This story is a conclusion of the Paradise City roleplay on VS Battles Wiki, found here. If you stumble on this randomly, be warned that you most likely will not understand anything happening unless you have read the threads beforehand. This is also a continuation of the first part of the ending, which can be found here.
T...T
Michael twitched, the hairs on his neck standing upright.
"Something's wrong."
Joe huffed beside him.
"Of course something is wrong: Nicholas just dropped a truck on a man. We're going to have police here in no time."
"Not that," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
His train of thought had to be interrupted however, as Nicholas flew over, landing next to them.
"What the Hell was that?" Joe demanded, annoyed.
"Close and long range attacks clearly weren't working, so I thought about using something that he couldn't dodge," Nicholas explained, a slight smile on his face.
"You know, you could have done that without dropping a damn truck on top of a populated building."
"I didn't," Nicholas said, pointing at the wreck. "I checked it beforehand: it was abandoned."
"Right, of course you did," Michael said, punching his shoulder a bit harder than he ought to.
Nicholas' smile was gone however as he looked at his expression.
"Michael?"
He suddenly found the floor very interesting, before sighing and shaking his head.
"Nothing. It's nothing," he said, seeming to reassure himself as much as he did the others.
"Well if you two are done messing around, we might want to focus again. This isn't over."
Both turned toward the flaming wreck the gas explosion had left the building in.
"The police will probably still be here soon," Joe noted.
"I don't think that's our biggest problem right now," Nicholas said, disbelief showing slightly in his voice. "Look."
In between the burning, falling wrecks of the building, a strange sight remained. A single block of it's roof remained there, seemingly frozen in the air. Chunks of the truck's container and gasoline remained as they were, looking completely uncaring of gravity. Yet, if they squinted, they could see the minuscule signs of flame licking the gasoline, slowly encompassing more of it's area. And the block too seemed to be making a slow descent, milimeters at every moment.
And in the center of it all, standing completely unharmed, was the boss, his Stand right beside him.
"Motherfucker."
The man jumped, propelled by the power of his Stand's legs. With the removal of his temporal slowing field, what should have happened already did: the chunk of the roof fell, while the gasoline exploded in mid-air. But none of them focused on that, instead zeroing in on the man approaching them.
Michael fired his flaming projectiles once more, but they were slowed before being dodged harmlessly.
"Joe, door!" Nicholas barked.
All three fell through one of the purple gateways, onto another building several blocks away, seeing the boss coming down on where they had stood just seconds previously.
"We need a new plan," Nicholas decided. "We can't continue like this. Eventually he'll get in range and we will be done for."
"Can't you launch him into space or something?" Michael said, scratching his head uncomfortably.
"I've never tried it, and I'd have to get into range to do it anyway."
"Can't you just make yourself so fast he won't do anything if he slows you down?" Joe asked.
"I don't think it works like that. My Stand propels itself far faster than gravity, even without it's power. So do Michael's projectiles. Yet all of us and those pieces of the wreckage seemed to be equally slowed down. So either he can add an arbitrary amount of time to how long an action takes, or he can manipulate how much his ability slows things down," Nicholas said, placing one hand on his chin. "Either way, attacking him from up close is impossible. We'd just be caught up in his area of effect, and he would easily dispatch us after that."
"Range doesn't seem to be doing much either," Michael said, eyeing the boss with acute attention in case he spotted them again. "Whatever projectiles get in his area he can just slow down and swat or just ignore."
"We need an attack that he can't dodge, something that he can't break through, that will crush him no matter how much he slows it down," Joe chimed in.
All three were silent from then on, each trying and failing to come up with a plan that could do the job.
Then something hit Nicholas like a bolt of lightning.
"Michael, your Back in Black," he said, pointing at the Stand that was hovering just next to it's user. "You can use it right?"
Michael quirked an eyebrow.
"Yes but only once. And I'm out of the fight once I do. You know that."
"If we can somehow place Shoot to Thrill in range, it should be capable of delivering that attack while not dying immediately. His Stand seems strong, but I doubt it's strong enough to instantly trump a Stand as tough as yours."
"That still doesn't get rid of the problem of him just slowing us down and dodging us though. We need to find a way to make it impossible for him to dodge your super punch," Joe said.
At that, they were silent again.
An attack that can completely block him from escaping, that allows me to insert Shoot to Thrill without caring about him dodging it in any way.
"Wait...I think I got something."
