Steel Ocean

The heat was relentless.

Jolyne wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her boots sinking slightly into the damp, uneven ground of Green Dolphin Street Prison's outer marshlands. This place was a far cry from the concrete walls and rusted bars she had grown accustomed to—here, the prison's cold, structured control bled into the wild, suffocating heat of the Floridian swamp.

In the distance, murky water stretched out beneath the towering trees, their roots half-submerged in the muck. Inmates weren't supposed to be out here, which meant someone had gone through a hell of a lot of effort to get this far.

And right now, Jolyne needed to know why.

She glanced at Ermes and Weather Report, her unlikely allies in this mission, as they carefully picked their way through the tangled undergrowth.

They were here for one reason:

To retrieve Jotaro's Stand DISC.

And if the rumors were true, it was somewhere out here.

Unclaimed. Unprotected.

Or so they thought.

Jolyne's fingers twitched. Something was wrong.

The air was too still. The swamp, usually alive with the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional distant croak of a frog, was silent.

Like something had chased everything away.

She barely had time to register the feeling before the water erupted.

A blur of motion shot from the swamp—something fast, inhuman, twisting and shifting as it moved.

Jolyne barely had time to react before a monstrous, glistening humanoid figure burst from the water, tendrils of liquid snapping toward them like whips.

A Stand.

Her instincts screamed.

She dove to the side just as a long, slime-like appendage lashed toward her, hitting the ground with a wet slap.

"Shit—!" Ermes cursed, rolling out of the way.

Weather Report didn't speak, but he moved with sharp precision, his Stand already activating.

Jolyne landed in a crouch, heart hammering in her chest.

The creature—whatever the hell it was—rose from the swamp, its form shifting between something humanoid and something entirely wrong.

Its eyes—glowing, unnatural—locked onto her.

Then, it spoke.

"That DISC belongs to Whitesnake."

Jolyne's blood went cold.

Whitesnake.

So this thing wasn't alone.

This fight wasn't just about retrieving her father's Stand.

It was about survival.

And there was no way in hell she was backing down.

From the treeline, Isabella E.O. Speedwagon watched.

Her stance was relaxed—hands in her pockets, weight shifted to one side—but her eyes were sharp, focused.

She had known something was wrong the second Jolyne stepped into the marsh.

Now, as she watched Foo Fighters attack, her fingers twitched.

She could step in.

She could put an end to this in seconds.

But she didn't.

Because she needed to see.

She needed to know what Jolyne would do.

So Isabella watched.

And she waited.

Jolyne moved fast.

The moment Foo Fighters lunged again, she reacted on instinct, her Stand's threads unraveling and snapping forward.

Strings of pure energy wrapped around the creature's limbs, pulling taut.

For a moment, it staggered, struggling against the unexpected restraint.

And then, it adapted.

Its form shifted, liquid slipping through the gaps in her strings, reforming behind her.

Jolyne barely had time to react before a powerful strike sent her skidding across the damp ground.

Her vision blurred for half a second, the impact rattling through her bones.

But she wasn't down.

Not yet.

She gritted her teeth, pushing herself up.

If brute force wouldn't work, she'd have to get creative.

She flexed her fingers, her threads extending again—but this time, she sent them deeper into the ground, anchoring herself in place.

Foo Fighters lunged.

Jolyne twisted—

And used her strings to whip herself around at the last second, dodging the attack and landing a clean, devastating punch to its torso.

The impact sent a shockwave through the swamp.

Foo Fighters stumbled.

Jolyne grinned.

Got you.

The fight dragged on, both sides adapting, testing, pushing each other to the limits.

But eventually, Jolyne did what she did best.

She broke through.

She saw the weakness.

And she exploited it.

A final, well-placed attack severed Foo Fighters' control, forcing it back into the water, its form collapsing.

For a moment, silence.

Then—

A voice.

Not the same distorted, inhuman voice from before.

Something... softer.

"You... you're strong."

Jolyne blinked. What?

The swamp rippled, and then—Foo Fighters reformed, but this time, its stance was different.

Less hostile.

More... curious.

"I was created to protect Whitesnake's interests," it said slowly. "But... I think I would rather protect something else."

Jolyne exhaled, still catching her breath.

Then, she smirked. "That so?"

Foo Fighters nodded. "Yes. I will fight for you now."

And just like that, Jolyne gained an ally.

As the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, Jolyne took a moment to assess her injuries.

Bruises, a few cuts, nothing serious.

She rolled her shoulders, glancing at Ermes, Weather Report, and now Foo Fighters.

"We should get moving before—"

"You're making enemies you don't understand, Cujoh."

The voice came from behind her.

Jolyne froze.

She knew that voice.

Turning, she saw Isabella standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, her usual smirk absent.

For the first time, she looked... serious.

Jolyne's eyes narrowed.

"Came to spectate?" she asked, voice edged with suspicion.

Isabella ignored the comment.

Instead, she took a slow step forward, just enough for her presence to feel heavier.

"You think this was just about that DISC?" Isabella murmured. "You think Whitesnake won't retaliate for this?"

Jolyne stiffened.

"Not everyone in here plays fair," Isabella continued. Her tone was even, measured, but there was something sharp underneath it. "And Whitesnake? He plays dirty."

Jolyne hated how much she believed her.

She crossed her arms, trying to mask the unease creeping up her spine. "And why the hell do you care?"

Isabella's expression didn't change.

She didn't answer.

Didn't give Jolyne what she wanted.

Instead, she just said, "Be careful, Cujoh."

And then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she turned and walked away.

Jolyne watched her go, a thousand questions racing through her mind.

And for the first time, she started to wonder if Isabella Speedwagon was really just another inmate.

Or if she was something else entirely.