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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Grappa arrives at the sale and attempts to retrieve the Arrow...
Word Count: 1192
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
The whispered name of Passione is, luckily, good enough to open doors that would otherwise be closed, a proof of the power of the gang. She takes her seat almost noiselessly in the back of the charnel house, watching the rather pale attendant go to speak to the auctioneer. Despite this, certain of the patrons turn to glare at her. Grappa Calabrese is not a woman easily cowed. If others want to pick a fight, let them; she’ll play them a pretty dirge. But even she’s a little intimidated by some of these newcomers.
There’s a blue one with horns like a demon striding straight out of the pages of the Inferno to cram itself, somewhat incongruously, in one of the folding chairs, another she recognizes as a vampire from recent encounters with its kind, and other, less recognizable things. Some appear human, but the way that Backstreet Boy prowls nervously in her mind, none of them are anything like those lesser thugs, all too human and all too easy, that she’d dealt with before. They’d sprung out of the woodwork suddenly, but so many of them acted like they’d been out in what passed for the open in supernatural communities for centuries, and hidden for much, much longer.
The Boss himself had gotten involved, and rumors of a Requiem Stand passed like wildfire through the Passione. Certainly he, Una, and Mista had been kept busy by these, especially by a group of killers who’d set up a base on an island nearby, thinking that they could act without repercussion.
The auctioneer, almost human if not for the slight orange tint to his skin, strokes the beard, glaring as well, ignoring the strange jar with glowing gas trembling on the block in front of him until the attendant whispers in his ear. Suddenly, he’s all smiles, whisking a rose into sight from somewhere and gesturing for her to come up to the front. “Please, everyone, we’ll continue the auction for the captured Essence of Agony in a minute. We’re all forgetting our manners. This is one of the Clan Passion, who extend us their gracious hospitality in allowing us to conduct our business here. I hope everyone will apologize, and that the Miss will forgive us our suspicion.”
Far be it for Grappa to shrink from a challenge. And a good thing, too, that she’d slipped on the leather gloves, in case of duplicity. She walks to the front, letting none of her nervousness show, and takes the flower delicately, nodding to the man. When she turns slightly, she notes that while there’s impatience and a little anger, most have schooled themselves into politer looks. “It is my fault I arrived late, but I only learned of this auction, shall we say, late?”
Surprisingly, that little jab actually earns a bit of a flinch, and some of the other guests look a little more respectful. The auctioneer wrings his hands. “May I say, that is incredible lack of foresight. I cannot apologize too profusely. In return, perhaps you would like to choose one item for the Clan Passion, free of charge?”
She smiles. It’s not a pretty sight. “Why, thank you for your generous offer. I was told that Giovanna,” that’s definitely flinching on the part of some of the guests, “…has his eyes set on one item in particular—an Arrow.”
Again, the monster looks nervous. “Why, you see—”
“Are you going back on your offer, now?” Something told her that these, in particular, had the same sort of honor as was part of Passione.
“I bought it, fair and square!” She turns, and recognizes a lawyer, none too smart, who’d attempted to try to bully Mista on the witness stand. Mista, of all people. It was only the Boss who had stayed his revolver. And—yes, there it is, she can feel it—much larger than your average arrow, golden, with odd, mesmerizing patterns. Supposedly, she’d seen it before, when she’d received her Stand, but she doesn’t remember it. She only vaguely remembers the Boss finding her bleeding out on his patio, still isn’t sure how she’d made it there, whether some instinct had guided her.
“I believe you know the Kilkij rules, Representative of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. We must offer a tribute to the Lords of this territory, should they will it, or close business forever. You will receive a full refund, or perhaps a piece in trade? I realize that those, too, are mighty Lords, but this is not their territory, and…”
“The whole of Earth is ours!” the man yells, and suddenly the auctioneer is slumping to the floor next to her. She hadn’t even seen him drawn the gun, but she dives behind the auction block, falling back a little as a second bullet lodges in her shoulder.
As usual, she focuses on the pain, draws it through her, like it’s a whetstone and she’s a blade. Instantly Backstreet Boy is leaping from her, covering her with a snarl and a warsong. Unfortunately, she barely listened to this man’s song, so she doesn’t know enough of the refrain. Perhaps that’s why she was caught so unawares.
Wolfram & Hart is already on uneasy terms with the Boss, and he was fairly close to barring Italy to them entirely. I only have to think that he’s acting on his own, since they know the rules and wouldn’t burn their bridges like that. Besides, that was far too quick to act. …It probably does mean that he received much the same orders, obtain the Arrow at any cost.
Instantly, she begins playing a song, a different one this time. It’s rather catchy, but she doesn’t alter it as much, playing it as one would call a name. Hopefully, she’s spent enough time getting ferried around to get that right.
She peeks out from the block, only for a bullet to graze her cheek. The man’s edging toward the door, when others burst in. They’d almost be human, if not for the mane. Still, those are machine guns, completely and utterly recognizable, and just as able to tear through things.
The guns begin their characteristic clatter, but surprisingly enough do not make it through the light auction block. She glances up to see the bullets tearing through the wall behind her, and powdering some of the ancient skulls stacked up.
When the guns fall silent, she allows Backstreet Boy to leap out of hiding, and through his eyes sees the cause of her rescue—she had, in fact, managed to get the attention of the taxi driver, who had come to her rescue, shooting all three of the machine gunners. The other auction guests—the ones that are still alive, that is—growl and make for some of Wolfram & Hart’s people, but the coward with the Arrow is nowhere in sight.
He’s getting away. She allows the Stand to savage some of the others to feel better. This is a complete and utter disaster and she knows it. At least the bloodbath of retribution against Wolfram & Hart will send a clear message.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Grappa arrives at the sale and attempts to retrieve the Arrow...