"You do?" Nicholas asked.
"Yup. But get ready: it's going to be more than a little bit ridiculous."
T...T
"If there was any word I could use to describe you three, "cowards" would hardly be one of them, Mister Wright."
Joe's expression was unreadable as he strolled to the roof through one of his doors, but he could clearly tell there was sweat glistening on the old man's forehead.
"I've been looking for you for five minutes now. It's impolite to keep a man waiting you know," the boss said, smiling despite clearly being annoyed.
"Well last time I checked wanting to kill someone wasn't very nice either. You're trying to do that regardless."
The man simply huffed a sigh.
"If you must see it like that."
Joe picked a cigarette pack out of his pocket, lightning it and taking a huff. He took another one out, and flicked it at the boss, who caught and lit it up with his own lighter.
"I haven't smoked in twenty years. My wife used to hate it, bless her soul. But I guess now's as good a moment as any."
"You really must not do that Mister Wright. It's not healthy," the man simply threw the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his boot. "Then again, I suppose that won't matter so-"
"Say, what's your name?" Joe interrupted.
"Hmm, my name?" the man seemed in thought for a moment. "Quite a surprise for you to ask that of all people, Mister Wright. But very well: my name is Henry Hill. And my Stand is called Never There. Now, if you may allow me a question of my own, why would you need to know this?"
"Well, during World War II, my unit used to check the enemy's dog tags. We were called the Corpse Callers," Joe explained. "We'd see each of them and prepare a letter ourselves for whenever the war ended and we'd have to send them back to their families. I memorized every single one of those German bastards, even ones I'd have killed moments before."
Joe took another huff.
"You won't be allowed that favor though."
Henry simply let out a low, dangerous chuckle.
"Ominous, Mister Wright. Positively bone-chilling, but right now, I'm not seeing my reckoning: I'm just seeing a tired old man rambling about old stories."
"Then maybe you should look harder," Joe said, spitting the cigarette out his mouth, the message unreadable to his enemy, but received by those who could tell.
Immediately, the floor shifted around Henry, creating the contours of a circle in thick walls that extended just beyond his Stand's range vertically. Above, a massive block of stone that fit roughly in the contours descended. But it was also different, lined with the purple doors of Joe's Stand on the entirety of the surface facing him.
And as Henry gazed around, he saw the entire floor lined with the doors as well, along with the walls. That must have been terribly taxing on the old man. He tested one of the doors, punching it with the full force of his Stand. As expected, it did nothing. So they thought him trapped.
The massive boulder they'd sprung up had totally sealed off the outside now, coming into his area of effect. And just as he was commending the already clever plan, one of the doors sprung open. Shoot to Thrill emerged, but not as he had seen it before. It was encompassed in a black aura that coated it's entire body, the place where it's mouth would be hanging loose like a puppet's opening. It's fist was pure blackness, not so much dark as actively sucking all the light around it into an abyss.
He figured he probably didn't want to be hit by that. He opted to open one of the doors as he set the Stand to take an extra 30 seconds. As he opened and closed one however, he found himself right in front of Shoot to Thrill again. So all the doors lead to the same place, right in front of death. And the Stand in front of him seemed to be blocking the only exit.
So he'd have to face the Stand he couldn't touch, or get slowly crushed by the walls he couldn't do anything against. Clever.
Very clever.
T...T
Joe couldn't remember the last time he was in this much pain. Gallstones has nothing on this, and his body evidently agreed, as every orifice in his face was bleeding.
"C'mon old man, keep it together!" Michael yelled, as he had Shoot to Thrill barrel towards newly generated door in front of him. "BACK IN BLACK!"
It was surreal to see his Stand slow down right as it entered through the door. If he squinted, he could just about make out the boss and his Stand inside of the inescapable prison.
And then just like that, his view was obstructed by a falling piece of the boulder. Falling too fast.
He could feel something being utterly obliterated by his power as the rest of the boulder resumed falling, but it certainly wasn't the boss.
"Shit, old man, we gotta go, the plan is bust-" he felt the tremor underneath his feet.
Immediately, Shoot to Thrill was recalled only for it to be slowed down immensely. He never even saw the boss emerging from underneath the unfinished apartment complex.
"Very sorry for the inconvenience, Mister Prince."
And with that he was punched, several times. The action was not carried in slow-motion this time.
