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madimpossibledreamerunbeta'd and not this time because of procrastination... this week was a whirlwind of wayyyyy too much going on.
now beta'd
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Marchant is willing to take a chance to beat this Stand User.
Word Count: 1166
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
He’s also fairly sure that she was just…pulling on his pigtails, as the saying goes. Not that he’ll ever know, if Dunstan is right. If she really is—
She wasn’t always a jerk. She’d listen to him ramble about the archives and his theories, even though he’s not one of the Foundation’s employed scientists and doesn’t exactly have a background in this. She’d pushed him, and been appropriately impressed when he’d shown her his firearms skill at the range. She tried to help him when he was designated a field agent, even though he really didn’t belong in the field. Theoreticals were just fine. He could work with the theoreticals all day. Actual physical reality in his face, though, that was a little too much. Usually, arguing with her was enough to distract him from his own fear. So it did work, that little game of hers, even if he hated it.
But now, he—he should’ve asked her, before. What it all meant. Why she was looking out for him, and why she’d chosen that way, and couldn’t she just give him a straight answer for once.
He wants to run in for once. Start shooting at moving targets, at things that could fight back or even kill him if he’s not fast, destructive enough. He’d dreaded the idea of actual fighting, of being the one dragging them all down, but if Galanis hadn’t stopped him before now, he would’ve already been down here. If he tries to explain that to the woman who’s actually been under fire before, though, and the man who sometimes seems like he’s made out of stone himself…well, he’s pretty sure he’ll just look pathetic, so he just stands, arms crossed, watching the man crouch, one hand in the dying grass, like nothing at all has happened or gone wrong. Like no one’s about to die. Like no one had died. He would almost think it was because the man was focusing, trying to make sure no one else died, but there’s no visible difference he can see in the man before and after the attack.
Maybe he’s just being uncharitable. That’s fine. He’s not particularly in a charitable mood.
Galanis, he can see, but then, she’d been picked as a leader for a reason. “Dunstan. You’ve worked with some of the Joestars before. Would they be able to defeat this Stand?”
It takes the man a second to even look, brow furrowed in what is probably concentration. Probably focusing on his Stand, however those even work.
“If we retreat, you mean.” He hesitates slightly before he says it, like he’s not fully certain, but at the same time the inflection and tone indicates it’s not actually a question, either.
She nods, breath having slowed to the practiced, unnaturally steady and slow rhythm of a Hamon user. She’s preparing herself to have to fight at any moment, he realizes, as she toys with one of the throwing knives from the pouch at her side. “Is it wise to withdraw?”
He pauses to consider that question, even as the answer’s obvious and they need to deal with this Stand User before they’re dealt with. Marchant puts his hand on his gun, too, as if they’re all kids in need of very dangerous safety blankets.
When he speaks, it’s slow, measured, like there’s absolutely no urgency and they’re not in great danger. “We could try to find the effective range. It’s probably high. The Stand can’t do much before it latches on.”
That’s frustratingly not really an answer, though. It’s matter-of-fact and probably correct, but even then, it doesn’t really help them, does it?
Marchant starts slightly as Dunstan continues reluctantly. He hadn’t expected an answer, and neither, by the look Galanis gives him, had she. “They’d win. But not without loss.”
None of them notice as the red liquid runs through the grass.
Marchant surprises even himself. He’d opened his mouth, ready for another accusation to come out. The fact that the Stand User hadn’t done enough to try to save her, the fact that neither of the other two seem all too bothered by the possible loss of Vasquez, demanding that he do more, that he save her, that they rush in right now and rescue her—
“Do you need a distraction?”
The other two turn to stare disbelievingly at him, an impulse he can completely understand. He, too, would like to join in.
“Marchant, what are you proposing?” Galanis asks, quiet and ready, and he shrugs, trying to act like his heart isn’t ready to hammer out of his chest.
“It probably only ‘latches on’ to one person at a time, right?” He’s looking at Dunstan, trying to get any sort of reassurance he can find. Though why he’s trying to find that from rock-man….
The man only nods. He might be impressed, though that might be more him reading into that expression, like someone taking a Rorschach test, than anything he’s actually seeing.
“We don’t know that for sure. It could have powered up after—” Galanis begins and falters. “It could even be incapable of attacking another Stand.”
Dunstan considers that. “Possible. I don’t think it’d latch on to all of us.”
“And we can’t be sure why it’s targeting one person. It might not even be you,” she continues.
Dunstan finally seems like he’s taking Marchant seriously. “If we’re going to stay, ma’am, I think it’s our best chance.”
She lets out a long, slow breath, light playing over her skin. “All right. Let’s try this again, this time with less dying.”
Marchant almost bursts out laughing as the Stand User salutes, though he’s not sure if the man’s trying to be ironic or not. That urge is quickly stifled when the man speaks again. “It’s back.” He points in the direction of the same stones as before, and before he even glances over Marchant knows what he’ll see—the same taunting words, the same dripping ‘blood’.
He walks over, a sudden shiver running through him, but it’s his plan.
I’m ready for you, you bastard, he thinks, and then reaches out and runs his hand over the words in the same way Vasquez had, just to be sure.
It’s hard to tell if the drums in his ear are an effect of the Stand or simply the roaring of his heartbeat, but from the way he suddenly feels like he had during those sleep paralysis episodes during his youth, he’s pretty sure it’s begun.
now beta'd
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Marchant is willing to take a chance to beat this Stand User.
