United States of America, 1951

On a snowy night in New York, a plain-looking car pulled to a stop on a dimly-lit alleyway. Soon, an elderly man stepped out, his boots crunching in the snow. His face was covered by a heavy scarf as well as a fur hat that replaced the fedora he normally wore. He briefly glanced at a crumpled piece of paper that contained his destination, then started his walk after pocketing the sheet. His boots crunched in the snow as he glanced at every store he passed, trying to find the place where he would meet his associates, for the lack of a better term. The man did not personally know them all that well, save for the fact that they were some of the finest scholars, theologians, and philosophers in the world and that they worked with his foundation from time to time. This would be his first time meeting them in person, and they were quite vague in their invitation. "The greatest undertaking in human history", he remembered the invitation that came in his mail as he wondered why they decided to hold their initial meeting in a run-down portion of New York that reminded him of the London street on which he met the man who turned his life around. And why did I have to come alone, anyway? He wondered as he kept walking. Shouldn't something be this important be shared with people outside of this circle?

Soon, he found the place he was looking for, a small restaurant with most of the windows covered in thick curtains that blocked out the light from the inside. Perfect mafioso hideout. He thought, a sense of foreboding rose in him as he briefly paused outside the door. I hope this is worth it. He pushed the door open and strode inside. A waitress greeted him as he took off his hat and scarf, revealing a weathered face with short graying blond hair and a scar that ran diagonally from his left cheek to the area between his bright blue eyes.

"Good evening, sir." A waitress with a cheap-looking uniform greeted him. "Table for one?"

"Someone's expecting me, actually." He said with the fading remnants of a English accent. "A Mr. Lorenz".

"Right this way, sir." The waitress guided him to a well-lit room that had twelve men sitting on a circular table, with a thirteenth spot left open. The room seemed pleasant enough, with moderately-priced furniture, potted plants that added a little cheer to the winter atmosphere, freshly-baked bread on the table, and a candle burning at the center of the table. Despite the appearance, the man could 「smell」 something wrong with the room, or rather the people in the room. It was not their physical scent, per say, but rather a sense of reading people's character that the old man has kept ever since his Ogre Street days.

"Ah, Robert, so glad you could come." A bespectacled blond man with a grey suit and a German accent stood up and shook the old man's hand as the waitress left and closed the door behind her. "Dr. Keel Lorenz, a pleasure to meet you at last. I trust that your journey here was a pleasant one?"

"As pleasant as it could be in this weather." Robert replied as he did the best he could to hid his reaction to the unpleasant 「smell」 in the room. "Although you have to forgive an old man for wondering why he has to walk alone in one of the least respectable parts of the city for this meeting."

"Secrecy, my friend." Keel wrapped his right arm around Robert's shoulders as he brought his left index finger to his lips and whispered near Robert's ear. "What we are discussing must not be leaked beyond this circle."

"Very well, then." Robert said as Keel guided him to his seat. "What is this all about?"

"Are you aware of the recent discoveries of the Dead Sea Scrolls?" Keel grinned as another man placed some file folders on the table. "The Speedwagon Foundation's support for the excavation was greatly appreciated."

"Those religious documents?" Robert asked. "They hardly seem that interesting."

"That's what we told the public, yes." Keel kept his grin which made Robert even more nervous. "There are, however, documents that we and the Foundation have kept secret. Documents that pertain to the true origins of life on Earth."

"What are you trying to get at?" Robert asked, hiding the fact that he was already briefed on the discoveries of the Secret Dead Sea Scrolls. "What do these ancient myths have to do with the so-called 'greatest undertaking'?"

"These 'ancient myths' would allow us to finally bring peace to this world!" Keel said loudly as he stood up as he swept his arms to his side. "With your money and the Speedwagon Foundation's talents, we can finally unify humanity within the next twenty years."

"You have to forgive me for my suspicions." Robert said as he noticed Keel's 「smell」becoming even more repulsive. "But how do you plan to accomplish world piece with documents that are a few thousand years old?"

"All in due time, my friend." Keel has he sat back down and crossed his legs while clasping his hands in front of his mouth. "We'll need you to sign a contract before we can give you any details. Do you agree?"