Nicholas launched himself to remove Joe from the boss' range. Michael had simply gone flying, and from that hit there looked to be little he could do for him.
He rushed in, grabbed the old man, then flew to yet another building, but this time, the boss was actively chasing him, clearly growing tired with playing around.
He sat the old man down just as he sent a massive chunk of the building flying toward the boss with his powers. That should at the very least slow him down somewhat.
"Hnnnnn..."
His attention was suddenly brought back to his compatriot, who was clutching his chest tightly.
"Joe, are you oka-"
The old man keeled over, and Nicholas rushed to catch him before he could hit the floor.
He turned him over to look at his face. His eyes were glazed, looking at something beyond him, up in the sky.
"Joe, stay with me here," Nicholas said. He saw the man clutching his chest, so naturally he phased his Stand through his body, clutching his heart lightly, finding it indeed to be still. He tried pumping the blood for him, lightly squeezing the heart as much as he could. But he was no heart surgeon, and this was not an operation. His heart never started again.
He laid Joe down, watching as the light quickly fled from his eyes. He whispered something Nicholas couldn't hear properly, but it sounded vaguely like a name. And just like that, he was no more.
Nicholas spared a moment of mourning for him, before closing his eyes gracefully.
"You won't be forgotten. I promise."
"Quite a shame really," Nicholas spun around instantaneously, Don't Stop Me Now materializing behind him. He knew he still had a fighting chance, as if he had been in the boss' area of effect, he would already be dead. "A cardiac arrest I presume? I've seen it happen before, even with quite young Stand users. Some abilities can be taxing to a point where the human body simply cannot cope. It is fortunate then that we are restricted by no such inhibitions, yes?"
He had that same smile plastered on his face, and he barely looked any worse for wear, his clothes merely dusty.
"Ah yes, forgive me: that attack was perfectly executed. Unfortunately, you failed to take into account my ability to selectively choose what is slowed down. I admit, that boulder would have crushed me had it not been for me choosing a piece of it to fall normally while the rest was still under my power," Henry simply smiled brighter. "My Stand is not exactly the strongest physically, but that hardly matters now does it?"
"I won't forget again," Nicholas spat, raising himself to his feet. "I've never wanted to kill anyone truly. But for a rotten, twisted fuck like you I can make an exception."
"Oh, getting a bit angry are we, Mister White? I would expect such banter from Mister Prince," he let out a false sigh of melancholy. "A damn shame too: it would've been entertaining to have him here, cheering you on during your heroic final effort, doing me mortal blows by the power of his crude words. Alas, it's too bad he's joined Mister Wright currently, wherever they are."
Nicholas lost it.
Nicholas launched himself from building, lifting Joe's body in the meanwhile. He set it down on a neighboring one, before returning to it, going down four stories or so and punching it. Everything above that flew right off, a good percentage of the building simply suspended in air, before Nicholas moved underneath it and had Don't Stop Me Now lift it higher, faster, stronger.
He would launch the bastard into space and be done with it.
Of course, he him saw jump off. So he decided to test a theory on his Stand's abilities.
"ATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!" the Stand cried as it sent thousands of punches through the building, splitting it into hundreds of thousands of smaller pieces. Having touched all of them, each directed itself towards the falling Stand user.
Joe Wright has died.
T...T
He could barely feel his legs. He could barely feel his anything. He vaguely noted the sensation of something warm dripping slowly down his body, but paid it no real mind. He just wanted to go to sleep. And when he woke up, he'd have his mom whip him up a nice cup of coffee.
Actually no, scratch that, he thought. That's just nasty; I'll get orange juice.
Yes, orange juice would definitely be nice. But later. He needed to sleep now.
He would've too, if it weren't for the light suddenly shining down on him. The first rays of the Sun sweeping forth from the horizon, feeling strangely warmer than usual.
The Hell? It's not supposed to be up so soon. What is it like, four in the morning?
He gently opened his eyes to see that yes, the Sun was indeed rising, just barely poking out of the cover of darkness. In the distance he also saw several shining objects falling at incredible speeds.
Huh, meteor shower. Don't see that every night.
Why did the meteors look so close though?
For that matter, why did he still feel so stiff? He could still barely move his body, and what bits he could feel were terrifically uncomfortable. He remembered his bed not exactly being the pinnacle of comfort but he certainly didn't remember it feeling like jagged metal.
Oh.
Water tower. Bent. Broken. Leakage stopped, so that didn't explain the liquid running down his body. He licked his lips, only to feel something irony on them.
