Opening Notes: The JoJo timeline will probably go out the window mostly, as this is purely for fun and not to be taken all that seriously. Also, the rules about Stands are to be altered as well to keep the Users from being unstoppable. I.E. everybody can see them.

XXXXXXXXX

"Thank you... for such wonderful comedy."

That was what all the destruction and death was to the madman standing before Shimura Nana. A joke. A farce to amuse him for a few minutes. She could hear her successor's desperate shouts growing further and further away. Sorahiko would surely get him away with plenty of time to spare. She however... This would surely be her final stand. But her smile did not falter. She would leave, but her student, and her son, would be safe.

The sky crackled with black lightning as crimson clouds rolled in. The air reeked of death and debris. The monster stood atop some of the solidified chaos, grinning. "Shall we finish this, old friend?"

Old friend? That was new. He had terms of familiarity before, but never that one.

Within a heartbeat, Nana saw he was not talking to her. Like a magic trick, somebody else appeared next to him. Tall. Muscular. Glowing eyes of gold.

The new stranger smiled, and she felt it try to infect her. Not like the maniac she was familiar with, who practically exuded sadism, the latest arrival gave off an air of... ease. Like everything would be alright.

He spoke. "As they say, comedy is hard. But dying?" His eyes locked onto Nana, and his lips curled upwards until his sharp teeth were exposed. "Dying is easy."

XXXXXXXXX

Years passed. Society grew and thrived. New life entered the world.

Gregorio Zeppeli's eldest son, who preferred to go by his nickname, Gyro, wandered the halls of the place of healing. Soon, his family would relocate to a different country, a different continent. He wondered if he would never again traverse those sterile halls. Naturally, his father and mother would continue practicing medicine, but still, such a massive relocation would undoubtedly affect their five sons. Especially considered the oldest was still in school.

"Practice medicine." Gyro scoffed. "What does that even mean? There's no practice with this shit." He continued moving himself forward until he came to his destination. Room 217. A nurse passed him as he opened the door. The interior smelled like all hospital rooms, far too clean for his liking. A scented candle or barbeque would do the atmosphere some good.

The televison suspended on the wall was playing some show Gyro had never seen before, not that he cared much at the moment. He could vaguely make out the steady beats of all the machines in the room. His eyes drifted from the screen over to the bed. Sitting on it, with his legs under the blanket, was a boy. Very young. To young to being going through such pain. But that sort of thing was, evidently, absent from his mind. He was engrossed with a stuffed bear in his hands.

Gyro dared speak. "Marco."

The boy looked towards the door. His eyes were saturated, but he rubbed the liquid away and smiled. "Hi, Gyro!"

The Zeppeli boy gave a grin of his own and walked over the room's current occupant. "How you doin', little buddy?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but a fit of coughs overtook him. Gyro took a step back, to avoid the germs' area of affect. He felt disgusted with himself. Marco had seen him back away. Thankfully, the boy paid it no mind. "I'm okay."

The machines hooked up to his veins beeped steadily.

"You feeling any pain today? My old man treating you right?"

He nodded. "He says I'm... stable."

Beep. Beep.

Gyro nodded. He knew that hanging off the foot side of the bed was Marco's chart. On written on it were several words as long as his arm. Most people Gyro's age wouldn't even bother trying to pronounce half of them. But the Zeppeli family was hardly like others.

And Gyro knew that most of those exasperatingly long words were bad news.

"Good. Bene. Happy to hear it."

Beep. Beep.

His performance left for wanting. Marco tilted his head. "Are you okay, Gyro?"

"Me? Yeah! I'm... I'm downright peachy."

"You don't sound so-" He started coughing again. And it did not stop.

"Marco?" Gyro became worried. The beeping increased in tempo until even the most experienced metal musicians could not keep up. "Marco?!"

Between hacks, the boy's mouth leaked crimson bile.

Gyro ran to the doorway. "Dad! Nurse! Anybody!"

