madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-03-04 03:53 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-03-04 03:53 pm
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 234
This time I’m translating for my American audience: that’s about twenty feet.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Captain Beefheart and the others have to deal with Schmied's experiments...
Word Count: 1771
Rating: Teen (Nazis)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
warning: more body horror than nazis but still warning for it
It becomes clear far too quickly what Jojo was talking about, so perhaps the Captain didn’t need that warning after all. It’s a moment or two to even make out what she’s seeing in the corner off her eyes, given that she continues to have to fight for her life in the meantime and thus is a little occupied. Not that she’s blind to the battlefield; that’s a good way to get yourself killed. But they’re far away, whatever they are, and both she and Panzermensch agree that given position and speed they are lower in priority than the extremely annoying skeleton birds diving at her face.
But then the…monster is such a trite name for such abominations, isn’t it? They get close enough. She can’t make out the details at this distance, but her Stand absolutely can, and she would almost blame herself for her hobbies reading, watching, and playing the horror genre if she wasn’t fairly certain she didn’t recognize this precise configuration. Elements, perhaps, but not all together.
They’re…well, the most straightforward description is something along the lines of ‘they’re made of people’. She has absolutely no idea why creating these things would advance science in any way. Understanding life and death, maybe, but this seems far more like the child, cruel, pulling the legs off grasshoppers or the wings off butterflies. Just doing it because you can.
Not that such things would make it any better, of course. But she seems to have missed the point. Not the first time, certainly, and not the last. Perhaps in the end it doesn’t matter why they’re here, only that they are, and will no doubt be an utter pain to deal with. No matter how much her baffled brain keeps poking at it, trying to make sense of the mindlessness of such actions, not much of use will come of it. She needs to start planning how to deal with those things. Maybe fire. Fire is surprisingly useful in dealing with many problems, particularly in the horror genre.
Unless—no, by anyone’s standards, this would fit that definition of ‘continued evil behavior’. Maybe Schmied was the type of ‘sinner’ to hedge his bets to ensure his continued survival, though she would wager the demon only served as an excuse, an enabler, for the kind of wicked deeds he’d already had in mind and heart.
Their construction isn’t exactly what she’d call…methodical, either. The creatures aren’t identical, but rather appear haphazard, like Dr. Frankenstein’s discarded refuse come to life. A torso here, an arm missing a hand, a skull partially poking out of the…flesh blobs. All of the parts appear, at minimum, skinned. All the meat removed probably ended up in the center.
They’re faster than she would expect for uncoordinated meat-blobs probably…she squints. Five or six meters, probably. The possibility exists that they could be even faster, particularly their amoeboid tendrils, but their size is a detriment. They physically can’t fit through the streets in anything other than single file. It does ensure they will never have to fight more than one at once. On the other hand, given how one just…swallows a car and keeps going, crunching noises in its wake…she might be staring at a mad scientist’s recreation of a one-celled organism made through the deaths of countless victims. She doesn’t particularly want to think about what will happen if any of them are in the way when those things get here, but her imagination is already supplying suggestions about how they’ll probably just get assimilated into the whole.
Briefly, hopeful, she considers the idea that they might not be real. Just because a scientist did research does not mean they were successful, not in the real world. It could be an illusion, like the blood, merely based on failed research. Those hopes are quickly dashed when she considers that Panzermensch sees them too. Of course, zombies exist, and Miss Murder had brought back these weird dog-things, why couldn’t a particularly unscrupulous scientist create nightmarish flesh-blobs?
“Please tell me we have a plan, over,” she tries. It’s not a given that she’ll be able to get through the static, but they have limited time and hopefully Jojo’s at least warned the ones with less sharp eyes.
“…rooftop…” bursts through the static.
Smart. Of course, that could have been a useful tactic before, getting them out of the blood liquid. Then again, he’s not the only one to blame. The thought could have occurred to her sooner as well.
And it’s not a certain thing, but if the things attempt to eat the building, they’ll be able to move to the next and should have enough warning to do so.
She sees Darling clamber up the side of a building, agile, followed by Robin, and begins making her way over. It’s pretty clear that the demon knows what they’re planning, because the attacks by the ‘birds of prey’ increase. She has to shoot off several attempting to pick off the climbers. Fortunately, she’s had training avoiding airborne attacks, weaving unpredictably as she runs.
“Nice of you to join us,” Jojo states, cheerful and barely out of breath, as she approaches. Like this is just a meeting of friends, far removed from any sort of battle.
