Best Laid Plans

1938: We're Going To New York

“Where has that boy gotten to?” Dio grumbled. 

He’d just finished unpacking the last of his boxes in their new New York apartment. Stretching, he made his way to the kitchen, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the newly installed protective glass.

Thanks to the Speedwagon Foundation, Dio could function like a regular human inside this house.

He sighed, putting the kettle on the stove to boil.

I hope he hasn’t run into any trouble, he thought as he pulled a teacup out of the cupboard.

There was a loud bang from around the corner, the front door slamming open, and a flurry of frantic footsteps before it banged shut again.

Two heartbeats.

Odd.

I hope he’s made a new friend, and it's not the police chasing after him.

“I’m home, Gramps!”

Joseph barged into the kitchen, dragging a small dark-skinned boy behind him.

Dio pulled two more cups out of the cupboard.

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“I see,” Dio took a sip out of his tea. “So, the reason it took you over two hours to buy some food, is because you were rescuing this young man,” he nodded at the dark-skinned boy Joseph had neglected to introduce. “From corrupt, racist police officers?”

Both Joseph and the young man nodded enthusiastically. 

Dio sighed, shaking his head.

“I can’t exactly scold you for that, now can I?”

Joseph jumped out of his chair and ran over to Dio, hugging him.

“You’re the best, Gramps!”

Dio patted Joseph’s shoulder awkwardly. All these years and he still hadn’t quite figured out how to respond when the boy did this.

Eventually, Joseph returned to his seat next to the young man, across the round dining table from Dio.

Dio turned to the young man.

“Since my buffoon of a grandson had neglected to introduce us, my name is Dio Joestar.”

“N-nice to meet you, Mr Joestar. I’m Smokey. Uh—Smokey Brown.”

The poor boy looked extremely confused. 

Understandable. After all, Dio looked barely a year older than Joseph.

Seeing as Joseph wasn't going to explain—Dio was going to have to.

"Actually, I'm not Joseph's grandfather," Dio started. Smokey nodded slowly—waiting for an explanation of an inside joke.

"I'm his great-uncle. His grandfather's brother."

If there was a prize for the most confused person on the planet, Dio was sure Smokey would win it.

"Yep!" Joseph chimed in. "Gramps raised my dad after Grandpa Jonathan died, and then me after my dad died."

Dio took another sip of his tea. Someone had better explain the situation to poor Smokey.

Just a basic explanation should do, I think.

“Since Joseph rescued you, did you see him use Hamon?”

“H-hamon? Is that what those weird yellow sparks around the bottle cap were?”

Dio nodded.

“Simply put, Hamon is a special breathing technique that allows the user to harness the power of the sun. It’s more complex than that, with many applications: it slows people’s aging, enhances their strength, things like that. Primarily, it’s used as a combat technique.”

Despite his obvious scepticism, Smokey nodded. After all, he had witnessed Joseph’s Hamon first hand.

“So, uh, is that why you look so young, Mr Joestar? If that’s not to forward a question!” He hurriedly added.

Dio smiled wryly. If only his life was prolonged by Hamon.

“Something like that.”

It wouldn’t be good to confuse the young man by telling him vampires existed, let alone the fact that he was sitting in front of one.

Joseph clearly had no such worries.

“Gramps is a vampire!”

Smokey spat out his tea.

Dio took another sip of his tea as Smokey stared at him slack-jawed. 

Well, if he’s going to just say it, Dio thought, sending a dirty glance at Joseph, who sipped his tea nonchalantly. 

Setting his teacup down, Dio sighed.

“Thank you, Joseph.” Despite the obvious tone of frustration, Joseph smiled as if Dio had been being genuine.

That boy… Dio had half a mind to scold him, but the sound of Smokey releasing the teacup in his hand caught his ears.

He moved quickly, catching the cup before it hit the floor and placing it back on the table before a single drop could be spilt.

“Oh,” was the only thing Smokey said. 

Dio sympathised. Vampirism really wasn’t an easy thing to wrap one’s head about. It was probably in the boy’s best interest if he left it at that for the day, rather than explain the whole—extremely complicated—situation around how he became a vampire.

“Yeah!” Joseph started, not realising Smokey’s state of shock. “Gramps—”

“Look at the time!” Dio cut in, changing the subject. “The sun’s already set! We should go out for dinner. Speedwagon recommended a lovely restaurant downtown.”

Smokey started to stand up.

“I’ll be on my way then, Mr Joestar.”

“Nuh-uh,” Joseph said. “You’re coming with us.”

Dio resisted the urge to sigh again. Joseph was intent on terrifying this boy, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he have made a friend in a more conventional manner? Without the use of Hamon? 

“You don’t have to if you wouldn’t like to,” Dio said, attempting to make Joseph’s statement sound less threatening. “But you are more than welcome to join us. I’m sure Joseph would appreciate your company.”

Smokey’s heart rate speed up. Thanks to Joseph’s vampire comment, the poor boy probably thought he was on the menu.

Thankfully, Joseph noticed his friend’s distress.

“Don’t worry,” he said, laughing. “Gramps doesn’t eat people. He’s only drunk blood once that I know of, and that was donated by the Speedwagon Foundation. He eats regular food, just like you or me!”

Thank goodness he noticed. I doubt it would convince him if I told him that. It’d be like a wolf talking to a lamb.

Dio smiled at Smokey who looked very relieved.

“Finish your tea and we’ll be on our way. There’s no rush. Joseph,” He turned to glare at his grand-nephew. “A word if you please. In the hall.”

Joseph looked around, searching for an exit, but quickly realised there was nowhere for him to run.

“Yes, Gramps.”