The last one standing A Jojo's bizarre adventure fanfiction

Phantom Blood

Prologue

April4, 1868

A boy named Jonathan Joestar was born. His father George Joestar a fine English nobleman and his wife were overjoyed having their first child and prayed for his future to be able to lead a happy and peaceful life, however fate had other plans in store....

This was the start of a really bizarre adventure... and you were going to take a huge part in it...

12 years later

A mysterious hooded person wandered the streets of London in the middle of the night. It was quite chilly and pitch black, nobody dared to step out of their warm and safe homes and those who had nothing hid themselves in the shadow of the alleyways. They feared the night more than anything else. It was the time that death himself walks on earth and rips the souls of their bodies. You could feel it too as you strolled around. Your heels clickered on the stone ground in a frightening rhythm, one step after the other, stopping in front of an old run-down inn.

Opening its door you strode in and see a tiny old man with dirty gray hair popping out from behind the counter smiling a tooth-less smile.

"Welcome sir, do you wish to stay the night?" he asked warmly.

"Yes." you replied curtly not in the mood to talk to anyone you where in a hurry to arrive at your destination, however you decided to take a rest after your long journey, in this town you heard rumors about various delinquents and the beggars in the street. You even saw children barly being alive. It hurt you to see them suffer. "I also like to inquire the directions to Ogre Street?"

Despite stating a question your sharp voice leaves no room for rejecting your request. The facial expression of the man changed immediately, scrunching up his nose in disgust but trying to play it off. "Kind sir, you do know that Ogre Street is the home of many delinquents, criminals of all sorts, drug dealers, prostitutes and beggars!! It is full of dirt not even the officials dare to inspect this place anymore! Ogre Street is known for being the most perilous street in all of London!!"

Your golden orbs pierce into his muddy ones, silencing immediately, making him gulp in fear and he started to shake like a marble leaf, however he started again, stuttering:" W-What kind of business do you have to attend to in such a place?" He points one of his fingers at your fine attire, consisting of black pants, white sirt and tuxedo and a long flowing coat as well as brown leather gloves.

You cut him off by raising your hand: "Enough! I am no fool, I am well informed. I just need directions." Your voice was menacing as you glared at the man with squinted eyes, making him sweat nervously, his eyes filled with fear. The difference in social standing was obvious. "It is actually not too far from her only a few streets. Hahaha....", he gulped, wiping sweat from his forehead, "just go to the next crossroads then turn right into an abandoned mall then turn left and you find yourself in front of Ogre Street. But you still need a room, don't you? I have one available....", he trails off as you stopped listening to him "...here are your keys, number 13." he rudely shoved you up the stairs in front of your room, but stopped as he realized what he was doing and begs for forgiveness. 'Disgusting'you thought as you finally entered the small room, he has no manners and here I thought English men pride themselves with being a gentleman. The small chamber only has got only one cupboard a tiny desk of low quality and a shabby bed. First thing you did was locking the door, putting your luggage next to your bed and opening your small window to let the night breeze in. You look at the night sky enchanted by its beauty it was after 10pm after your silver pocket watch, time surely flies when you are traveling from place to place. Tomorrow first thing in the morning you were heading to the Joestar mansion. Sir George Joestar a long time friend of mine requested you to tutor his now 12-year old son Jonathan Joestar in his last letter. You sighed. The last time you visited them was at the funeral of his wife. She was a great lady with a big and gentle heart. Damn I sound so old now; you said to yourself chuckling at your antics. You are after all proud 89 years old and still you looked like in your late teens or early twenties. It was around that time you stopped aging. It had its advantages you guess, laughing about memories as you tutored George Joestar himself and all the time he tripped over his own feet during dancing lessons or how you send him into the kitchen to help out the maids because he did not appreciate their work enough and insulted them or that time you taught him boxing and ended up in the river. Yes those are memories worth smiling for.