never Sleeps
The Joestar penthouse still stood tall atop the Speedwagon Foundation building, overlooking Central Park like a silent guardian. John unpacked quickly, barely glancing at the luxurious furniture or the art-deco architecture that had once been his childhood home.
None of it mattered anymore.
He dressed for war: Dark clothes, lightweight body armor underneath, a tactical belt strapped around his waist. Twin Steel Balls holstered at each side. A black scarf and a simple baseball cap completed the look — enough to blend into the city shadows without attracting attention.
As night fell, he moved out onto the rooftops.
John crouched on the edge of a rooftop, the neon glow of the city painting him in shades of red and blue. He inhaled deeply, feeling the cool air whip past his face.
A flick of the wrist — a Steel Ball spun effortlessly between his fingers. The Spin flowed through him now, natural and effortless. Each rotation carved perfect golden spirals into the air, energy thrumming under his skin.
A push of his Stand — Weather Report — and a gust of wind launched him effortlessly across the gap between buildings.
I'm faster now, John thought, landing silently. Stronger. Smarter.
First target of the night: a pair of muggers cornering a woman in an alleyway.
John didn't hesitate.
A flick of his fingers — a Nail Bullet shot forward, the Spin making it hum like a drill. It clipped the first mugger's knife cleanly in half, sending him stumbling back with a cry.
The second tried to run — mistake. John kicked off the ground, using a quick burst of wind to close the gap in a blink. He tapped the man's temple with the butt of a Steel Ball and sent him crumpling to the ground, unconscious.
The woman fled without even looking back, her screams echoing into the night.
John stood alone, heart pounding, adrenaline singing through his veins.
One down, he thought grimly. A thousand to go.
Hours later, after taking down another handful of low-level scum, John felt it.
A ripple. A change in the air.
Something wrong.
He was crossing a rooftop when he spotted them — a group of men gathered in a nearby alley. One of them moved unnaturally fast, dodging a thrown beer bottle with inhuman reflexes. His muscles bulged and flexed under his clothes like living things.
John narrowed his eyes.
Might not just be normal thugs anymore, he thought.
He tensed, ready to drop in, but something held him back.
Patience. Observation.Joseph's voice echoed in his head: "Don't pick a fight unless you know what you're fighting."
So John waited, crouched in the shadows, eyes sharp.
Then, suddenly, the system chimed in his mind:
[New Quest Available: Investigate the Emerging Threat]
Objective: Uncover the source of unnatural mutations in Hell's Kitchen.
John's jaw tightened.
Guess this vacation's over.
--
Hours later, John stood on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, the city sprawling endlessly before him.
New York glittered like a field of stars, beautiful and indifferent.
He turned the Steel Ball over in his hand, feeling the familiar hum of potential energy within. The ball was warm against his skin, almost alive.
What the hell are you made of? he wondered.
Whatever it was, he knew one thing: When he needed it most, this ball would deliver.
A promise from Smokey. A silent weapon in the coming storm.
John stared out at the horizon, wind tugging at his jacket, the distant sirens singing the city's endless lullaby.
The world was changing. Power was waking up. And somewhere out there — in the cracks and shadows — Dio was watching. Waiting.
John closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the cold night air.
-<<>o<>>-
Author's Note:
Had to rush this bonus chapter out after a dear reader posted a review.
Reminder : I'll post a bonus chapter for every review I get until we manage to get a rating. That means 6 or more bonus chapters...
Also I'll post a bonus chapter if we hit 150 power stones.