Like all things in life, the good times couldn’t last.

Joules tripped over his own feet as his legs gave out. He’d only made it a few blocks away from Tap Out, fresh from his “victory” over the bouncer. No one had followed him away from the crowded scene, though that didn’t stop Joules from looking over his shoulder every few paces. He tensed at every distant siren, imagining himself questioned and detained by the police. How would he explain himself? More importantly, how would the bouncer and bar patrons explain to the police exactly what had happened in the first place?

The sweat ran cold rivers down his neck and chest. He was safe, for now. Whatever 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」was, it seemed to be friendly at least. Or rather, it had a vested interest in protecting Joules from handsy bouncers. He tried talking to it again as he sat on the sidewalk massaging his spasming legs, but still 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」said nothing. He tried willing the spirit into existence, goading it in his mind to show itself, but he felt nothing.

But it was real. Vindication cascaded throughout Joule’s body, as if an enormous weight had been finally lifted off his conscience. He wasn’t crazy, not in the clinical sense. Something about 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」had highjacked his emotions, and the more he thought about his short spat, the more he began to suspect that it was 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」that had pushed him into the confrontation.

Normally, an ever-present miasma of malaise hung over Joules like a sick fog, seemingly slowing his movements and dulling his senses. He’d learned to cope with it as best he could over the past year, but he couldn’t deny how different he’d felt in the fight. It was as if the veil had been lifted. He had no longer been powerless. In fact, he’d become confident, bordering on arrogant. This had further enraged the bouncer. Then 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」had injected the man with the black liquid. The liquid that it had taken out of Joules.

The memory of the bouncer writhing on the ground in total surrender was seared into the back of his eyelids. In that moment, Joules saw another person just as scared and paralyzed as he felt every waking minute. Without lifting a finger, Joules had rendered his opponent a blubbering mess.

Could he control that power? He wasn’t sure if he could even control 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」, or if the ghost acted autonomously. Regardless, the effect had been intoxicating. The raw pleasure he’d felt emanating out from 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」as the bouncer shrieked had brought him to an emotional peak. He’d coasted above the clouds to the summit, riding a golden wave of euphoria until he reached the apex. Now, however, as he sat on the sidewalk, alone with only the ambient cacophony of the city, he felt nothing.

He must have fallen asleep shortly after collapsing. His eyes fluttered open to the blinding radiance of a flashlight pointed directly at him. He blinked against the harsh surprise and raised a tired hand to shield his face from the beam. Just the act of moving took all his energy. Everything ached.

“You okay, son?” the man holding the flashlight asked.

All Joules wanted was to turn over, pretend the man wasn’t there and fall back asleep, but he caught the golden glint of a badge pinned to the uniform underneath a metal bar that read “M. Davis.”

Great. A cop. Just my luck.

“What’s the matter, officer?” Joules’ rudimentary etiquette was enough to give the officer a modicum of respect. He tried to sound like nothing was wrong, but the words in his ears were weak and slurred.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” he asked.

“Just one beer,” Joules answered, which might have been the first time that had been the truth. This all had started as a way to get drunk, but there he lay, sore and aching, tired and groggy, yet thoroughly, agonizingly sober.

Officer Davis wasn’t buying it, however. “Uh huh, the middle of the sidewalk just seemed like a good place for a snooze? Give me a break. Come on. Get up. You’re coming with me.”

The officer grabbed Joules by the collar and hoisted him up. When he got to his feet, though, he nearly collapsed. Davis caught him, dragging him toward his squad car while Joules’ feet scraped against the ground.

“Hey, kid, work with me, okay?” Davis said. “Jesus, you can’t even walk.”

“I’m fine, really,” Joules protested. He tried moving his legs to prove his innocence, but they refused to budge, continuing instead to hang limp.

Davis propped Joules up against the side of his squad car. Joules flashed what he hoped was a playful grin, but it had little effect judging by the reaction of the cop.

“I just need a ride home.”

It wasn’t a lie; it wasn’t like he was about to ask the officer to drop him off at another bar. If getting home and going to bed would end the night then Joules welcomed that possibility with open arms. Davis seemed to deflate just enough for Joules to see the humanity slip through the cracks of his authoritarian facade. Instead of a pissed off policeman, the man standing in front of him was more of a disappointed father bailing out his son, and Joules had plenty of experience disappointing his father.

