Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 88

[madimpossibledreamer]

*blushing for days* I might be a complete idiot who was looking forward to Jojo Friday so much...I accidentally left work an hour early.  (I did ask, but my manager was kinda distracted at the time, so he might not have even realized I wasn't supposed to go then.)  To be fair, it's not just that...family stuff has been going down, and I've been kind of dealing with the fact that the rest of my family actually straight-out expressed that they were okay basically abandoning a family member with cancer (to be fair, she probably could get around on her own without help, but I'm worried about the psychological/moral implications of telling someone with cancer: 'hey, you're too much of a burden, good luck on your own').
Man, life has issues it needs to work out right now.  And so do I.
tl;dr: your author has done something stupid again.  Hopefully it all works out.
Muda.  Muda.
~dreamer~

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Fitz tries to tackle the problem using his book skills.
Word Count: 1446
Rating: Gen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.

 

         It takes Fitz a minute once they stroll into the building to realize that he hasn’t been relaxed like this since when he was back at the bookstore, having an absurd conversation with his idiot of a Jojo.  I’ve gone soft, he realizes with only a little amusement.  There’s something painful, there, too.  Gracie.  It doesn’t hurt as much as it had, but then, neither had his mother’s death, had it?  Distracting himself with gloriously dusty volumes and posh words and literary conversations.  Pretending the past wasn’t real.  Running from his mother’s death to the streets, running from Grace’s death to the bookstore.
         And there was Jojo.  Johan, Xander.  Given the stories, he had assumed that he would continue the glorious tradition of rearranging his life in the wake of a Joestar, because of the noble legacy, of the intertwined destiny of their lives, but the specifics had been rather vague.  Much along the lines of a knight finally meeting the liege-lord to whom he pledged everything.
         He had been unprepared for the reality.  Xander only when they had met, but over time he had quickly become more, started to step straight out of all those tall tales he’d told and Mum’s own stories.  Xander, carrying his own loss and his huge heart and his recklessness and sometimes plain stupidity.  Xander, who he’d believed to be academically challenged and yet knew random facts about history and could read Sumerian and very possibly might have read or been able to read Gilgamesh in its original form.  Johan, who told jokes to boost morale and made a lot of references and risked his life to save others.  Johan, who pretended he didn’t have an inferiority complex or an imposter syndrome but whose mask slips when he thinks Fitz isn’t looking.  Johan, who is ridiculously good at using his Stand for someone who’s just gotten one and is neither the perfect Jojo Fitz had imagined nor the unlikeable, flawed individual he believes himself to be.  Johan, who is, after all, only human.
         I’ll stop running away, Jojo, he promises silently, even as he turns to the others.  “I am very familiar with libraries, so I’ll search the physical volumes.”
         “I’ll look online,” Robin responds immediately, with an approving nod and a smile.  “I’m pretty good with a computer.”
         Darling bites her lip but nods.  “There’s what appears to be a large clump of grey.  I think they’re all joining up.”  She shivers a little and adds, “This is definitely going to be in the news.”
         I’ll stop running from my past.  I’ll become that warrior again, though this time not without thought or reason.  I’ll take great care with the new abilities I find.  It won’t be easy, but if you can struggle to learn from your past and not let it haunt you, the least I can do is the same.  From now on, my future is fighting at your side, and with any luck, the two of us can learn to become friends when we’re not fighting for the sake of the world.
         “Keep an eye on them using Whisper.  Tell us if their behavior suddenly changes.”  He realizes suddenly that they don’t have a way to contact each other, and—
         Robin holds out cell phones.
         Fitz raises an eyebrow.
         “I was the supply sergeant for us.  Kind of,” Brown explains with a grin, which isn’t really that much of an explanation.  But, LJ help him, what with Jojo around, Fitz is getting used to it.  “Try to only text.  I didn’t buy many minutes, and we also probably don’t want to get kicked out.”
         “That would be for the best,” Fitz agrees dryly.  “Should we meet up again in, say, half an hour, by that…”  He pauses.  He’s not sure if the Stand works on metal, but in any case, the dragon curled around a book is something he would’ve picked up without a second thought, up until the point when it might come to life at any moment and start murdering patrons.
         “I’ll watch it,” Darling offers, before looking offended at his sharp look.  “From a safe distance!” she adds.
         “Of course.  You’re not Jojo.  You have some common sense.”  She looks even more offended at that, but then, she’d really become attached, hadn’t she?  She’s not the only one.  He smiles, ruffles her hair (less awkward than last time, good, and even she looks slightly less uncomfortable at that) and wanders off to look for the library directory.

