Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 192

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Robin explores the theater and gets a call.
Word Count: 1140
Rating: Teen (Buffy|Jojo's level violence)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS

          It’s entirely possible this is all a trap.  Maybe Robin’s been poisoned, or otherwise affected by whatever her Stand does, exactly.  True, it might seem like he was at the little girl’s mercy, with her Stand in the room and him none the wiser, and she didn’t take the shot, but it could be a delay, or she’s playing with him, or any number of reasons that say she was actually lying, really.  It…doesn’t feel like it.  She absolutely felt genuine.
          It’s not a power.  Those with Stands often overlook the everyday.  To be fair, it’s not a mistake the followers of Sendo are immune to making, either.  In Robin’s case, well.  Having a grandfather with historic importance, or a good academic standing, or being generally liked, or being in sports (if one of the “weird” ones)…  None of that was protection from bullies, really.  He could hold his own, but fighting back didn’t always help with authorities and a game of ‘who’s at fault’.  And with bullying like that, eventually you develop a sense of who’s trustworthy, who’s not, who’s going to try to start a fight or steal your stuff.  Maybe she’s playing with him, a spider with a fly, but that’s not quite right.  Horror Girl seemed perfectly honest, like she’s not a threat—no, that’s a stretch.
          More like, she’s not currently a threat.  She’d finished playing executioner and was moving on.  She’s sincere about her desire to avoid the cops, and she’s interested in “playing fair”, though her definition might be a little skewed.  It’s the girl playing tea party with dolls.  She might spank them if they’re being bad, but she’ll play the perfect host.  She’s also serious about keeping an eye on him, which might cause trouble in the future.  In the meantime, his instincts, which are as reliable as his hamon skills, are saying at the very least he has some breathing room.  Good, for a student of the Ripple.
          In any case, he can’t stand here, paralyzed with indecision and fear.  As she mentioned, the cops are on their way, and the fact that she’s still on the loose might mean there are wounds, or something.  It’s entirely possible that she didn’t fight them at all, but again, that doesn’t feel right either.  She’s perfectly menacing, and given the way she talked about death, she’s probably killed people before.  From what little he’d seen, Darling, Jojo, and Fitz are decent enough fighters, but he doesn’t have a good enough feel for their fighting style
          Hopefully, his friends aren’t dead somewhere, or he’s got an arrow with her name on it.  He doesn’t have to kill her to stop her, even with a potentially lethal weapon.
          In the meantime, he needs to find them.  The plan hasn’t really changed.  Move on, quick, quiet, careful.  Further enemies aren’t likely—he’s pretty sure she’d mention them in the interest of fair play—but there’s always the possibility, as well as the possibility of traps or dangerous conditions from whatever caused that flood of beer.
          A couple more checks, and he finds doors that lead to the upper balcony of the theater.  He doesn’t stop as he mourns the damage, surveying the muddy water below.  It’d be a fun place to work, he thinks, a historical theater like this.  But, of course, that’s not his life, and someone’s going to have to put in a lot of restoration work before they can reopen.
          He steps as lightly as he can manage.  By this point, he’d be surprised if some kind of structural damage hadn’t occurred.  Some rescuer he’d be, if he ended up stepping through a floorboard, falling, and breaking his leg.  He’d probably be fine.  Hamon allows for faster healing, and can even be used to dull the pain from broken bones or dislocated sockets.  Still, there’s a limit, mechanically speaking—certain breaks wouldn’t allow for weight to be placed upon them, even if he was in pain.  If Fitz is all right, such an injury could be healed, but he doesn’t want to count on that, and any time spent on such healing would be time they probably don’t have.
          It’s only training and the calm, collected aura he’s worked on over the years that stops him from jumping when his radio crackles.  The familiar “Cyborg to Hood, do you copy?” comes over, though, and he smiles.
          That’s some timing.  To be fair, the enemy Stand User already knew where he was, so it wouldn’t have given away his position, but still.  It’s probably better it’s happening now.
          The military obsession, even when it’s clear she’s far from a fascist admirer, will always make him either cringe or make him anxious, depending on how he’s feeling.  Today, it’s a good day.  He only feels a fond sort of exasperation as he answers.  “I get the feeling you finished up?”
          It’s clear she’s pouting as she replies.  “That would be correct.  On your end, I presume you need extraction?”
          It takes him a moment to process that.  It certainly would get them all out of here faster, assuming they can make it to the roof and no structural damage prevents them from making it or the helicopter from landing on the roof.  Using that method to exit would probably muddle the police reports.  On the other hand…  “Are you feeling well enough to be using Panzermensch for something big again?”  It’s been a while, and even when she’d practically passed out and gotten food and stuff after the thing with the ship—was that enough to mentally and physically recharge?
          “It’s all right.  I was planning on heading for the church, so it’s not all that far.  And the car—well.  It was one of those practically destroyed by the statues.  Insurance will be paying in any case—assuming they had any.  Now, if it was German…”  Mentally he tunes her out as she goes on what is probably another combined rant-lecture.  And then freezes as he sees something, or rather, someone—Darling, silently crying into her Stand, wrapped uncomfortably snugly around her neck.  It’s hard to tell whether it’s for comfort or…other reasons, but he really can’t afford to just stand around chatting like this.
          “Hey, Cyborg?  I’ve spotted Darling.  As far as I know, one hostile left and there shouldn’t be any others on site.  Park on the roof, if you can.  Otherwise, park on the neighboring roof and we’ll figure out how to get to you.”
          He waits for her “Roger” before he murmurs “Out”, replacing the radio at his side and the bow in his makeshift quiver.  He’ll need his hands free if he’s going to be able to climb down, but he doesn’t want to just call out and startle her.  He’s got a feeling about this whole thing.