Blood. Right.
"...Fuck..."
With the memories, the pain started coming back as well. And it was everywhere. Every square inch of him that had never bundles was firing like hot lead into his brain. That is, aside from anything lower than his abdomen. He couldn't even move them the slightest bit. He could only guess something had happened to his spine.
And he was tired. So very tired. This wasn't his room, this hasn't his home, it was a goddamn motherfucking water tower in the middle of fucking Chicago he'd been thrown in by a fucking mob boss and his crazy powerful fucking Stand.
The darkness was just so inviting. The Sun was out, but that didn't matter one bit to him. He needed rest, reprieve, something to end the pain. A morphine injection would've been nice, but of course he didn't have that right now.
I wonder if anyone has a Stand that just dispenses an infinite supply of drugs, he smiled in pained hysteria at that. That sounds like my kind of Stand. I'd trade mine for that in an instant. But I'd trade even more for a bit of sleep. Yeah, sleep, that sounds nice. I should do that.
He felt his drowsiness overcome him bit by bit, as the world began falling back into darkness...
+Michael+
And just like that it was gone. He snapped his eyes open, the voice chilling him to his bone. He looked around the city, seeing the streets, the cars, the early commuters, all the way up to the high-rise buildings. He saw the sky, beautiful mix of oranges and blues as the morning Sun ascended from it's hidey-hole. And he saw the clouds, puffy and expansive, colored golden by the sunrise.
Yet, a moment later, they were not clouds. They were shapes. Then those shapes turned to bodies, before finally turning to proper humans. All ones he knew.
+You can't give up yet Michael. There are still people counting on you+
"M-m-ma...Mame?"
+The fact that you made it this far is amazing, but now you need to get that final push+
"Ot-t-Otto?"
+Michael+
That voice snapped his attention even more. They were no longer clouds in the sky, ill-defined and massive, but people, right in front of him, raising their fists in front of their faces.
+Win+ Joe finished.
He blinked, and there was nothing.
"W-what the fuck?!" he said, panic in his voice. Was he going mad? Was the pain getting to him in a way he couldn't tell? Had that fucking mobster done something to him?
No.
That voice in his mind firmly shut everything else up. This wasn't a dream. Going back to dreaming meant death. Wanting to sleep meant death, and not just to him. He had to grit through the pain. He had to help, somehow.
He groaned in his spot. He willed Shoot to Thrill to come forth. One second, two seconds, three...
Had that hit hurt him worse than he could imagine?
He entertained that lovely thought for a while, until the Stand at last popped out.
Nope, just being a prick, as usual.
"Hey buddy."
"Ara."
"Yeah, that wasn't too nice on you was it? Then again, I'm not exactly in mint condition either."
"Ara."
"Get out of here with that macho bullshit and just have us move."
The Stand grunted, but did as it was commanded, moving Michael from the crater he'd created carefully, which still sent millions of sharp hooks of pain coursing through him.
Except his legs. Again.
"I've really gone and fucked myself this time, haven't I?" Michael said.
The Stand simply nodded as it helped Michael support his full weight on it. Despite everything, he let out a hoarse laugh, before coughing back blood.
"Well...I'm...I'm out of ideas buddy. Nicholas and Joe are out there fighting that dude on their own, and I'm just here, completely worthless."
"Ara."
"Just face it man, we screwed up."
"Ara."
"Something else? What else could we possibly do to this guy? We tried everything, all our possible moves in one combination. That was THE trump card. We don't have anymore."
As if on queue, a cat appeared on the rooftop he'd landed on. But...no, that was just any cat. That was...
"You have got to be kidding me," Michael scoffed. "Really, universe? Really? I ask for a miracle and you give me...that?"
Shoot to Thrill flicked him, an action which hurt a lot more than it should've of, and pointed at the cat's head. Now that he was looking at it more carefully...
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, looking at the little weapon in the cat's mouth. "Good kitty! Good kitty! Please give!"
The cat looked positively fuming, but whatever it had in mind it ignored as it did indeed throw the object at Michael. He almost couldn't believe his eyes.
"But how? Nick had this on him the whole time. How is it here?"
They stood in silence for a time, until Shoot to Thrill pointed at the destruction they'd caused. The cat released a single long pitch meow, as if to emphasize the point.
"You think he might've dropped it during the fighting?"