         Even narrowing it down to the modern art books on sculpture (735, the first floor, though if Jojo was here, he’d have to explain that the first floor was what uncivilized people called the second floor and the inclusion of the ground floor and he’s getting sidetracked even in his own head), it takes Fitz longer than he would’ve liked to find the symbol.  The worst part of it all is the idea nagging at him that he’s sold or shelved at least one book with the—
         His eyes momentarily unfocus.  Here he is, monologuing in his own head, and the answer is staring at him from a page he was just about to flip.
Courtney Love: Self-Proclaimed Artist Bitch
Those who had known the woman all her life would not be surprised to hear her description of herself.  Love may have a friendly name, but her own demeanor is anything but.  She’s well known for flipping off photographers, using her deadly heels on the feet of reporters, and blowing smoke into the faces of fans.
I personally know several of the reporters and photographers, including one whose toe was broken by the incident.  Interestingly enough, my editor suggested a pattern: all of those who had previously tried to talk to her had something in common.  They were all male.  My book was meant to cover modern art all over the UK, and I could see if gender really was the problem.  I had a feeling I was reenacting a scene in the classic Lost World film, but it was worth the try.
Spoiler alert: yes, gender was the problem, and yes, Love probably suffers from misandry.
She was downright rude to me, yes, and swore like the proverbial sailor.  For the most part, the years chain-smoking had given her that ‘smoky’ voice, but occasionally it cracked.  For all anyone knows, she is currently dying of lung cancer.
“And what of it?” she asks, eyes glittering.  The only light streams in from the apartment/studio’s windows and the fire of her cig.  “If I’m gonna die, it’s my right.  Don’t deserve to have doctors f’in telling me when I’m gonna live and when I’m gonna die.”
She has her own tragedy.  Her parents were part of the Sunflower Alliance, a cult that was shut down for its practices but not before it could poison her youth.
She is, however, remarkably well-aware of the exact effect it’s had on her life, and how unreasonable her behavior is.  “I don’t blame all men.  I just don’t want to bloody talk to them.”  She doesn’t particularly like the world, or talking to women, either.  At least, not in person.  Apparently, she does so just fine online.
Her hero (which she refuses to let me call ‘heroine’)?  Lady Constantine.
She loves the subversive nature of the Hellblazer comics, but prefers to think of her hero as female, and why not?  She seems to be following in the same footsteps, just as rude, antisocial, and controversial, and yet, as we talk in the dilapidated apartment, the same belief in humanity despite the cynicism shines through.  She refuses to live by the rules others set for her, refuses to mince words to avoid hurting others’ feelings.
Other than buying her work, fans can interact with her on a better basis by not talking about her or admiring her work, but rather discussing the meaning behind the work.  As a rule, go with your most morbid impression and you’re likely to be right.  She only willingly travels outside her apartment when she’s delivering a statue, though, and it is not recommended that you try to catch her when she’s at her abode.
Her personal makers’ mark depicts the four horsemen, each holding a staff of office (scythe, sword, withered wheat, and a bow), and the choice is not a deliberately edgy one—the subject matter is often dark and bleak, forcing the viewer to take a hard second look at the nature of the world they live in.
        
         And there’s the symbol from the statue.  No sign of the dragon statue, unfortunately.  He’s on his feet before he even finishes processing what he’s found.