madimpossibledreamer

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The fight with Stereo Love continues.
Word Count: 1091
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.

            Neither of them are ready for what happens next. A voice interrupts their little ‘conversation’. A familiar voice, English accent and all.
            “Excuse me! Who are you talking to?”
            Fitz. He came back. He might not remember exactly what happened, but it bothered him enough that he just had to come back and check. Of course he would. That’s how Speedwagon is. Thorough. Meddlesome. He couldn’t just shrug off something like that. He could walk away, but it’d just nag at him until he found out the answer. That’s what had led him back to Xander, after all; led him to step in during the trial.
            Keep talking. Just distract him long enough for me to think of something.
            “I was just singing along with my rap. What’s your problem, old guy?” The User stands nervously. If this is handled wrong, he’ll just grab his Stand and run. And he might not get out of range in time to save Xander’s life.
            He looks around. He can’t get anything out of the box…but maybe he doesn’t have to do that. If he can get Fitz’s attention, keep him here, but not quite sure this is a Stand?
            I’ve always wanted to play a poltergeist. Well, that was mostly to terrify Buffy and Willow, although given their powers that might have been a suicidal move. Instinctual reaction to attack, and all that. Still, here? It might be just what I need.
            The teen isn’t paying attention, nervously watching Fitz since he apparently thinks that Jojo’s out of the running. It’s a mistake, but it plays into the plan, so he makes his move. There’s a produce stand just there on the sidewalk. It’s just in reach. Pretender catches his thought and runs to the place, grabbing a few of the oranges. The man gasps as the fruit raise, and Johan closes his eyes. Joseph, probably, because if this isn’t a stage trick I don’t know what is. And slowly, with the farmer and Fitz gaping, Pretender manages to juggle.
            Fitz is frowning, massaging his head as he tries hard to focus on something that’s out of focus. The farmer wants to start yelling, anger on his face, and yet he’s already starting to forget, looking at the missing fruit with a puzzled expression and quickly draining anger.
            “Don’t take that attitude with me, young man,” Fitz says, and it’s a call back to Giles, but he doesn’t have time for that.
            He’s standing with one hand on the wall, thinking as fast as he can, trying to hear the conversation, since anything outside is kind of muffled. And he expects to be pushed back.
            …And isn’t. It’s been long enough it should have contracted again, just a little. Maybe longer. He hasn’t been paying the most attention to the passage of time, which is silly in a case where the fight is literally timed, and this is real life. He doesn’t get a retry button.
            “Oh, so I should listen to every adult who thinks they know better than me and wants to lecture me.” There’s strain in the voice.
            Out of curiosity, he pushes and feels a little give. And sees the teen wince.
            Of course. It’s mentally based. It may be ranged, but it’s not automatic. It requires input—in this case, mental concentration—to maintain.
            And then he realizes something else. So that’s why he doesn’t want to fight two of us at once. Not only can his Stand probably only affect one person at once, any extra strain caused by fighting the other Stand User would probably break the prisoner free. Maybe I can use that.
            He pushes a little harder and watches the sweat roll down. He’s panicking at the thought of fighting Fitz, too, and that’s enough to weaken the effect. I just need to push him further.
            “You do realize that if you run, that’ll just make you more suspicious, right?”
            The teen doesn’t even turn around, but the wall doesn’t feel like glass anymore. It feels like what Xander had imagined those ochre jellies DM Andrew the Breaker of Players had thrown at them.
            “It’s hardly a lecture. I suppose I was asking for that by saying ‘young man’.” Fitz may look more relaxed, but the way his green eyes fix the Stand User in a steel gaze, he hasn’t let up his guard at all. He’s being a touch friendlier.
            You figured out making him run was a bad idea. Good job.
            “I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything strange around you, have you?” he continues conversationally, earning a half-strangled snort.
            Then the teenage Stand User has to rush to cover up the mistake. “This is the outskirts of London. Mate. Of course things are weird.”
            “I suppose that’s true,” Fitz agrees, watchful eyes sliding past toward where Jojo’s waiting. Just out of curiosity, he adds a flurry of punches.
            “TORARARARARARARARARA!” Pretender yells, and if he’s not mistaken, there’s a hint of joy in that tone. The kid definitely flinches, but by this point no one is hearing it other than him.
            Fitz notices, but the look in his eyes at the moment is almost…sympathetic? “Is it drugs?”
            “Shut up!” the kid yells, and suddenly the invisible wall moves in by about a foot, throwing him into the opposite wall. He hadn’t realized it had gotten this far. “You don’t know me at all, so don’t pretend you care. And don’t think you have any authority over me. You’re just a nobody.”
            Fitz frowns, putting his hand inside his coat. The air is thick with charged tension. It almost feels like breathing pure hamon, or maybe that’s the pain in his back making it hard to breathe from how hard he slammed into that wall. “Well, that may be, or it may not, but that’s not very nice to say to someone you don’t know, is it?” It’s mild, but Johan who’s come to know that man and the tone he uses knows that it’s full of the promise of danger. And then he realizes what Fitz is playing with inside his coat, catches the slightest glimpse of blue plastic. He’d figured that out, too, on his own. The kid shifts, hands balled into fists, trying to decide whether to run. That’s another problem. If he goes for the boombox as he runs, it’ll be obvious. If he leaves it behind, it might be vulnerable. He’s safe for the moment, but it comes down to a race against time for the both of us.