Simple Man

Three: Gloom's Front Door

**Happy Halloween, y'all. Fun fact: I went as Speedwagon last year, and for some reason, I still have my Victorian coat and that blonde mullet wig hanging in my closet. That coat was $40, I ain't throwing it away. The mullet I don't have an excuse for. This year I'm going as Stevie Nicks because it's the most effective yet cheapest costume I can come up with. What are you guys going as? If anyone needs a ratty blonde mullet wig, I got one.

Thanks for your reading eyes! See you in the next chapter!**

"Pardon my French, but what the bloody fuck?"

"This was three days ago. I haven't seen him since."

"How is he...what the—what the fuck?"

Speedwagon paced angrily around, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed while Jonathan shifted the paper bag to his other arm. He glanced down the alleyway, watching people crossing the busy morning streets. A small, brown tabby cat that had been scavenging through a garbage can near the entrance of the alley made its way toward them, meowing loudly.

"He's here in London," Speedwagon rambled. "I travel all over the city; I would've seen him by now. How-How could this be? Oh, he'll get a sound thrashing once I get my hands on him!"

"Which is why I need your help." Jonathan looked at him again. "We need to find Dio as quickly as possible."

"Hell yeah we do! The sooner he's six feet under, the better."

"I don't wish for his death, nor his arrest. I just need to speak with him."

Speedwagon staggered to a halt, shot him a wildly confused glare. "Wait, what?"

Jonathan sighed. "I'm going to try to settle things as peacefully as I can."

"Wha-But that doesn't make any sense! Why would you...he doesn't—b-but what about Hamon? The power that Zeppeli fella taught you? It'd be a waste if you didn't use it for the reason you learnt it in the first place."

As he argued, the tabby cat trotted toward Speedwagon, weaving in between his legs and mewing weakly. Speedwagon grumbled "shoo" as he lightly kicked the feline away.

"I learnt it because I felt like I needed to protect what I had left," Jonathan clarified. "It was for defense, not offense."

"But the point is you can easily wipe the floor with that rat. He's a thief, a liar, a murderer—no one's going to miss him. Why are you holding yourself back—?"

The tabby cat rubbed against Speedwagon's calf once more and he pushed it back a little harder this time. "I said get away!" he barked. The cat hissed in response.

"What-What are you saying, Jonathan?" he tried again. "What use is there to simply talking with a beast that has never spoken a word of truth its entire life? JoJo, I-I don't get you."

Speedwagon rambled on, throwing his arms about and pacing like a mad bear. There wasn't anything that Jonathan hadn't already heard from Erina or Helena. Listening still, he ripped a chunk off the baguette sticking out of the paper bag in the crook of his arm. He mushed the piece of bread between his fingers to soften the tough texture. He then bent down and offered it toward the cat.

It approached cautiously, its tiny pink nose scrunching at the air. He laid the crumpled food on the ground. Suspicious, the cat crept forward, sniffed the bread, picked at it, and then fully dug in, closing its eyes in contentment.

"I understand where you're coming from," Jonathan related. "I thought revenge and blood were the only words Dio could comprehend. Hamon, when pushed, can speak that very language, but Zeppeli focused on its healing properties."