The Stand nodded. Michael stared at the damaged buildings, before staring back at the cat that had known exactly what to search for and exactly where to search for it.
"You've earned yourself so many treats, you know that?"
The cat stared at him intently, as if daring him to not keep that promise.
"I'm too hurt to use it. However strong this might make you buddy, we're not operating at 100%. It's useless on us," the Stand seemed to accept the sound reasoning, though begrudgingly so. "We need to give it to either Nicholas or-"
As if one cue, a series of explosions littered the airspace near them.
"Shit, Nick..." he turned to the cat. "Hey listen, good job and all, I'm really grateful but can you please do one more thing for me?"
The cat looked annoyed, but bobbed it's head curiously regardless.
T...T
I AM NOT DYING HERE.
Another close call, another piece of rubble launched at ridiculous speeds, another dodging motion, effortless in stride.
AND YOU ARE NOT LIVING THROUGH THIS.
He was tiring. Anything he threw at the man he just kept stopping. Nothing could penetrate his area of effect. Similarly, no matter how he moved, how much he tried to catch up, Nicholas had figured out his range, and he kept out of it.
But it wasn't hard to tell who was expending more energy. Nicholas had to constantly be on the offensive while staying out of his range, while Henry simply had to effortlessly dodge everything that came his way and keep him in his sights. It was frustrating, it was exhausting, and it was getting to him.
"You're at your wit's end, Mister White. You've exhausted all your options," he taunted. "You're just dragging this out now."
Nicholas was just about ready to try launching an entire skyscraper at his smug face, before something caught in his ears. A voice, familiar, saying something in the distance. He turned his head left to right, looking for source. When he finally found it, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Flying through the air was Shoot to Thrill, and in tow, a very banged up but very much alive Michael yelling something. As they got closer, he began to pick up what they were on about.
"-ICK! NICK! THE ARROW! THE ARROW! THE A-"
He cut it off subconsciously then. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have just lost it?
He could see it now, shining brightly in Michael's hand, reflecting the morning Sun rays. But the boss saw it as well.
Michael threw it with all the force he could muster. Nicholas propelled himself faster than he ever had before, but the boss was far closer, somehow. It was going to be close.
Faster, faster, faster, faster.
Close, so close.
And then everything ceased. His fingertips just milimeters from his prize.
"Got you," a voice said, in-between pants.
Hank loomed over him, his Stand just behind him, poised to strike.
"That was quite the scare, Mister White. You and your friend almost me made me genuinely worry there. However, as you can see," Henry said, panting, genuine relief in his eyes, as the Stand placed it's hand right over Nicholas' neck. "This was always going to happen. This is destiny. As simple as that."
"Then we reject it," a voice rang out, less human lexicon and more industrial machinery converted into tangible words.
Just then did Henry noticed that the arrow was no longer entirely sunk into the floor. It was hovering slightly above it, a layer of blood now covering it. And from there, a finger appeared. And from there, the entire Stand.
Yet it wasn't the same. Just as the Arrow fell from it's pierced finger, it was shifting, changing. Metallic muscle fell away, unnatural skin dissolving as the Stand entirely shed it's previous shell. Bulging in certain spots, shrinking in others, the Stand's metamorphosis was finished before Hank even had time to be terrified.
It's triangle eyes were replaced with an eerily life-like mix of feline and reptile. It's mask covered it's entire face now, the eyes being the only thing shining through the sapphire-like protrusion. It's metallic sheen had dulled, but the brightness of it's color had been turned up. It's body was overall bigger, but far more slender, almost super-model thin, it's armor plates more like thickened skin flaps of metal now, having taken on a cobalt blue hue. The arrows in it's arms and legs spread like trees, one center branch dividing into many more, ending at where it's boots and gauntlets began.
And at last, on it's chest stood a black circle diving into eight arrows, a white lightning bolt in the middle.
"It doesn't matter anymore: what you say or do, we can simply remove. Your power, your influence, your existence, even your Stand ability: they are all useless. Like the countless people you've completely unmade by abusing your authority, you now face someone that can unmake everything you know: from the smallest bacteria to the world you stand upon."
The Stand pointed to the sky as Nicholas was freed from his temporary slow-motion. Henry looked absolutely livid and terrified at the same time.
"N-no, NO, NONO, this can-can't be happening. NO ONE, NO ONE, HAS EVER ACHIEVED THIS! YOU CAN'T...YOU CAN'T BE REAL!"