She considers telling him he’s ridiculous, but decides against it. There’s already ample evidence that he already knows, meaning she would just be restating the obvious for no reason at all, and in any case, he already has Fitz fulfilling the role and seems perfectly content with that arrangement.
“Help me throw him,” Jojo suggests. The other blond turns to them, alarmed, but before he can voice any sort of protest Panzermensch joins Pretender in giving Speedwagon the needed boost. It’s not as if they have much time to waste, after all.
A rope is thrown down, likely from Robin’s pack—following the incident in the ruined theatre, he’d been very careful to include one as they prepared for this mission—and Beefheart grabs it, tugging lightly as per protocol.
Before she can start climbing up the wall, though, as if for one final spurt, the blood swirls around her ankles and she finds she can’t take a single step. Jojo notices almost in the same instant, from the way he suddenly looks grim and grits his teeth.
“I can’t fix it,” he tells her, breath fallen into the careful pattern of the Hamon user—so he might be supplementing his Stand’s strength with the Ripple. “You’re going to have to take those off. And join us on our new shopping trip, I guess.”
The thought repulses her, but given the situation, with how many times she could say that about almost everything that’s been happening here, she swallows and nods, practically jumping out of her nice boots. The disgusting thing makes a slurping sound, taking her socks too, ugh, and they collapse, like it’d been trying to crush her ankles, and quickly disappear below the surface.
Robin appears concerned, glancing at her with a question in his eyes when he sees that she’s barefoot. She merely shakes her head. She’d rather not talk about it if possible.
It’s then that she realizes Jojo hasn’t followed her. The first thing she notices is that the rope is gone, probably pulled under the surface, too. She glances back down to find him bending down, reaching a palm for the deceptively still, innocent bloodwater. Her sharp bark of “Jojo!” joins Robin’s concerned, “What are you doing?”, Darling’s startled inhale and yelp of “No!”, and Fitz’s scream of “Xander!” The blond looks ready to jump back down, plans and safety be damned. It takes Robin to hold him back.
Jojo glances up at them and smiles, eerie in the light of the street lamps tainted by the reflection in blood. “Showtime,” he responds, seemingly unconcerned, breathes out, and puts his palm in.
The effects aren’t immediately obvious. It takes a moment before she sees them, familiar golden ripples spreading outward from his palm, faint at first but growing to a golden shimmer as they bounce off buildings and add together. Any of the ‘birds of prey’ caught inside let out an inhuman wail and melt below the surface, just like her boots. The meat-blobs don’t melt, but they do stop moving. She assumes that was the relevant part of the plan.
And then he throws himself skyward, aided by Pretender, who then winks out of existence once more. “Fitz, now!” he yells—apparently, they’d worked out a plan beforehand—and Lotus Juice appears, touching the bloodwater carefully.
The effects are much more immediate and obvious, as the transformed acid begins eating through the meat-blobs. She tries to pretend not to hear the distant sounds, which could quite possibly be the anguished screams of the former humans making up such abominations. She tries to pretend that this does not in any way indicate that maybe the humans are still alive and sentient, in a way, if probably not entirely cognizant of their situation or anything but pain. In any case, this is a mercy, putting whatever is left out of their misery.
Unfortunately, Pretender is not as strong as her Stand, so he starts falling once more, short of reaching the building’s roof. It becomes clear why he sent his Stand away, though, because he casually re-summons him, like he’s done it before, to catch the edge of the building’s roof and pull himself up. “I could use a hand,” he calls, cheerful, and Robin and Panzermensch swiftly move to help him up.
This time, Fitz doesn’t even try to disguise his relief, as Darling rushes to Jojo and buries herself in his side. She’d managed fine through the zombies, but this is significantly more horrifying, especially for a child. He ruffles her hair fondly.
“Jojo, a little more warning next time would be nice. You’ll send me into cardiac arrest,” he states, going for a hug as well—odd, for one so standoffish. He must have really been worried.
“Sorry.” By the sound of it, he regrets only causing them worry, not actually being reckless, but…as they say, baby steps.
He’s interrupted before he can say anything further, whether plan or further apology, by a scream of pure rage, the demon thwarted. “Harris!” it screams.
Jojo’s hand trembles briefly before he places it casually in a pocket, as if he is entirely unaffected. Question answered before she even has to ask it. Fortunately, it’s likely that they’ve drawn the demon out, so it will hopefully stop playing mind games. Good. She prefers a straightforward fight anyway.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Captain Beefheart and the others have to deal with Schmied's experiments...
