madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-03-18 08:20 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-03-18 08:20 pm
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 236
also beta'd on time!
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Jojo acts on his plan.
Word Count: 1453
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
When Beefheart is fairly certain she’s dealt with all the confusion-causing creatures in the immediate vicinity, she double-checks the impression using Panzermensch, just in case. She hadn’t realized at the time what was happening, after all. It’s when her Stand seems to concur that she allows herself to focus her attention back on Jojo and the demon.
The cowboy clothes look the worse for wear, and the horse is nowhere to be seen. It’s also immediately clear that Jojo is merely stalling for time. He has several somewhat shallow wounds on his arms caused by blocking the sword, with his arms because of course he did, and even Fitz’s healing and his own hamon is having trouble keeping up, but he doesn’t look scared, or frustrated, or anything of the kind.
Of course, he’s good at having a poker face, or just operating when everything is falling apart, but it’s not the first time his plan has consisted of ‘stall until the pieces fall into place’ or ‘until I come up with a better plan’. And she’s getting a feel for his fighting style and habits, as one does with time.
She might as well aid in such efforts, shooting the demon as a distraction. It merely looks irritated, but then, if she can contribute to it thinking less about Jojo’s plans, so much the better.
“What are you planning?” the demon screams at him. It’s unsettled, interestingly. But then, it probably had been counting on them being unable to break free from the mental haze.
Jojo smiles. Unsettling, even when she knows whose side he’s on. “What, if you’re the only one allowed to keep secrets that’d be terribly uneven, wouldn’t it?” And then he does a kick—slower than she’d like, and it’s clear from the form he hasn’t seriously studied; she’ll need to address that in the future, though it’s impressive he’s made it this far without training. Still, it does the trick, probably because the demon hadn’t been expecting the move and partly because Jojo sends hamon through the sword.
The demon drops his weapon, hands sizzling with the energy of the sun. “You’ll pay for that, you brat!” It seems the appropriate time to target the hands with a few bullets, since it’s at least a vulnerability to target. The incoherent scream of rage says she was not incorrect to do so.
The building trembles beneath her feet. She hears the glass of window-panes breaking, the splash as they fall into the liquid below. At first, she meets the events with a resigned calm of ‘what now’. The Captain’s heart skips a beat as she watches the blood-water rise. She’s never seen a tsunami, but she doesn’t need the help of memories to recognize the shape of the sheer vertical wall of blood-water. The way it hangs in the air is unnatural, as is the way it starts moving without impetus, but the way it starts to form into a wave as it bears down on them, cresting and foaming pink, rather than white. Still, if the demon was capable of such things before, why didn’t it trap her in a cocoon of blood-water and just suffocate or crush her, rather than contenting itself with trying to trap her on the ground and taking her boots? (She’s still upset about that, even though now really isn’t the time for such things and it’s better than having her knife stolen by such a creature, because then not only would she have lost something, a weapon is more practical than footwear unless she can catch trenchfoot, here.)
Buildup, perhaps? Such a working cannot be easy to accomplish. This might be its world, but it’s clearly not a god with all the omnipotence that implies, or killing them would be as easy as a stray thought.
“Here!” She catches the rope Robin throws, looping it in a simple knot around her waist, Panzermensch copying her movement and bracing.
It’s a shock when it sweeps over her, the slap making her lose her breath, but the wave doesn’t even knock her over. As might be expected after a natural phenomenon of that kind, a drag follows, a whirlpool in the blood, only this time it appears to be swirling around a single figure, the demon. By itself, the tug doesn’t seem too dangerous, but the same could be said of a riptide. It’s a good thing she could help the others stay upright, and vice versa.
Ah. The trap was for him. That explains much.
It seems the skeleton birds have realized the danger to their master, because they start flocking, attacking en masse, which, as anyone familiar with Hitchcock knows, is more dangerous than just one. It’s all the Captain can do to keep up, even with Robin’s assistance, shooting them out of the sky, especially as her Stand is occupied with trying to prevent them all from getting swept off their feet.
“Xander! Jojo, stop! We can take it from here.” Fitz sounds panicked, and that makes sense. Jojo inspires such emotions often.
“Just a little more,” Jojo grits out. When she glances over, she finds there’s blood trickling from his nose, adding to the blood-water lapping around their feet, one droplet at a time. Of course, he’s reaching outside of his own capabilities once more. At this point, she’d be more surprised if he wasn’t doing that.
He sways on his feet, and Fitz scrambles to support him.
“Sorry for making you wait.” Darling, it seems, did get knocked over, but at least the rope prevented her from being swept away. She manages the cheerful tone well enough, even if it inadequately hides her concern.
Whisper darts in, biting the demon on the arm, and then flies away just as quickly.