"What you believe is irrelevant. Whatever fact or concept we do not like, we can push away: this is propulsion at it's logical peak," the Stand then pointed to itself.
"This...is Requiem."
And at last, the inevitable. The Stand simply pointed it's finger toward Hank.
"And you...are dust."
"I REFUSE!" Henry roared, Never There attacking the strange Stand.
The milisecond before the fist impacted, Henry was quite literally reduced to atomic gas, his very elemental substances pulled apart by the seams as minuscule propelling forces tugged on every single particle. The man barely had time to scream before he was not so much destroyed as unmade entirely.
Nicholas stood there dumbfounded, mouth agape, as he saw his Stand move, talk and kill of it's own accord. He still didn't react as the Stand retrieved the arrow, the instrument flying into it's hand, and floated over to him.
"This is your responsibility now. But if you ever need me again, you know what to do."
Nicholas shook off his daze as he stared at his...the Stand.
"What are you?"
"That's for you to discover isn't it? But simply put, without getting into the specifics, I am exactly what you needed, in these circumstances," the Stand lifted the arrow so it was level with their gazes. "Had you been in dire need of something entirely different? I would've accommodated. But as for now, this is it."
"I am what I am: I am your Stand, yet something more. A temporary being, yet in my own way, immortal," it then handed the Arrow back to Nicholas. "But, our time here is almost at an end. I would like to discuss this more with you, Nicholas, but you must understand, the arrow must never again be called unless you are found in as dire a circumstance as you were today."
Nicholas simply stared at the arrow, then at the Stand, still processing the information.
"I...see. In any case...thank you," he said genuinely.
"There are others more deserving of the thanks, but you are welcome," immediately, the Stand began smoking, it's internal structure bulging and changing, before it's skin melted off.
Nicholas observed his Stand for a while, trying to move it and seeing if there was any resistance, any leftover thoughts, anything...well anything like he'd observed in Michael. He saw nothing. Well, that would certainly be one for the history books.
That could wait however, as he remembered what had happened to Michael. He flew over and around the rough area where he estimated he must've landed, and found him near a parking lot, inside of a small crater.
"Hey."
"Yooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
He looked...happy, despite obviously being in terrible pain.
"Did you beat that dicknozzle good?"
"You...could say that."
"Cool, did the Stand Arrow work?"
"Yes, and it was terrifyingly effective in fact."
"What it'd do exactly?"
Nicholas frowned in thought at that.
"I'm still figuring that out."
Michael stared for a moment, before nodding.
"Gonna help me up?"
Nicholas moved, and with a grunt allowed Michael to place his full weight on him.
"Old man?" his voice was expectant.
"Heart attack. Too much exertion. I...couldn't save him," his voice was heavy.
A pat on the back was meant to reassure him, but Nicholas could tell Michael was shaken himself.
"Hey, you did the best you could man."
Nicholas nodded.
Before they flew off however, one more member joined their party.
"Cat! Oh my God you beautiful bastard!" Michael said, urging Nicholas toward the small feline as he approached.
Despite feeling like his arms had been tugged by trucks on each-side, Michael picked the cat up, who was understandably not pleased with the development.
"I swear I'm going to feed you until you pop. Seriously, for the rest of your life, anything you want, anything at all!"
"I thought you didn't like him."
"That's before he found the Stand Arrow that saved both our asses."
Nicholas quirked an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Yup, we owe this little guy our life," Michael scrunched his face in thought. "He needs a name though. I think I'll go with...Tor."
Nicholas shrugged while the cat simply huffed, annoyed but oddly non-responsive beyond that.
T...T
Retrieving Joe's body had been a solemn affair. They'd cleaned him up as much as they could.
The city below was lightning up with the first signs of life, as hundreds of people got up for work and noticed the devastation. The police and fire department had apparently been at work for hours, but neither had sounded an alarm to the general populace. Nicholas wondered how they were going to cover this up, or why they were even covering this up.
Things did not get better when they reached the RV. They found it in shambles, the two halves split by several tens of meters and a few streets. No sign could be found of their friends, until...
"Hey!"
Stephanie's appearance was enough to throw them out of the loop, but it was nothing compared to what was waiting for them inside of an underground parking lot she'd taken refuge in.
"OTTO!"
"Michael he's-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Michael snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. "AND YOU!"