XXXXXXXXX

There are few things that disgust me more than conformists. Those who give the minimal amount of effort are doomed to be crushed, as they deserve. One must find his own path, and force his way down it.

Midoriya Izuku stared at those words. No matter how many times he read them, they never failed to strike him mentally. The minimal amount of effort.

"I want to be like All Might... does that mean it isn't my own path?"

Deciding that he would rather not focus on negatives today, he closed his copy of Philosophies of the True Man's World and returned it to his bookshelf.

XXXXXXXXX

Johnny Joestar was not sure what stung more. The sand flying up in his face, or the sight of Diego Brando once again seizing the lead. He could smell the water of the river flowing next to them. He could hear the thunder of the dozens of other riders behind him and the blonde Brit.

C'mon, Johnny! This is it! This is the day you finally beat Diego! He made himself focus as he drove his spurs into Slow Dancer's sides, making his steed increase her momentum. The older mare responded to his physical command and did indeed gallop faster.

Diego, assuming the most optimal position atop his own horse, Silver Bullet, looked over his shoulder and sneered. Joestar. Your refusal to give up has always been oh so irritating. Ever since we were children.

XXX One Year Later XXX

Soreness. The currently predominant sensation All Might's successor felt at the moment. It engulfed him like a shroud, but he refused to let it get in his way. He gritted his teeth as he pushed a broken refrigerator across the sand, determined to continue All Might's task of clearing the beach.

His concentration was broken by a question asked by a voice he had never heard before. "What are you doing?"

The young hero-to-possibly-be yelped and lost his footing, getting a face full of sand. He pushed himself up and met eyes with a blonde roughly the same age as him. Green and cyan gazed at each other for a moment before the youthful stranger offered a hand.

Izuku accepted it and dusted his chest off. "Thanks."

The other young man nodded. "No problem. Name's Brando. Diego Brando."

"Mi-Midoriya Izuku. Pleased to meet you, Brando."

Diego looked around. "You didn't answer my question."

"O-oh!" Izuku wracked his brain, trying to think up a passable lie. "Just... figured I would help out! You know, give back to the neighborhood?" He laughed nervously.

Diego raised an eyebrow. "Uh... huh."

The greenette tried to deflect the current subject. "So, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Making sure I have control over my powers before going to UA."

"You're going there? What's your Quirk."

"Technically, I don't have one."

Izuku was confused. "Technically?"

"I have what my grandfather calls a Stand. Although it might as well be a Quirk."

Midoriya was about to ask just what he meant, when his thoughts died away at the sight before him. Brando's skin began to... change. It looked like he was drying up and cracking. "Are you okay?!"

"Oh, I'm better than okay." Diego grinned as he continued to morph. His smile seemed to grow wider, until the Quirkless young man saw that was not the case. His skin was splitting off like a ripped seam, exposing sharp teeth. He brought up hand to scratch his newly exposed canines, revealing yet another change to Midoriya. His fingertips had sharpened into talons. With a raspy chuckle, Diego moved his index finger over to the closest piece of garbage next to the two boys, that being a scrapped car. Placing the sharpened digit on the windshield, he dragged it along the glass like he would a knife on butter. The sound was audible torture to Midoriya, making him cover his ears and close his eyes.

Satisfied, Brando removed his finger. "I call this Scary Monsters."

Midoriya tooks his hands off the sides of his head and breathed deeply, struggling to find the words to express himself. "It... is a really fitting name?"

The comment seemed to tickle Diego. He laughed again, but without warning, his arm sprang out and his still-sharp fingers wrapped around Izuku's neck, tight enough to have a grip but not so much to choke him.

The greenette could not help but be impressed. I didn't even see him move! Those reflexes...

The blonde let him go, and he quickly returned to normal. His cheeks and skin were smooth again and his fingers no longer could cut things to pieces.

Midoriya instinctively rubbed his neck. "You're fast. Really fast."

"That's not all I can do."