The second hangs in the air as they wait for what seems like forever for Whisper to have an effect. When fighting off the zombies, Beefheart had seen her Stand have some effect. She’d explained that the effect was weak because the zombies didn’t have as strong emotions as the living. (Also, the fact that they were mere echoes of zombies probably also impacted its usefulness.)
Here, none of that is blunted. Its stomach bursts open. “Take that, you jerk!” Darling yells.
The blood-water hands fall away, but from Jojo’s tense, ready stance, he’s ready to bring them back if needed.
Beefheart empties a clip into the demon’s body and starts reloading, calm and sure. Perhaps it will regenerate the wounds. She doesn’t know much about demon biology. What she does know, from movies and games and the like, is that the more damage you do, even to an enemy who can regenerate, the longer it will take to become a threat again, so it doesn’t hurt to keep going. Robin’s arrows join her, occasionally breaking off to clear out one more shaved squirrel or desperate skeleton-bird. (Fortunately, none of the skeleton-wolves appear to be able to fly, teleport, or climb.)
“Are you going to tell us how much we’re going to regret this moment or something?” From the sound of things, even Robin’s impressive serenity has been tested. She’d ask, try to reassure, but knows from past experience he’s not likely going to tell her.
“Why should I, when another will act as a better Cassandra than I?” it gasps, broken bone-dry voice cracking. Its bulging eyes glare malevolently as Jojo steps on its arm, pinning it even as it tries to claw at the leg with fingers drawing blood.
“Stay there, you nasty fiend,” Fitz snarls and drives a dagger into its body, pinning it to the now-damaged roof.
Still, it manages to contort its body to bite off a chunk of Jojo’s calf, chewing, grin bloody. He doesn’t scream, just makes a choked sound and goes down, the blond screaming in helpless fury, Robin in worry and Darling in fear.
And then she hears a sound she hasn’t heard since she was a little child, the kikeriki of the rooster announcing the dawn. The buildings, the body of the demon, the blood, the attacking skeletons, they all shimmer and vanish. They’re not on a rooftop. They’re sitting in tan grass, with other buildings in sight. There’s no blood on their clothes. They’re not even wet. She’d almost wonder if the whole thing hadn’t been some fever dream if not for the fact that she’s still, annoyingly, barefoot.
“Not to rush you, and I know how hard you’ve been working, but I should probably be able to run if I need to,” Jojo manages, still trying to sound upbeat through a voice tight with pain, and the Captain amends the thought to—and Jojo’s still wounded.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Jojo acts on his plan.
Word Count: 1453
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
When Beefheart is fairly certain she’s dealt with all the confusion-causing creatures in the immediate vicinity, she double-checks the impression using Panzermensch, just in case. She hadn’t realized at the time what was happening, after all. It’s when her Stand seems to concur that she allows herself to focus her attention back on Jojo and the demon.
The cowboy clothes look the worse for wear, and the horse is nowhere to be seen. It’s also immediately clear that Jojo is merely stalling for time. He has several somewhat shallow wounds on his arms caused by blocking the sword, with his arms because of course he did, and even Fitz’s healing and his own hamon is having trouble keeping up, but he doesn’t look scared, or frustrated, or anything of the kind.
Of course, he’s good at having a poker face, or just operating when everything is falling apart, but it’s not the first time his plan has consisted of ‘stall until the pieces fall into place’ or ‘until I come up with a better plan’. And she’s getting a feel for his fighting style and habits, as one does with time.
She might as well aid in such efforts, shooting the demon as a distraction. It merely looks irritated, but then, if she can contribute to it thinking less about Jojo’s plans, so much the better.
“What are you planning?” the demon screams at him. It’s unsettled, interestingly. But then, it probably had been counting on them being unable to break free from the mental haze.
Jojo smiles. Unsettling, even when she knows whose side he’s on. “What, if you’re the only one allowed to keep secrets that’d be terribly uneven, wouldn’t it?” And then he does a kick—slower than she’d like, and it’s clear from the form he hasn’t seriously studied; she’ll need to address that in the future, though it’s impressive he’s made it this far without training. Still, it does the trick, probably because the demon hadn’t been expecting the move and partly because Jojo sends hamon through the sword.
The demon drops his weapon, hands sizzling with the energy of the sun. “You’ll pay for that, you brat!” It seems the appropriate time to target the hands with a few bullets, since it’s at least a vulnerability to target. The incoherent scream of rage says she was not incorrect to do so.