He pointed at Nicholas, fury practically choking every word. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face could only be described as beat-red.
"YOU ACCEPTED HIM INTO OUR GROUP! YOU DID THIS! ALL OF THIS IS ON YOUR HEAD!"
"I didn't-"
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU PIECE OF-" he abruptly cut himself off, staring at the floor. A horrible sound escaped from his lips, like a sob and choking mixed together.
Before he could say anything, Stephanie gave Nicholas a light tug.
"Just...leave him. He needs time to mourn," at that, her eyes darted to the floor as well. "All of us do."
Nicholas swallowed and nodded, remaining silent until he was reminded of something.
"Jessica?"
Stephanie eyes briefly lit up and she motioned for Nicholas to follow her as they separated.
They turned a corner to see a sorry sight. The poor girl was in absolute shambles. She was curled up while sitting, dried blood on her clothes, tear marks still left on her cheeks, clear imprints as they had mixed with the bodily fluid, and a thousand yard stare that chilled even him to the bone.
"She's not hurt at all, miraculously. But that's only physically. Mentally on the other hand..."
"Did you skim her thoughts?"
Stephanie shook her head.
"I...I don't want to know what's going on inside of there. And I have enough problems of my own right now."
Stephanie sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I just keep...keep thinking over and over about what Mame said about vampires and I just-"
"Stop right there," Nicholas said, pointing at her cheek. "Do you feel that?"
A single tear was flowing down her cheek.
"If you can still do that," Nicholas said, entirely resolute. "Then you are human. There's no doubt."
Stephanie seemed speechless for a while, mouth opening but no words coming out.
"I...thank you."
A few minutes were spent in uncomfortable silence.
"Hey uh, I know it's not really your thing and all, but...could I maybe get a hug? I really need it right about now," Stephanie put on her best sheepish smile.
Nicholas spent a few seconds in thought before sighing.
"I think...we all do. After this."
So they did, Nicholas sitting down cross-legged, allowing her onto his lap as they embraced. The next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence instead.
That is until spotlights shone on them from every direction.
Nicholas drew out his Stand, Stephanie mostly stood there, unimpressed. Michael snarled like a wild animal, but did not leave Otto's side. Jessica didn't even flinch.
Tens of men surrounded them, but strangely enough none of them seemed armed. They all wore light blue uniforms and blue hats, but none of them looked like cops. Moreover, their hats were all emblazoned with "Speedwagon Foundation" in gold.
And then from their ranks a man looking to be in his 60s to 70s, but still looking great for his age, emerged. Drawing close, he didn't seem to have any hostile intentions. But something at the very least...felt different about him.
"To whom do we owe the pleasure?" Nicholas decided to break the ice.
The man smiled as he stepped forth, extending his hand, which looked strangely jittery.
"My name is Joseph Joestar."
Two months later
"Ah," Nicholas said, blinking dumbly. "So, you've found me."
The fact that he was currently in a bath robe, holding a cup of coffee and a book about gravity certainly didn't help the awkwardness.
"Well hello to you too," Stephanie chuckled, throwing away the heavy robe she'd used to cover herself with from the daylight, revealing a stylish Goth outfit.
Nicholas quirked an eyebrow at that.
"It helps me blend in at night. Besides, it looks cute," she said, annoyed. "By the way, thanks for the warm welcome. You're not exactly easy to find you know."
"Ah, sorry. I don't have many visitors. And all of them are business-related."
He cleared his throat as he motioned for her to sit on one of the couches.
The living room area had several walls separating it from the lab and library, but it may as well not. Nicholas seemed to leave things from all three rooms randomly dispersed, with little thought given to how they were supposed to be placed. But besides that, it was very dull. Things were clearly meant to be functional over all else.
Thankfully she didn't have to stand the drab decor for too long as he came back with clothes on and a second cup of coffee that she accepted.
"So...you've been gone for some time now," he said, sipping softly on his own drink. "Why is that?"
She let out a sigh, setting the cup down on a table. Yeah, drinks just wouldn't do.
"I've just...been around. Doing some soul-searching. You know, the usual after being turned into a bloodthirsty undead abomination. I couldn't stay here. But I couldn't go back home either."
"I see," he nodded. "How is that going then?"
"I'm still not quite there, but I'm getting good at the routine at least. You know, drinking blood off cattle without causing them to go all nutty and crave flesh, avoiding the Sun, making sure I don't get too close to anyone for their own good..."