Izuku's habit of studying every Quirk he came across flared up, making him wish he had a pad and pen on him. "Really? What else?"

Diego checked his phone for the time. "Next time. This has been fun, Midoriya. I'll see you around."

XXXXXXXXX

Stepping out of the train station, Yaoyorozu Momo sighed. While she was going to get into U.A. on a recommendation, she still felt it best to study up for what the prestigious academy held. She made her way down the block when a familiar whistle from a familiar face.

"Nyo ho ho! Momo! Hitting the books again?"

The heiress smiled at the sight of her energetic boyfriend. "Julius. Still wasting all the time you can spare before the entrance exam? You do want to get into U.A. right?"

"Ehi, ehi. I'm no slacker. Besides, when was the last time we had any 'us' time?" Iulius Zeppeli, though he preferred the nickname Gyro, gave a wide smile.

Instantly, Yaoyorozu caught sight of the bright yellow. "What, in the name of sanity, have you done to your teeth?" They looked to be made of gold. The top row read 'GO!GO!' and the bottom 'ZEPPELI' in English.

"Just grills. Solid and well fitted."

"Why? Why would you...?"

"Why not? C'mon, Momo, be more spontaneous! Live in the moment! You gotta make a decision on the fly, like joining me for a stroll."

She considered it for a moment. "Very well, but only because I respect your persistence."

Without warning, Gyro bent his knees, making it so Momo was taller than him for the moment, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're so mean but fair, Yaomomo!" He joked in a very feminine falsetto.

A small part of her laughed internally. "You are oh so immature."

The eldest Zeppeli son grinned. "Only in humor."

XXXXXXXXX

"Pour."

"Yes, Lord DIO." Nukesaku obeyed and tipped the bottle in his hands, filling the ornate glass with wine.

D'Arby, the video game-loving butler, floated into the room. "DIO. Diego has returned."

The master of the household swallowed his sip of alcohol. "Odd. He usually stays out later."

His bastard daughter's son walked into the manor they lived in. "I'm home, but you probably already knew that, Grandfather."

The two members of the Brando line to look at each other. The Vampire spoke with a smile that would have made most others uneasy. "Hello, Diego. Was the day well spent?"

"Mostly. I got bored and roamed. Met somebody clearing the old beach."

"A civil servant?"

"He says so, but I'm pretty sure he was lying."

"I see..." He moved to a more productive subject. "And how is your Stand treating you?"

"Well, I don't want to eat anybody yet. So that's good." Diego could not help but laugh, and he retired to his room on the second floor. Or he would have, had he not stopped dead in his tracks. He pressed his palm firmly into his left temple and let out a groan. "What..."

DIO was on him like a disease. Instantly, the space in front of Diego was occupied by the patriarch of the Brando family, who held his face in his clawed hands, forcing him to look up.

"Relax," DIO soothed. "Just relax. I'll make the pain go away." His eyes flashed like a camera, and Diego's own ocular organs became unfocused for a moment.

The young Brando shook his head like a wet dog and glanced around confused, as if he had forgotten the reason he had walked into the room.

XXXXXXXXX

Johnny watched as his assigned guide rattled the knob to his new dwelling. The door finally gave way.

"Here we are!" The middle aged man gleefully said as he stepped out of the way. Johnny walked in, but exactly feeling the same energy. The first thing he noticed was just how empty it was. Secondly, it was a wide open loft. The space, he admitted, was admirable. Had he brought his beloved steed, Slow Dancer, she would have easily fit in along with him without issue.

That train of thought made him arrive to a rather negative destination. He felt so alone. The chauffeur began to bring his things up as he walked around aimlessly, staring at the walls.

The wrong son...

He blinked. He did so again.

"Chumimiiin!"

Johnny glanced to his left. Floating next to him was a small, pink, unidentifiable animal with black eyes and an expression as somber as his mood.

"It'll get better. It will." He said. Whether it was to the creature or himself, he could not tell.