The sun burns white above the dune line. Heat shimmers off the sand. The wind carries the distant sound of hooves and the first murmur of a crowd.
"ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ!"
"JAMES HOWLETT" lies on his belly, coughing, blood on his lip. He claws weakly at the grit as if it might slow the world down. Behind him, "ALDO J. JOESTAR" stands tall, coat flapping. Tusk, his Stand, hovers like a shadowed gunslinger rigid, patient, fingers coiled as if ready to spin a bullet into existence.
Aldo kneels, cool and deliberate. He pries a metallic ゴSTAND ARROWゴ from James's torn vest and lets it glint in the sunlight before slipping it into his pocket.
Aldo: I'm taking this, old man.
He stands. Dust wreaths around his boots as he straightens, and for a moment the air tastes of iron and promise.
Aldo: Be thankful you never stabbed yourself with this arrow. If you had… there would have been consequences.
James spits sand and blood, chest heaving. He manages a rasping laugh.
James: Like you're gonna win or somethin', brat.
Aldo pauses, the shadow of a smile ghosting across his face. He reaches inside James coat and pulls out a folded stack of bills, unfolds it with a casual, theatrical flourish, and tosses it toward James. The money skitters across the sand and clinks near his hand.
Aldo: Your $39,000 should cover my entry fee.
James blinks, the sound caught in his throat. He croaks something that might be a curse or a plea. Aldo's eyes are all ice, all intent.
Aldo: I have my reasons for joining the Steel Ball Run. Reasons I don't owe to dying men.
He tucks the Arrow deeper into his coat, fingers brushing the cold metal like a benediction. Tusk's presence hums, a low vibration that makes the hair along Aldo's arm stand up. For a heartbeat the Stand's eyes meet James's no mercy, only inevitability.
Aldo: Consider this… payment. For your mistakes. For the things you couldn't keep.
He tips his hat once, almost politely, then turns. His boots bite into the sand as he walks each step leaving a crisp print. Behind him, the horizon ripples with the approach of other riders, banners and dust and the thunder of the first race.
Aldo mounts a lean horse waiting in the shade, the animal stamping nervously. He sits like he was born to sit that way poised, ready. Tusk folds into the space beside him like a second silhouette.
Aldo (smirk): See you at the next year in line old fart!
James coughs again, weak laughter escaping him. The money on the sand flutters as wind picks up. Aldo urges his horse forward, and the machine of the desert swallows his silhouette.
Aldo rides hard, cloak and coat whipping in the wind. Tusk, his Stand, rides beside him as a living shadow muscular, motionless, coiled energy in its hands. Aldo's jaw is stone-cold; the horizon ahead is a smear of dust and bannered pennants.
He breathes once, as if letting the desert out of his lungs, and with a small, almost annoyed motion, he unsummons Tusk. The Stand folds like smoke into the air and vanishes, leaving only a faint ripple where it stood.
Farther down the track, a figure blocks the path: a woman with dark brown hair braided back, posture stiff with worry. She wears a riding gown edged with her family crest. Her face brightens and then hardens when she sees him.
Elizabeth: Jojo?
Aldo: Elizabeth? Please out of my way.
Elizabeth's eyes flash with desperate pleading.
Elizabeth: Don't you understand? They raised you!
Elizabeth steps forward without waiting. She takes Aldo's hand, her grip fierce despite her fear.
Elizabeth: You have to stop. If you keep going like this the whole Joestar line will disown you, Jojo.
Aldo's expression is unreadable, cold as the blade of a coin. He lets her hand go almost casually, but his eyes burn.
Aldo: I will not back down, Elizabeth. My decisions are mine. I will not care for the family bloodline if it binds me like a noose.
Elizabeth: Jojo, think our family, Hamon they protect people. If you go against them, you'll throw everything away our future over this madness!
Aldo's mouth twists, something like disgust flickering through his voice.
Aldo: I love you, Elizabeth. But seeing you side with a family that relies only on Hamon it disgusts me.
Without another word he taps his horse's flank. The animal bolts, hooves tearing at the sand. Elizabeth cries out, stunned, and reaches for him but the horse surges forward.
Elizabeth: Jojo please, don't do this. Don't don't leave me like this....
Aldo glances back, a flash of something like regret or indecision crossing his face. Then he reins the horse to a stop, kicks off the saddle, and lunges back toward Elizabeth.
Aldo: ELIZABETH!
He grabs her and pulls her down into a low duck as the world erupts beside them. A thunderous explosion blossoms where the road had been a heartbeat earlier sand and splinters and a swallow of smoke. The heat slaps their faces; fragments rattle across the ground.
Silence falls like a blanket. Aldo slowly raises his head, every muscle taut and ready.
Aldo: You okay, Elizabeth?
Elizabeth nods, coughing, hair dusted with grit. Fear trembles at her lips but she forces a steadying breath.
Aldo scans the horizon, eyes slicing through the haze. His hands tighten into fists. Somewhere, someone had wanted to stop him from reaching the race.
Aldo: Go back to the mansion.
He ushers her to her feet gently but firmly, eyes never leaving the smoke and distant dunes.
Aldo: I'll take care of this. Now.
Elizabeth hesitates, then turns and runs a figure of noble worry racing toward the Joestar estate. Aldo watches her go, then pivots, stance ready, listening for the next whisper of movement beyond the dust
Sand still drifts in the aftershock. Aldo stands poised, coat whipping, eyes locked on the figure stepping out of the haze.
Mrs. Robinson pale, composed, a smile like a blade brushes grit from her sleeve as if she's merely interrupted. Behind her, a glint of something cruel in her hand.
Aldo: Not so much to see you again. Mrs. Robinson. What do you want?
Mrs. Robinson's smile widens, cold as winter.
Mrs. Robinson: Nothing civil. I just want to kill you and take the corpse parts inside you which....
"Chumimi~in!!"
Her words are cut short and slowly look back.
"ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ!"
With a motion like smoke folding into shadow, Aldo's Stand materializes behind her: TUSK, a hulking, spiraled gunslinger-figure, muscles coiled and ready.
Before she can finish, Tusk's hands clamp around Mrs. Robinson's neck from behind, lifting, pinning her in place.
Aldo: Tusk… give this crazy bitch what's coming for almost hurting my woman.
Tusk's voice is the thunder before a storm.
"ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA!""
A barrage of fists slams into Mrs. Robinson in a rapid, relentless rhythm a blur of impact and desert wind. Each strike reverberates through the air; the ground nearby trembles from the force. She staggers, the confident mask cracking, surprise and pain flickering across her face.
"ゴORA!ゴ"
The final handful of blows sends Mrs. Robinson sprawling, her body crumpling to the sand, motion slowing until she lies still. The sand around her shows the imprint of the fight; dust settles in the hush that follows.
Aldo steps forward, hands steady but not cruel. He looks down at her with a hard, unreadable expression no triumph, only cold resolve.
Aldo: Stay down.
He nudges the Stand Arrow in his coat with a finger, then turns his gaze back toward the road and the distant smoke of the race. Tusk folds back, retreating like a shadow pulled into Aldo's will.
Aldo (quiet): Elizabeth's safe. That's what matters.
He mounts his horse with slow deliberation, eyes scanning the horizon for any other movement. The desert exhales. The Steel Ball Run's banners still snap in the wind, waiting.