As the dust finally settled, a figure could be seen lying amidst the rubble—unconscious, battered, and slightly charred. It was JoJo, his body sprawled out as though the explosion had finally done him in.
Gun in hand, Diego stepped forward. Each movement was slow, deliberate, his boots crunching softly against broken stone and ash. His eyes narrowed as he loomed over JoJo, checking carefully for any tricks. After all, a Joestar never went down easily.
With a measured breath, Diego spoke, his tone almost regretful.
"I am truly sorry for this, JoJo… but it's simply an action I had to take. As you said yourself, Brandos and Joestars don't exactly get along. So… sorry about this. Truly."
Zzzzz…
Just as Diego raised his gun to deliver the finishing shot, a strange buzzing sound tore through the silence, echoing across the battlefield.
In the blink of an eye, a fast-moving object shot out from beside JoJo. It flew like a bullet, carrying blistering speed, yet when it struck Diego's forehead it left no lethal wound—only a bright, stinging red circle and a wave of dizziness that made his vision wobble.
"The hell—?!" Diego muttered, staggering back, stunned.
In that same moment, Joseph's body lurched up. His white shirt, scorched and fluttering with burned edges, barely clung to his frame. His eyes shone with mischief, a familiar grin spreading across his face.
"Wow… feisty, aren't we? All I did was ask a question, mate. I don't wanna hurt you. And I'm pretty sure you don't wanna ruin this perfect little face now, would ya?"
With a cocky smirk, Joseph pressed his index finger against his cheek in mock innocence. His other hand opened, revealing three small, colorful round objects pinched between his fingers. They looked like children's toys—cheap plastic spheres—but the way he twirled them made them feel oddly threatening.
Diego's expression twisted into disbelief. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, half from irritation, half from second-hand shame.
"…Did you really just—? JoJo, you're a bloody weirdo. How the hell am I supposed to trust your words? For all I know, the moment I lower this gun you'll sucker-punch me and finish the job!"
Joseph clutched his chest dramatically, feigning heartbreak.
"Oi, oi, it wounds my fragile little heart that you'd think I'd lie. But hey—if you don't trust me, fine. We can always head back to the others, and you can keep your suspicions. To be honest, I don't have any problems with you personally. You're just… well, a relative of someone I do have a problem with. Or maybe just a random bloke with the same last name. Dio Brando. See? Not Diego. Big difference!"
He finished with a mischievous wink, his gestures at once subtle and ridiculously over-the-top, as only a Joestar could manage.