Best Laid Plans

1888: Masks

Dio made his way through the tangled ball of streets that made up the London slums. The narrow alleys twisted and turned, lit occasionally by the light of a nearby tallow candle or garbage fire. The mixed smells of wet garbage, unwashed bodies, tallow fat and smoke of all types blended together into a scent Dio knew well from his childhood. Occasionally he’d pass a pub or bar and have to maneuver around the bodies of drunks sleeping in the alleys nearby.

He hated every moment. 

Every second spent navigating the slums brought back unpleasant memories of his life before Joestar Mansion. Every street corner he turned, every stinking hovel overflowing with people, every drunk sleeping in an alley, brought the flood of memories screaming to the front of his mind. 

He moved quicker, the streets passing in a blur as his mind whirled. He found his way through the streets from memory, heart racing. Every fibre of his being was telling him to leave, to turn back the way he came, to run from these dark, stinking alleys, where the snow was nothing but slush underfoot.

But he persevered. Step after step, alley after alley, Dio trudged towards the poison seller where he had bought the poison for Dario.

Eventually, he found himself in front of the shop. He pulled his cloak closer and checking that his mask was still over his eyes, he entered.

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Jonathan stood in front of the body of the thug he’d just kicked to the ground, staring down the armed mob that had gathered to fight him. The gash through his arm that the thug’s bowler hat had cut straight through to the bone, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from fighting. He would find the antidote to the poison and save his father, no matter what.

Jonathan squared up, fist held in front of his face when he heard a strangled voice from behind him.

“Sto—” 

Jonathan turned to see the thug on the ground sitting up, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. 

“Sto—Stop everyone!”

The mob froze, all eyes on the thug.

“If any of you touch this gentleman, I, Speedwagon, won’t forgive you!” The thug—Speedwagon, Jonathan assumed—called, struggling to his feet.

“Gentleman?” Jonathan muttered. What was this thug going on about? Hadn’t he just tried to kill him?

“Tell me something!” Speedwagon called, turning on Jonathan. “Why didn’t you kick me with your full power? That leg of yours should have had my face beaten bloody!”

The mob, shocked, turned their eyes from Speedwagon to Jonathan, who gritted his teeth in determination.

“I’m here for my father. The moment I kicked, I realised that you must also have a father, and a mother, and siblings. I don’t want to sadden your father!”

Jonathan knew it sounded foolish, but it was true, and he sensed that lies wouldn’t do him any good here. Either way, the thug seemed impressed.

“What’s your name?” He asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Jonathan Joestar.”

“You said you’re looking for a guy who sells poisons? Be careful! He’s a nasty guy!”

Jonathan started.

“You know him!” Perhaps this man could lead him to the place he was looking for!

Speedwagon nodded.

“To make up for what I did to your arm, I, Speedwagon will guide you to his store!”

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The London slums were not a safe place for a young woman after dark. Erina knew this, she simply didn’t care. She trudged through the wet slush that covered the ground—a promise of snow in the weeks to come—searching for her first victim.

It was early in the morning—or late at night, depending on which way you counted—but the alleys of the slums were always full of people, no matter the hour. She passed a group of three men—clearly drunk—sitting on a bench near the River Thames. She walked past, ignoring them, when one stood up to block her way.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Erina had her knife out from her sleeve and under his chin in a split second. His words turned to spluttering and his friends on the bench sat in stunned silence.

“You know,” Erina spoke sweetly, her face the picture of innocence. “I was just going to ignore you. If you hadn’t tried to stop me, you might have lived.”

The man’s eyes widened and Erina smiled sweetly at him, before knocking his knees out from under him. 

She stood over him and placed the mask over his face, cutting her thumb on her knife and smearing the mask with her blood. The man was too drunk and too shocked to react as the spikes shot from the back of the mask into his brain, killing him instantly.

Erina waited for the spikes to retract before grabbing the mask and turning to the stunned pair on the bench.

“Now, which one of you wants to go next?”

The men—fear finally hitting them through their drunken stupor—tried to scramble away from her, but they were too drunk to get far. 

Erina sighed.

“Dear me, since you won’t decide, I guess I’ll have to…hmm,” She tapped the knife against her lips, pretending to think, before pointing it at one of the men at random. “You!”

She began to walk over to the shaking man when she felt something touch her foot. She tried to shake it off, but it just gripped all the stronger.

“Thirsty—” 

The voice was slow and rough, like someone who had been several days without water. 

“So thirsty.”

Erina turned slowly, dread rising. 

The man who she had already killed had grasped her leg and was beginning to stand up.

“Thirsty—” 

Erina kicked his hand loose but it took considerable force. Following her instincts, she ran to the ledge near the river and jumped down out of sight.

From the lower path, she could see the man stumble to his feet and make his way towards his friends, who were still frozen in fear. When he got closer, he reached out and plunged his fingers into their necks.

Even from a distance, Erina could see the blood pumping out of their bodies and into his. The man seemed to look younger with every drop of blood that went into his body.

Eventually, he withdrew his fingers and the two other men slumped lifeless to the floor, every drop of blood sucked from their bodies. Looking around, the man spotted Erina watching and slowly made his way over to her.

Desperately, she looked around, searching for a way to escape, the early morning sunlight sparkling off the river. 

Then, the man was gone.

It happened so fast Erina could hardly believe her eyes. One second she was looking around for an escape, the next the man had turned to dust in the morning light.

For a minute, Erina was confused. Then, it made sense with sudden clarity.

So, that’s what it does. 

It makes the wearer a vampire.