Word Count: 1192
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
The whispered name of Passione is, luckily, good enough to open doors that would otherwise be closed, a proof of the power of the gang. She takes her seat almost noiselessly in the back of the charnel house, watching the rather pale attendant go to speak to the auctioneer. Despite this, certain of the patrons turn to glare at her. Grappa Calabrese is not a woman easily cowed. If others want to pick a fight, let them; she’ll play them a pretty dirge. But even she’s a little intimidated by some of these newcomers.
There’s a blue one with horns like a demon striding straight out of the pages of the Inferno to cram itself, somewhat incongruously, in one of the folding chairs, another she recognizes as a vampire from recent encounters with its kind, and other, less recognizable things. Some appear human, but the way that Backstreet Boy prowls nervously in her mind, none of them are anything like those lesser thugs, all too human and all too easy, that she’d dealt with before. They’d sprung out of the woodwork suddenly, but so many of them acted like they’d been out in what passed for the open in supernatural communities for centuries, and hidden for much, much longer.
The Boss himself had gotten involved, and rumors of a Requiem Stand passed like wildfire through the Passione. Certainly he, Una, and Mista had been kept busy by these, especially by a group of killers who’d set up a base on an island nearby, thinking that they could act without repercussion.
The auctioneer, almost human if not for the slight orange tint to his skin, strokes the beard, glaring as well, ignoring the strange jar with glowing gas trembling on the block in front of him until the attendant whispers in his ear. Suddenly, he’s all smiles, whisking a rose into sight from somewhere and gesturing for her to come up to the front. “Please, everyone, we’ll continue the auction for the captured Essence of Agony in a minute. We’re all forgetting our manners. This is one of the Clan Passion, who extend us their gracious hospitality in allowing us to conduct our business here. I hope everyone will apologize, and that the Miss will forgive us our suspicion.”
Far be it for Grappa to shrink from a challenge. And a good thing, too, that she’d slipped on the leather gloves, in case of duplicity. She walks to the front, letting none of her nervousness show, and takes the flower delicately, nodding to the man. When she turns slightly, she notes that while there’s impatience and a little anger, most have schooled themselves into politer looks. “It is my fault I arrived late, but I only learned of this auction, shall we say, late?”
Surprisingly, that little jab actually earns a bit of a flinch, and some of the other guests look a little more respectful. The auctioneer wrings his hands. “May I say, that is incredible lack of foresight. I cannot apologize too profusely. In return, perhaps you would like to choose one item for the Clan Passion, free of charge?”
She smiles. It’s not a pretty sight. “Why, thank you for your generous offer. I was told that Giovanna,” that’s definitely flinching on the part of some of the guests, “…has his eyes set on one item in particular—an Arrow.”
Again, the monster looks nervous. “Why, you see—”
“Are you going back on your offer, now?” Something told her that these, in particular, had the same sort of honor as was part of Passione.
“I bought it, fair and square!” She turns, and recognizes a lawyer, none too smart, who’d attempted to try to bully Mista on the witness stand. Mista, of all people. It was only the Boss who had stayed his revolver. And—yes, there it is, she can feel it—much larger than your average arrow, golden, with odd, mesmerizing patterns. Supposedly, she’d seen it before, when she’d received her Stand, but she doesn’t remember it. She only vaguely remembers the Boss finding her bleeding out on his patio, still isn’t sure how she’d made it there, whether some instinct had guided her.
“I believe you know the Kilkij rules, Representative of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. We must offer a tribute to the Lords of this territory, should they will it, or close business forever. You will receive a full refund, or perhaps a piece in trade? I realize that those, too, are mighty Lords, but this is not their territory, and…”
“The whole of Earth is ours!” the man yells, and suddenly the auctioneer is slumping to the floor next to her. She hadn’t even seen him drawn the gun, but she dives behind the auction block, falling back a little as a second bullet lodges in her shoulder.
As usual, she focuses on the pain, draws it through her, like it’s a whetstone and she’s a blade. Instantly Backstreet Boy is leaping from her, covering her with a snarl and a warsong. Unfortunately, she barely listened to this man’s song, so she doesn’t know enough of the refrain. Perhaps that’s why she was caught so unawares.
Wolfram & Hart is already on uneasy terms with the Boss, and he was fairly close to barring Italy to them entirely. I only have to think that he’s acting on his own, since they know the rules and wouldn’t burn their bridges like that. Besides, that was far too quick to act. …It probably does mean that he received much the same orders, obtain the Arrow at any cost.
Instantly, she begins playing a song, a different one this time. It’s rather catchy, but she doesn’t alter it as much, playing it as one would call a name. Hopefully, she’s spent enough time getting ferried around to get that right.
She peeks out from the block, only for a bullet to graze her cheek. The man’s edging toward the door, when others burst in. They’d almost be human, if not for the mane. Still, those are machine guns, completely and utterly recognizable, and just as able to tear through things.
The guns begin their characteristic clatter, but surprisingly enough do not make it through the light auction block. She glances up to see the bullets tearing through the wall behind her, and powdering some of the ancient skulls stacked up.
When the guns fall silent, she allows Backstreet Boy to leap out of hiding, and through his eyes sees the cause of her rescue—she had, in fact, managed to get the attention of the taxi driver, who had come to her rescue, shooting all three of the machine gunners. The other auction guests—the ones that are still alive, that is—growl and make for some of Wolfram & Hart’s people, but the coward with the Arrow is nowhere in sight.
He’s getting away. She allows the Stand to savage some of the others to feel better. This is a complete and utter disaster and she knows it. At least the bloodbath of retribution against Wolfram & Hart will send a clear message.