Robert quickly scanned the contract and noticed that the tone of the document was mostly religious in nature, as well as some unusual items. Namely, it was actually a founding charter for an organization named "SEELE" and that Keel Lorenz would be the leader of the group until his death. Another item stated the Speedwagon Foundation would hand over all Dead Sea Scrolls in their custody to SEELE. The third, and most unnerving item was the constant reference to something called "Instrumentality". Although Robert Edward O. Speedwagon is by no means clairvoyant, he could tell that under the facade of world peace, Keel and his group were no better than Dio. From the deepest corners of his heart, he knew that if he were to sign the charter that exuded a sinister aura, he would damn himself and his foundation to a path so dark, Jonathan Joestar would never forgive him. At that moment, he knew what his decision was.

"No. I refuse." Speedwagon stood up and gathered his belongings.

"Robert, wait! Didn't the two Great Wars cause enough suffering in humanity? Don't you see the divide between the East and West would doom us all?" Keel pleaded as he stood up and motioned for the other members of the circle to restrain Speedwagon. "The only way to save humanity is through Instrumentality, but you are walking away from it without even knowing what it is!"

"I don't need to know! I can tell that there is something sinister about this scheme." Speedwagon shook off the arms of two other SEELE members with a strength that did not fit his advanced age. "Do not ever contact me again, and the Speedwagon Foundation shall no longer work with any of you!"

With that, Speedwagon practically leaped out of the front door of the restaurant. He quickly made his way back to his car, where his driver was waiting.

"Didn't expect you back so early, Uncle Speedwagon." Joseph Joestar said as Speedwagon buckled himself into the seat beside the driver's seat. "Party didn't go that well?"

"Just take us to your mother's place, JoJo." Speedwagon said in between deep breaths. "We need to have a serious discussion."

Japan, 2005

"Daddy?" A young boy said as he sobbed, barely keeping his words together and shaking in his chair. "Why? Did I do something bad?"

The man, who had the beginnings of a beard and short messy dark hair, stared ahead, oblivious to the crying boy.

"Daddy, why am I being sent away?" The boy asked, still chocking from sobs and wiping tears. "I'll be a good boy, I promise. I'll do the chores, I'll do my homework every day, and I'll even…"

"No." The father replied.

"Daddy?"

"You are not staying with me." The man said without even turning to face his son. "The decision has already been made. You are being sent to a relative of your mother's."

The boy, heartbroken at his failed attempt to convince his father, went from sobbing to a full-on cry. He wailed and wailed, but his father stood still like a statue, and his face was set at a neutral expression without a hint of change.

"Such a heartless man." A woman whispered to her husband. "Abandoning his son like that, and not even bothering to stop him crying."

"Should we call the police?" A girl in a high school uniform asked her friend. "Do you think this is the abuse the teachers were talking about?"

The man remained impassive and showed no reaction to the crying boy or comments from the nearby people. He let the boy cry and thrash in the chair for the next 10 minutes while he himself sat still like a statue. His reverie was finally interrupted when a younger man wearing a backpack, a vest that showed off his toned midriff and had pens for buttons, as well as what appeared to be a jagged green headband stepped in front of him.

"Hey, pal, you Gendo Ikari?" The newcomer asked, bending forward as he put his hands on his hips and spread his legs slightly more than shoulder-width. "I'm only doing this because one of Tomoko's son's friends kept nagging me about it, so let's get this over with."

"Very well, then." Gendo stood up and shook the man's hand. "Shinji? Take your bags and follow this man to the train. Don't even think about trying to follow me home."

"But, but, but…" Shinji finally managed to choke out those 3 words 2 minutes after his father's instructions. "He seems like a really mean…"

"Just go. I won't be taking care of you from now on." Mr. Ikari said quickly and with an edge in his tone. "Stop wasting this man's time over there and go."

"Listen, buddy! I actually bothered to learn your name, so I expect the same courtesy from you too." The younger man began to raise his voice while pointing at himself with his right thumb. "The great Rohan Kishibe refuses to be treated like a damn nobody!"

Gendo Ikari remained impassive at the younger man's outburst, seemingly oblivious to the crowd that began to gather around them. His mouth began to twitch, and his slowly closed his left hand into a fist and kept it clenched even when his nails dug deep enough into his palm to draw blood.