Word Count: 1771
Rating: Teen (Nazis)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
warning: more body horror than nazis but still warning for it
It becomes clear far too quickly what Jojo was talking about, so perhaps the Captain didn’t need that warning after all. It’s a moment or two to even make out what she’s seeing in the corner off her eyes, given that she continues to have to fight for her life in the meantime and thus is a little occupied. Not that she’s blind to the battlefield; that’s a good way to get yourself killed. But they’re far away, whatever they are, and both she and Panzermensch agree that given position and speed they are lower in priority than the extremely annoying skeleton birds diving at her face.
But then the…monster is such a trite name for such abominations, isn’t it? They get close enough. She can’t make out the details at this distance, but her Stand absolutely can, and she would almost blame herself for her hobbies reading, watching, and playing the horror genre if she wasn’t fairly certain she didn’t recognize this precise configuration. Elements, perhaps, but not all together.
They’re…well, the most straightforward description is something along the lines of ‘they’re made of people’. She has absolutely no idea why creating these things would advance science in any way. Understanding life and death, maybe, but this seems far more like the child, cruel, pulling the legs off grasshoppers or the wings off butterflies. Just doing it because you can.
Not that such things would make it any better, of course. But she seems to have missed the point. Not the first time, certainly, and not the last. Perhaps in the end it doesn’t matter why they’re here, only that they are, and will no doubt be an utter pain to deal with. No matter how much her baffled brain keeps poking at it, trying to make sense of the mindlessness of such actions, not much of use will come of it. She needs to start planning how to deal with those things. Maybe fire. Fire is surprisingly useful in dealing with many problems, particularly in the horror genre.
Unless—no, by anyone’s standards, this would fit that definition of ‘continued evil behavior’. Maybe Schmied was the type of ‘sinner’ to hedge his bets to ensure his continued survival, though she would wager the demon only served as an excuse, an enabler, for the kind of wicked deeds he’d already had in mind and heart.
Their construction isn’t exactly what she’d call…methodical, either. The creatures aren’t identical, but rather appear haphazard, like Dr. Frankenstein’s discarded refuse come to life. A torso here, an arm missing a hand, a skull partially poking out of the…flesh blobs. All of the parts appear, at minimum, skinned. All the meat removed probably ended up in the center.
They’re faster than she would expect for uncoordinated meat-blobs probably…she squints. Five or six meters, probably. The possibility exists that they could be even faster, particularly their amoeboid tendrils, but their size is a detriment. They physically can’t fit through the streets in anything other than single file. It does ensure they will never have to fight more than one at once. On the other hand, given how one just…swallows a car and keeps going, crunching noises in its wake…she might be staring at a mad scientist’s recreation of a one-celled organism made through the deaths of countless victims. She doesn’t particularly want to think about what will happen if any of them are in the way when those things get here, but her imagination is already supplying suggestions about how they’ll probably just get assimilated into the whole.
Briefly, hopeful, she considers the idea that they might not be real. Just because a scientist did research does not mean they were successful, not in the real world. It could be an illusion, like the blood, merely based on failed research. Those hopes are quickly dashed when she considers that Panzermensch sees them too. Of course, zombies exist, and Miss Murder had brought back these weird dog-things, why couldn’t a particularly unscrupulous scientist create nightmarish flesh-blobs?
“Please tell me we have a plan, over,” she tries. It’s not a given that she’ll be able to get through the static, but they have limited time and hopefully Jojo’s at least warned the ones with less sharp eyes.
“…rooftop…” bursts through the static.
Smart. Of course, that could have been a useful tactic before, getting them out of the blood liquid. Then again, he’s not the only one to blame. The thought could have occurred to her sooner as well.
And it’s not a certain thing, but if the things attempt to eat the building, they’ll be able to move to the next and should have enough warning to do so.
She sees Darling clamber up the side of a building, agile, followed by Robin, and begins making her way over. It’s pretty clear that the demon knows what they’re planning, because the attacks by the ‘birds of prey’ increase. She has to shoot off several attempting to pick off the climbers. Fortunately, she’s had training avoiding airborne attacks, weaving unpredictably as she runs.
“Nice of you to join us,” Jojo states, cheerful and barely out of breath, as she approaches. Like this is just a meeting of friends, far removed from any sort of battle.