Word Count: 1166
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Marchant knows that he’s acting uncharacteristically. Irrationally, even. He knows that blustering anger is usually how a character dies, particularly if this is a slasher like he thinks. And he’s genre savvy, which does not usually indicate long life on his part if that’s the case. He knows from the look of everything that he should’ve hated Vasquez, if not wanted her dead, because good people don’t wish for other people to die. She’d loved picking on him, making him miserable.
He’s also fairly sure that she was just…pulling on his pigtails, as the saying goes. Not that he’ll ever know, if Dunstan is right. If she really is—
She wasn’t always a jerk. She’d listen to him ramble about the archives and his theories, even though he’s not one of the Foundation’s employed scientists and doesn’t exactly have a background in this. She’d pushed him, and been appropriately impressed when he’d shown her his firearms skill at the range. She tried to help him when he was designated a field agent, even though he really didn’t belong in the field. Theoreticals were just fine. He could work with the theoreticals all day. Actual physical reality in his face, though, that was a little too much. Usually, arguing with her was enough to distract him from his own fear. So it did work, that little game of hers, even if he hated it.
But now, he—he should’ve asked her, before. What it all meant. Why she was looking out for him, and why she’d chosen that way, and couldn’t she just give him a straight answer for once.
He wants to run in for once. Start shooting at moving targets, at things that could fight back or even kill him if he’s not fast, destructive enough. He’d dreaded the idea of actual fighting, of being the one dragging them all down, but if Galanis hadn’t stopped him before now, he would’ve already been down here. If he tries to explain that to the woman who’s actually been under fire before, though, and the man who sometimes seems like he’s made out of stone himself…well, he’s pretty sure he’ll just look pathetic, so he just stands, arms crossed, watching the man crouch, one hand in the dying grass, like nothing at all has happened or gone wrong. Like no one’s about to die. Like no one had died. He would almost think it was because the man was focusing, trying to make sure no one else died, but there’s no visible difference he can see in the man before and after the attack.
Maybe he’s just being uncharitable. That’s fine. He’s not particularly in a charitable mood.
Galanis, he can see, but then, she’d been picked as a leader for a reason. “Dunstan. You’ve worked with some of the Joestars before. Would they be able to defeat this Stand?”
It takes the man a second to even look, brow furrowed in what is probably concentration. Probably focusing on his Stand, however those even work.
“If we retreat, you mean.” He hesitates slightly before he says it, like he’s not fully certain, but at the same time the inflection and tone indicates it’s not actually a question, either.
She nods, breath having slowed to the practiced, unnaturally steady and slow rhythm of a Hamon user. She’s preparing herself to have to fight at any moment, he realizes, as she toys with one of the throwing knives from the pouch at her side. “Is it wise to withdraw?”
He pauses to consider that question, even as the answer’s obvious and they need to deal with this Stand User before they’re dealt with. Marchant puts his hand on his gun, too, as if they’re all kids in need of very dangerous safety blankets.
When he speaks, it’s slow, measured, like there’s absolutely no urgency and they’re not in great danger. “We could try to find the effective range. It’s probably high. The Stand can’t do much before it latches on.”
That’s frustratingly not really an answer, though. It’s matter-of-fact and probably correct, but even then, it doesn’t really help them, does it?
Marchant starts slightly as Dunstan continues reluctantly. He hadn’t expected an answer, and neither, by the look Galanis gives him, had she. “They’d win. But not without loss.”
None of them notice as the red liquid runs through the grass.
Marchant surprises even himself. He’d opened his mouth, ready for another accusation to come out. The fact that the Stand User hadn’t done enough to try to save her, the fact that neither of the other two seem all too bothered by the possible loss of Vasquez, demanding that he do more, that he save her, that they rush in right now and rescue her—
“Do you need a distraction?”
The other two turn to stare disbelievingly at him, an impulse he can completely understand. He, too, would like to join in.
“Marchant, what are you proposing?” Galanis asks, quiet and ready, and he shrugs, trying to act like his heart isn’t ready to hammer out of his chest.
“It probably only ‘latches on’ to one person at a time, right?” He’s looking at Dunstan, trying to get any sort of reassurance he can find. Though why he’s trying to find that from rock-man….
The man only nods. He might be impressed, though that might be more him reading into that expression, like someone taking a Rorschach test, than anything he’s actually seeing.
“We don’t know that for sure. It could have powered up after—” Galanis begins and falters. “It could even be incapable of attacking another Stand.”
Dunstan considers that. “Possible. I don’t think it’d latch on to all of us.”
“And we can’t be sure why it’s targeting one person. It might not even be you,” she continues.
Dunstan finally seems like he’s taking Marchant seriously. “If we’re going to stay, ma’am, I think it’s our best chance.”
She lets out a long, slow breath, light playing over her skin. “All right. Let’s try this again, this time with less dying.”
Marchant almost bursts out laughing as the Stand User salutes, though he’s not sure if the man’s trying to be ironic or not. That urge is quickly stifled when the man speaks again. “It’s back.” He points in the direction of the same stones as before, and before he even glances over Marchant knows what he’ll see—the same taunting words, the same dripping ‘blood’.
He walks over, a sudden shiver running through him, but it’s his plan.
I’m ready for you, you bastard, he thinks, and then reaches out and runs his hand over the words in the same way Vasquez had, just to be sure.
It’s hard to tell if the drums in his ear are an effect of the Stand or simply the roaring of his heartbeat, but from the way he suddenly feels like he had during those sleep paralysis episodes during his youth, he’s pretty sure it’s begun.