"What's he doing?"

"Is he going to fight the young man?"

"Holy shit! That's Rohan Kishibe? Do you think I can get an autograph from him after the fight?"

Gendo remained still, seemingly ignoring the crowd around him while staring into the younger mangaka's eyes. Finally, he relaxed his fist and took a deep breath.

"My apologies, Mr. Kishibe. I did not mean to offend you." Gendo said flatly as if he never meant to apologize. "Please take Shinji to his mother's cousin and be on your way."

Before anybody in the crowd could react, Rohan grabbed Shinji by the hand and led him away to the train platform.

"Sorry, I'm not doing autographs today." Rohan said absentmindedly as he half-walked and half-dragged Shinji towards the train platform. "I'm on a personal errand for a friend."

After ten minutes, the train arrived, and the two got themselves settled comfortably in their seats.

For the next half-hour, Shinji did not move or talk, but simply stared outside the window in a daze. Rohan barely noticed the child's lack of movement as he took out a notebook and began sketching. Memories of the confrontation with the senior Ikari from earlier, as well as the sight of Shinji in front of him, all faded away as he filled page after page with sketches for future issues of Pink Dark Boy.

After travelling all over Japan and some parts of Siberia for the past two weeks, Rohan was glad he could go back to Morioh to translate what he saw into fresh panels for his ongoing masterpiece, which did not pause publication even in the dark days immediately following the Second Impact. If anything, Pink Dark Boy took him to new levels of fame as audiences around the world were inspired by the struggles of Rohan's characters and began to see the manga as a message of hope. He was one of the first non-government members to travel internationally after the Second Impact, and the first mangaka to do so to promote his work. Of course, Rohan cared for none of that since he just wanted to draw manga. If people saw some hidden message in his work, that was their problem, not his. As always, Rohan filled page after page with sketches and ideas without a care in the world. Not even a train derailment would stop his…

"Excuse me, sir." A feminine voice pulled the mangaka out of his reverie. Rohan snapped his head up and found himself looking at a woman in her 30s wearing a train attendant's uniform and a cart in front of her.

Wow, lunch time already? Rohan thought as he ordered some food for Shinji and himself as well as giving the attendant an autograph for her son. Sometimes I wish I could trade Heaven's Door for a Stand that could slow down time. I can get more work done that way. A Stand that negates my need for food and sleep could also work.

With some coaxing from the mangaka, who didn't seem so mean anymore, as well as a grumbling belly, Shinji finally began to dig into his meal. After lunch was done, the child found himself drifting into a nap that was anything but peaceful, with him mumbling "mommy" and "daddy" once every few seconds.

Rohan poked Shinji a couple times to ensure that he was indeed sleeping and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then, he took out his pen and quickly drew in the air. "Heaven's Door", he said softly, and a short humanoid form wearing a top hat and a trench coat materialized out of the air and laid its hand on Shinji. The child's flesh split open into countless thin slices and immediately gained the texture of paper while words appeared all over the "pages" that made up Shinji's body.

"All right, kid. Let's have a look." Rohan mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages. "What kind of stuff in your life can I use for my manga?"

Rohan was quickly disappointed. Everything about Shinji's life was unbelievably bland. The child was brought up in a normal home, had parents with respectable careers, and had a normal childhood. From what he could read, both Gendo and Yui Ikari worked for some kind of advanced research laboratory. Hoping to find something that was remotely interesting, Rohan kept going through the pages until he stopped a little bit before the end. Rohan rubbed his eyes and refocused on the page, not believing what he's reading. On one hand, he was horrified as Shinji had to witness his mother literally dissolving inside what the child's memories describe as a "giant metal monster" while other adults desperately tried to save her. On the other hand, Rohan was morbidly fascinated by the memories and already began to plan out how to including this tidbit of information into his work. He was engrossed in reading about the former Yui Higashikata's death for a full hour before moving on to Shinji's memories of a father who grew cold and distant.

"Damn it, Koichi. This favour better be worth it" Rohan said as Heaven's Door turned Shinji's body back to normal. "At least he's not my problem to deal with after we get to Morioh."

A/N: Just an experimental piece I wanted to do. I might continue this later.