Looking down the dark, lonely road, Josephine let out a sigh of relief. The street lights weren’t bright, but her path was lit by the neon signs on the side of the plaza. She stuffed the paper into her small backpack, continuing her journey with a skip in her step. The night was scary, but with her favorite white dress and her blue, baseball cap of courage, nothing could stop her!

Not too far ahead, she came across a woman in her late twenties. She leaned against an overfilled trash can dragging a cigarette. Perfect! An NPC ready to aid her in her quest! Without a second thought, she ran over. The smoke was a bit stronger than she thought it’d be, but between coughs, she was able to blurt out her question.

“Good evening, Lady of the Night,” She began, with a small curtsy. “Would you perhaps be able to direct me to the Interstate Motel Goth...Goo?” She paused for only a moment. “Anyway, do you know which one of these buildings it is?” She asked, gesturing broadly to the plaza they were at.

The woman turned to the brat, narrowing her eyes. She had half a mind to tell the pipsqueak to screw off, but who could say no to that big ol’ smile and her doe eyes? She had a soft spot. So, what?

“It’s the building behind me, kid. But you better hurry up and get in ya parent's room, it ain’t safe out here. There are freaks everywhere.”

“I’ll have you know,” JoJo proudly exclaimed. “I’m not scared of freaks… because I AM a freak!”

She spun around on her toes, cupped her hands around her mouth, and let out a ferocious ROAR. Asserting her dominance, she pranced up the stairs. Back to her quest!

Pulling out the red, stained paper, she read it aloud in a focused voice. “Let’s see…looking for….2-0-0-2.” She spoke each number individually, following the numbers on the doors until she finally found the room. She was smart enough to find it quickly on the second floor because the number started with a 2! But there was no time for praise — it was game time. She was at the lair of her first big bad and she needed to be quiet. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard sounds of laughter, like those in her mom’s shows. Do you know what this means? He was watching good TV.

Her bright blue flare began to stretch, coming together underneath her baseball cap were tendrils, four on each side of her head. They had formed from her silk-like hair.

“Three…two…” She counted quietly, preparing herself, as a tendril slowly twisted the doorknob. When she finally mustered the courage, she whispered. “One!”

The lock SNAPPED as the door swung open. The city’s night lights filled the darkroom, which had only been lit by the TV, who finally had some friends. They worked together, revealing a figure on the bed. Her tendrils shot like a cannon towards him, as she jumped into the room. He screamed as they constricted his arms, a fifth tendril wrapping around his mouth, muffling his grievances.

“Aha! Found you! …Uncle John?”

The sentence left her mouth with confusion. The man she interrogated back home, who had been working with the supposed bad guy, said this was where the man who killed her mother would be. So, why was he here? She was going to ask him, until she noticed her mother’s coat, hanging on the rack near the bed. It was her favorite.

Pressing him further into the wall, she approached the coat and dug inside its pockets. She found all of her mom’s precious jewelry and a purse stuffed with money. She turned back to him, as he attempted to wiggle free.

“I’m sorry, Uncle John, but I’m going to have to take you to the police.” She spoke with a hint of sadness. She didn’t have any other choice. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime!”

Before she could walk away, he was able to free his mouth, gasping for air. He spoke, sounding akin to a confused priest. “Josephine! Thank goodness! It turns out, your mom was working with the bad guy all along. I had to stop her to save you! I’m so glad you’re safe, that money you found was a reward from the quest. I was looking for you. It's yours!”

Her eyes shifted between the purse and Uncle John. “I would totally believe you… if it wasn’t for this!” She pulled off her backpack and from it, drew a crooked, cursed object. A streak of red splattered onto the red and dotted the wall. John’s eyes widened and bile rose in his throat, as he spat it onto the carpet. She proudly held the hand in the air, the hand of the man who had ratted Uncle John out.

“Jesus Christ!” Gone was the pretense of calm and playing along with this child’s games. “Josephine, you ripped my brother’s hand off? Where the fuck is he? What did you do to him?!” He roared at the child and she was taken aback, frightened by the rage. The tendrils tightened around him.

“Say all you want Uncle John! But after asking nicely, he wrote down where’d you be. He even told me the lie you were gonna use to trick me. But it doesn’t matter now, I’m going to take you both to jail. Then once I get my reward, I’ll use the potion to bring my mom back to life!” She waved the hand wildly above her head, droplets painting her dress.

Her uncle stared in disbelief, his face glowing red, as his hatred for the girl swelled within him.

“You stupid fucking . I’m not your uncle, your mother was my bitch. She isn’t coming back to life! My brother, who you left to die in that shit hole of an apartment, isn’t coming back to life! Life isn’t a fucking game, there are no do-overs. Once you die, it’s over! That’s it! They’re corp—”

His tirade came to a screeching halt when the tendrils that bound him smashed him against the wall. His head was rattled and his body had broken the drywall behind him. Barely conscious, looked down at Josephine, who was shaken.

“So you’re saying momma is never coming back..? ” Her words were coarse, tears welling in her eyes. She shook his body like a rag doll, slamming him against the wall again, as her world started to crack. “You took her from me!”

“Josephine, darling!” He begged. “Please, it’ll work out! If you let me go…we can leave this place…everything will—“

Interrupted. Again.

She turned her back to him, her hat falling off. She sported a tonsure style of hair, there was a ring of hair around her head. As he stared into her bald spot, it was horrifying. The skin started to crack and fall and pure white gleamed as if he was staring into the girl’s skull. The metamorphosis continued, as a continued line etched, complemented with fangs and molars. A tongue stretched out of the new mouth as eyeballs popped into existence on the white canvas. Splotches of red surrounded the eyes and more bore itself on the face as the rest cracked into place.

John blinked, speechless, unable to comprehend what was happening. He thought her quirk was just her hair? What the hell was going on?

The tendrils dragged him over. He was broken, bloodied, and beaten. He starred in a trance and despite every atom in his body too, he couldn’t look away. “Who… are you?” He finally asked.

“Justice.”

The lone word was the last he ever heard. He was slammed into the bed and the newcomer pounced. The tendrils wrapped around his mouth again, silencing him. Josephine’s second mouth tore into the stomach and started biting, ripping through the fabric of his clothes. His screams were muffled and desperate. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. He struggled and clawed but to no avail. Before Josephine knew it, he had gone limp. He wasn’t dead, yet. He just wasn’t resisting.

Lifting herself off, entrails hung from the second mouth. She spat it out as chunks of meat decorated her hair. As he took one last look at himself, he could see the inside of his stomach, his insides leaking out. The blood overtook the bed and he laid his head back and closed his eyes, letting out one last word. “JoJo…”

Josephine’s second face picked up the baseball cap of courage, her first would need this.

As she blinked twice, everything was different? The lights were on and the room was… empty. The walls and bed were broken, but her stained dress was spotless. On top of the TV screen was a taped note. She opened it and read to herself.

“JoJo you’re right. You got tired and fell asleep, but I went to turn myself into the cops. You’re a hero.”

As she looked around she picked up her mom’s purse and checked it, ensuring there wasn’t a single drop of blood on iit. “Whew! Close one.” She spoke with a sigh of relief, walking away from the broken apartment. As she walked outside, the Sun lit up the busy plaza. Passing through the crowd, she didn’t have a chance to notice the overstuffed trash can that was leaking a red, crimson fluid.

“Another flawless victory for JoJo!”

A new hero was born.