She looked sad for a few seconds, before her expression returned to a more neutral one. Nicholas thought about saying something comforting, but nothing came out of his mouth.
"What about you?"
"Much of the same as before meeting you guys, actually," Nicholas grabs one of the nearby lengthy notebooks. "This is my latest revised notebook: it contains every bit of information about our Stands and every Stand we encountered throughout our journey I could recall, as well as every theory and suggestion on how their mechanics work on that I could come up with. I am however, still working on it."
"That's nice," her lips twitched upwards somewhat. "You wouldn't have happened to come up with a cure for vampirism there?"
Nicholas scratched his neck nervously.
"Sorry, not my area of expertise."
"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "What about the others?"
At that Nicholas hesitated a bit.
"Well, the Speedwagon Foundation told Otto's family that he had been an undercover agent who fell in duty during the destruction of a major-scale drug operation."
"Not far off," Stephanie sighed. "Mame? Joe?"
"Mame was returned to her training temple in the Tibetan mountains, where she was given a proper burial. Joe didn't have any close family to notify, so Michael took it upon himself to bury him," Nicholas' lips twitched upwards somewhat. "It was just me, Michael and the necessary people, but it was a nice ceremony."
"He did always like the old man for some reason."
"Secretly, I think we all did."
Stephanie snorted at that, but didn't argue further.
"Michael is under official employ of the Speedwagon Foundation now, directly under supervision by Mister Joestar. I'm not updated on much of his work nowadays, the feds and the Foundation have their own separate investigatove divisions that rarely communicate," he took another sip of coffee. "I do know that he's adopted Tor to keep an eye on him though. And he's fixed the RV, somehow, despite still recovering from what happened to him even now."
"Couldn't Jess have just fixed him up?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple. She's still undergoing intensive therapy..."
They both stood silent for a bit after that.
"And how is she?" Stephanie asked, tone blank.
"She's getting better. Mister Joestar assured us that he had the best people in the world looking after her. She's still a far cry from what she was when we just started this, but she is improving. I've seen it myself. Lately, they've suggested sending her back out on a field trip to get her used to extended travels again."
"And you and Michael?"
It was barely there, but she could see Nicholas recoil just the slightest bit.
"We've gotten over most of it, but there's still this unspoken tension every time. It's...uncomfortable."
"Well I've heard what he thinks of the Zack thing. What about you?"
Nicholas frowned, looking at an undisclosed point in the distance.
"I did what I thought was logical at the time. I didn't want another body unnecessarily added to the pile. I saw a powerful ally we could use. Clearly I was wrong, but with the information presented, I felt like I had no other choice."
"The smart answer. Glad to see you're still the same," she smiled, but it wasn't particularly happy.
They spent a few minutes just standing still, finishing their drinks and thinking. Stephanie once again broke the silence.
"So you said Michael fixed the RV and Jessica needs a field trip right?" she grinned, sharp fangs shining through. "What if we just have a reunion?"
"That seems highly implausible given all of our schedules."
"You mean your schedules: you gotta learn how to relax more Nick. Besides, it'll be fun!"
He tried to raise a point of contention, but there was just no arguing with that infectious smile.
"Very well. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if I did break routine once in a while, especially to help a friend."
"Yes!"
T...T
"Uh, hey Otto."
A brief gust of wind rustled through the grass.
"Slow day today, eh?"
He kicked over a small pebble.
"Yeah, I thought you might be bored out of your mind too. So, uh, listen right? I didn't bring flowers or anything, but I know you never liked those anyway, so, we cool?"
Silence. It was not disagreement.
"Cool."
Michael sighed as he looked at the sunset on the beautiful hilltop. He hadn't visited the old man in a while. That should probably be his next visit tomorrow. Otto couldn't have all the days to himself.
He was content with staying and gazing a bit longer until his phone rang.
"Speedwagon Foundation, Michael Prince speaking," his eyes widened a bit when he realized who was on the other end. After a short but plentiful conversation, Michael could only smile brightly as he answered.
"I'd love to."
He gazed at the headstone one more time, before pocketing the mobile and turning around, going back to his wheelchair. Slow and steady, the doctor had told him. The doctor could bite his ass, but he did get tired after a while.
He took something else out as he put his phone back. The smile on his lips only grew wider as he looked upon the photo of them all, misfits as they were, on a banged-up RV going to fuck knows where with no fear.
T...T
END