The building trembles beneath her feet. She hears the glass of window-panes breaking, the splash as they fall into the liquid below. At first, she meets the events with a resigned calm of ‘what now’. The Captain’s heart skips a beat as she watches the blood-water rise. She’s never seen a tsunami, but she doesn’t need the help of memories to recognize the shape of the sheer vertical wall of blood-water. The way it hangs in the air is unnatural, as is the way it starts moving without impetus, but the way it starts to form into a wave as it bears down on them, cresting and foaming pink, rather than white. Still, if the demon was capable of such things before, why didn’t it trap her in a cocoon of blood-water and just suffocate or crush her, rather than contenting itself with trying to trap her on the ground and taking her boots? (She’s still upset about that, even though now really isn’t the time for such things and it’s better than having her knife stolen by such a creature, because then not only would she have lost something, a weapon is more practical than footwear unless she can catch trenchfoot, here.)
Buildup, perhaps? Such a working cannot be easy to accomplish. This might be its world, but it’s clearly not a god with all the omnipotence that implies, or killing them would be as easy as a stray thought.
“Here!” She catches the rope Robin throws, looping it in a simple knot around her waist, Panzermensch copying her movement and bracing.
It’s a shock when it sweeps over her, the slap making her lose her breath, but the wave doesn’t even knock her over. As might be expected after a natural phenomenon of that kind, a drag follows, a whirlpool in the blood, only this time it appears to be swirling around a single figure, the demon. By itself, the tug doesn’t seem too dangerous, but the same could be said of a riptide. It’s a good thing she could help the others stay upright, and vice versa.
Ah. The trap was for him. That explains much.
It seems the skeleton birds have realized the danger to their master, because they start flocking, attacking en masse, which, as anyone familiar with Hitchcock knows, is more dangerous than just one. It’s all the Captain can do to keep up, even with Robin’s assistance, shooting them out of the sky, especially as her Stand is occupied with trying to prevent them all from getting swept off their feet.
“Xander! Jojo, stop! We can take it from here.” Fitz sounds panicked, and that makes sense. Jojo inspires such emotions often.
“Just a little more,” Jojo grits out. When she glances over, she finds there’s blood trickling from his nose, adding to the blood-water lapping around their feet, one droplet at a time. Of course, he’s reaching outside of his own capabilities once more. At this point, she’d be more surprised if he wasn’t doing that.
He sways on his feet, and Fitz scrambles to support him.
“Sorry for making you wait.” Darling, it seems, did get knocked over, but at least the rope prevented her from being swept away. She manages the cheerful tone well enough, even if it inadequately hides her concern.
Whisper darts in, biting the demon on the arm, and then flies away just as quickly.
The second hangs in the air as they wait for what seems like forever for Whisper to have an effect. When fighting off the zombies, Beefheart had seen her Stand have some effect. She’d explained that the effect was weak because the zombies didn’t have as strong emotions as the living. (Also, the fact that they were mere echoes of zombies probably also impacted its usefulness.)
Here, none of that is blunted. Its stomach bursts open. “Take that, you jerk!” Darling yells.
The blood-water hands fall away, but from Jojo’s tense, ready stance, he’s ready to bring them back if needed.
Beefheart empties a clip into the demon’s body and starts reloading, calm and sure. Perhaps it will regenerate the wounds. She doesn’t know much about demon biology. What she does know, from movies and games and the like, is that the more damage you do, even to an enemy who can regenerate, the longer it will take to become a threat again, so it doesn’t hurt to keep going. Robin’s arrows join her, occasionally breaking off to clear out one more shaved squirrel or desperate skeleton-bird. (Fortunately, none of the skeleton-wolves appear to be able to fly, teleport, or climb.)
“Are you going to tell us how much we’re going to regret this moment or something?” From the sound of things, even Robin’s impressive serenity has been tested. She’d ask, try to reassure, but knows from past experience he’s not likely going to tell her.
“Why should I, when another will act as a better Cassandra than I?” it gasps, broken bone-dry voice cracking. Its bulging eyes glare malevolently as Jojo steps on its arm, pinning it even as it tries to claw at the leg with fingers drawing blood.
“Stay there, you nasty fiend,” Fitz snarls and drives a dagger into its body, pinning it to the now-damaged roof.
Still, it manages to contort its body to bite off a chunk of Jojo’s calf, chewing, grin bloody. He doesn’t scream, just makes a choked sound and goes down, the blond screaming in helpless fury, Robin in worry and Darling in fear.
And then she hears a sound she hasn’t heard since she was a little child, the kikeriki of the rooster announcing the dawn. The buildings, the body of the demon, the blood, the attacking skeletons, they all shimmer and vanish. They’re not on a rooftop. They’re sitting in tan grass, with other buildings in sight. There’s no blood on their clothes. They’re not even wet. She’d almost wonder if the whole thing hadn’t been some fever dream if not for the fact that she’s still, annoyingly, barefoot.
“Not to rush you, and I know how hard you’ve been working, but I should probably be able to run if I need to,” Jojo manages, still trying to sound upbeat through a voice tight with pain, and the Captain amends the thought to—and Jojo’s still wounded.