“I’m guessing you’re a student,” Davis said, apparently having made up his mind. “On or off campus?”

Joules nearly forgot himself in his relief. “On Campus. McGregor building,” he said with a “sir” tacked on to the end before Davis could speak.

“One drink, huh?” Davis said, more to himself than to Joules. “Well, you don’t smell like booze. Still, you’re acting weird. You’re not high, are you?”

He spoke again before Joules could defend himself. “Hell, who cares if you are or not. You’re young. Young people do dumb things. At least you knew when to pump the brakes.”

Unsure of how to reply, Joules followed the blatant trail of breadcrumbs to get off the hook the officer had presented to him. “I just wanna call it a night.”

Davis gave him one final once over. Joules managed to kickstart his legs enough to hold most of his own bodyweight, though he still leaned on the car for some support. The night air grew cooler as the moon rose over the horizon, and the brisk air filled his lungs. He felt awake, though it might still have been residual adrenaline coursing through his veins, pumped out at the prospect of going to jail.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Davis said. “Get in, I’ll drop you off. I don’t usually do the campus route so you’ll have to point me in the right direction when we get there.”

Joules’ legs nearly gave out from relief, but he kept them locked and tall. He let out a held breath and broke out into a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“What’s your name?” Davis asked as they both piled into the squad car.

“Joules Jordan,” Joules said.

“Joules Jordan,” Davis repeated, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Jojo.”

Joules laughed. “Nobody’s called me Jojo since I was in kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You seem like a Jojo to me.”

They pulled away from the street and into traffic. Joules had never been in a cop car before, and he was glad to be able to check that off his bucket list without having been arrested. For how awful his night had been, he’d been exceptionally lucky. Best not to question it. Like trying to remember a dream, if he started paying attention, his luck would vanish. Just play it cool, roll up home, and pass out. It sounded so easy in his head.

“Hey, Officer, turn right.”

Davis didn’t respond. The gates of campus passed them by as they sped off towards the highway. “Hey, did you hear me? You missed the turn.”

“Hm? Oh, there’s something nearby I need to do,” Davis said. “Just a pit stop while it’s on the brain.”

Joules sank lower into his seat. The seat that felt decidedly unlike what he expected a police car to feel like. Come to think of it, weren’t there usually bars or some kind of divider separating the cops from the criminals? Where was the scanner droning on he’d seen in all the movies?

This wasn’t a cop car at all.

Panic burned away all the drowsiness. He fumbled with his seatbelt, unbuckling himself. He darted for the door handle, desperate to escape, even if it meant tumbling out into the street. Tuck and roll, right? The locks slammed down, disappearing in the door.

“I was right when I guessed you were a Stand user,” Davis said.

A Stand user? Did he mean 「Do Dope Fuck Hope」? The words meant nothing to him in the moment. Joules pounded on the window, but he bounced helplessly off.

The car began to fill with gas. Joules coughed and sputtered at the noxious fumes.

“I watched you deal with the bouncer. Very impressive,” Davis said. Joule’s vision blurred and crossed. He rubbed his eyes until he saw stars, trying to rid the toxin from them. “But you overexerted yourself. You can’t even summon your stand again. I don’t think I could beat you in a fair fight, but you lost as soon as you entered into my ‘time-out’.”

Lost? Lost what? Was this a game to the man increasingly appearing less likely to be an actual police officer.

“Let me out… you son of a bitch…” His words came out slowly; each breath pumped more of the gas though his body. He tugged at the handle, each motion heavier and clumsier than the last.

“Punks like you need to learn respect,” Davis said. “Well, I won’t be the one to let you get away with it. My Stand,「Yellowcard」, is the perfect teacher for a piss-poor student like you.”

“You… bastard…” But the words fell on deaf ears. The last thing Joules saw before the fumes choked him was a snickering black and white striped creature covered in small vents pumping in the yellow gas. It cackled with glee as Joules’ consciousness slipped away.

To be continued...