Steel Ocean

Isabella E.O. Speedwagon leaned against the cold concrete wall of Green Dolphin Street Prison's cell block, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The dull hum of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, barely illuminating the worn-down corridors lined with rows of steel doors.

She had seen her fair share of shitholes, and this prison wasn't much different from the rest. It reeked of sweat, cheap soap, and desperation. The kind of place that wore people down until they either broke or became something worse.

She had no intention of breaking.

Her orders were clear:

    "Keep an eye on Jolyne Cujoh. Observe. Do not get involved unless absolutely necessary."

Jotaro had made it sound so simple.

Isabella knew better.

Even now, as she remained in the background, watching, listening, she could tell things were already spiraling out of control.

She heard the faint but unmistakable sounds of a struggle echoing from the far end of the hallway—a scuffle, the sharp clang of metal against metal, and a voice cursing under its breath.

The voice was Jolyne Cujoh's.

And then, something strange—a faint, almost unnatural shifting sound, like fabric stretching in ways it shouldn't.

Isabella's emerald-green eyes narrowed slightly.

What the hell is going on in there? 

Inside a cramped, dimly lit cell, Jolyne gritted her teeth as she struggled against the bizarre power of Gwess's Stand, Goo Goo Dolls.

Her body had shrunk down to a few inches tall, her limbs feeling unnaturally light yet heavy at the same time. Every movement was clumsy, foreign—as if she were a puppet rather than a person.

Across from her, Gwess loomed over her with an unsettling grin, the wild gleam in her eyes betraying just how much she enjoyed playing god.

"C'mon, Jolyne~," Gwess taunted, wiggling her fingers mockingly. "You're supposed to be my little pet bird! Do a cute little dance for me, and maybe I'll let you live."

Jolyne's jaw clenched.

Oh, she'd dance, alright.

Right on this psycho's face.

She forced herself forward, stumbling slightly as she tried to adjust to her ridiculous new size. Her mind worked quickly—she had to think, had to figure out what the hell was happening to her body.

And then she saw it.

Thin, almost thread-like fibers trailing from her fingertips, barely visible under the dim lighting. They moved with her, extending and retracting like strands of a spider's web.

Her heart pounded.

What the hell is this?

Something inside her snapped into place.

Without thinking, she yanked one of the threads—

And suddenly, her body surged forward.

Faster than Gwess expected.

Before the other woman could react, Jolyne gritted her teeth and swung—

Crack.

Her tiny fist slammed into Gwess's face, and though it didn't do much damage, it was enough to knock her off balance.

"You little shit!" Gwess screeched, stumbling backward.

Jolyne landed on the floor, panting. She wasn't sure what she had just done, but it worked.

And she was going to figure out how to do it again.

From her vantage point, just outside the cell block entrance, Isabella had a perfect line of sight to the fight unfolding inside.

She could have stepped in.

She could have stopped it before it even started.

But she didn't.

Because something far more interesting was happening.

Her emerald gaze locked onto Jolyne's hands, watching the faint threads unraveling from her fingertips like strands of silk.

A Stand.

Jolyne had a Stand.

The realization settled over Isabella like a slow, rolling storm.

She shouldn't have been surprised.

She knew who Jolyne's father was.

But hearing about something and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things.

And then, for the first time since stepping foot in Green Dolphin, Isabella felt something unexpected.

Recognition.

Something about Jolyne's stance—the fire in her eyes, the way she refused to back down—felt... familiar.

It wasn't just the Joestar bloodline.

It was the same feeling Isabella had read about in old Speedwagon Foundation reports, the same reckless determination that had carried Jonathan, Joseph, Jotaro, and the others through impossible odds.

A will that refused to break, even in the worst circumstances.

A Joestar spirit.

So that's it, huh? Isabella thought, tilting her head slightly as she observed Jolyne narrowly dodge another attack from Gwess. That's what makes you different.

For a moment, something like respect flickered through Isabella's usually cold demeanor.

Just a moment.

Then she pushed it down.

Not my problem.

Jolyne was not her problem.

After a brutal but well-earned victory, Jolyne emerged from the cell, wiping the sweat from her brow.

She was back to her normal size, and the rush of adrenaline still coursed through her veins.

That's when she noticed her.

Standing just outside the doorway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall as if she'd been there the whole damn time—Isabella Speedwagon.

Jolyne frowned. "How long have you been standing there?"

Isabella didn't blink. "Long enough."

Jolyne narrowed her eyes, wiping some dirt off her cheek. "You enjoy the show, or are you just creepy for fun?"

Isabella smirked, unfazed. "I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out."

Jolyne scoffed. "Figure what out?"

"The threads," Isabella said smoothly, gesturing lazily toward Jolyne's hands. "Your Stand."

Jolyne tensed.

Of course, she knew what a Stand was. She had heard bits and pieces from her father before, but she never thought she'd develop one herself.

She didn't like that Isabella seemed to know more than she did.

Jolyne crossed her arms. "And you would know that how, exactly?"

Isabella shrugged, her expression bored. "I've seen a few in my time."

There was something off about the way she said it.

Like she wasn't just another prisoner.

Like she knew more than she let on.

Jolyne's gaze flicked to Isabella's belt buckle—the Speedwagon Foundation insignia.

Something about it nagged at her.

Something didn't add up.

But before she could push the thought further, Isabella straightened up, rolling her shoulders as if already done with this conversation.

"Anyway, don't get yourself killed, Cujoh," Isabella said over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. "Be a shame after all that effort."

Jolyne bristled.

"Gee, thanks for the concern," she shot back sarcastically. "You're real friendly, you know that?"

Isabella smirked, glancing at her from the corner of her eye.

"Don't get used to it."

And then she was gone.

Jolyne watched her go, irritated.

Something about that woman rubbed her the wrong way.

Something about her felt dangerous.

But, against her better judgment...

She also felt strangely drawn to her.

And Jolyne wasn't sure she liked that.