She considers telling him he’s ridiculous, but decides against it. There’s already ample evidence that he already knows, meaning she would just be restating the obvious for no reason at all, and in any case, he already has Fitz fulfilling the role and seems perfectly content with that arrangement.
“Help me throw him,” Jojo suggests. The other blond turns to them, alarmed, but before he can voice any sort of protest Panzermensch joins Pretender in giving Speedwagon the needed boost. It’s not as if they have much time to waste, after all.
A rope is thrown down, likely from Robin’s pack—following the incident in the ruined theatre, he’d been very careful to include one as they prepared for this mission—and Beefheart grabs it, tugging lightly as per protocol.
Before she can start climbing up the wall, though, as if for one final spurt, the blood swirls around her ankles and she finds she can’t take a single step. Jojo notices almost in the same instant, from the way he suddenly looks grim and grits his teeth.
“I can’t fix it,” he tells her, breath fallen into the careful pattern of the Hamon user—so he might be supplementing his Stand’s strength with the Ripple. “You’re going to have to take those off. And join us on our new shopping trip, I guess.”
The thought repulses her, but given the situation, with how many times she could say that about almost everything that’s been happening here, she swallows and nods, practically jumping out of her nice boots. The disgusting thing makes a slurping sound, taking her socks too, ugh, and they collapse, like it’d been trying to crush her ankles, and quickly disappear below the surface.
Robin appears concerned, glancing at her with a question in his eyes when he sees that she’s barefoot. She merely shakes her head. She’d rather not talk about it if possible.
It’s then that she realizes Jojo hasn’t followed her. The first thing she notices is that the rope is gone, probably pulled under the surface, too. She glances back down to find him bending down, reaching a palm for the deceptively still, innocent bloodwater. Her sharp bark of “Jojo!” joins Robin’s concerned, “What are you doing?”, Darling’s startled inhale and yelp of “No!”, and Fitz’s scream of “Xander!” The blond looks ready to jump back down, plans and safety be damned. It takes Robin to hold him back.
Jojo glances up at them and smiles, eerie in the light of the street lamps tainted by the reflection in blood. “Showtime,” he responds, seemingly unconcerned, breathes out, and puts his palm in.
The effects aren’t immediately obvious. It takes a moment before she sees them, familiar golden ripples spreading outward from his palm, faint at first but growing to a golden shimmer as they bounce off buildings and add together. Any of the ‘birds of prey’ caught inside let out an inhuman wail and melt below the surface, just like her boots. The meat-blobs don’t melt, but they do stop moving. She assumes that was the relevant part of the plan.
And then he throws himself skyward, aided by Pretender, who then winks out of existence once more. “Fitz, now!” he yells—apparently, they’d worked out a plan beforehand—and Lotus Juice appears, touching the bloodwater carefully.
The effects are much more immediate and obvious, as the transformed acid begins eating through the meat-blobs. She tries to pretend not to hear the distant sounds, which could quite possibly be the anguished screams of the former humans making up such abominations. She tries to pretend that this does not in any way indicate that maybe the humans are still alive and sentient, in a way, if probably not entirely cognizant of their situation or anything but pain. In any case, this is a mercy, putting whatever is left out of their misery.
Unfortunately, Pretender is not as strong as her Stand, so he starts falling once more, short of reaching the building’s roof. It becomes clear why he sent his Stand away, though, because he casually re-summons him, like he’s done it before, to catch the edge of the building’s roof and pull himself up. “I could use a hand,” he calls, cheerful, and Robin and Panzermensch swiftly move to help him up.
This time, Fitz doesn’t even try to disguise his relief, as Darling rushes to Jojo and buries herself in his side. She’d managed fine through the zombies, but this is significantly more horrifying, especially for a child. He ruffles her hair fondly.
“Jojo, a little more warning next time would be nice. You’ll send me into cardiac arrest,” he states, going for a hug as well—odd, for one so standoffish. He must have really been worried.
“Sorry.” By the sound of it, he regrets only causing them worry, not actually being reckless, but…as they say, baby steps.
He’s interrupted before he can say anything further, whether plan or further apology, by a scream of pure rage, the demon thwarted. “Harris!” it screams.
Jojo’s hand trembles briefly before he places it casually in a pocket, as if he is entirely unaffected. Question answered before she even has to ask it. Fortunately, it’s likely that they’ve drawn the demon out, so it will hopefully stop playing mind games. Good. She prefers a straightforward fight anyway.